Poem # 14: Aging

The legs were a bit weary this morning, reminding me of this 1997 poem I wrote. I wonder if you can relate to any of its sentiments? If so, leave a comment of affirmation.


Early Onslaught Decrepidation

Off to the kitchen to get a drink
of water, was it? No, juice, I think.
Friends just laugh, and then they chuckle,
aware of how I now must struggle.

Is aging wonderful, or one huge pain?
How does one jump-start a brain?
An idea's there and immediately gone.
I used to remember. What's gone wrong?

And that's not all, I'm sorry to add,
for many abilities which I once had
relied on, and even revered
have similarly disappeared.

Knees now wobble, fingers do drop,
my mouth dribbles and will not stop.
Eyes squint and hair falls out.
Enter arthritis, phlebitis, and gout.

The back goes out just moving a printer.
Fat awaits the nuclear winter.
Nose is running like a deer.
Cellulite relishes a new home here.

Damn that male-pattern hair loss,
and coping with that yuppie boss.
Less and less pure innocence,
but more odiferous flatulence.

Anxiety over cancer, heart attack and stroke.
Start the exercise, stop the smoke.
Age spots, hello! Teeth, goodbye!
Wrinkles aplenty, complexion awry.

Mind will suddenly become a blank,
bladder, in a flash -- a full tank,
both without the slightest signal.
Can't sit still, got to wriggle.

Cholesterol and blood pressure rise.
How dare you call me "Thunder thighs!"
Allergies I never had
now affect me really bad.

Poignant movies make me weep.
Retirement nightmares mar my sleep.
Race walking is now a crawl.
Watch that crack cause I might fall.

For many decades we’d ignore
such small aches and pains galore,
and now it seems such banality,
our tardy push to banish mortality.

Are we foolish, wise, or vain
subjecting mind and body to pain,
to fight these ravages of time,
expressed in all this rhythm and rhyme.

Of course we must pursue this course,
riding our personal improvement horse.
So join the masses, don't be boors!
I've upped my standards. Now, up yours!