Old Timer

[windsor89]

Days stack into months
and overflow into years
like the sheafs of paperwork
on his desk, dogeared
and earmarked with long hours
of labor. He shudders at the oft-thrown
comment about a laptop
to house his files, with its new fangled
features and vulgar price tag.

His retirement fund saw a glacial
expanse over years of measly paychecks,
wiping grime from his hot, freckled cheeks
and icing his callused hands.
His limbs were lithe and cased
his bones in strong skin and sure spirit.
His eyes gleamed with rebellion.

He scoffs at the young -uns
with their soft, lumpy flesh
hunched over their desks,
bleeding their rage into tweets.
Choices dance at their fingertips,
of jobs, cars, lovers, genders....
He clutches a memory of his late wife
in his tattered wallet, big blonde hair
and gap-toothed smile---his one true love
post a montage of forgotten romances.

He glimpses a sign as he rubs tincture
into a deep wound---it reads, "paper cuts hurt,
work safely."

[dukealien]

Days stack into months
and overflow into years  perhaps "topple"
like the sheafs of paperwork  "sheaves," though of course invention is to be prized
on his desk, dogeared 
and earmarked with long hours "earmarked" fits with "dogeared," but not quite with the situation... bookmarked or sticky-noted
of labor. He shudders at the oft-thrown
comment about a laptop or server, or thumb drive?
to house his files, with its new fangled
features and vulgar price tag.  

His retirement fund saw a glacial
expanse over years of measly paychecks, is "expanse" the right word?  it increases slowly downhill...
wiping grime from his hot, freckled cheeks
and icing his callused hands. goes with glacial, good.  Can frostbite be suggested?
His limbs were lithe and cased these three lines refer to his past, when he was "their" age.  White space before?
his bones in strong skin and sure spirit.
His eyes gleamed with rebellion.

He scoffs at the young -uns
with their soft, lumpy flesh
hunched over their desks,
bleeding their rage into tweets.
Choices dance at their fingertips,
of jobs, cars, lovers, genders....  a break after this line, perhaps?
He clutches a memory of his late wife   "clutches" seems an odd word for an item in his wallet, but it does draw a picture
in his tattered wallet, big blonde hair
and gap-toothed smile---his one true love
post a montage of forgotten romances. by "post" is meant "after" or "following" - is there a better word?

He glimpses a sign as he rubs tincture of iodine, a bit dated when the young-uns use salve or wound powder or   the like... but he *is* dated
into a deep wound---it reads, "paper cuts hurt,
work safely."  interesting concept, wounded by time/age

In mild to moderate critique, don't take any of the above comments too much to heart.  It's a good theme to explore - the guy who's "been here forever" and keeps a bunch of records no one will ever look at again (been there, done that).  I sympathize with his (inner) description of the new employees... and the Army wonders why it can't get any of them to volunteer!

Some word choices are striking but seem not to quite fit (see above).  That doesn't mean they're wrong, but in mild critique, you might consider alternatives that are equally striking but fit the image you're building better.

And I wonder if the description of his younger self could do without the white space between it and his thoughts about the young-uns... perhaps moving the break to when his thoughts (or ours) return to him and his late wife after the reference to modern gender-bending.

Again, no harsh criticism intended, it works but could be improved.

[busker]

1699386580[/url]']
Days stack into months
and overflow into years
like the sheafs of paperwork
on his desk, dogeared
and earmarked with long hours
of labor. He shudders at the oft-thrown
comment about a laptop
to house his files, with its new fangled
features and vulgar price tag.

His retirement fund saw a glacial
expanse over years of measly paychecks,
wiping grime from his hot, freckled cheeks
and icing his callused hands.
His limbs were lithe and cased
his bones in strong skin and sure spirit.
His eyes gleamed with rebellion.

He scoffs at the young -uns
with their soft, lumpy flesh
hunched over their desks,
bleeding their rage into tweets.
Choices dance at their fingertips,
of jobs, cars, lovers, genders....
He clutches a memory of his late wife
in his tattered wallet, big blonde hair
and gap-toothed smile---his one true love
post a montage of forgotten romances.

He glimpses a sign as he rubs tincture
into a deep wound---it reads, "paper cuts hurt,
work safely."

To me, more than the poetic merit of any specific line, it’s the overall picture that’s confusing
No modern day worker in a first world country (the blonde wife) would be a stranger to laptops. An archivist in government record keeping house might be, but we’re talking about more than sheafs of paperwork on someone’s desk.

The subject of the poem is a desk worker who scoffs at other desk workers “hunched over” their laptops. There is disdain at being “hunched over”, a sentiment echoed by more active workers, like those engaged in manual / physical labour. This is another incongruity. 

The third incongruity is the tincture being applied to a deep wound and what appears to be an ironical reference to paper cuts. Again, what work does the subject do?

The fourth incongruity is the age of the subject. Given the late wife and the being out of touch with the modern world, he should be several years if not a couple of decades into retirement. 

These prevented me from objectively assessing the artistic merits of the poem

[Nineninetimes]

I'd recommend doing a little mix up. The last two stanzas are very clear with intent, but I feel like the first two are a little muddied with the meaning.

[Pike]

Hello,

This is a good effort. It has a strong narrative of time's passage, contrasting the seasoned perspective of the protagonist with the vibrancy of youth. Paperwork stacking up like the years, although not entirely original, conveys a sense of accumulation and labor. The disdain for modern tech and youth, while somewhat predicable—on the cusp of a trope—, does add a nostalgic touch highlighting the ephemerality of the digital world (in contrast to the physical accumulation of paper—a more "real" byproduct of time's passing).
The physical descriptions, while present, lack originality and might benefit from more inventive language or unique perspectives. And the poem's structure could be refined for a more engaging rhythm. 
Also, consider delving deeper into the emotions of the "old timer", providing more specific instances or memories to create a more authentic connection with the reader.

Nice read. Thanks for sharing it.