Subject: Poems about Growing Old From: Charley Noble Date: 02 Jan 10 - 01:15 PM Toward the end of 2009 my mother found herself in a reflective mood one morning: By Dahlov Ipcar, 12/31/2009 Morning - 2009 It is morning And I'm in my ninety-third year; The cat is waiting for her milk. I put the kettle on to boil And I feed the cat, And I say to myself, "How will I do all this when I get old?" Other contributions welcome! Cheerily, Charley Noble in his 67th year |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: autoharper Date: 02 Jan 10 - 01:26 PM Thanks for posting this lovely verse, Charley. It's just beautiful! -Adam Miller |
Subject: Lyr Add: JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO From: Jim Carroll Date: 02 Jan 10 - 01:26 PM One to show that there's hope for us all Charlie, Jim Carroll JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO John Anderson, my jo, John, I wonder what ye mean, To lie sae lang i' the mornin', And sit sae late at e'en? Ye'll bleer a' your een, John, And why do ye so? Come sooner to your bed at een, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, When first that ye began, Ye had as good a tail-tree, As ony ither man; But now its waxen wan, John, And wrinkles to and fro, I've twa gae-ups for ae gae-down, John Anderson, my jo. I'm backit like a salmon, I'm breastit like a swan; My wame it is a down-cod, My middle ye may span:; Frae my tap-knot to my tae, John, I'm like the new-fa'n snow; And it's a' for your convenience, John Anderson, my jo. O it is a fine thing To keep out o'er the dyke, But its a meikle finer thing, To see your hurdies fyke; To see your hurdies fyke, John, And hit the rising blow; It's then I like your chanter-pipe, John Anderson, my jo. When ye come on before, John, See that ye do your best; When ye begin to haud me, See that ye grip me fast; See that ye grip me fast, John, Until that I cry "Oh!" Your back shall crack or I do that, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, Ye're welcome when ye please; It's either in the warm bed Or else aboon the claes: Or ye shall hae the horns, John, Upon your head to grow; An' that's the cuckold's mallison, John Anderson, my jo. |
Subject: Lyr Add: WHITE HAIR SAFARI From: VirginiaTam Date: 02 Jan 10 - 01:45 PM WHITE HAIR SAFARI Written by me 2008 (I forget the actual date) Women of a certain age Will know whereof I speak When our vision starts to dim And our joints begin to creak With arms not quite long enough To see words upon a page I still have the eyes and the reach To strike down a wiry savage Oh I do the white hair safari I hunt both day and night Armed only with the tweezers With mirror and strong light I put off the ordinary tasks My fingers not so nimble I claim I cannot see to sew Or that I've lost my thimble Those special meals I used to make Take more strength than I've got My poor family comes home again Another takeaway and empty pot But I do the white hair safari I hunt both day and night Armed only with the tweezers With mirror and strong light In the utility room is a basket Near splitting at the sides A month or more of ironing Neglected, there resides My arms hurt too much I say I cannot stand the heat But fry my brains 'neath hundred watt Searching for the wiry beast Yes I did the white hair safari Hunted both day and night Armed only with the tweezers With mirror and strong light Until finally all the maladies That helped me put off work Catch me out then catch me up Make me look the jerk Now I've reached another phase And suddenly do not care To comb and search and suffer To find the rare white hair Less uncommon are they now And not so hard to find I've learned to let the creatures be It's those dark hairs now I mind To go on the dark hair safari Bothered, I just can't be I've lost the tweezers, the mirror's cracked Besides I cannot see Oh never did the wild white hair A woman's beauty mar Her care for others and inner self Is where they see a star |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Bill D Date: 02 Jan 10 - 01:46 PM synopsis of actuality: "You are old, Father William" his friends did remark, "And doing quite well, in the main. But we still remember when you stood on your head- Why don't you do it again?" "In my youth, it was easy", the old man replied, "But my CAT scan was an interesting sight" The doc said:," Your vertebrae's seen better days, "And I recommend staying upright!" (I used to celebrate birthdays by standing on my head...until 55 or so) |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: stallion Date: 02 Jan 10 - 02:16 PM Charley she is a wonderful woman and I am really glad you took us to meet her |
