Presented by:
Robert E.
Yahnke
Professor
University of Minnesota
Students in my courses, "Humanities & Creativity," and "Humanities, Aging, & Family Living" often write poems about their own attitudes toward the aging process and the experience of being old. Here are examples of their work:
The writer of the next poem attached a xerox of a photograph of several men, some disabled, sitting or standing as if waiting for someone or perhaps waiting for food. The poet uses a significant metaphor of the old men as part of a "gallery" of age.
The student who wrote this poem added the following commentary:
This poem describes some of the residents that I work with at an assisted living community. I Shave learned that old age doesn't affect every person the same way. There is such a variety in outcomes. They have a rich history to share even if they are unable to speak. I enjoy what I do because of the great diversity I experience in my encounters with the old. All of the residents miss the way things used to be. That doesn't necessarily mean that they don't enjoy where they are now. Many of them enjoy simple things--talking, watching travelogues, listening to music, and singing. They don't take these things for granted. They are talented an unique. They have a history worthy of an ear. I have grown by listening about their lives. Old people are different, yet so alike. I take such enjoyment in learning how they are different and the reasons why they are alike.
The next poem uses wordplay, as in the first example above, in order to portray old age as a time of contradictions and anxieties. The poet "imagines" herself as old and catalogs some of the dualities the old person will confront. The first section of the poem sets up the wordplay that follows:
When I am old, I am going to be
somewhere in between
in between my past and my future
----------my memories and my dreams
----------my disappointments and my accomplishments
I can only hope it will be habitable
between the
R estraint and abandon
E xpectation and fulfilment
S leep and wakefulness
T ranquility and chaos
L assitude and vigor
E ngagement and reflection
S ociability and solitude
S erenity and uncertainty
M aybe
O ptimism will supply the
M omentum
E nabling irrepressible urges to
N eutralize doubts and
T repidation
S erendipity
The next poem is a reflection on the word "old," and it posits two opposing worlds, one idealized and yet forward-looking, the other dark and foreboding.
Old
When will I be old?
Odd
the word old.
Will I retire?
Vacation
tropical beaches and big white Buicks,
grandchildren bringing me pictures and flowers
and datebread.
Or,
Will I be
one
alone
in my dark apartment with shag carpet
waiting for the mail to come?
Old odd the word old.
The next two poems respond to the physical characteristics associated with aging (especially "wrinkles") and yet take different approaches to the subject. Note how the second poet incorporates a specific response to her experience in the "Humanities, Aging, & Family Living" class as a catalyst for her changed attitude.
do not judge me
wrinkles,
gray hair and
hearing aids.
glasses
walking sticks and
dentures.
although when you look at me,
this is what you see,
do not be a judge of me,
for there is more of me to see
individual and
human, I am
unique,
alive with
personality
ME
do not judge me
Fighting, rubbing, applying cream
Cutting, pulling, tugging lines
Covering, hiding, staying young
Tiring, draining, going nowhere
Stop! I give up! No more fighting!
My thoughts changed in the flash of a second
While driving home in my car after class
A warm and excited feeling came over me…
My wrinkle are…
. . . . . . . . . . Every time I squinted to see something just a little better
. . . . . . . . . . Every time I laughed--positive moments
. . . . . . . . . . Every time the warm sun poured over my face
. . . . . . . . . . Making me feel full and content
All those roads, valleys, streets, and alleys
Beginning to form on the map of my face
Are all bountiful rivers of my memories and experiences
I love them. I need them. I think I'm going to keep them.
The next poem continues the theme of resisting ageism and age stereotyping. This poet incorporates some interesting rhymes and meter to make her point. The ending of her version didn't seem to "complete" the poem as effectively as she could have. Thus, I have suggested, in the last five lines, an ending consistent with her aims.
When I grow old
I'd like to think
I'll wear a bandana
No wig for me
Cradled by my rocker
Sipping my tea
As you can see
I have my dreams of dignity
This may mean I'll lose my mind--
Perhaps I'll not be rocking
Rather chugging wine
And dancing crazy two steps
I wouldn't mind
As you can see
I have my dreams of dignity
Or strolling the streets
with purse in my hand
I will be naked and singing
To an imaginary band
I will not fret
I'll have no need for sympathy
As you can see
I have my dreams of dignity.
It may not matter
Where I sit or go
Rocking,
Dancing,
Strolling,
So?
I have my age,
My bliss,
My self,
You see--
I have my dreams of dignity.
In the next poem I have eliminated the opening stanza, which seems to contradict with the rest of the poem. The poem originally began as follows:
My grandmother got older, And now my mother's getting older, But I'm Not.
This opening seems to contradict what follows--a testimony to someone who is not ageist, who is not afraid of growing old.
My grandmother got older,
And now my mother's getting older,
But
I'm Not.
I think that getting older
Must run in some families.
Some people are sure afraid of old age.
But
I'm Not.
Friends sometimes look at me and exclaim,
"Laurie! You've got gray hair!!!"
Like they think I was trying to hide it or something.
But
I'm Not.
People always say that old age creeps up on you
And you have to watch for it.
But
I'm Not.
The next poem's structure aids its tone and intent--each pair of lines is devoted to a specific image of aging. At the same time the poet comes up with some remarkable generalizations--seen particularly in the sixth pair and in the last pair.
The withered face like an autumn leaf--
Dry and fragile.
Each age wrapped around her like another
Layer of onion skin.
Embedded in her--the essence of youth,
Alive and glowing . . .
Trapped for all time? Not lost!
But only she can feel its sensuousness.
She remembers her wedding night,
But not what she had for lunch today.
This being old is a tricky thing. It can
Be done well, or so very badly.
She sees herself running to the end of the hall--
Chasing a red dog . . .
A scared little girl-old woman seeks
Nurturing and love.
A strong middle-aged-old woman seeks
Respect and responsibility.
The essence of youth is untarnished.
It surges lustily against stiff joints.
Old age does not compromise. It as with her
In youth--as surely as youth is in old age.
The next two poems show the student imagining what it might be like to be an old person in two different contexts--the first the loneliness and isolation of old age, and the second, as a contented partner in a long-lived relationship ("sharing our fifty-two years of love").
A long time ago
In a galaxy far, far away
Sat an old woman
Rocking
Reaching for her cup
Her hand shook
Small hands, transparent skin
Yellowed nails
The coffee warmed her bones
And so did the whiskey
A birthday today
Hers
Surprise
Ninety-seven years
Still looking ahead
A long time ago
In a galaxy far, far away
Sat an old woman,
Still
Rocking
Grandparents
Grandparents
Reflections on Loss & Old Age
Poems on Course Materials
Collaborative Class Poems
The Poets of Aging: A Selected Bibliography
New Poems by Students