Old Age

 

 

Old Age is a sickness

And a very serious one too,

No cure has ever been found,

Nothing doctors can do.

 

Medication is for life

However long you may live

And the trouble that you get

Is the trouble you give.

 

“Old age is a brute!”

It’s not me that said it,

In my seventies I’m still young

With no pain as a habit.

 

I can still walk fast

And also run and ride,

A little jumping, I can still do

But won’t lift my bride.

 

While she isn’t heavy

She’s just too heavy for me

With my reality of seven decades

And a decreasing ability.

 

No aches and pains as yet

At least, not to cause concern,

Just a reminder when moving off

But I am beginning to learn.

 

However, I must admit

I’m in a bit of trouble,

Between the hours of ten and six

I’m more fragile than a bubble.

 

Old age says it’s hotter

And I must totally agree

When the feel like temperature

Is higher than the mercury.

 

Right now, it’s 81 degrees

But it feels like 88

And it’s twelve minutes past ten pm;

Kind of hot for this late.

 

 

Exacerbated by old age!

For the old it’s even hotter,

Thank God for that little breeze

I’m actually feeling better.

 

“Old age is a brute!”

You didn’t hear me say that,

I’m just repeating what I heard,

For me it’s not a fact.

 

Where was I again?

I just lost my thought,

Please take it easy, don’t rush me,

I’ll feel more distraught.

 

With us old people

It is largely about feeling,

A feeling to go most of the time

But where is too revealing.

 

Loss of hair and of teeth

Gravity pulls everything down,

A gummy laugh and watery eyes

Somewhat like a clown.

 

A hundred metre sprint

Walked in ten minutes flat,

I’d have opt to ride rather than walk

And surely eclipse that.

 

I have a dear old friend

And she is ninety-five,

She will tell you that if she had to,

She could still drive.

 

She couldn’t drive me

And that is for sure,

I would not even take that chance

If I couldn’t drive any more.

 

She wears no spectacles

Just fashionable shades,

She can read the finest print

Where younger eyes fail.

 

 

But she has aches

And she encounters pains

And has to rely most reluctantly

On her oft misplaced cane.

 

Wherever she leaves it

It’s not there when she needs it,

One gets the distinct impression

Her cane is more fit.

 

In twenty-four years-time

I will be ninety-five,

That will most definitely depend

On if I am alive.

 

Hopefully I will be aware

And some quality will be left

For to be a virtual vegetable

Is worse than death.

 

At the beginning I said

There was no cure for old age

But old age definitely disappears

At the death stage.

 

Old Age is a sickness

And a very serious one too,

There’s no cure other than death,

Mine is still due.

 

Stewart Russell© May 13, 2024

 

A Cure for Old Age

 

 

Its ravages are coming sooner

For the apparent young,

They no longer laugh at the old

Who are still fairly strong.

 

Medical personnel are concerned

With diabetes and cancer,

Add to these the problem of asthma

And of high blood pressure.

 

Non-communicable diseases

Or NCDs, they call them,

And these illnesses during COVID-19

Caused severe problems.

 

Several people with NCDs

Died after contracting COVID-19,

It might have been worse than this

Were it not for the vaccine.

 

 

This view is held by some

Though many feel otherwise,

Many lauded the vaccine programme

While for others it was despised.

 

There was another feature:

Many in their nineties died,

The prospect of becoming centenarians

Was suddenly denied.

 

This leads me to the title

That is the subject of this poem,

A cure for old age, I am begging,

To ease my present problem.

 

Seven decades I have reached,

Not without the aches and pains,

Old age, they say, is a brute,

It is certainly not a game.

 

 

My father passed at eighty-seven,

My mother at ninety-two,

I wish for a cure before I pass,

My friend, how about you?

 

At least to see one great-grand

Would be my desired wish,

And if possible, maybe two or three,

Four I would really relish.

 

Oh, how I would like a cure

For this old age problem of mine

And yours too, if you are old,

Right now, in our time.

 

 

So, Docs, I am begging you,

Find a cure for old age

And I do not mean the grim reaper,

Find it before this stage.

 

I know there is a cure

But that will come with death,

This is for the born-again believers

When in Jesus they rest.

 

Find that cell and switch it off

That causes old age to come

So that I could live a long, long time

And see my great grandson.

 

Stewart Russell © September 5, 2023

 

Please Be More Talkative

 

 

Some say I talk too much,

Too much for my good

But I came across a recent note

Advising at my age I should.

 

You see, I am a senior citizen

And it is important that I talk

And I don’t intend to let anyone

Bring my talking to a halt.

 

So senior citizens be more talkative

And I will stress, “Please!”

Talking is very beneficial to us

And it brings much ease.

 

It is natural for seniors to talk,

After all, they have much to say,

And they deserve to be heard

The more in their later years.

 

They have worked very hard

And they have given us very much

So, why should they be confined

To being dummies now as such?

 

Therefore, let us talk all we want

Whether we make sense or not,

You don’t know what you will become,

We don’t choose our lot.

 

 

And besides, doctors say it’s good,

That it brings us many benefits

So, having reached my seventieth,

I will not break this habit.

 

In fact, I will talk even more,

And I will lucidly express myself,

I will not be putting my mouthpiece

On any forgotten shelf.

 

Talking activates our brain

And enhances our memory,

It releases the burdensome stress

In the absence of agility.

 

It activates our facial muscles

And makes us look younger longer

And even if we are not, in reality,

It makes us feel much stronger.

 

Talking exercises our throat

And increases our lung capacity,

It staves off the dreaded Alzheimer’s

Once known as senility.

 

So, let the old people talk

And that includes yours truly,

It makes for good quality old age

Before we are dead and buried.

 

Isn’t it any wonder

The ones that are usually gagged?

The very young and the old

Are the ones that are flagged.

 

In the former

Their brains are accelerating

While in the latter

Our minds are degenerating.

 

Both are considered as risks,

They may say the wrong thing

So, stop them in their prattling tracks

Before they begin to sing.

 

 

So, my dear senior citizens,

Please be more talkative

For in so doing, doctors assure us,

Old age would be less oppressive.

 

Stewart Russell © January 29, 2023

 

Aw Shucks!

 

I wanted to tell you something

But I cannot remember what,

I guess I have reached that stage

At which one forgets a lot.

 

It shows up in my conversations

Especially on the phone

And it happens to most of my friends

So, in this I am not alone.

 

“What were we talking about?”

This a question I often ask

And believe me, however hard I try,

To remember is a task.

 

 

I leave home to run an errand,

Sometimes two or maybe three

And I end up driving around the place

As though I was on a spree.

 

Head confused and mixed-up

And traversing the wrong road

I begin to feel the stress

Like I am carrying a great load.

 

Sometimes when I settle on a plan

And I am already on my way

I would get a cellphone call

And my day goes into disarray.

 

 

Whether it is the wife

Or another family member,

It’s one more favour added to the list

That I must remember to render.

 

Words have begun to fail me

And I mean the simplest of words,

 I know what it is I want to say

But even this sounds absurd.

 

It is on the tip of my tongue

But I just can’t get it out

And often the person on the line

Doesn’t know what it is all about.

 

I am now forgetting names too:

“Don’t tell me; I know your name.”

But eventually, I have to give that up

And ask the person’s name again.

 

 

Not to mention misplacing things:

I do that quite a lot,

Although I try to put a plan in place

It’s often a useless prop.

 

You may smile and laugh

Because you are nowhere there yet,

But when your time comes, if it does,

I hope you don’t get vex.

 

It is the vagaries of old age

With its dementia and senility,

You just have to come to grips with it

And forget how it used to be.

 

 

Aw shucks! I forgot!

I had something more to say…

But never you mind, I am through,

Perhaps we can try another day.

 

Stewart Russell © August 20, 2020

 

No Such Thing

 

 

There is no such thing

As living on borrowed time,

You can only live out your own;

You cannot live out mine.

 

However long you have

That’s what’s been allocated

And when that time is up

You will be terminated.

 

If you live to a hundred

All that time will be yours,

None of it will belong to another

You’ll be living your course.

 

 

Borrowed time? Not possible

Even in Hezekiah’s case,

That extra fifteen years

Was his in the first place.

 

There’s much to understand

And much that we never will

But get this, if nothing else,

Death is every one’s pill.

 

For some it’s an easy swallow

For others, not so easy at all,

Whatever the path life takes us

Someday death will call.

 

For all that went in infancy

That was their allotted time,

None will derive additional years

However much they opine.

There is no borrowed time

In this life, or that to come,

When we close our eyes in death

That’s when our time is done.

 

One or ten or one hundred:

Whether many years or a few.

When it’s time for that one to go

There is nothing he can do.

 

There is no such thing

As living on borrowed time,

You can only live out your own;

You cannot live out mine.

 

Stewart Russell © July 18, 2021

 

Granny at Christmas Time Part 1

Uh eat me last two conkies

And then me burp

Uh wash them down

Wid a pint glass of syrup

Uh went to de kitchen

And me wash out de glass

Uh was real excited

Christmas was coming fast

Uh here in me eighties

And uh still getting excited

When it come to Christmas

I does still be delighted

I does mek plans for it too

Doan mek no sport

I doan have much teet’

But uh still like me pork

I got a special plate

I does tek down from early

And I does put it dey

To hold de turkey

Dis plate real large

I en shame to tell you

And I got a nice pyrex dish

That uh does keep fuh de stew

Wunnah asking ‘bout ham?

Wuh I does got dat too

Nuh Christmas widout ham

Dah is still my view

Dese days uh just drinking plus

And sometimes ginger ale

Not dem eflorescent drinks

At my age dem fail

I doan eat much carbohydrates

But de vegetables uh like

Brockley, carrots and beans

Dem is still my delight

  

Partically now uh getting old

I does tink ‘bout me healf

And uh en doing nuttin foolish

Cause uh live at meself

Uh see you set up yuh face

Like yuh sufferin’ wid shock

Uh en in nuh nursing home

And uh en leffing dis spot

Old is in de nineties

And I en quite dey yet

So as far as I am concern

I still wid de young set

I got a nice frock dey

Dah is fuh Christmas morning

I must be sitting in de front

When de morning dawning

And uh pray dat said morning

De old pastor gine preach

He old and forgetful

But he does still preach sweet

I like to hear ‘bout de nativity

‘Bout Jesus coming to earth

And just in case wunna forget

Jesus had a birth

De Bible tell me

That he did born in Bethlehem

Some tink it foolish

But I does still tell dem

I feel so good dis morning

At muh getting old age

Dat muh head still good

And uh could turn to de page

Right in St Luke chapter 2

De Bible tell me

Evuhting ‘bout de baby Jesus

And de nativity

He was born in a stable

Duh wasn’t nuh room in de inn

Just like many hearts today

Nuh room pun account of sin

Nuh time fuh Jesus

Nuh room in dem hearts

But I praise God for de chance

When I did mek a new start

I am partically sure

‘Bout all that Christmas mean

And pun Christmas morning

Does refresh that scene

So I must get to church

And I must be at de front

I must hear dat old preacher

On de nativity account

After dat any number can play

As long as it Christian-like

I will go in Queens Park

And enjoy de sights

Uh gine stop here now

Cause uh getting old

Uh hope uh could come back

‘Cause there’s more to be told

Uh gine try to get back in

But in case uh doan get back

Focus on de nativity scene

And you’ll be right on track

Stewart Russell © December 2018