Oh Well

Photo by Noelle Otto on Pexels.com
Oh well

Forty five years we've been wed
And it don't seem a day over forty,
We never had need of a bed,
You were sexy, and ever so naughty!

Now, it's all aids and false teeth,
Like a project that's got out of hand,
Never knowing quite what lies beneath,
As our hourglasses run out of sand.

Growing old disgracefully

Photo by Vlad Cheu021ban on Pexels.com
Ageing disgracefully

Growing old sucks,
you can't read long books,
you lose all your teeth
and there's no more beneath.
I hated the denture,
but this bloody dementia...

I would rather be sold
than to slowly grow old
and be left in a home,
with walls, padded foam.
I hated the denture, 
but this bloody dementia...

My memory, yes, shot,
but I'd much rather not
play all-day I-spy
while I'm waiting to die.
I hated the denture, 
but this bloody dementia...

Please give me some pills
and say I was ill,
or a bag for my head
and look shocked when I'm dead!
I hated the denture, but this bloody dementia...

Life on the edge

Photo by Lucas Allmann on Pexels.com
Life on the edge

There was a time, yesterday
when life without limits,
meant bungee jump, sky dive,
or risking a limb. It's

not any more,
the risks are quite minor,
a giddy stair lift,
or a high rise recliner.

The Old Romantic

Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
The Old Romantic

We made love, right here, on the floor,
until she was begging, "No more!"
I've become quite the old Casanova,
as the ad break wasn't quite over!

Hair fashion

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Hair fashion

I was a skinhead,
I've been a suedehead,
I've had hair reaching down to my shoulder.
Now, I've no hair,
I'm completely bare,
Not fashion this time, I'm just older.

The hair

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
The Hair

I've located a hair, on my chest,
A hair! On my chest! Well, I'm blessed.
Perhaps, I'm becoming a hunk
Or, maybe my prospects are sunk.
It could be, this hair on my chest
Means that, I have gone well past my best
Sell by date, which, according to God,
Means it's time to sleep under a sod.


Photo by Susanne Jutzeler on Pexels.com

Like a flea on a bee,
I go weak at the knee
At the sight of your sensuous body
But over the years,
You've grown massive ears
And I can't help but thinking of Noddy.

A Twilight Age

Photo by Robert Stokoe on Pexels.com
A Twilight Age

We reach a twilight age,
When every pristine page
Has already been perused,
Thumbed, digested, used.
We've been there, seen it, done it,
Fought our corner, sometimes won it,
Heard gross tetes and bigger cheeses
Spout the nonsense they think pleases.

Bloody conflicts, costly war,
God knows what their fight is for.
What do all these deaths achieve,
When millions more are left to grieve?
We've borne disease, lived through pandemic
And seen how greed can be endemic,
Witnessed poverty, violence, hate,
Some things, they barely fluctuate.

Of course, we've seen the brighter side,
Loved and laughed until we've cried,
Blessed with children, watched them growing
Up contented, happy showing
Nurtured wisdom, common sense,
A bouncing back resilience.
Our parents having guided through,
It's mirrored in our children too.

We've sung, we've danced, we've had that ball
And money's never been our all,
We know the value of real friends,
A lifetime shared until all ends
And now our race is almost done,
We've made the most, we've had some fun.
One mystery left, take note, remark it,
What happens when we finally cark it?

Thank You

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com
Thank You

Here I am God, as requested
Ancient body, tried and tested.
Skin unblemished, virgin state,
No tattoos at any rate.
I can not lie, I've had a hoot,
Returned with thanks, my birthday suit.


Photo by RF._.studio on Pexels.com

My mobile is broke,
I got in a flap,
But spoke to some bloke,
All I need is a nap.

%d bloggers like this: