Least Read Poems About Aging
#aging
OxyMoronicMe
G.L.
G.L.
Poem Published
13th Sep 2019 7:33am
13th Sep 2019 7:33am
SLUMBER OF THE MOON
Darkness, don't loose your light;
I CANNOT.
Here comes yellow, struggling against the fog.
Time, slow down;
I CANNOT.
The sun is waking up.
Full, am I?
FOOL YOU ARE!
Setting behind the clouds.
I CANNOT.
Here comes yellow, struggling against the fog.
Time, slow down;
I CANNOT.
The sun is waking up.
Full, am I?
FOOL YOU ARE!
Setting behind the clouds.
#aging
8 reads
1 Comment
FeNyX
Poem Published
23rd Jan 2022 2:43pm
23rd Jan 2022 2:43pm
Too Much Time Under The Bridge
There are more long nights without you
There are reams of dreams unfulfilled
There are more silent moments emptied of meaning
There are too many thoughts unevenly distilled ...
There are more mispelled days than not
There are more dropped thing days than not
There are more elusive sleep days than not
There are more days that need more patience than I've got ...
Without you ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB4K0scMysc
There are reams of dreams unfulfilled
There are more silent moments emptied of meaning
There are too many thoughts unevenly distilled ...
There are more mispelled days than not
There are more dropped thing days than not
There are more elusive sleep days than not
There are more days that need more patience than I've got ...
Without you ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oB4K0scMysc
#love
#LifeStruggles
#aging
14 reads
7 Comments
FeNyX
Poem Published
20th Feb 2022 8:15am
20th Feb 2022 8:15am
Circle In A Square On A Chess Board Filled With Landmines
I am so far off the Hamster wheel
All circles look like squares from over here
Days filled with firework measured time
And heart shaped asses never roaming near
Laps run static and numerous
Questing after speed on the clock
Sitting in stationary pose exploding
As a museum ship that never leaves the dock
Excuse my manner I am quite off
Mad as a hatter driven over the cliff
Dreams fill empty hope fueled by time advancing stiffly
Ever changing challenges never met ... soul still chomping at the bit ... ..
...
All circles look like squares from over here
Days filled with firework measured time
And heart shaped asses never roaming near
Laps run static and numerous
Questing after speed on the clock
Sitting in stationary pose exploding
As a museum ship that never leaves the dock
Excuse my manner I am quite off
Mad as a hatter driven over the cliff
Dreams fill empty hope fueled by time advancing stiffly
Ever changing challenges never met ... soul still chomping at the bit ... ..
...
#love
#LifeStruggles
#aging
16 reads
7 Comments
hackerstacker
Poem Published
22nd Dec 2018 10:33pm
22nd Dec 2018 10:33pm
Father time
Father time
What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The luster of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes, but not for this alone.
Is it to feel our strength -
Not our bloom only, but our strength -decay?
Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact,
Each nerve more weakly strung?
Yes, this, and more! but not,
Ah, 'tis not what in youth we dreamed 'twould be!
'Its not to have our life
Mellowed and softened as with sunset-glow,
A golden day's...
What is it to grow old?
Is it to lose the glory of the form,
The luster of the eye?
Is it for beauty to forego her wreath?
Yes, but not for this alone.
Is it to feel our strength -
Not our bloom only, but our strength -decay?
Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact,
Each nerve more weakly strung?
Yes, this, and more! but not,
Ah, 'tis not what in youth we dreamed 'twould be!
'Its not to have our life
Mellowed and softened as with sunset-glow,
A golden day's...
#love
#aging
#passion
23 reads
6 Comments
Vandel_Viaclovsky
Van
Van
Poem Published
12th Apr 2019 7:08pm
12th Apr 2019 7:08pm
song for old couch by the roadside abandoned
Imperceptible pylons raise a supine aurora
from the ample mouth of nausea
up from my still-smoking caldera of waking
jutting out
beyond the slung hips of manzanitas
the hummingbird sage musters meritable renaissance
harbor washouts and denser hubris
arch their cat-backs
...
from the ample mouth of nausea
up from my still-smoking caldera of waking
jutting out
beyond the slung hips of manzanitas
the hummingbird sage musters meritable renaissance
harbor washouts and denser hubris
arch their cat-backs
...
#countryside
#spring
#LifeCycle
#aging
#admiration
26 reads
6 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
19th May 2021 4:13am
19th May 2021 4:13am
Haircut
today I chopped the last bits
of whoever I used to be
from the ends my hair
greeting the shock of
salt and pepper
with a smile
there you are, at last
of whoever I used to be
from the ends my hair
greeting the shock of
salt and pepper
with a smile
there you are, at last
#aging
#SelfReflection
#SelfWorth
26 reads
17 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
4th Sep 2021 5:14am
4th Sep 2021 5:14am
A Day in the Park
the old widow Nature and I
sat on a park bench
along South Fayetteville Square,
this early September morning
She’d come to oversee
the arrival of Queen Autumn
I held her strong, leathery hand
in mine; breathed my hopes and hurts
into her patient, listening ear ~
whenever I thought to pause
and fill my lungs,
her essence danced upon the air
(magnolias join the reverie;
I am transfixed in this moment ~
where the late summer sun
dapples its way through the trees ...
sat on a park bench
along South Fayetteville Square,
this early September morning
She’d come to oversee
the arrival of Queen Autumn
I held her strong, leathery hand
in mine; breathed my hopes and hurts
into her patient, listening ear ~
whenever I thought to pause
and fill my lungs,
her essence danced upon the air
(magnolias join the reverie;
I am transfixed in this moment ~
where the late summer sun
dapples its way through the trees ...
