Choose a 40th Birthday Poem

A 40th birthday is definitely an important milestone. Share a 40th birthday poem and make your friends and family laugh. While reading the 40th birthday poem below (Life begins at 40)most might think it’s about a forty year old person. However, the ending reveals something else. Enjoy!

Life begins at 40

As you grow each year,
To the sky without fear.
Sound judgment and roots,
Sweeter than fruits.

With seasons you change,
Isn’t that strange?
Standing tall and strong,
You know you belong.

Many climb for support,
You’re a great sport.
At forty, a young tree,
We must all agree.

By Martin Dejnicki 

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Are you looking for a 40th birthday poem that will inspire that brand new forty year old? Then share Winner at 40 a sweet and inspirational fortieth birthday poem. But if you're looking for a funny birthday poem. Maybe you'll like one of these funny birthday poems. 

What if a lady is turning 40? Make her laugh with this 40th birthday poem.... 

Miss or Ma’am?

Good morning dear ma’am,
Where’s my sandwich with ham.
Dinner at nine sounds insane,
Five or six is my domain.

Sensible shoes make sense,
Throw fashion over the fence.
Notice first gray hair,
Let’s try to give it some flare.

Your four door cars,
Seem like jail bars.
With wisdom and whining,
Those eyes are still shining.

By Martin Dejnicki

On the opposite side of the spectrum we have ......... 

Primetime at 40

A mid-life crisis to forget,
Only temporary don’t you sweat.
Life insurance they try to sell,
“I’m not old,” you begin to yell.

You need glasses in the dark,
Where you used to make your mark.
A cold beer is your best friend,
Hangovers he will always lend.

Hair continues to fall out,
Sitting and waiting for your trout.
The first forty is to learn.
The next forty, you must return. 

By Martin Dejnicki

I’m not forty quite yet, but I do agree with that last line. We spend the first forty years learning and the second forty teaching others what we learned. A 40th birthday anniversary is a special and important milestone in life. The following 40th birthday poem is intended to inspire that forty year old. 

Life to Enroll

I realized, I was forty years old,
All this drama began to unfold.
Woke up, one morning; a pretty bad cold,
Rest in bed, repeatedly told.

I lay there in thought, uncontrolled
Upon defeat and surrender, I was not sold.
With a sudden spark, I became truly bold,
Jumped out of bed and youth filled with gold.

With peace and confidence, downstairs I strolled,
Opened the door, and life, I enrolled.
A few hurdles here, my way they were bowled,
Forty years of experience, success was foretold. 

By Martin Dejnicki

40th to Remember

Waiting in traffic,
View my life graphic.
Mind races through time,
When news was a dime.

Choices were made,
Memories would fade.
Friendships were born,
Others were torn.

At forty, I sit here,
In charge of my fear.
More calm than ever,
Exceedingly clever.

By Martin Dejnicki 

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It's never to late to be elected to office. How about on your 40th birthday? You got my vote! :) 

40th Birthday Poem Vote

A milestone we wish not to neglect,
You are the one! We chose to elect.
Your office consists of four decades of work,
Please start producing, if you care for the perk.

With youthful charisma, you bring many smiles,
That stretch, every corner; reach countless miles.
Success shall accompany, sound judgment and sense,
If you decide to sell, do not forget to dance.

From the beginning, our vote you have earned,
Through your examples, so much we have learned.
We gather here to thank you and say,
Happy 40th with a birthday buffet.

By Martin Dejnicki

Look Inside

Happy birthday you look the same,
A few wrinkles, nothing to shame.
We all lose our external beauty,
Growing internally is our duty.

Happy birthday you look the same,
Time is flying by, who should we blame?
Aging can’t be all that bad,
More experiences, you get to add.

Happy birthday you look the same,
From a distance, I see your flame.
As I look and see your eyes,
Sharp as ever; calm and wise. 

By Martin Dejnicki

The Five Stages of Forty

The other day my Sister Joan,
Contacted me by telephone,
To tell me of a wondrous trip, 
She’d taken to the Vegas Strip. 

For coming soon there was for Joan, 
The not so happy milestone, 
Of turning forty and no doubt,
My sister Joan was freaking out. 

For weeks she endlessly complained,
While driving all who heard insane, 
That one day soon she’d wake at dawn,
To find her youth forever gone.

But home from the Las Vegas scene,
My sister Joan seemed quite serene,
For there she bought to ease her loss, 
A tour book by E. Kubler-Ross, 
Which mapped the sites to find relief, 
And navigate each stage of grief.

Now first, Joan said I stayed a while,
At MGM s Hotel Denial, 
Where all day long it's no surprise, 
I basked in self-deluded lies.

"You re only as old as you feel!"
I shouted with affected zeal, 
Along with other fibs aplenty,
Like, "Forty s really the new twenty!" 

And, "God! I look so young and fit! 
You know, I haven’t changed a bit!" 
Feeling good I went to scrounge, 
Up cocktails at The Anger Lounge, 

But there the clientele were lots,
Of twenty-something little snots, 
And worse it pissed me off to see, 
That nobody checked my ID. 

The Vegas bar scene looking bleak,
I strolled into a posh boutique,
For sadness quite often brings,
The urge to do some bargaining.

I queried, feigning self esteem,
How much to buy that wrinkle cream?
Or do you think you could supply,
A bit of botox on the sly? 

Famished from my self-obsession,
I dined at La Maison de Pression, 
With renowned chef, the grandiose,
And aptly named Monsieur Morose, 
Tonight, he said, our sad menu,
Includes my favorite, Hopeless Stew. 

We start with tears plucked from your face,
And add them to a Prozac base, 
Then very finely we anoint, 
It with a spice called what’s the point. 

So tell me please, when you decide,
For I’ll be on the ledge outside,
I got the sense my meal was done,
When Morose dialed 911.

And so I thought it time to go, 
Back into town to catch a show, 
Out on the strip a grand display,
Read: Midlife Crisis de Soleil.

And underneath, the stern reprise,
Acceptance of One s Own Demise, 
Inside above the crowd and props, 
Perched calmly on a muffin top, 
There sat a wise and wily sage,
Who oddly looked about my age, 
She showed no signs of stress or grief, 
No wringing hands or gnashing teeth,

No loud and clamorous harangue, 
No needless, silly strurm und drang,
And my amazement was complete, 
How could she pull off such a feat? 

And then I realized that’s it! 
This woman doesn’t give a wit!
When forty came, she didn’t frown, 
She ponied up and doubled down! 

And after that I felt okay,
For finally I had found my way, 
And cast aside these aging fears,
At least for ten or twenty years. 

By Mark Shaughnessy 

I hope you enjoyed each 40th birthday poem. 

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