Funny Light Hearted Comic for the Elderly
Poet: Strickland Gillilan
But immature at centre - God keep us that! Allow care be laughed to scorn.
Let's keep our backs to eventide and ever face the morn.
Let's keep the ripeness of our noon to guide the girls and boys
Whose youth is callower than ours and lacking deeper joys.
The snow of age may dust our hair, it cannot accomplish inside.
Nosotros'll teach those careworn youths of ours to bear their griefs and smiling -
Become to the ane whose empty life has palled on him and say:
"A wiser youth has come to me while you were turning gray."
This poem makes fun of growing erstwhile, it points out things that happen to everyone, just in the end the bulletin is enjoy and but alive life!
Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2012
Crumbling fun
Growing old is,
Lots of fun,
Permit me to share,
The obvious pun.
Of course this fun,
Is not the truth,
Is crumbling all that,
Fun to you?
Baldness, greying,
Wrinkles, and more.
Is not my idea of
Aging galore.
But maybe things will be different for you.
Do not let the stress of age
Brand yous blue
Alive life, be engaged!
Years practice go by quickly! The verses in this poetry emphasize this.
By Catherine Pulsifer, © 2011
I'm as well young to be this erstwhile
It is similar communicable a cold
It happens before you know
The years fly by and and then yous're old.
But life is to be live each 24-hour interval
Never cease learning
Keep decorated
Detect a express mirth
And life will exist the best.
A short just to the point poem near getting older!
By: Catherine Pulsifer, © 2011
The older we become
The more than we forget
But who cares
Just those who dare
To accept that facelift
And and then exist miffed!
A cute poem that uses wheels to draw how the years go by.
Poet Unknown
A wicker carriage we provide
In which the baby first may ride.
With kilts, a yellowish cart arrives,
A doubtful baton-caprine animal he drives.
In knickerbockers, down the pike,
He circuses upon his cycle.
The age of love and gasoline
Demands a lx-horse machine.
The years advance; he rides afar
In his palatial private car.
Old, feeble, if the day be fair,
His valet wheels him in the chair.
Then 1 concluding trip he takes on wheels
His caput no higher than his heels.
Poet Unknown
That's not my age; it's just not truthful.
My centre is young; the fourth dimension just flew.
I'm staring at this foreign old face,
And someone else is in my place!
Past Deacon Green
If I were a boy again, — ah, me! —
How very, very good I'd be!
I would not sulk, I would not cry,
I'd scorn to coax for cake or pie.
I would not crusade Mamma distress,
I'd never hate to wash and dress.
I'd rather learn a task than play,
And ne'er from school I'd run away.
I'd any time my jack-knife lend,
And share my toys with every friend.
I'd gladly go to bed at half-dozen,
And never be "as cantankerous as sticks."
I'd run with joy to take a pill,
And mustard wear whenever sick.
I'd never wish to skate or swim,
But wisely think of dangers grim.
And, oh, I'd never, just for fun,
Beg to become hunting with a gun!
At every naughty matter I did —
For mischief might be somewhere hid —
I'd drop at once upon my knees,
And say, "Dear Teacher, flog me, delight."
Information technology'southward like shooting fish in a barrel to be good, you come across,
When looking back from threescore-three.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
I feel like snap, crackle, pop
I wish my age would just finish
I bend down and my knees practice snap
Makes me feel like my legs will flap
So my arthritis makes me crepitation
I wonder what next I can tackle
And if I turn too fast I hear "popular"
My neck makes this noise similar an quondam mop.
But permit me tell you it's okay
A snap, a crackle, a pop, lets me know I am not decay
There is yet some life in these old bones
I won't waste it with complaints and groans
And I am not going to shrivel upward and die
If someone asks my age I volition just lie!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
You lot are now a senior they said
Oh great, that I did dread!
What is good virtually aging I ask
Everything seems like such a task.
A senior that means I will have gray hair
Maybe I'll dye it majestic for some flare.
And wrinkles that appear out of the blue
Where they came from I haven't a inkling.
It seems I walk a little slower
And things seem more hard to jump over
And never before did I demand spectacles to see
And my float keeps wanting me to pee.
I sit dorsum and wonder virtually the years
That take flown by and merely disappeared
Then I realized no sense in beingness downwardly
I might as well be the senior clown.
I may not exist able to do everything
Just to others a smile I can bring
And then a senior I may exist
My goal is to make others happy!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
They phone call them the golden years
Well if that is the case why don't more than cheer?
Age is the one thing people fret about
Some even sit down and pout!
There are many things we can control
Simply tell me who sets a goal
To see time passing and get old?
It seems to all start at the fifty threshold.
They say your memory starts to go
You forget things you use to know
You see a person, but forget their name
On your age, you do blame!
You talk nearly the skillful old days
Whenever someone visits and stays.
And when the Boob tube is on
You close your eyes and yawn.
Golden years expect forward they volition come
You think never, I am young.
Only before y'all know it you will find
Your younger years will be left behind.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
30 is the historic period that they say you're old
but you are still young and pretty assuming.
And so comes 40 and you may experience
You've been given a rotten deal.
But wait, 50 appears out of the blue
And that age may exist a bit of an issue
And earlier y'all know it 60 arrives
And you're thankful you have survived
And some of us meet 70 years
People finish and call us love.
The big 80 surprises you lot
You tin't do what you use to.
And if 90 you exercise come across
To stay awake beverage more than coffee
100 is the historic period that is amazing even so
To become around takes some skill.
Forget about the age you are
Set your goals and you'll get far.
Yes with historic period you may have to arrange a bit
Merely it doesn't mean you have to sit and knit!!
Source: https://www.stresslesscountry.com/funnypoemsaging.html
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