Subject: Lyr Add: SING A SONG AT SIXTY From: MGM·Lion Date: 02 Jan 10 - 03:08 PM Winner of 2nd prize (£300) in competition SING A SONG AT SIXTY It is too late alas to learn a musical instrument, To become a downhill racer on skis or compete at Wimbledon; I shall never be able to read Dostoievsky in the original. I have not won any cups for achievement, And so many things I dreamed of will never happen: I shall never achieve my own chat show on television, Or dissolve gracefully into artful tears, clutching my Oscar. I must reconcile myself to clothing which is Comfortable rather than glamorous, And acknowledge that hair-dye after sixty is usually a mistake. I refuse to lament the loss of my beauty and my slender waist, Instead I will be grateful that I retain my teeth, More metal than ivory, it must be frankly admitted, Propped, pinned, posted and padded with plastic, But I can still eat with them. I will be glad that I was not born in the Dark Ages Before the invention of spectacles. I will not agonize Over tests I have failed, but will concentrate on remembering The ones I have passed, and the people who have loved me. It is futile to lie awake brooding over old animosities. It is time to forgive one's parents and to contemplate the young Not with envy but with tender concern and generosity, Betraying no awareness of how vulnerable they are. Valerie Grosvenor Myer 1935-2007 |
Subject: Lyr Add: NOCTURNE From: MGM·Lion Date: 02 Jan 10 - 03:14 PM NOCTURNE A phalanx of old ladies Each wheelchair like a throne Sit doped and dozy in the Kozy Kare Retirement home. Our hair's time-bleached to monochrome, Our teeth are not our own; Since it's got so hard to chew, We live on tablets, mince and stew. Precarious, this refuge (Eight hundred pounds a week) Meant selling off the bungalow In Frinton, not Mustique: We're better placed than plenty, But the present's pretty bleak. We're stuck with nothing much to do; Our visitors are none or few. Time was we went to dances, Our hair in lacquered curls; In sugar-stiffened petticoats, We executed twirls. Oh, how we used to jitterbug, When we were pretty girls! Valerie Grosvenor Myer 1935-2007 |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Bill D Date: 02 Jan 10 - 03:26 PM wonderful, Michael... I would like to have known her. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 02 Jan 10 - 03:28 PM Thank you, Bill. That means a great deal to me. |
Subject: Lyr Add: DO YOU REMEMBER? (Leon Rosselson) From: GUEST,Paul Burke Date: 02 Jan 10 - 04:21 PM DO YOU REMEMBER? As recorded by Leon Rosselson on "Songs for Sceptical Circles" (1966)
Do you remember when first I met you?
Do you remember the room where we stayed?
When the candle's burnt out and we're no longer young,
Rings on my fingers and chains in my bed,
And what will be left from the kiss in the park? * But on a more positive note, anything from Christopher Matthews excellent "Now We Are Sixty." |
Subject: Lyr Add: GOLD LEAVES (G. K. Chesterton) From: Micca Date: 02 Jan 10 - 04:26 PM Gold Leaves a poem by G.K. Chesterton Lo! I am come to autumn, When all the leaves are gold; Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out The year and I are old. In youth I sought the prince of men, Captain in cosmic wars, Our Titan, even the weeds would show Defiant, to the stars. But now a great thing in the street Seems any human nod, Where shift in strange democracy The million masks of God. In youth I sought the golden flower Hidden in wood or wold, But I am come to autumn, When all the leaves are gold |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: AllisonA(Animaterra) Date: 02 Jan 10 - 05:07 PM The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock |
Subject: Lyr Add: WARNING (Jenny Joseph) From: Leadfingers Date: 02 Jan 10 - 05:31 PM My Old Mum , 94 0n Christmas Eve , always like this Jenny Joseph poem ! Warning When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausages at a go Or only bread and pickle for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the children. We must have friends to dinner and read the papers. But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. |
Subject: Lyr Add: WHEN YOU ARE OLD (W. B. Yeats) From: Joe_F Date: 02 Jan 10 - 05:55 PM When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And bending down beside the glowing bars, |
Subject: Lyr Add: RETIREMENT (Jean Mackie) From: katlaughing Date: 02 Jan 10 - 06:07 PM MtheGM, thank you for posting those. I especially like the last two verses of Sing A Song At Sixty. Both poems are quite beautifully written. I've always loved this one which I learned from a Jean Redpath CD after I wrote to her and received a gracious reply which told me which one it was on; the "saga" is chronicled in THIS THREAD: "Retirement" by Jean Mackie from "A Little Piece of Earth" copyright 1983 printed by Rainbow Enterprises I sit in long contentment in his house Wrapped in fire heat and sun heat The trees break the sun into long lines Which cross the floor To meet the steady warmth of the coals I lie on the old sofa A rug tucked around me by his gentle hands Was never lover's bed so surely warm I see him pass the window --bowed, slow, sure Carrying plants, seeds, weeds All these he can still attend But when he comes into the kitchen He puts his hand on my head and says "The beasts are looking fine" "Tomorrow" I say "Tomorrow I'll come look" Though I know he sold them all A dozen years ago. |
