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Retirement Poems
retirement jokes

 

Golden Old Age


Golden Old Age


"How do I know that my youth's all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all, I'm able to grin
When I recall where my get up has been.

 

Old age is golden, so I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder, when I get into bed.
My years in a drawer and tea in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.

 

The sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself --
'Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?'
And I am happy to say as I close my door,
My friends are the same, perhaps even more.

 

When I was young, my slippers were red,
I could kick of my heels right over my head,
When I grew older my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.

 

Now I am old, my slippers are black.
I walked to the store and puff my way back;
The reason I know my youth is all spent,
My get up and go has got up and went.

 

But I really don't mind, when I think with a grin
Of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life's competition,
I busy myself with complete repetition.

 

I get up each morning, dust off my wits,
Pick up my paper, and read the "Obits,"
If my name is missing, I know I'm not dead.
So I eat a good breakfast, and go back to bed."

Retirement - The Best Days Of Your Life

 

By Josie Whitehead

 

Goodbye to work, you're on a high - it's the best day of your life!
You gladly hand the reins over - goodbye to toil and strife.
When morning comes, you lie in bed and you look up at the ceiling -
There's no-one here to harrass you - I know just how you're feeling.

 


The sun shines through the window, you hear the clatter of some feet -
It's people who are off to work, you can hear them in the street.
Within you comes a warming glow - your new life just is starting.
There's cards from many work-friends who were sad at your departing.

 


But you must arise, get dressed and out - there's no time left to lose.
Make the most of it, the day is yours - just do exactly as you choose.
Just why should you feel guilty on the best day of your life?
"Because I said a cheerio to my poor, still working wife".

 

Click here for more reitirement poems by Josie Whitehead



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IF MY BODY WERE A CAR

 

If my body were a car, this is the time I would be thinking about
trading it in for a newer model. I've got bumps and dents and
scratches in my finish and my paint job is getting a little dull,
but that's not the worst of it.

 

My headlights are out of focus and it's especially hard to see
things up close. My traction is not as graceful as it once was.
I slip and slide and skid and bump into things even in the best of
weather.


My whitewalls are stained with varicose veins. It takes me hours to
reach my maximum speed. My fuel rate burns inefficiently.
But here's the worst of it -- Almost every time I sneeze, cough or
sputter.....


either my radiator leaks or my exhaust backfires!

 

 

I'M NOT OLD, I'M JUST MATURE

 

Today at the drugstore, the clerk was a gent.
From my purchase he took off 10 percent.

 

I asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, It's the Seniors Discount."

 

I went to McDonald's for a burger and fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.

 

The clerk poured some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, "For you seniors, the coffee is free."

 

Understand -- I'm not old -- I'm merely mature.
But some things are changing, temporarily, I'm sure.

 

The newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer , can't hear what they say.

 

My teeth are my own (I have the receipt),
and my glasses identify people I meet.

 

Oh, I've slowed down a bit , not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I'm not old ... I'm only mature.

 

The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.

 

Washing my hair has turned it all white,
Calling it blond is just about right.

 

My car is all paid for, not a nickel is owed. Yet a kid yells, "Old duffer, get off of the road!"

 

My car has no scratches, not even a dent. Still I get all that guff from a punk who's "Hell bent."

 

My friends all get older ... much faster than me.
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.

 

I've got "character lines," not wrinkles, for sure, But don't call me old : just call me mature.

 

The steps in the houses they're building today
Are so high that they take your breath all away;

 

And the streets are much steeper than 10 years ago. That should explain why my walking is slow.

 

I'm keeping up on what's hip and what's new,
And I know I can still dance a mean boogaloo.

 

I'm still in the running, in this I'm secure,
I'm not really old , I'm only mature.

*************

 

LOOKING GOOD

My face in the mirror isn't wrinkled or drawn.

My house isn't dirty. The cobwebs are gone.

My garden looks lovely and so does my lawn.

I think I might never put my glasses back on.

 

 


Back to retirement Jokes main page

Religious Poems and Spiritual poems

Sayings / Retirement quotes /

For all those born before 1945 /

Senior citizen test / Age by chocolate / Job application / 39 Steps
View on Aging / How to stay young /
Something to think about

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