Category Archives: aging men


 A long hallway to walk,

For some coffee and “pop”…

Ice cream, too,

Wrapped for you,

A very brief time to shop.

Finding this exercise,

So conveniently-sized…

Needing the cane

Down-back again,

During days, often supervised!

Allowed to walk around,

Upstairs he is less found…

This slower male

Must hustle his tail,

Before he grows too round!

–Jonathan Caswell


Amazing what we used to mock,

As youth we consider “off”…

Older now

We realize how,

We, too, have grown soft!

In college there was a guy,

From our dorm room we spied…

Wearing shorts

In winter, of course,

Using our dumpster on the sly!

This poet is near sixty years,

After all this time it appears,

Wearing shorts

In winter, he sports,

Outside despite his wife’s fears!

–Jonathan Caswell


Ideas flow in one’s head,

closer one is to bed…

Impressions made

Often are laid’

Down in a sleepy head.

Then one doesn’t sleep,

The idea tends to creep,

And transfix the mind

For a long time,

To relax one must debrief!

Many are nights

When caught by loving delights…


Where actions cease,

Wishing with all of one’s might.

Finally to let go,

Asleep in a few hours or so…


so appointed,

To have one’s wishes told “no”.

(An aging person’s poem)

–Jonathan Caswell


Don’t understand his apathy,

He seems withdrawing from me…

So his wife says

Rather amazed,

He’s given up completely!

Pedaling as fast as he can,

Overwhelmed by the season’s demands…

Pace then slows

Sanity goes,

His mind like a double-quick band.

Focusing on the best,

That need doing before rest…

Having burnout

Is no one’s fault

But let’s pray he comes back with zest!

–Jonathan Caswell


I have this little teacup–

It’s a smallish coffee mug,

And most times I take a sip

The water’s all drunk up…

I know was filled not long ago

I filled it to the top,

So where’d all the water go–

Will this leak ever stop?

–Jonathan Caswell


Two younger women walked by,

All-of-a-sudden he averted his eye…

He felt the rush

Of skin softly plush,

But didn’t want to try!

Comes a point in a man’s ways,

He’ll just remember former days…

Give young guys their turn

to struggle with burn,

Few older keep up with a chase.

This older one realizes

He’s had his chance at prizes…

All very special

Honoring with his vessel,*

As each day is as the sun rises!


*1st Thessalonians 4: 3-5


Necklace with crystal hearts,

A man’s view of her parts….

Draped with silk

For a man to wilt,

At the sight of these subtle arts!

Her face he counts most dear,

That view is missing here…

‘Though a “VA-VA-VOOM”

In gentle costume,

It’s her voice he wants to hear.

Physical affinities

Only half of proclivities…

When old and grey

Will we still say,

Loving you is the best of me?

–Jonathan Caswell

(Featured image is from one of the many excellent fashion blogs the Poet follows!)


A quiet Sunday afternoon,

I’m covering for a friend…

Eating buttered pastry cold

And working until his shift’s end.

There must be something wrong with me,

I didn’t attend church…

I’m feeling like it’s deja vu—

Left spiritually in the lurch.

I don’t think the wife fully understands,

I’m not sure I do either…

Instead of going to one or the other

I’m attending neither!

Making a break from old to new

Was easier when alone…

Having eagle eyes watching me

Discourages me at home.

Remembering appointments has

More difficult become…

Seeing my wife’s messiness

Is a double–triple “bum”.

I cannot deny

My losing right and left…

Important things to keep

Of good sense am I bereft?



The old guy thought it routine,

To let the young woman clean…

He wasn’t watching

When she was snatching

Anything worth some green.

What he watched was her’s,

Captivated by her curves…

Being taken

By a girl  shaking

Him down–is this what he deserves?

Ethical factors aside,

He knows he’s being denied…

His kind of dreaming

Is foolish scheming,

Some days he’s fit to be tied.



Since using her C-PAP machine,

The Missus has much time to dream…

Now I’m the one

Who wanders around,

Too agitated to dream!

She’s averaging eight hours,

Her energy rivals cell towers…

I can’t rest

Too much on my chest,

As life in some ways…sours.

I will read my Bible more,

It calms me down to snore…

I’ve a different machine

Whose pressure is lean,

LESS than what I was used to, before!

–Jonathan Caswell