Tag Archives: #Age


Do we get old before we look old,

or look old before we get old?

I have just asked myself this.

But, it’s too early in the morning

for sensible debate,

so, the answer is…

another cup of coffee.

Best answer for many questions.

A song of age

It’s been a month now,

and I never saw the change;

but, when years have passed,

and as I near my last,

looking back just seems so strange.

Still fifteen in my head,

but my body disagrees,

time has not been kind,

I still have mind,

but there are tremors in my knees.


Older every day,

more late November

than early May,

and the years speed up

as I slow down,

there is a ticking clock

whose alarm is set,

and, yet, I try not to frown…

swimming with too many negative emotions,

you are more likely to drown.

I’m not as flexible as I used to be

I’m a little bit seized up

there’s some rust upon my steel cup;

where I used to flip

now I just flup

turning into a lame fool,

and looking forwards to thin gruel

that I will soon sup.


I’m not as flexible

as I used to be,

I seem to ache almost permanently

I need two new hips

and a pair of knees,

I can’t do Twister…

any more,

can’t do as I please.


I need to oil every joint, daily,

I can’t gambol as a lamb, gaily,

I feel that my body will fail me,


but not discretely.


I’m not as flexible

as I used to be,

I have more of a statue-like quality

than the litheness of a snake,

and an hour it will take

for me

to travel the distance

I used to do in minutes three.


And it’s gonna get worse,

before my trip in a hearse.

I’m All (Too Old) For T-shirts

I’m too old

for T-shirts.

It hurts me

to say it,

but I don’t want

to look like a hypocrite

or sound like one, too;

but, I am,

and there’s not a lot

that I can do

about the fact.

So, please show tact

when you laugh at my slogan,

and the size of my paunch;

launch into laughter

if you must,

but I’m getting the feeling

that my T-shirt days

are bust.

Beige (re-visited)

Beige is a stage you get to

at a certain age

when your clean white paper

becomes the Valium in vellum of the page.

I’m getting a little bit critiquey in my old age.

I’m getting a little bit critiquey in my old age.

I was busy critiquing loudly in the corner, when somebody poured sunflower oil all over me.

I still critiqued, but now at a tolerable level of well below 50dbs.

I put it all down to my ever-increasing age, and the life that I have, before now, lead.



What is old now

once was young;

what is young now,

may end up old;

Mao Tse Tung

(if he were still alive)

would be even older

than he was

when he did thrive.