Poetry Pleases: On Turning Sixty
Sixty! You don't look 60 they cry. But what does 60 look like, Brenda Scully asks in this poem?
60! You don't look 60 they cry
And just what does 60 look like am I?
Arthritic, anxious and aching like hell?
Toothless, tottery and hardly ever well?
Scrawny, senile and shriveled
Pathetic, poor and continually livid?
On the other hand
Turning 60 means I can get fat
I can say 'no can't possibly do that
I'm elderly and it's much too hard
At 60 I qualify for a senior's card
Cheap movies, meals medicine and fares
I won't mind if you never share
With spectacles comes a 20 percent off
I'll only accept a chair that's soft
I'll call out often 'Help me please
Can't you see
I'm weak at the knees?'
60's just a step to pension age
Rate cuts, phone cuts and money for the house
Now at last will I be able to rage!
