#aging

84 posts
  • oyveyrachel 13w

    I hate my birthday

    If I could sleep through one day every year, it would be the 27th of February.
    I don’t mind getting older
    or my aching back
    or that I can never remember that thing I wanted to say.
    I don’t hide my age;
    I made it this far in life.
    But every year as my birthday nears,
    my heart begins to race.
    I want to hide.
    I don’t want a party or presents or singing or cake.
    Or, do I?
    The pressure to have a “special” day is crushing.
    I just want a day.
    An ordinary, beige kind of day,
    where any attention on me is blurred
    and I talk to my bubbie and listen to Tchaikovsky and maybe take myself out for a slice of banana cream pie.
    Maybe this is aging gracefully.
    Maybe this is aging anxiously.
    Maybe there is no right way to age or celebrate or mark a milestone,
    but one thing is always certain:
    No matter how old I look,
    never, ever call me ma’am.

    ©oyveyrachel

  • mmbftd 17w

    Silent

    When you begin
    Your anger welling up
    From within
    I don't know where to go
    I want to help
    It's my first reaction
    When you are angry
    Or frustrated
    And you yell out
    In absolute
    Exasperation
    Because the world presses down on you
    And me
    In different ways
    And you don't let me help
    So I want to run away
    Or cry
    Because every thing is
    My fault
    Always
    And always was
    And always will be
    From the time I was small
    Till this time now
    Being old.
    So. I have learned (although it goes against every single part of me)
    To stay silent
    Or go away from you.
    Because I get angry too
    And I need to remind myself
    How much it affects you
    When I do that to you too.
    Although I rarely get angry with you
    It is life or other people who continue to hurt me
    But I cannot escape them
    I am bound by obligation
    Much like you feel you are to me
    And your silence far outweighs
    Mine
    And it hurts to never speak or be spoken to
    Now your anger has passed
    As my panic has grown to an undeniable pitch
    Until I spill out of myself
    In tears and choppy
    Barely sustaining breaths.
    So I hide from you
    To allow myself to be possessed
    By the other spirit
    Of chaos
    Created from toxic shame
    Guilt and self-loathing.
    It tells me your life would be so much better
    If I wasn't here-
    And my life would be better
    If I wasn't.
    You and I would be free of this tether...
    But I shush those voices
    As I always have
    As I always will
    From a young girl
    Until now
    An old woman
    with wrinkles mapped out on a face that carries sadness like it is all she has ever known.
    I cry into the silence
    And look around
    As the chaos spirit
    Lessens it's hold
    Around my soul.
    I am alone, and once again-
    Silent.
    Just the way you prefer me.
    And the way I was always shown.
    ©mmbftd

  • thesleepysleep 17w

    Peaked

    How do you know when you've "peaked"?

    Can you peak more than once?

    If you peaked in highschool, can you peak again at 25? 55? 85?

    If you're at the bottom of a pit, can you ever hope to peak again?

    What if you never peak??

    Are there people who walk around their whole lives waiting to peak until they die in their sleep?

    What do you do when you missed your peak?

    Even when life has passed you by and you've been living through other people, surfing their peaks while you fester in your valley?

    When do you know your life is too far gone to be saved?


    ©thesleepysleep

  • altahmabin 17w

    Fallen Rose

    Petals dry and withered
    The once pastel blush, now pale
    Given up your thirst for rain
    ... you fall
    Petal after
    Once, beautiful petal
    ©Alta H Mabin

  • meera_04 18w

    AN INNOCENT TRUST

    The five year old drank the milk
    From her magical glass.
    Her tiny brain had an open mind that
    Knew all about caste, creed and class.
    Her naive little secrets were locked up
    In that old diary with a key.
    She imagined a perfect planet,
    Oblivious to the harsh reality
    But like always. good things come to an end.
    And this time. the world was not her friend
    A different worship. attire and prayer
    Was the guilty teenager's hideous crime.
    No words. yet she deciphered
    Every meaning of the unreal mime.
    The little girl felt betrayed.
    But then understood her mistake
    For she had once believed humanity
    Can never be proven as fake.
    The magic shattered, secrets tore
    And innocence turned to dust,
    For it was the first time that the heart
    Saw what is a broken trust.
    ©meera_04

