Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

Each month this blog will feature a word of the month to stimulate a poem. Anyone who wishes to share a poem is invited to participate. The point is to enjoy the challenge of writing a poem inspired by a single word. It doesn’t matter if this is your first poem or five hundredth. It’s all done for the fun and exercise of writing.

Cutoff for posting the current Word of the Month poem is the last day of the month.

On the first day of each month, a new word will be posted to challenge your imagination for that month.

Please post your poems on this page, so everyone can find the poems easily. 

Thank you and have fun!


PS: The word for October is OLD.

110 comments on “Adult “W.O.M.” Poems

  1. WOM Old

    Virginia Lowe

    What I smell of:
    swimming pool water
    hidden farts
    old woman

    What I can’t smell:
    old woman
    hidden farts
    swimming pool
    freesias, violets
    scented lilies
    basil, lemon

    The senses fade
    Smell goes first
    taking taste with it

    It could be worse
    I know how violets
    and basil
    used to smell

    And I could easily
    be dead
    Then I couldn’t smell at all
    but I’d smell even worse

  2. Well of course i didn’t write it on the spot.It was a couple of years ago, in the Creative Writing class i take for oldies (like us!). Thanks for giving us a challange each month. it’s fun! Virginia

  3. On Getting Old

    Old ears,
    old knees,
    old eyes,
    new wheeze.

    Old clothes,
    old tastes,
    old thoughts,
    new waist.

    Old car,
    old trends,
    Best of all?
    New friends!

  4. Old Hat

    Your feathers long, black, once bejeweled
    droop now with aged elegance
    Your form still holds well,
    a tribute to your milliner
    Your color faded with many stories
    atop the head of that
    sparkly brown eyed cobbler’s daughter

    Who was anything but…
    Old Hat
    by Linda Trott Dickman

  5. Jane posted her loving/lovely poem on the front page and with her permission I’m also bringing it here. Thank you, old friend. XO

    Jane Yolen
    OCTOBER 1, 2020 @ 9:11 AM EDIT
    To An Old Friend

    Not old, but necessary,
    Not old but new found,
    Not old but full of knowledge.
    Not old but still around.


    ©2020 Jane Yolen all rights reserved

  6. Old Apple Tree
    By Linda Boyden ©2015,©2020

    “In the shade of the old apple tree…”
    she sang under her breath,
    rocking back and forth on her bed,
    or side to side in her wheelchair
    while she stared out the window,
    hair spilling to her shoulders
    long white waves.

    She’d scream if anyone touched her,
    anyone but me, her rheumy eyes
    locked on mine, one trembling hand
    gripped my wrist, “Dorothy,” she named me,
    then sing, “In the shade of…”
    and would not let me go until I finished,
    “…the old apple tree.”

    That was my cue to get her brush.

    My co-workers dubbed her Crazy Old Bat,
    avoided her like taxes or the flu.
    I don’t know but there was something special,
    something hidden inside that frail body
    that only came out with that song
    while I brushed her long hair
    while she looked out of the window.

  7. Word of the Month Poem
    October 2020
    Word : OLD

    Janet Kay Gallagher

    Our Jewels Brunch Group
    Meets on Wednesdays at Sheila’s Place
    Someone always mentions an ache or pain
    Another says, “That’s old age.”

    I say, “I don’t claim old age.
    I’ve had aches and pains since I was a small child.”
    Someone says, forgetfulness.
    “I don’t claim it. Whatever I forgot will pop back in soon. And it does.”

    Each year at birthday time
    I say “I plan to live another thirty years”
    Let’s see seventy-eight plus thirty…
    I’m to young to claim old age


    That’s the fourth cremation I’ve been to this year
    And it’s barely the middle of May.
    I suppose it’s what one has to expect,
    Approaching the end of one’s day.
    We’re none of us getting younger
    And the one thing in life that’s certain,
    Is that, sooner or later, our play will end
    And they’ll bring down the final curtain.

    Today it was Charlie Mottram,
    Who I’d known since I was ten.
    Strange to think I’ll never see
    Or speak to Chas again.
    We had a bet in our twenties
    About who’d have the longest innings.
    But, although I’ve won, he’s had the last laugh;
    He’s gone to his grave with my winnings.

    So, one by one, they’re shuffling off
    And, as they’d a right to expect,
    I’ve been to all their funerals
    To pay them my respects.
    But I had a sobering thought today
    As I raised my glass of wine.
    I’m willing to bet, when my time comes,
    Not one of them will come to mine.

  9. My Old Friend Samson

    My old friend Samson,
    Was once young and free,
    He was mischievous,
    As a small puppy.
    Time passed so quickly,
    He grew older than me,
    Before I knew it, he was,
    Approaching seventy.
    Spent twelve years together,
    We seldom were apart,
    When I lost my old friend,
    It truly broke my heart.

  10. I see that people are still posting so I will finally add mine that I wrote exactly a week ago. It’s my first time doing this and it was a lot of fun! I’m posting it below, but I will have it on my website too. And I’m planning to post some other ones as well. So far they are hiding in my notebook.