Subject: Lyr Add: THE REBEL AGAINST MORALITY From: Charley Noble Date: 02 Jan 10 - 06:38 PM What a splendid harvest! And I will mention that folks here love her poem. Leadfingers- The post you made reminded me of one that Utah Philips used to recite: By Malcolm Ross & Ralph Albertson, 1920's Adapted by Utah Philips © 1979 Tune: The Son of a Gambolier The Rebel Against Morality C G C Now I have led a good life, full of peace and quiet G But I shall have an old age, steeped in rum and riot; F C Yes, I have been a good lad, gentile and artistic; G C I shall be a grandad, coarse and anarchistic! Once I paid me taxes and followed every rule, Banker, boss, and bureaucrat found me a willing tool; I voted Democratic and paid the church its due, Now all them swine will have to find some other chump to screw! Of interest, banks and credit, insurance, tax and rent, Of doctors, lawyers, generals and clerics I repent; With this* for corporations and scorn for those elected, I shall be an old bum, loved but unrespected! * With a finger gesture! Cheerily, Charley Noble |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: open mike Date: 03 Jan 10 - 12:45 AM Leadfingers...that is the poem i would post. thanks for getting it posted before I got here..and happy birthday to your beautiful Mom! Here is a poem my great uncle used to recite...Get Up And Go and it is sung here by a young Pete Seeger over 40 years ago. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3J0Q5SMTEM0 |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 03 Jan 10 - 01:29 AM Katlaughing - thank you so much for your kind words about my darling Valerie's poems; your appreciation means a great deal to me. - Michael |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: beeliner Date: 03 Jan 10 - 09:38 AM When I was young this was my cry, "O Lord, why must I ever die?" But now I'm old and sore oppressed. My cry is, "Lord, oh give me rest!" |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Suegorgeous Date: 03 Jan 10 - 10:13 AM Crone In the safe lands of my youth and imagination I, lush and fertile, bonded instinctively with the ripe soft hills, the thick green swathes, the corn-swollen fields They and I, all blossoming on the brink of birth, secure in our sure immortality, Dreamed as one. Now, each summer, hills and fields and fruit swell and ripen and blossom anew, While I - adrift in this slowly unravelling other world of shrinking wrinkling leaking creaking breaking aching - Take the burning descent from bright motherhood Into the dark grinning chasm of the crone, And try on her bones. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Marje Date: 03 Jan 10 - 10:30 AM One of my favouriste quotations (not quite a poem but as good as) has been attributed to various people, icnluding Nadine Stair. There are longer versions but this one says it all for me: "If I had my life over again, I'd like to make more mistakes next time. I'd relax. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I would have fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it all again I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day." Or on a lighter note there's Pam Ayres' "Sexy at Sixty": http://www.itsbullfrog.com/guests/ayres/sixty.htm Marje |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: akenaton Date: 03 Jan 10 - 11:14 AM M the GM.....the two poems you posted are truly beautiful. Your mother must have been an exceptional lady. I would love to hear more.....Ake Just read another beauty from Sue above. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Dave Roberts Date: 03 Jan 10 - 12:04 PM MtheGM, Another quick note of appreciation for your mother's poems. 'Nocturne', in particular, reminds me of the work of the late Sir John Betjeman. And poetry, in my book, doesn't get any better than that. Thanks. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 03 Jan 10 - 01:44 PM Ake & Dave = thank you — but my mother was called Bertha Myer & died in 1967. Valerie Grosvenor Myer [1935-2007], author of these poems, was, as I thought everyone would have realised, my WIFE of half-a-century who died 2 years ago. I am 77. How on earth should I have had a mother born in 1935? Michael |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: open mike Date: 03 Jan 10 - 01:55 PM hence, the head-standing....Father William by Lewis Carroll http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1B-YjgbHsM |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Bonnie Shaljean Date: 03 Jan 10 - 02:08 PM From Morituri Salutamus Whatever poet, orator, or sage May say of it, old age is still old age It is the waning, not the crescent moon The dusk of evening, not the blaze of noon It is not strength, but weakness; not desire But its surcease; not the fierce heat of fire The burning and consuming element But that of ashes and of embers spent In which some living sparks we still discern Enough to warm, but not enough to burn What then? Shall we sit idly down and say The night hath come; it is no longer day? The night hath not yet come; we are not quite Cut off from labour by the failing light Something remains for us to do or dare Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear Not Oedipus Coloneus or Greek Ode Or tales of pilgrims that one morning rode Out of the gateway of the Tabard Inn, But other something, would we but begin For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars invisible by day --- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Dave Roberts Date: 03 Jan 10 - 02:30 PM Sorry, I was taking my information from an earlier thread. Your wife was a very talented poet, and I know you must be very proud of her. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Dave Roberts Date: 03 Jan 10 - 03:00 PM Sorry again. I meant an earlier posting to this thread. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 03 Jan 10 - 03:37 PM Whatever Dave - not to worry: think you might have confused Charley's OP about his mother with my first post, perhaps? But certainly no offence. Glad you liked my Valerie's poems anyhow. Interested in your Betjeman comparison: I think that certainly an influence in Nocturne indeed, & I am sure Valerie would have agreed. Best - Michael |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Suegorgeous Date: 03 Jan 10 - 03:53 PM MtheGm Great poems! she was a fine writer :) |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Suegorgeous Date: 03 Jan 10 - 03:54 PM Thanks Akenaton :) |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Gurney Date: 03 Jan 10 - 04:03 PM I only have the title for mine, yet. 'Pills and Pillows.' John Williamson does a lovely encouraging song 'Purple Roses.' It's on his "The Way It Is' CD. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: akenaton Date: 03 Jan 10 - 04:26 PM Apologies Michael......how stupid of me! Must have been captivated by the poems. and sorry for throwing you Dave....... "I am just going outside.... and may be some time" :0( |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: akenaton Date: 03 Jan 10 - 04:28 PM Loved it "Gorgeous" |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Dave Roberts Date: 03 Jan 10 - 04:49 PM Akenaton, No problem. It's very nice to come across people who appreciate fine poetry. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Young Buchan Date: 03 Jan 10 - 04:57 PM This is Alistair Claire's Old Man's Song. It doesn't seem to be on DT but I've pasted it over from an old thread on the car industry (Sorry Joe O. but I can't do clickies) When I was young and married my wife You couldn't get a job to save your life; With my wife and son at either hand For two long years I travelled the land: And I reckon I've served my time. My shoes were out. My coat was torn. And then we had our daughter born. But I found this job and I earned our bread, Clothes for our back, a roof for our heads: And I reckon I've served my time. They were cut-throat years - you were fighting your mate With another man waiting for your job at the gate. If the foreman didn't like your face that day You got no work,you got no pay: And I reckon I've served my time. Then we joined the Union and learned to strike. It was six hard weeks but we won that fight. Work to our hands and a worthwhile wage _ We were waking up a golden age: And I reckon I've served my time. But the young men now they dress so fine; They don't know how we fought for this line. They're getting too young to know my face; And their work comes to me at the Devil's pace. And I reckon I've served my time. There is also Banks of the Dee. That IS in the DT but there are several. You want the one that starts 'Last Saturday night on the Banks of the Dee/I met an old man in distress I could see.' |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Joe_F Date: 03 Jan 10 - 06:14 PM CharleyNoble: The original, I presume, is The Good Boy, which also has its charms. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: katlaughing Date: 03 Jan 10 - 11:11 PM Suegorgeous, that is wonderful. I LOVE the way it reads so well out loud. That's always my test of my own writing...does it work well out loud...yours really scans well. Thanks. Speaking of poetry lovers, some may enjoy Mudcat Poetry Corner. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 03 Jan 10 - 11:22 PM Akenaton - Don't worry: see my reply to Dave above. Come back from the Arctic snows! Suegorgeous - thank you; & on Valerie's behalf also. Michael |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Charley Noble Date: 04 Jan 10 - 09:07 AM I can't resist posting one C. Fox Smith poem here about an old sailor reminiscing: Poem by C. Fox Smith, FULL SAIL, pp. 108-110 © 1926 MARIQUITA Old man Time, 'e's wrote his log up in the wrinkles on my brow, And there ain't that much about me as a girl 'ud take to now; For I've changed beyond all knowing from the chap I used to be, When I can remember Mariquita, as was mighty fond o' me! I can shut my eyes and see it just as plain as yesterday, See the harbour and the mountains and the shipping in the bay, And the town as looked like heaven to us shellbacks fresh from sea And I can remember Mariquita, as thought a deal o' me! I can hear the chiming mule-bells, and a stave o' Spanish song, And the blessed old guitarros as kep' tinkling all night long; Hear the dusty palm trees stirring, taste the vino flat and sour, And I can remember Mariquita, and her white skirts like a flower. But it's years now since I've seen her, if she's died I never knew, Or got old and fat and ugly, same as Dagoes mostly do; And it's maybe better that way, for there's nothing left but change, And the ships I knew all going, and the ports I knew grown strange, And the chaps I knew all altered, like the chap I used to be, But I can remember Mariquita, and she's always young for me. I've adapted this poem for singing, changing some words and adding a couple of lines; here's a link to how I sing it: Click here for lyrics and MP3! Cheerily, Charley Noble |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Little Robyn Date: 04 Jan 10 - 02:57 PM Pete Seeger's Old Devil Time Robyn |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Suegorgeous Date: 04 Jan 10 - 05:10 PM Awwww thanks Kat... :) glad you liked it. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Georgiansilver Date: 04 Jan 10 - 05:12 PM "When I'm 64" "Silver Threads amongst the Gold" |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: Dave Roberts Date: 04 Jan 10 - 05:37 PM Charley, That's a great poem (Mariquita). And, without (I hope) starting to become tiresome, this one reminds me of Rudyard Kipling. |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: henryclem Date: 05 Jan 10 - 11:47 AM You can hear my song "Toys in the Attic" on Myspace - http://myspace.com/henryclements Phil Hare did a beautiful version of this on his 2003 album "Broken Timing" which brings out the poetry far better than I manage! So many fine contributions to this thread, though! Henry |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 19 Mar 16 - 11:08 AM The following, which I wrote after my first wife's suicide due to her increasing degeneration thru Parkinson's disease, being one of those situations to which old people are frequently subject, might perhaps fit into this thread which came back into my mind thru some train of thought:- POST-PARKINSONIAN Trying to keep going In the teeth 0f the lethal Mix of grief And relief Michael Grosvenor Myer 15℔ May 2008 |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: MGM·Lion Date: 19 Mar 16 - 04:33 PM ... & just found this one on my computer -- I wrote it fairly recently but had forgotten all about it. Bit doggerel really; but seems to me quite a good question at that — Lines at fourscore'n'three When am I Going to die? Who can know When I'll go? Michael Grosvenor Myer 8 October 2015 |
Subject: Lyr Add: USED UP OLD MAN From: kendall Date: 20 Mar 16 - 04:12 PM Here's one that crept up on me. It could be a song of course. Tune of Betsy from Pike. USED UP OLD MAN
There's no hope at all for a used up old man
It all started back there when I lost my voice
The first thing I lost was my ability to sing
But the thing I miss most from my lost former glory
But this story won't end on a note of sad loss |
Subject: RE: Poems about Growing Old From: GUEST,.gargoyle Date: 20 Mar 16 - 04:35 PM Simon and Garfunkle (1968) "Bookends" Time it was And what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidences Long ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They're all that's left you. Sincerely, Gargoyle I find myself trapped in the corner, the corner I accused so many of taking...I am growing old. |
Share Thread: |
Subject: | Help |
From: | |
Preview Automatic Linebreaks Make a link ("blue clicky") |