  • meera_04 18w

    MY GENERATION

    From what's that alphabet
    We went to what's in a name.
    Thoughts had to remain happy,
    But it was age who changed the game.
    This is not another depressing piece
    So please don't get me wrong.
    This is a reminder that no matter what happens
    It is important to stay happy, stay strong.
    There was a quote I read the other day,
    A quote that got me worried and made me pray.
    It said that my generation is full of dull minds
    Broken hearts and wrists that are slit,
    So today I want to break this down
    Bit by bit.
    Why let our beautiful brain think
    Of every depressing thought.
    Why not for once think of
    Every battle you have fought.
    Yes people will leave, some
    Are fake and may even lie
    But why break your heart over them
    After all there is a good in goodbye.
    How is it that all the big problems
    Are solved by that sharp little blade
    After all it takes courage to end a life too
    So of what are we really afraid.
    Why do this to ourselves
    Why think of our life as a living hell
    Life after all is a one time offer,
    So doesn't it make sense to use it well.
    ©meera_04

  • cluelesssoul 22w

    As I Grow Old

    Where the life has taken me?
    Where the life has taken me !
    Young, naive and clueless I was.
    And bitterness of reality was far -
    fetched in my dreamy world.
    The fast approaching humps felt
    like mirage to my cloudy eyes.
    But the brave,confident and cheerful
    soul faded to the oblivion.
    Coward,diffident and dull soul
    taking over is stranger even to me.
    I am realising that as I grow old,
    it isn’t just the age I fight!
    ©cluelesssoul

  • near_lane7 22w

    Reason

    Not to need a reason
    For explaining a state
    Found in advanced aging
    When past nowhere on a slate
    Avoiding comments displeasure
    With oneself
    It's society within to reside
    Steps are short now
    No leaps leaning wide
    Enter the new hemisphere
    without temptations glide

    ©near_lane7

  • autumnbreeze 28w

    Flares of time
    doom the aspirations l hold.
    Loose pigment of art
    forecast the ghost l hide from.
    Uptight words
    hum broken syllables of youth.
    Time tickles the obscurity of living.
    Halos of regrets
    configure a swing of hostile around me.
    Young memories of freedom
    timid the wisps of adulthood.
    Rhythms of tales
    shun the echoes of exhaustion.
    Ruthless words of grief
    dance on the tune of tomorrow.
    Open windows
    still lurk for fragrance of faith.
    Grabbed by the notch of promise,
    l balance between the love l lost and the love l need.
    For l too am weak at holding love,
    like the way you used to be.
    .
    #poetrycommunity, #poetry, #poem, #youth, #adulthood, #aging, #writing, #writingishealing, #art, #poet, #poetess, #potd, #love, #lovecommunity, #us, #him, #you, #mirakeecommunity, #mirakeepoetry, #mirakeepoem, #mirakee, #writersnetwork, @mirakee @writersnetwork @senden_k @_kabir @silent_speaker17

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    Time tickles the obscurity of living.
    ©autumnbreeze

  • kinhin 33w

    I try to feel young
    For your sake, but sometimes I
    Can't help being old
    ©kinhin

  • belcha 35w

    They started to exchange what they could give to each other as if they had become a newly-married couple at the end of their lives.
    ©belcha

  • arshia_gulrays 36w

    Immortals

    I still don't get it why immortals are shown as young and non aging. For all we know as they grow old, their bodies keep growing older. They're like those old people who look like a 100 but there's not strength left in their body. They're just alive and on bed rest. And there is a community which is working from generations who find out these immortal people and nurse them because that's how god/devil demanded them to do it.
    ©arshia_gulrays

  • loftydreams101 36w

    Return to Sender

    We are the smoldering aftermath
    The black footprints from the ashes
    We’re the crumbling fortress
    In a frontier’s embrace

    We are the soft weathered prayers
    From a wavering pulse
    Flying honest and plain
    Towards a silent hereafter

    All of this we’ve become
    Beneath the toll of our clock
    Every promising year
    Hurried by us forgotten

    © William Wright, Jr. 2019

  • the_wayward_mind 37w

    Glancing Backwards

    These grass blades sway
    And 'suade me to stop.
    So I drop on the spot
    To become this mountain top.
    And I rest my head in the shade.

    Then the day begins to fade,
    Still I glimpse
    At the base of the hill
    A thrillful boy and all his will.
    I throw my hopes he makes his way.

    She too, the dove above, does pray.
    Telling all who live below
    To fill the heart with youthful glow
    Before eyes dim to indigo,
    And give no more but fine aged praise.

