Category: Aging

Fifty-Four

The Spousal Unit turns fifty-four and this is the poem she gets?

Happy Birthday to you!
Another trip around the sun.
Some trips are annoying,
Some trips are fun.

That’s where they rhyming part ends.
My head hurts and I can’t find
My rhyming dictionary.
So, another crappy birthday poem follows.

My apologies in advance.
I hope it’s not a bore.
I should just say Rocky wrote it,
So people would cry for more.

Sigh. I’m not bitter about that.

Here’s an interesting fact.
If you had walked a mile each day,
Since the day you were born,
That would be 19,710 miles!

Your Fitbit would be very happy.
Also, you would have been walking at birth,
A very impressive feat! (feet?)
So, this is probably hypothetical.

Your Mom probably would have stopped you,
Since you shouldn’t be walking that young.
On the other hand, I’ve met your siblings,
So maybe she would have said, “Bon Voyage!”

Back to the hypothetical walking,
Today, you would be almost 80% of the way
Around the earth (give or take).
Holding your breath across the ocean-y bits.

However, you keep insisting on taking cruise ships.
So, walking around the world is probably out.
Also, you would have ended up back in New York.
Since the world is round-ish.

So, you’re in Dallas, not New York.
You’re a year older, but at least you’re not 55.
It could be worse, because it could always be worse.
Did I mention Rocky wrote this?

Happy Birthday.

Tex-Mex Blues

I love Tex-Mex food.
I would eat it every day.
Rice, beans and nachos,
What else is there to say?

It’s just sometimes,
There is a dramatic effect.
Like a volcano erupting somewhere,
Or a pilot forced to eject.

Today, my wife dragged me shopping.
She bribed me with Tex-Mex first.
We got to the store and I felt rumblings.
It’s not like something was about to burst.

I thought.

So, my colon blew out in WalMart,
I was stranded in the stall.
The guard came to check for theft,
But I hadn’t taken anything at all.

(Well, I took a dump. But, really, I left it. Thank you, George Carlin.)

Fifty Five

Wine improves with aging,
So does imported cheese.
My life has turned to vinegar,
So, can I stop aging, please?

I wrote a poem at fifty-four,
It wasn’t bad, I think.
But that was a year ago,
Now, I need a drink.

I don’t really feel that old.
Age is all in the mind, I see.
So, I guess I’ll pick a random time,
Let’s say, I’m forty-three.

In spite of all the Facebook posts,
My expression is still stony.
I’ve finally admitted to myself,
I’ll never get a pony.

Fifty Four

I still don’t feel old,
I guess I really should.
I’m writing my life lessons,
I told myself I would.

I shouldn’t waste money,
But I just can’t be a miser.
I’m another year older,
And another Budweiser.

Salesmen can be useful,
Those just aren’t the ones I get.
Lawyers can be honest,
It’s just not the way to bet.

You can fall in love,
You can fall in really deep.
But whomever you may find to love,
No-one beats a good night’s sleep.

It’s too late to be on the stage,
I’ll just stand here by the riser.
I’m another year older,
And another Budweiser.

Lots of (funny) failures,
Very occasional success.
I’ve tried to be myself,
Just never to excess.

I made fast food in high school.
Burgers, fries and all.
So, I’m an unemployed chef
Whenever Food Network calls.

I won’t ever be a King.
I won’t even be the Kaiser.
I’m just another year older,
And another Budweiser.