Poems about aging

There have been many memorable poems about aging over the years.  A phrase or line in a poem can connect, inspire or simply amuse – I can certainly relate to some of the sentiments expressed below.

I hope you enjoy my selection – and please contact me if you have any suggestions for new content!

I’m still here

My looks are nothing special,
My face reveals my age,
My body shows some wear and tear,
And my energy’s not the same.

Too often my memory fails me,
And I lose things all the time.
One minute I know what I plan to do,
And the next it may just slip my mind.

I try hard to avoid my mirror.
There are things I would rather not see,
And even those times when I just catch a glimpse,
I can no longer recognize me.

The things I used to do with ease
Can now cause aches and pains,
And the quality of the things I do
Will never be quite the same.

I always compare my older self
To those younger versions of me,
And I know I’m wasting too much time
Missing who I used to be.

But the thing that really makes me sad
Is despite what people see,
Underneath my tattered, worn out shell,
I’m still the same old me.

My heart can still feel endless love,
And at times it still can ache.
My heart can fill with so much joy,
And then it can suddenly break.

My soul can still feel sympathy
And longs for forgiveness and peace,
And there are times its light shines boldly through,
And times when it longs for release.

It’s true, maybe now that I’m older,
Feeling lonely may be status quo,
But it also has made me more willing
To forgive and let past conflicts go.

So maybe to some I look ugly and old,
A person who barely exists.
I’m still quite aware of the beauty inside,
And my value should not be dismissed.

So although not as strong and no beauty, it’s true,
I’m still here and want so much to live,
And I know that there’s no one in this world quite like me,
And no one who has more to give.

Patricia Fleming

 

Changing Places

I see the sadness in your eyes,
The times that you are knowing
What’s happening to your wondrous mind,
The symptoms you are showing.

It was so hard to recognize
When they started coming through.
The little things that changed you
From the person that I knew.

The doctor’s confirmation
Was so hard to accept,
To know that little could be done,
That there’s no cure as of yet.

Forgive me, dear, if sometimes
I give in to my frustrations.
It’s just so overwhelming,
This change in our relations.

Now I’m the one to be on guard,
To keep you safe from harm,
Protecting you the best I can
And not showing my alarm.

I hope you still can understand
How much you mean to me.
Though you curse me or forget me,
I’ll accept what has to be.

For I will still remember
The joys that we once shared.
You showed me in so many ways
How very much you cared.

I pray to God to give me strength
To do what must be done,
To trust that in the future
This battle will be won

Alora M. Knight

Happy Senior Couple

Will I Have To Be Sexy At 60?

Will I have to be sexy at sixty?
Will I have to keep trying so hard?
Well I’m just going to slump,
With my dowager’s hump
And watch myself turn into lard.
 
I’m not going to keep exercising,
I’m not going to take HRT,
If a toy boy enquires I’ll say,
“Hah! Hard luck squire!
Where were you in 73…?”
 
I’m not going to shave my moustaches,
I’m just going to let them all sprout,
My chins’ll be double
All covered in stubble,
I’m going to become an Old Trout!
 
My beauty all gone and forgotten,
Vanished with never a quibble,
I’ll sit here and just kind of gnaw at a crust
And squint at the telly, and dribble.
 
As my marbles get steadily fewer,
Must I battle to keep my allure?
Have I still got to pout
Now my teeth have come out
And my husband has found pastures newer?
 
Farewell to the fad and the fashion,
Farewell to the young and the free!
My passion’s expired,
At bedtime… I’m TIRED!
Sexy and sixty?
Not me!
 
 
 

The Cat In The Hat

I cannot see
I cannot pee
I cannot chew
I cannot screw
Oh my god, what can I do?

 

My memory shrinks
My hearing stinks
No sense of smell
I look like hell
My mood is bed-can you tell?

 

My body’s drooping
Have trouble pooping
The Golden Years
Have come at last
The Golden Years
Can kiss my ass.

Dr Seuss

Happy Couple

Dust If You Must

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read;
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not kind.
And when you go (and go you must)
You, yourself, will make more dust.

Rose Milligan

Poems About Aging

My Rememberer

My forgetter’s getting better
But my rememberer is broke
To you that may seem funny
But, to me, that is no joke.

For when I’m ‘here’ I’m wondering
If I really should be ‘there’
And, when I try to think it through,
I haven’t got a prayer!

Often times I walk into a room,
Say “what am I here for?”
I wrack my brain, but all in vain
A zero, is my score.

At times I put something away
Where it is safe, but, Gee!
The person it is safest from
Is, generally, me!

When shopping I may see someone,
Say “Hi” and have a chat,
Then, when the person walks away
I ask myself, “who was that?”

Yes, my forgetter’s getting better
While my rememberer is broke,
And it’s driving me plumb crazy
And that isn’t any joke.

I’m Fine, How are You?

There’s nothing the matter with me,
I’m just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

All my teeth have had to come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I’m overweight and I can’t get thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

Arch supports I need for my feet.
Or I wouldn’t be able to go out in the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory’s failing, my head’s in a spin.
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old.
It is better to say “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.

I’m fine, how are you?

The Twist

A gal was attempting the twist —
A dance from her youth she still missed.
But this hard kind of rock
Left her hips in a lock
She was wistful, as the Doc said: “Resist!”

Mr Happy Laughing At Joke

When I Was Young

Verse, a breeze mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!

 
When I was young?—Ah, woful When!
Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands,
How lightly then it flashed along:—
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I lived in’t together.
 
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O! the joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old!
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet,
‘Tis known, that Thou and I were one,
I’ll think it but a fond conceit—
It cannot be that Thou art gone!
 
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll’d:—
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe, that thou are gone?
I see these locks in silvery slips,
This drooping gait, this altered size:
But Spring-tide blossoms on thy lips,
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
Life is but thought: so think I will
That Youth and I are house-mates still.
 
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
Where no hope is, life’s a warning
That only serves to make us grieve,
When we are old:
That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest,
That may not rudely be dismist;
Yet hath outstay’d his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.
 
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

On Aging

When you see me sitting quietly,
like a sack upon a shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.

Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me!
Hold! Stop your sympathy!
Understanding if you got it,
otherwise I’ll do without it!

When my bones are stiff and aching
and my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favor:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.

When you see me walking, stumbling,
don’t study and get it wrong.
‘Cause tired don’t mean lazy
and every goodbye ain’t gone.

I’m the same person I was back then,
a little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in.

Maya Angelou

Woman Reading

Please note that I am aware that poems are copyrighted.  If I have infringed your license please contact me and I will remove the content – but please also note that there is no monetary content associated with this site – simply a desire to promote active aging.  I hope that you will therefore grant me some dispensation.