#retirement
Night shift.
Low pressure holding over the ward.
Coffee burned down to tar.
The soft electrical weather
of men who no longer trust morning.
Room Seven—
the patient awake again.
Not dramatic.
Just emptied out.
Eyes like harbors after evacuation orders.
The nurse has seen this pattern before.
Decades of it.
Manic fronts.
Cold collapses.
Voices arriving offshore
before anyone else could hear them.
Back when charts were paper.
Back when they still smoked at the desk
under buzzing fluorescent systems.
He remembers names sometimes.
Mostly corridors.
Doors half-open at four in the morning.
The sound of someone crying
through institutional ventilation.
No sainthood in it.
Just seamanship.
Keep the vessel pointed correctly.
Reduce the damage.
Ride out the surge.
Bring them in if possible.
And so far—
none lost.
Not because he was brilliant.
Not because he carried light into darkness.
Because he stayed awake.
Because he knew despair behaves like ocean heat—
gathering far below visibility,
building pressure beneath calm surfaces,
waiting for structural failure.
Tonight the patient studies the ceiling
as though measuring collapse intervals.
The nurse sits outside the room
with his old spine
and his unfinished coffee.
Soon he will hand in the locker key.
Access card.
Job mostly done.
But not tonight.
Tonight the Atlantic still turns.
Tonight the unstable air remains in place.
Tonight the currents are wrong.
So he watches the breathing.
Counts the silences.
Lets the hours pass through him
like black water against hull steel.
An old salt
keeping one more damaged vessel
off the rocks
until daylight.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 11:26 PM UTC
Barefoot on hot sand,
His laughter, a crashing wave,
Sunlight in her hair.
A castle built to the tide,
Washed away by autumn winds.
She shared salty chips,
Fingers brushing in the bag,
A hesitant touch.
Fireworks painted the dark sky,
Mirrored in hopeful, bright eyes.
Bike rides through the fields,
The scent of hay, freshly cut,
Wind whispering tales.
Hidden kisses 'neath oak trees,
Secrets kept within the heart.
Cool ice cream drips down,
Sticky sweetness on their skin,
Shared smiles, carefree days.
Polaroid fading to white,
Summer's ghost, a tender ache.
They sailed paper boats,
Down the babbling brook—
Their names
Scribed upon each hull.
Now the river flows onward—
Carrying sweet memories eternally.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 6:43 AM UTC
at seventy-one, he retires,
takes a seat
in the waiting room
of death,
the pension,
a small sum,
barely covering
the remaining years
left to rent.
i used to think
we worked
towards fulfillment
and freedom,
when i was still blessed
with innocence,
but now i see life
for what it is:
an endless,
narrow staircase
that barely holds
the weight of our own
silhouettes.
Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 5:51 PM UTC
This year, my darling love, you’ll receive more than flowers
Jewelry, candy, candles, gifts, kisses and chocolate bars
You will also get your AARP letter and your Medicare card
It’s vital that you take good care of yourself going forward.
Since you’re now sixty-five years old, you should feel blessed
Lucky, privileged and chosen. Please, please never get depressed
Age is always a good number, as long as you’re very healthy
And funny. The Almighty God is now watching over you regularly.
Eat well, drink more water, take your medications and vitamins daily
You’re now a senior, that’s a major step forward and a serious promotion
Since you’re retired, take a walk once a while. And that’s not being lazy.
You’ve worked all your life and have earned fair and square your pension
Your grandchildren and family will come to visit and spend time with you
I wish you a Landmark Birthday. Dear love, a blissful life is awaiting you.
P.S. This poem is dedicated to the sweet friend of my heart and soul.
Copyright © August 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Aug 12, 2025
Aug 12, 2025 at 5:29 PM UTC
The professor's book
is discounted, outdated --
at his retirement.
Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 2:52 AM UTC
In the almirah corner, it lay,
Day after day, untouched, unseen grey.
Dun and dusted, its shimmer gone,
Once proud, now forlorn.
It first adorned a joyous frame,
The groom's pride, a life to claim.
A new suit for a bride so fair,
Their union sealed, a love to wear.
From meetings to galas, it bore the strain,
Day in and out, through sunshine and rain.
Before mirrors, it struck a pose,
Before cameras, it proudly rose.
Time marched on, as time will do,
The suit's threads faded, its purpose too.
The owner retired, and with a sigh,
The suit found its place where old things lie.
Beside medicines and x-ray scans,
It watched the world through aging hands.
But love rekindled a gentle spark,
The suit was worn, its journey embarked.
No goals to chase, no grand parade,
Just a quiet walk in the evening shade.
With a smile that spoke of days well-spent,
The suit revived in an instant of love.
For the owner well knew, as wisdom grew,
The suit was something more than just threads and dye.
It held the story, the love, the pride,
A lifelong friend with him through the times that glide.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 10:21 AM UTC
The Clock has gone to bed
So have the Bell and Chime
And such has ceased all hours to pass
Beyond the boundary of Time.
The Twilight holds you — tender
To cheek you turned to foe
And so now becomes forever,
The Stag becomes a Doe.
O, Heart as gentle as the nascent Fawn
Who gets lost on familiar paths:
"If only to reminisce" — it jests
"Or chance upon greener grass."
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 6:07 AM UTC
Retirement is nice,
grandad shows it in his chair:
never to get up.
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 3:28 AM UTC
I have no stock in a generation
Who does not care whether
There is social security enough left
To secure my retirement,
A system I have paid into tiringly.
If you want to end it
Be sure I receive my back checks,
Or risk being strung by the neck.
I have no assurances
I will even be allowed to retire,
Only assured those in the house
Could not care less
As to such questions of great importance.
They busy themselves with war,
While we suffer and only grow more poor
And have no interest in developing industry or infrastructure here at home.
They know nothing of the branch
Only the rich fruit of the olives,
Whatever ripe can be harvested.
Yet, they know not how to sow.
Jul 2, 2024
Jul 2, 2024 at 11:57 AM UTC
Doves flown off a high-rise,
Expectantly eager
To show how much they know
And how great they are;
People today have such a need to prove themselves.
For whom, and to what?
Such fruitless times,
When new growth
Rots on the vine.
May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 2:19 PM UTC
She’d been depressed at seeing how her parents had aged in just a couple of years. She hadn’t really contemplated time much before, it had seemed an endless resource.
Seeing her lying listlessly in bed, he asked “Are you ok?”
“I’m getting old,” she admitted, closing her eyes to conserve energy.
“You’re turning 20,” he stated dryly, somewhere in the darkness.
“Still,” she said, “You should know that I’ll start wrinkling, any day now, like a deflating balloon.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” He said. She opened her eyes and looked at him soberly.
“You’re almost 27, are you getting crows feet?” He flinched away from her outstretching hand.
“No,” He responded confidently, but he checked his reflection in her dorm room mirror.
“Soon, your libido will flag,” she informed him solemnly, taking his hand for comfort.
He slipped off the bed and gently closed the bedroom door with a casual swipe of his hand.
“You should start eating fiber,” she gasped, “and retirement planning!”
“I’ve got a few good months left..” he said, as he came back to the bed and started unbuttoning the top of her yellow dress, “I might need someone, in the medical field, to keep an eye on me.”
“I could do that,” she smiled, as his button work progressed, “I do need more clinical hours.”
Aug 22, 2023
Aug 22, 2023 at 7:51 AM UTC
A house that needs a cleaning
Gardens that need tending
Groceries for the larder
And a fence that needs some mending
Grass is nearly one foot high
The dog, he needs a walk
He's gotten just so overweight
But, who am I to talk
Donations to deliver
Things that need be done
A tree to trim a little
But no time to have fun
It takes up all of my spare time
It almost makes me dizzy
I've been retired seven years
And I've never been so busy
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 4:20 PM UTC
someday I will live on a water,
it will love me
I will spend my days discovering it’s mysteries
spinning them into fantastic tales,
cinematic grays of storm,
kaleidoscope colors of dragonfly spring
I will live in the cocoon of its beauty,
in the folding space of beings from every world
I will story the breath of pirouettes,
the creation waves of slumber
finding uncommon lives
woven through fertile riparian fabrics
the water will know me as no human could
it will absorb me into it’s rhythm
I will disappear from causation
cherished and protected the remainder of my days
I, devoted witness and biographer to a landscape
Jan 29, 2023
Jan 29, 2023 at 11:56 PM UTC
They say youth is but momentary,
An emotional journey, a fleeting mirage,
Where uncharted waters are a treat not a foil
Tempered only by fates willful barrage.
