The Old Age Creak Poem by Elena Plotkin
The Old Age Creak
It's not just my house that is creaking.
My bones have also started speaking.
My aches and pains are a 'clamoring.
I yell "stop your incessant yammering."
They just laugh back at me cause I'm old.
When I was young, they weren't so bold!
Back when I was younger and full of vigor,
There was not a peep or even a snicker.
But now that I am old, tired, and weak,
They're nothing but chatterboxes with cheek.
And it doesn't take much to get them all going.
A slight move or shift and they're off crowing.
The only song they know is the OLD AGE CREAK.
I hope they all get laryngitis sometime this week! !
hey elena, i read this yesterday or so and got pulled away before commenting. i just read it AGAIN, and i think i hadn't even finished it the other day! i don't remember seeing that great ending before. this has to go to MyPoemList. and maybe it will be useful to send to some of my old friends to cheer them up. maybe not. great rhyming, story, and story-telling! ! ! ! loved it. bri :)
I love the sentiments of this poem. Sometimes it doesn't matter how old the creak comes out of the woodwork, so to speak. I've run 5 marathons and I creak. Strange that the beer doesn't creak. Best
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 3:09:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Well told my dear, just the down to earth truth- funny, but not so funny from that side of our life.I like your title. I was 89 on March 12 so I guess life has blessed me. Hang in there, check you later