#nature
#learning
#aging #meditation
#aging #meditation
27 reads
9 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
18th Jul 2022 2:12am
18th Jul 2022 2:12am
Do I Make Myself Clear?
There comes a time to coax a deuce
Or still another after tea
Before digestion calls a truce
For gastroenterology,
Which needs a little inner space
Where fiber optics may explore
(as you are out cold on your face)
The guts above your pelvic floor:
Specifically...the colon,
Where bacteria breaks things down
And the liquid soon gets stolen
From a matter that's extra brown,
But that's not the hue they wish to see
When conducting colonoscopy.
Or still another after tea
Before digestion calls a truce
For gastroenterology,
Which needs a little inner space
Where fiber optics may explore
(as you are out cold on your face)
The guts above your pelvic floor:
Specifically...the colon,
Where bacteria breaks things down
And the liquid soon gets stolen
From a matter that's extra brown,
But that's not the hue they wish to see
When conducting colonoscopy.
#aging
32 reads
0 Comments
thinlane
Poem Published
1st Aug 2022 2:42am
1st Aug 2022 2:42am
Old
Eyes wide open to the world
Have become a baleful stare
Aimed at all the
Goggle eyed kids out there
With music I don't understand
And clothes that make me embarrassed
And I think I understand The Who
Singing I hope I die before I get old
But it never happened
I never thought I'd be as old as I feel
So I've become
All the square parents
That we used to make fun of
Turn down that music
And get a haircut
I'm saner moments I wonder
What has happened to me
Maybe I should just give up totally
And join a...
Have become a baleful stare
Aimed at all the
Goggle eyed kids out there
With music I don't understand
And clothes that make me embarrassed
And I think I understand The Who
Singing I hope I die before I get old
But it never happened
I never thought I'd be as old as I feel
So I've become
All the square parents
That we used to make fun of
Turn down that music
And get a haircut
I'm saner moments I wonder
What has happened to me
Maybe I should just give up totally
And join a...
#aging
33 reads
0 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
26th Sep 2021 00:59am
26th Sep 2021 00:59am
Lost Girl
where does the little girl go?
where does she go?
I want to tell her it’s ok to need the wind
whipping through her long, wild hair
when her soft, bare feet have
grown calloused, running
out of lush, green grass and
her face no longer basks
unapologetically in the sun
where does she go?
I want to tell her it’s ok to need to be held
by those supposed to love you most
when her arms cease reaching
upwards to be cradled against
her mother’s breast,
and her chin becomes too wise ...
where does she go?
I want to tell her it’s ok to need the wind
whipping through her long, wild hair
when her soft, bare feet have
grown calloused, running
out of lush, green grass and
her face no longer basks
unapologetically in the sun
where does she go?
I want to tell her it’s ok to need to be held
by those supposed to love you most
when her arms cease reaching
upwards to be cradled against
her mother’s breast,
and her chin becomes too wise ...
#aging
34 reads
16 Comments
wallyroo92
Poem Published
9th Aug 2022 6:32am
9th Aug 2022 6:32am
Battery '22
I gotta admit it…
I felt a sense of pride watching him walk into the field
Knowing his first day of camp was something totally new
I guess it was just me seeing part of me rubbing off on him
And yet he still has so much to learn, so much to do
He’s got a sarcastic sense of humor and a loving personality
I know he’s got a knack for music as far as I can tell
He’ll discover about the ethics and principles of teamwork
The hard work that goes into building something big as well
He’s not the little guy I used to carry in arms anymore ...
I felt a sense of pride watching him walk into the field
Knowing his first day of camp was something totally new
I guess it was just me seeing part of me rubbing off on him
And yet he still has so much to learn, so much to do
He’s got a sarcastic sense of humor and a loving personality
I know he’s got a knack for music as far as I can tell
He’ll discover about the ethics and principles of teamwork
The hard work that goes into building something big as well
He’s not the little guy I used to carry in arms anymore ...
#children
#school
#music #aging
#music #aging
34 reads
1 Comment
dartford
Paul S...
Paul S...
Poem Published
5th Aug 2022 00:31am
5th Aug 2022 00:31am
yeats and hardy were peeved
to be known as a romantic
you had to be dead before
thirty
old poets who were well past
their ‘sixties wrote stiff
letters to the times ..
you had to be dead before
thirty
old poets who were well past
their ‘sixties wrote stiff
letters to the times ..
#aging
38 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Aging