But as time marches on and life settles in
with a rhythm well known and rehearsed,
A mixture of joy, tedium and tears
To the beat of our life we're soon versed.
The rest is a blur of dates and events
Where memories bloom and then fade,
Countless seasons merge into one
As the years rush by on parade.
Then one day we awake from the stupor that was,
Look in the mirror intrigued yet resigned,
Gazing intently at the reflection so stark
Bewildered at lines so defined.
Yet there's a glimmer of light in our eyes,
A developing smile on lips pursed so long,
Older and weathered well may we be,
But we're finally free if a little less strong.
To those that say youth is an absolute
Once lost never regained,
That notion insidious and barely skin deep,
For we know it’s the mind where youth is ordained.
So let this new chapter blossom and thrive
As we commence our journey anew,
Untethered from work and most burdens of life
We embrace simple joys to our spirit renew.
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 9:49 AM UTC
early retirement 2.11.22 Mercury/Pluto conjunction
I’ve been cracking jokes lately,
when in the company of others.
When there was an opening in the conversation
I would insert a comment;
I would joke about my life in early retirement.
I would joke and say that I am retired.
It's obviously funny because I’m only 35;
fairly early in my second Saturn returns.
Over the last 18 months I’ve made modest acquisitions
fit for a retiree;
house slippers, a few extra lines in my face and
even a piccolo pipe with dark cherry Cavendish tobacco.
They all fit rather nicely,
(according to my eyes)
when worn with my gray cardigan with the red whip stitch
suring up the right pocket;
the same cardigan I wore the night of the accident and the
morning of the ward.
That was an equinox to remember.
Maybe it's in poor taste to joke about early retirement.
Perhaps that it isn’t very funny to go on about,
or maybe it was only funny to me.
It hadn’t quite occurred to me until now that
it may be kind of awkward for a grown man to crack
funnies about his lack of income or industriousness.
I suppose I just gave myself a pass.
Because I figured everyone already knows I’m
a little unhinged-
a little ungrounded-
certainly a bit touched…
and that “he just needs time to heal because he is
an activated Light Worker and the benefits reaped
by his inner struggle to anchor the
Light upon the Earth plane is in everyone’s best interest,
and that it takes an untold exertion of Will to exact such an incarnation,
and that it takes more than a few several months for the
risen Kundalini to come to maturation.
Quick, can someone please get me a tourmaline.
Well, here I am in
southern Jersey
Manchester Township
Ocean County
Riverside retirement community
side of the pond (man made)
composite bench under a gazebo erected on a concrete pad.
Sitting inside my cardigan next to my piccolo pipe and a pen in my hand,
wondering how I could feel so lost and so found at the same time.
I’ve been a stubborn son of a *****
Afraid to bear my Light within my hands and
expose it to my kin in a meaningful way.
But here I am,
early retirement
on an early afternoon
in a retirement community
full of elders
slinkin through the
early dusk of the
twilight of their lives.
And I don't like it.
I am not equanimous with what is.
I’ve excreted so many toxins that the
re-uptake is nearly too much to bear.
I’ve carried empty green notepads in my back pocket for years.
Pen and pad with scotch tape holding down the binding;
worth about three or four poems max.
“Yea I fancy myself a writer, just not very prolific.”
You can only speak something into being so many times
before the universe starts agreeing with you.
Old man Saturn couldn’t give a **** about
little fears and excuses.
The limits of necessity were only
bad wiring
rendered by
my own hand.
And that goes down smooth like a fish-bone in the throat.
I own enough scarves and robes to
circumambulate the globe a few times.
If only I could fly
it would be in such style
because on the outside I look how I want to feel on the inside.
