Do I Consider Me A Senior? 2nd Version
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive.
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
I am now crossover fifty,
but I am still very nifty!
poem by Philo Yan
Added by Poetry Lover
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Do I consider me a senior?
I am now fifty but I am still nifty.
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
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poem by Philo Yan
Added by Poetry Lover
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Ice Queen
The Ice Queen in her icy world,
With icy fingers tightly curled,
Around sweet fairy in her gilded cage,
No escape the Ice Queen's rage.
The beginning of a fairy tale no lest,
A fable, a fantasy at best,
A love story to be told,
If I may be so bold.
Now as the story goes,
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poem by Philo Yan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!