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Essays and Poems About Growing Old and Aging

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older couple dancing

When a few members of the iCreateDaily for Creators Facebook page shared their poems about growing older and aging, it was perfect timing to start this article of aging poems.

If you’d like to share your quotes, essays or poems on aging for publishing here, we’d love to, so send it here, and we add it to this article-in-progress.

Living a full and dynamic life, all the days of our lives is a very real possibility.

I don’t plan to retire for I love my work, and work and life are integrated where each fuels the other. I’m passionate about contributing to the concept that aging is inevitable but not disease, and that there’s MUCH we can do to live long, healthy and vital lives, and we will never regret every effort to do so.

Poem About Aging Gracefully


We’re constantly being told/cajoled/encouraged to “age gracefully.”
It’s infused into Western culture, almost to the point of a religion.

To that I say… RUBBISH!
Don’t age “gracefully.”
Do it noisily.
Make a ruckus everywhere you go, and take as many along for the ride as possible.

Rumble through this consensual hallucination we call life and leave people grinning, shaking their heads and wondering, “NOW what are they up to?”

As each of us steps beyond the veil, we leave behind echoes, afterimages of lives lived and souls touched.
Let your echoes ring with the sound of laughter… and a little mischief.

So I say unto you, as you make your runs around the sun, eschew the desire to age gracefully.
Do not go gentle into that good night…

Instead, I encourage you to age… playfully.

Mackenzie Clench, writer, copywriter


I do not go gentle into the good night.
I want to party till the morning light.
Old age is chasing after me.
I now have wrinkles and gray in my hair for all to see.

There’s a hitch in my Giddy-up,
and my Boobs are a sagging,
but my ass still can wiggle
and my tail’s still a wagging.

My eyes are a failing
and my hearing is almost gone…
but I still got my Gusto
and can belt out a song.🎶🎵

I’ll hoop and I’ll holler as long as I can.
Don’t call me “Old Woman”
and I won’t call you “Old Man.”

I live my life to the fullest.
You’ll not find me in an old Rocking Chair 🪑.
If you want to call me COOL,
well I wouldn’t care.

So I burn 🔥 and I’ll rage
as we turn the page.
The page on this book we call Life…

And I won’t go Gently,
oh Hell No…
I’ll give it one Hell of a fight…
before I go.

Julie (Meehan) Courtois, poet, retired RN, b.10-06-1950

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