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Middle age is fast approaching
Crinkly age lines are encroaching
Muscles sagging, tummy bulging
Even when you're not indulging

**Humorous Aging Poems*
Definition - MIDDLE AGE:
when you lose count somewhere in the forties

Below are funnies from cyberspace
Bound to put a smile on your face :

The way the Life Cycle should work....

The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends.
I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time.
What do you get at the end of it?
A death.
What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards.

You should die first, get it out of the way.

Then you live in an old age home.
You get kicked out when you're too young,
You get a gold watch, you go to work.
You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement.
You party, you get ready for high school.
You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no
You become a little baby, you go back into the womb,
You spend your last nine months floating...
and then you finish off as an orgasm.



as anti-aging positive thinking aids:

Forget the health food, I need all the preservatives I can get!
I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol!
I intend to live forever - so far so good!

Mind like a steel trap - rusty and illegal in 37 states.

At my age, "getting a little action" means I don't need to take a laxative.

Don't worry about avoiding temptation.
 As you grow older, it will avoid you.

You're getting old when getting lucky means you find your car in the parking lot.

You're getting old when you wake up with that morning-after feeling
and you didn't do anything the night before.

Last Will and Testament:
 Being of sound mind, I spent all my money

(in large print for those of you pretending you don't need glasses yet)

 A computer was something on TV
 from a science fiction show of note
 a window was something you hated to clean...
 And ram was the cousin of a goat....

 Meg was the name of my girlfriend
 and gig was a job for the nights
 now they all mean different things
 and that really mega bytes

 An application was for employment
 a program was a TV show
 a cursor used profanity
 a keyboard was a piano

 Memory was something that you lost with age
 a cd was a bank account
 and if you had a 3 1/2" floppy
 you hoped nobody found out

 Compress was something you did to the garbage
 not something you did to a file
 and if you unzipped anything in public
 you'd be in jail for a while

 Log on was adding wood to the fire
 hard drive was a long trip on the road
 a mouse pad was where a mouse lived
 and a backup happened to your commode

 Cut you did with a pocket knife
 paste you did with glue
 a web was a spider's home
 and a virus was the flu

 I guess I'll stick to my pad and paper
 and the memory in my head
 I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash
 but when it happens they wish they were dead.

If nothing above has helped, try these humorous rhymes by some of the great rhyme-o-holics I've met on the net :-)


I spoke to the man, an elderly gent,
Who a great many years must have seen.
He looked quite fit in spite of his age.
He appeared neither obese nor lean.

A hat was covering his shiny gray hair
And he lifted a hand to remove it
"You see this hair? It's mine," he said,
"And I have a receipt that can prove it."

"I'm lucky I can put this removeable hair
In the sink where I can shampoo it.
And when it loses its body, then
I'll go to the store and renew it.

"I'm in good health, but I have aids.
Now please don't jump to conclusions.
I'm referring , of course , to my hearing aids.
I don't want to create confusion.

"In my mouth is a costly partial plate,
Some missing teeth to replace,
And the glasses I need for enhancing my sight
Can always be found on my face."

And asked if perhaps he were watching his weight,
He smiled, and he just rolled his eyes.
"Of course I am watching my weight," he replied,
"But mostly I just watch it rise.

"I have to admit that I have slowed down.
I'm no longer now in my prime.
Like the mummies of ancient Egyptians,
I'm always, it seems, pressed for time."

S. Forrest
The Forrest of Poetry Pages
"Make lasting prints in Sands of Time
With metered feet in Strands of Rhyme."



People talk of growing old
As though it's a disease.
But I have found that now I'm old
I can do things as I please.

I am seventy-eight and still lucid,
I don't yet need a minder.
I feel like a youngster of twenty-five--
But where the Hell can I find her?

Chas the Poetaster



I chanced to pass a window
While walking through a mall
With nothing much upon my mind
Quite blank as I recall.

I noticed in that window
A cranky-faced old man,
And why he looked so cranky
I didn't understand.

Just why he looked at ME that way
Was more than I could see
Until I came to realize
That cranky man was ME!


There are three signs of aging
The older that you get
The first is LOSS OF MEMORY
The others............I forget.

Bernie Gluck


On a slightly more serious note, here's a villanelle I wrote:


In middle age there's no denying fate.
Let yesterdays be broken links to pain;
Let present moments never be too late!

Pursue expression, find a style innate,
A yearning passion that will never wane.
In middle age there's no denying fate.

Rejoice in lovers' friendship, celebrate.
Release those still all wrapped in loving chain.
Let present moments never be too late!

Be pensive, muse, demur and meditate-
Reflection in a sane and sanguine vein.
In middle age there's no denying fate.

With open arms we welcome wisdom's state,
Embrace an insight gradually more plain.
Let present moments never be too late!

Believe in growth, this will invigorate
And ward off ebbing energy's grey reign.
In middle age there's no denying fate,
Let present moments never be too late!


Finally, a really depressing poem about growing old and grey that I wrote after someone commented that older women seem to become almost invisible:


I sense her disappearing - my younger, siren self.
She's merging into shadows, on an antiquated shelf.

She's disappearing, fading, she's been camouflaged in grey -
fatigue that drags, despondent, like a wilted winter day.
That youthful incandescence slowly waning, starlight dim,
There'll be no gauntlet challenge where she teeters on life's rim.
She'll vanish into wrinkles carved to channel grieving tears
of rueful loss; all entities decay with passing years.

I sense her disappearing with every silver strand;
Invisible, enshrouded in an overlay too bland.