    “That Body in the Mirror”

    Now too old
    too wrinkly
    too crinkly
    too raisin
    Years stretch like a gum
    Life pokes its fun
    The taste is less and less
    Too much of this
    Not enough of that
    Till it’s time to say goodbye
    And spit it out
    But not yet
    Not here
    Not now
    I am still too young
    I need to age a little longer
    Because I am
    like wine

    (c)2020 Anna Maledon
    all right reserved

  11. Getting Old

    Skin takes its own journey,
    It isn’t taut any more,
    Hair thins as forehead bears
    Creases earned over time.
    A slender waist expands
    Bosoms greet a navel,
    Tender hips and knees,
    Arthritis here and there,
    Failing sight, a little deaf,
    There’s so much more to share.
    Looking in the mirror,
    She ponders her reflection,
    It’s hard to recognize herself,
    She wonders if it’s really her,
    For in her mind she still is,
    The girl she left behind.

  12. Thank you. I can already see that you are someone that always sees the glass half full rather than half empty. A wonderful place to come from. Don’t ever change.

  13. A Tree Remembered

    Once, while coursing the rim
    of a deep canyon wall,
    I viewed an old solitary pine
    clinging bravely to the brink
    above the canyon.

    oh, the the smooth youth bark was gone,
    its limbs twisted against the wind,
    foot roots losing their good
    grip in the soil.
    but, still, its stance was tall,

    and was aware of eagles soaring,
    Jays bickering in the scrub,
    cleft hooves clinching granite walls,
    the extremes of seasons:
    hell hot and crackling cold.

    I mused at the splendid sight and moved on,
    moved on to spin the years as best I could,
    just rock skipping over the persistent stream.

    But, now that I’m old and bald,
    I ponder on truth ignored and unrecognized.

    I know now that the old tree was not a metaphor,
    that it was exactly a tree, not like anything else,
    it was a partner in the puzzling matrix of life;
    the standard bearer for daisies and fields of wheat.
    And I say: for god’s sake honor it.

    I have not returned to that old tree’s home, but surely
    time and fatigue have sent this giant to the canyon floor,
    its bones returned to earth’s grasp, as all bones must;
    and in memory, when the old tree comes to mind, I will gently
    touch my hat or tap my chest.


  14. Almost Imperceptibly

    when did my hair pale
    my eyes dim
    my laugh grow loud

    almost imperceptibly
    in the slow speed of earth’s spin
    until I saw my reflection laid bare —

    swirling eddies of cheek smiles
    creased crevices of uncertainties
    chin held high against the coming wind

  15. Dear Star

    Shining, twinkling star,
    How old are you? How far?

    Are you still there or do I see
    the remnants of your old glory?

    Your pinpoint light among them all
    does not make me feel very small.

    I catch your wink through vast wide space
    and feel that I too have a place.

    (c) 2020 Susan Bickel, all rights reserved

  16. After All

    After N-95s ran out
    And downloaded patterns
    Paired with quilting leftovers had
    Limited luck
    After more downloads
    And cannibalized t-shirts
    Sewed by machine
    With coffee filter inserts
    Which we never inserted
    After a purchased set by Hanes
    White face diapers
    And Halloween orange ones
    Paper, discardable…
    After sweaty faces
    Fogged-up glasses
    Pimples on chins
    And forgetting altogether
    Masks with political jibes
    Masks as gifts
    Expressing general cynicism
    After such a
    Sense of the impersonal
    After inscrutability
    Not to mention doubt
    I must say
    This is getting old
    And I must say
    I want out.

    © Karen Eastlund

  17. Old changes everything.

    What’s new is old before you know it.

    Old becomes new. It’s a different view.

    Old can be like a precious stone — solid and beautiful,

    sometimes fades away but is remembered.

    Old can be a teacher.

    Old – a thing, a place, a space in time –

    is forever priceless.

    Even if some kinds of old feel

    like an insult to our minds and bodies,

    treasure or foe, embrace,

    and hold on for the ride.

  18. Hold on for the ride indeed. Thanks, Robin, Sometimes the ride has a wonderful coda, as I have found, now into my second year with my old/new love Peter, me at 81 he at 83. Both poets, teachers. Last dated….in college.

  19. old comfort

    In these days
    unprecedented it’s said
    all that’s new
    seems oddly wrought
    with treachery
    and hatred the lot

    Today I pinned
    old photos enlarged
    of better times
    beautiful nature and faces
    determined to find
    better places

    We’ll see how
    that all works out
    over the days
    and the weeks ahead
    inspired to help
    my kids out of bed

    10/28/2020 (c)Janine Clark-Barry

    • At times like these, I find comfort retreating into the realm of the beautiful where love and joy dwell and my spirit soars, so I can spread another energy into the world, and I pray. Thank you, Janine.

      • With three teenagers hanging by a tense thread, beautiful places evade my grasp, but hope is tenacious. Someone warned me about having kids only 2 years apart about 18 years ago, but who knew we’d be in this situation back then? I will try to find some beauty soon and rest there Cory, thank you.

    calling all colors
    warm, fiery, bold, hot
    temp’rature’s dropping
    autumn is falling

    Cory Corrado (2020) ©
    awe-tumn sage
    fan leaves of old
    warm golden silk glow

    Cory Corrado (2020) ©

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