    -Griffin
    ©the_wayward_mind

  • serenarose 38w

    Time gently carves my skin with his mirror-glance reminders

    Of all the worries I need not spend my hope on next time around

    And the smiles that healed me through the times I could not realize that.

    His claim of a memory, in lieu of his embellishments, is as sure as his passing

    And though he's reserved in sharing his uses for such,

    He speaks of us in golden tones- as if we are his masterpieces.

    I like to think he exhibits his collection to the ones that he holds dear,

    A series depicting how wisdom is grown

    And all of the love that we've found through tribulations.

    ©serenarose

  • james_taumas 40w

    Sim

    Press Start
    Simulation begins
    A baby screams
    Starting level
    Incomprehensible tutorial
    Fragmented chaos
    Crawl along
    First steps graduation
    Next level teenager
    Wearing awkward skin
    Takes time to fit
    Companions on the journey
    Some remain
    Connections grow
    Adult level-up
    Independent and self-sufficient
    Potential partners enter
    Share the adventure
    Select the one
    Close the loop
    Family begins
    Time runs
    Retrospect grey catches up
    Clock tick tock louder
    One last breath
    Game over.

    ©james_taumas

  • james_taumas 40w

    Aging

    Impressionist sight
    Weary and drained
    Old bones splinter
    Soul paper thin
    The last one behind
    Everyone has departed
    Four white walls
    Shadows my companions
    Exchange stories with spirits
    Doing all the talking
    Till I'm no more
    An orphan memory.

  • jencecilia 41w

    willow tree

    'I caught a glimpse of my leaves and dreams passing in your warm reflection,'
    Said a weary weeping willow tree.

    But the river held no reply as it whispered to the sea,

    'Oh where oh where is my reflection? Such whittled leaves of green is all I see, and my sadness only grows.’

    But the sea kept its silence, carrying the leaves and dreams so swiftly along.

  • mmbftd 41w

    I won't

    I won't take it back
    Have you ever stopped
    A moment
    A pause
    To contemplate
    We never age out of what we were born to be
    And guess what my youthful friends?
    When you get old
    You've less impetuous
    To pretend
    That you are ok
    And just right
    A perfect peg in the perfectly shaped hole
    Sawn out from hardened aged wood
    Teeth and blades chewing you raw
    Can we ever fit in?
    Do we dare to truly want that?
    I hum along
    To the distant mourning doves
    Bowing and cooing
    For loves they've lost
    And I too
    Pine
    Pine
    Pine away
    Smelling the fresh needles underfoot
    Coo-oo-hoo-coo-coo
    I hum along
    Until my mourning
    Morning
    Is done.
    And don't you want to know?
    My youthful wishful kin?
    How it all turns out-
    In the end?
    We still want to be accepted
    And loved-
    To belong to those
    With a prettier face
    Than soul.
    Surface
    Floating
    There's no disuading us
    From the pining
    Pine
    Pine
    Pining away
    For those who knew better than to stay
    As your cracks revealed themselves
    Like golden sunshine
    Catches light
    In all the wrong ways
    Like the wrinkles smashed into my face.
    And I'm here to tell you
    It stays the same
    Your still the one
    You were meant to be
    You were that all along
    Before they told you what they said you should be
    In the end
    That all falls away
    Like lizard skin
    And prayers to the unknown
    You are left with yourself
    And those who want the cracks in you
    In a delicate way
    An appreciative way
    Realizing
    Your authenticity
    Is worth more
    Than a mask
    That hangs around your necks
    Smile children
    Get to know yourself
    Let go of the sculptors tools
    No creation required
    You are already all you are
    All you will ever need to be
    Nerds geeks jocks cheerleaders gays straights and inbetweens
    Models mentors and intellects
    Anyone is all they are
    Already
    I know
    Because I'm still that shy girl
    Sitting alone at the edge of the room
    Not ever raising my hand
    Scrawling in notebooks
    And dreaming beautiful dreams
    Content to be away from everyone
    Even the ones
    Trying to get in
    Surrounded by animals
    Who need me
    Looking up at the sun
    And living
    And I won't take it back
    I won't
    And you shouldn't either.
    ©mmbftd

  • rebelwithoutacause 41w

    My hair is not thick as it was once.
    My abs are not visible anymore.
    My mind, less sharper
    and skin less tight.
    I have a new wrinkle on my face.
    and another gray hair.

    Time is a marathon runner from hell,
    you can't out run.
    It sure fucks as all.

    ©rebelwithoutacause