by Kathy Holler
(Edmonton, AB, Canada)
Sung to the tune of ‘My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean’
My body is starting to crumble
My belly is going to pot
My words come out as a mumble
If I were a horse I’d be shot
Chorus:
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my youth to me, to me
Bring back, Oh bring back
Don’t leave me in misery
My brain cells have left on vacation
My forehead is getting too high
My hair ends up in the basin
And the years just keep flying by
My biceps are starting to soften
And I guess that ain’t enough
‘Cause I’m grabbing my ankles too often
While the doctor is saying “please cough”
I shouldn’t get down in a blue mood
I shouldn’t be sad and distraught
My mind says I’m still a hot dude
Although my mirror says ‘not’.
by SUE
(SADDLEWORTH)
A Little Ditty I Put Together For A Mate's 40th.
Comment by webmaster
As good a 'getting older' poem as I've seen in a long time. Keep' em comin' Sue
40 They Say Is Where Life Begins
The 20s And 30s Have Wained
It Wont Be Long Before You Shout
"I Wish I Was 18 Again"
The Backside Starts To Sag And Droop
The Boobs Not As Firm As Before
The Thighs Expand,The Waist Doth Spread
And You Cant Touch Your Toes Any More
But Take Heart And Look Forward To NHS Specs
False Teeth And Rickety Bones
The Migraines, Arthritis, Cystitis And Cramp
And Death Of Your Hormogenous Zones
The Onset Of Menopause Moods And Hot Flushes
Memory Loss, Incontinence, Decay
But Dont Dwell Too Long On The Problems Of Life
"Bugger It All
" And Have a Great Day" !!!
by Kathy Holler
(Edmonton, AB, Canada)
I've always written silly ditties and poems.
Sung to the tune of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean
My body is falling to pieces
My eyesight is going to hell
My hair is turning much grayer
I don’t think I’m doing so well
Chorus
Bring back, oh bring back
Bring back my youth to me, to me
Bring back, oh bring back
Don’t leave me in misery
I’ve noticed a whole lot of wrinkles
Where once none used to be
I’m sure that I’ve gotten much shorter
And my boobs will soon hit my knees
My brain cells are leaving in bunches
My body is starting to scream
I’m still hot but now it’s in flashes
Please tell me that this is a dream
I thought I would never get older
I’d always be young and so free
But the truth looks back from the mirror
Oh Lord, is that really me!
by Daisy
(England)
Birthday Shmirthday
Why should I care?
Another year older
Another grey hair!
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by Eva B
(UK)
As an 80+ year old woman I love poems about age..getting old
Here's some I've come across you might like
A BWAG* Birthday Poem for All Ages
by Mary Geis
Yes, the thirties are hectic, beautiful, fine,
And some choose to stop counting at thirty-nine.
They think that at age forty, their life is half over,
But, no! You’re just beginning to roll in the clover.
At forty you’re cooking with get up and go;
You’re stronger and smarter than most of us know;
And you’re younger and better the older you grow.
Fit and feisty at fifty? It’s no big deal!
That’s how a half century is supposed to feel.
Your hormones are fading; you have a pain in the knee;
You hold the phone book at arm’s length in order to see;
You’re sure to be courted by AARP;
But the children are grown now, you’re fancy is free.
Fifties take stock, start making great plans,
Ignoring “You can’t”s, embracing “I can”s.
Swift and sexy at sixty? We hope that’s the case;
There’s a long way to go ‘til the end of the race;
Sure, problems are bound to pop up here and there;
Unwanted growth to remove; a joint to repair;
You deal with old skin, bad teeth, and gray hair.
Poems About Age
But sixties can choose, to hike, travel, or ski;
To contribute, to study, to really look, really see.
So you’re seventy now, and ahead of the game;
(Beta BWAGs) nod in respect, when they mention your name.
You know that younger BWAGs, would not choose to be your age;
Perhaps you would, if you could, turn back to a younger page;
But face it girl, you’re an elder, a “Burlap BWAG” sage!
The seventies may slow you down, but look up the trail you climb,
And hope God, luck, and motivation, will slow down Mother Time.
Reaching eighty is a bit more weighty, risks come with added years;
The term “OLD old” adds a chill to the thrill, of parties with your peers.
You’re told to keep the old joints moving, the old mind active yet;
To look for new adventures, to give more than you get;
But each new year’s a gamble, and each birthday you win the bet!
And do old BWAGs fade away, as it’s said old soldiers do?
Not? Try shifting to a lower gear, and greet each birthday year anew.
Past eighty-five and still alive! We’re the OLD older generation;
We face the numbered years ahead with: possible attitudes listed below.
Keep
in mind that you can choose, and that choices can be positive (or negative).
Poems About Age
1. Faith (doubt) and happy (worried) expectation.
2. Thanks (regrets) and cheerful (gloomy) resignation.
3. Hope (fear) and calm (grim) determination.
Healthy and active for our age, is often what we’re told,
If true, we think that we can thank, the BWAG way of growing old;
And younger BWAGs aging up, will further stretch that BWAG mold.
And yes, old BWAGs fade away, as all old folks seem to do;
We die too young, or we die too old; not a happy thought, but true.
Postscript:
I thought I’d best not wait ‘til 90, to pen another BWAG birthday verse;
The old mind may get more scrambled; the old body’s ills get worse.
In the mind’s eye of memory, I navigate old BWAG trails;
I enjoy the seasons in the mountains, even as the body fails;
I laugh with old time BWAGs, and tell old BWAG tales.
I know my limits here on earth, but in my mind, they are the sky,
And when opportunity allows, I’ll give it the old BWAG try!
Poems About Age
Addendum:
If I’m all here at ninety, and still think I’m cool and wise;
I’ll fill you in on old age, through a BWAG ninety’s eyes.
BWAGs (pronounced "bee wags") originated in 1968 in Christchurch, New Zealand. BWAGs stood for the Bishopdale Women's Activity Groups, and the purpose was for women to have fun and companionship and to learn new and interesting activities. Bozeman resident Margaret Emerson, who was living in Christchurch at the time, brought the idea back to Montana, and the Bozeman Women's Activity Groups began meeting in 1969.
There's a BWAG called Bushwalking and Activities Group
More
Poems About Age
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by Pam Greenwood
(London)
Written for my friend who is the same age as me but suicidal at all the oncoming wrinkles and strange things that happen when one reaches middle age.
An Ode to getting "Ode"
by Pam Greenwood 2001
I'm sending you good tidings on this your Special Day.
I've reached this great conclusion...so don't sink in deep despair.
When your elastic stockings fail to work
and you need to iron your legs...
When your heavy duty tweezers break
and you need industrial strength...
When you have to plait the hairs on your chin
and pin them back with a slide...
When the tops of your arms turn to bat wings
and you swear you could almost fly...
I've finally found the answer amidst the "wails" and "cries"
We're not getting old as previously thought
We're emerging as BUTTERFLIES.
Jon says "I do like this one"
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by Jake
(Texas USA)
I thought I'd submit this YouTube of Golf Brooks' very funny song as I noticed you didn't have it on your web site
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