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
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
20 reads
8 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
22 reads
6 Comments
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
The Gardener
Poem Published
14th Oct 2021 7:08pm
14th Oct 2021 7:08pm
was told I was a daydreamer
When gummed,
I imagine,
whole Moons
become lemondrops,
teeth on which they shatter
stalactites in caves
filled with burnt out,
gloomy stars.
And beside that,
when dreams
take upon their dreaming,
pivot daintily
on an edge
of reality
and tabletop
black magic
I cast doubt
as bolts of energy
streaming from source,
crumpling the symphony
of delicate wonder,
orchestra with it,
chandeliers fallen
in the quiver,
ballrooms tumbled
into a magma shaped hole
where one runs...
I imagine,
whole Moons
become lemondrops,
teeth on which they shatter
stalactites in caves
filled with burnt out,
gloomy stars.
And beside that,
when dreams
take upon their dreaming,
pivot daintily
on an edge
of reality
and tabletop
black magic
I cast doubt
as bolts of energy
streaming from source,
crumpling the symphony
of delicate wonder,
orchestra with it,
chandeliers fallen
in the quiver,
ballrooms tumbled
into a magma shaped hole
where one runs...
#dreams
#aging
23 reads
1 Comment
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
24 reads
7 Comments
dartford
Paul S...
Paul S...
Poem Published
28th Sep 2021 1:07am
28th Sep 2021 1:07am
poor old gigolo
naturally, I’m not as attractive
as I was twenty years ago
I’d never have thought that I’d end up like this
as I was twenty years ago
I’d never have thought that I’d end up like this
#aging
25 reads
0 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
fiveamtuesday
Poem Published
17th Aug 2021 9:38am
17th Aug 2021 9:38am
Anachronism
Rather than to be a man,
Made and finely aged with time,
You became a relic
Circa 1955.
Made and finely aged with time,
You became a relic
Circa 1955.
#aging
28 reads
1 Comment
thinlane
Poem Published
17th Sep 2021 11:16am
17th Sep 2021 11:16am
Fast Mover
Making long term plans at my age
Is like daring the fates
To take their best shot
Supreme arrogance at its most sublime
I'm going to live forever
If I don't slow down
Nobody makes it out alive
But me.
Is like daring the fates
To take their best shot
Supreme arrogance at its most sublime
I'm going to live forever
If I don't slow down
Nobody makes it out alive
But me.
#death
#aging
28 reads
1 Comment
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
The Gardener
Poem Published
2nd Oct 2021 4:57pm
2nd Oct 2021 4:57pm
Wood
I've been corroding the best of you,
caught sight in a tin can rolling down the 38
or at least falsified
it was you,
ignited old embers,
the one's that never met
your hold, or expectation,
turned around,
followed the sound
of slamming cellar doors,
wonder if
since I let you loose
in the streets of Rushmere
whether you've lost
the ability to recall
in vivid detail
the way I can,
and which bits you recall,
whether your heart sings
whole glasses of opera
to the things we lost
and all the...
caught sight in a tin can rolling down the 38
or at least falsified
it was you,
ignited old embers,
the one's that never met
your hold, or expectation,
turned around,
followed the sound
of slamming cellar doors,
wonder if
since I let you loose
in the streets of Rushmere
whether you've lost
the ability to recall
in vivid detail
the way I can,
and which bits you recall,
whether your heart sings
whole glasses of opera
to the things we lost
and all the...
#aging
29 reads
1 Comment
Baldwin
Poem Published
13th Sep 2021 4:38pm
13th Sep 2021 4:38pm
approaching another birthday
I’m wondering now if others of my age
feel their reserves of energy,
and their ability
for pleasure and for pleasuring
have grown too thin
for measurement,
and that against the world’s vicissitudes
they’ve lost within themselves
their sense of density,
that there’s duration left
within their lives.
I wonder, too.
if they, like me, have given up all hope
to be remade, arrayed, displayed,
in joy.
feel their reserves of energy,
and their ability
for pleasure and for pleasuring
have grown too thin
for measurement,
and that against the world’s vicissitudes
they’ve lost within themselves
their sense of density,
that there’s duration left
within their lives.
I wonder, too.
if they, like me, have given up all hope
to be remade, arrayed, displayed,
in joy.
#aging
30 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Aging
