Poems about Old Age

Poems about Old Age are full of lifes' wisdom,
"I've Got a New Hattitude!"

"The Older I get, the Better I Was!"

"I am not bossy, I just have better ideas"

"I'd rather be 50 than pregnant"

"You can argue with me...or you can be wrong"

"Next Mood Swing - 5 Minutes"

wit and pithy remarks about the joys of ageing, the freedom it brings but also the pain.
These are free for you to use for non commercial purpose.

Poems about Old Age

We could certainly slow the aging process down
If it had to work its way through Congress.
Will Rogers


I saw a specialist who asked me: 'Are you familiar with the phrase faecal impaction?' I said: 'I think I saw that one with Glenn Close and Michael Douglas'.


Good friends are like fine quilts - they seem to age with you,
 yet they never lose their warmth.


What do you see nurses, what do you see?

What are you thinking when you're looking at me?

A crabbit old woman, not very wise
Uncertain of habit with far away eyes.

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try"

Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or a shoe.

Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the day long to fill.

Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, you're not looking at me

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still
As I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten, with father and mother
Brothers and sisters who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.

A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty five now, I have young of my own
Who need to me to build a secure, happy home.

A young woman of thirty, my young now grow fast
Bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young ones now grown will soon be gone
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knee
Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead
I look to the future and shudder with dread.

For my young are all busy rearing young of their own
And I think of the years and the love I have known.

I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel
'Tis her joke to make old age look like a fool.

The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells
And now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain
And I'm living and loving life over again.

I think of the years, all too few - gone too fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes nurses, open and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer - see me.

Poems about Old Age


(Penned by a nurse)

What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes we are thinking when we look at thee.

We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss
but there's many of you and too few of us.

We would like far more time to sit by you and talk,
to hear of your lives and the things you have done,
your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.

But time is against us, there's too much to do,
patients too many, and nurses too few.

We grieve when we see you so sad and alone,
with nobody near you, no friends of your own.

We feel all your pain, and know of your fear,
that nobody cares now, your end is so near.

But nurses are people with feelings as well,
and when we're together you'll often hear tell
of the dearest old gran in the very end bed,
and the lovely old dad, and the things that he said.

We speak with compassion and love, and feel sad,
when we think of your lives and the joy that you've had.

When the time has arrived for you to depart,
you leave us behind with an ache in our heart.

When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care,
there are other old people, and we must be there.

So please understand if we hurry and fuss -
there are many of you, and too few of us.


Blessed In Aging

Blessed are they who understand
My faltering step and shaking hand
Blessed, who know my ears today
Must strain to hear the things they say.
Blessed are those who seem to know
My eyes are dim and my mind is slow
Blessed are those who look away
When I spilled tea that weary day.
Blessed are they who, with cheery smile
Stopped to chat for a little while
Blessed are they who know the way
To bring back memories of yesterday.
Blessed are those who never say
“You’ve told that story twice today”
Blessed are they who make it known
That I am loved, respected and not alone.
And blessed are they who will ease the days
Of my journey home, in loving ways.
Esther Mary Walker


Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.


Talk about getting old. I was getting dressed and a peeping tom looked in the window, took a look and pulled down the shade.
Joan Rivers

Poems about Old Age
Never take a laxative and a sleeping pill on the same night!



vMaybe it's true that life begins at fifty ..
but everything else starts to wear out, fall out, or spread out.
Phyllis Diller


Sang to the tune Some of my Favorite Things

Botox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favourite things.

Cadillacs and cataracts, hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favourite things.

When the pipes leak, When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things...

Back pain, confused brains and no need for sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite thin gs.

When the joints ache, When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad.




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Poems about Old Age