Before my heart center I hold the dharmachakra mudra and
I stare into a candle flame.
I could of sworn they prescribed this treatment
early in the Rig Veda for guys with ailments like mine;
running mad like beside his shadow and
fleeing all the house flies;
sliding down the side of a waxing crescent moon.
only the moon it is a scythe;
a crescent knife.
Waning in early retirement,
old man Saturn coming for his life.
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 11:12 PM UTC
For single, retired folk like me
Christmas and Bank Holidays are a bind.
Everything is closed,
No buses running,
Friends, like me, are staying home.
No pub for me today.
No squeezing through hordes
Of once a year drinkers
To get to the bar.
I’d rather enjoy my armchair
At home.
But the peace is pleasant,
A nice winter break.
Right now it’s all about
That baby in a manger
Being visited by three wise men.
I have a Christmas Dinner
Ready to microwave
And stocks of beer, whisky
Plus crisps
To keep me going.
Plenty of time to reflect
On another year gone
As seventy looms large for me.
Another year of Coronavirus Variants
As we work our way through
The Greek Alphabet.
Another year of stops and starts
Having to adapt
To whatever monster rears
Its ugly head.
I’ve kept playing table tennis
When the hall’s open
And walked to pub or café
When they’re not closed.
Doing well for a veteran
Can’t complain.
It’s peaceful at Christmas
That’s my refrain.
Paul Butters
© PB 25\12\2021.
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 6:51 AM UTC
Will we leave
You still have that car
The sale shall happen
Or have I just gone astray
Again self judgment has come to me
You say let go
no more
A future shall come for us
Let's dance and push in that hernia
Explore the world we haven't seen
The corners the nooks
Icecream in the shade
(c)near_lane7
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 11:23 PM UTC
Old Anchor
An old anchor rests on a peaceful bay dock
Sixty years he has been aweigh
His iron is rusted from crown to his stock
As he dreams of his shining day
When his metal was young and his arms were strong
And his flukes and palms were grand
He steadied his ship and her souls the day long
As she docked in many a land
He knew many a rode and by cathead was stowed
As his ship traversed ocean and sea
And when mighty gales blowed, he held tight to his load
Making sure she would never break free
But with journeys and age and the turn of the page
Every story must come to an end
And this anchor, though sage, earned his pensioner’s wage
And now dreams on this dock, my friend
© Victor Fuhrman
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 12:13 PM UTC
A retired man returns to work:
he's tired of his freedom.
Watched every show,
Read many books,
The lone-king of his kingdom.
A life of striving, working, waiting,
finally completed.
Now finds it empty,
finds it wasted,
hope has been depleated.
He woke at last before his death,
and let out one last sigh.
Reflections hurt,
Regrets aplenty,
Long past time to die.
Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 11:30 AM UTC
this old panther
is getting older
and with age
comes a wisdom
a knowing of when to
curl up the tail
time to, time to
put it away
so these days
i don’t want
another
with you, with you
only with you
i’m beside myself
and like a housecat
this old panther
just wants to be held
Jan 8, 2020
Jan 8, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
The man stood in his thick red coat and sore shiny feet, square in the threshold, charged with a ready welcome and ruddy face.
He stood with no name but the one assumed for him and, unbeknown to him, inherited from his predecessor who too stood in a similar red coat and sore shiny feet and with his own style of smile.
He stood until he fell one March morning, in his thick red coat and his sore shiny feet and with a heart that failed to live up to the responsibility that came with the threshold and the coat and the shiny feet and instead chose to take its rest.
The man stood in his thick red coat and sore shiny feet square in the threshold, charged with a duty to smile with an open face, with no name but the one assumed for him and, unbeknown to him, inherited from his predecessor.
And he stood.
And he smiled.
As charged.
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 3:38 PM UTC
The one true thing in life is this
We are not getting out of here alive
Not one single living thing is exempt
We, as humans, do not plan for the end game
The journey towards this goal should be planned
Play, education, work, stress, family,
Illness, retirement and lastly, leaving our earthly boundaries
Is that so hard?
Yes it is....!
Brian Hill - 2019 # 206
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC