1. The Forgotten Mother
A gray old woman sits all alone,
Unloved, uncherished, and unknown.
Sitting beside her broken door,
Dreaming of days passed long ago,
Aging is a natural process of life. It begins the moment we are born. Strangely enough, most of us live under the illusion that we and our loved ones will never become old. When old age arrives, we are often unprepared. The natural order becomes reversed. The young help to care for the old. Those who need to be taken care of for the first time have a hard time accepting that they need help. This condition is a product of our culture that does everything it can to conceal the loss of youth. Confronting this reality is the beginning of a healthy relationship to life, aging and death.
A gray old woman sits all alone,
Unloved, uncherished, and unknown.
Sitting beside her broken door,
Dreaming of days passed long ago,
In March 2022, I was diagnosed with Renal cancer. I'm doing fine following up with my CTs. My kids' dad was diagnosed with hepatic cancer, lung, the works, and passed away in March. My (our)...
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She's trapped inside the prison walls
That used to be her mind.
The woman that she used to be,
Has long been left behind.
Would love to read some of your experiences. I am currently caring for and have two care givers looking after my 80 year old mother.
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This poem really hit home with me. I will be 60 on my next birthday and it seems like years fly by like days. I too look in the mirror and wonder where all the lines and wrinkles have came...
Here I lie in bed again, Awaiting my next meal.
A worker barges in my room, As if it's no big deal.
What ever happened to courtesy? Just a little knock.
I too worked as a CNA for 15 plus years and then I choose to do private home health care. I always respected my residents and my private clients and demanded that everyone else did. They each...
I see the sadness in your eyes,
The times that you are knowing
What's happening to your wondrous mind,
The symptoms you are showing.
Memories! I was 53, he 54 when the complications of Alzheimer's took him. At his prime as an exporter, his secretary fell for him. I left and visited Canada for 3 months, but on my return,...
Famous Poem
Said the little boy, sometimes I drop my spoon.
Said the little old man, I do that too.
The little boy whispered, I wet my pants.
I do too, laughed the old man.
I admit I didn't know Shel Silverstein until I bought a couple of sheets of stamps with his name on each stamp and a silly little sketch of a cartoonish little girl. "Who is Shel...
Purple veins strain against the skin.
Pale, translucent, paper thin.
Skinny fingers clawed in monstrous shapes,
Brown spots from years that she can't erase.
Dear Angie,
I should have responded much sooner to your beautiful comment about my poem. I am so thrilled that you could completely relate to my words and then share them with others to help...
I have waited quite a long time to get old,
So I think I should try to enjoy it.
I can't turn it in for a refund,
And I surely don't want to destroy it.
It is genuinely a beautiful poem depicting the harsh reality of life that many of us don't really know how to handle the unwanted changes that old age brings with it. One always lives in this...
To find room
for her flannel nighties,
a well-worn woollen dressing gown,
her furry slippers
Oh Pat,
I sometimes think if it wasn't for people like you I might just give up writing poetry. I get so low when my poems don't receive any votes. In fact I tried to get one deleted,...
Many, many years ago
When I was just a kid,
And I had just began to grow,
There's stuff I had and did.
Ah, blissful childhood memories. Raised in a rural community, most relatives and friends lived on farms. Being a town kid, homemade fried chicken dinners in an oversized farm kitchen, that...
Famous Poem
When you see me sitting quietly,
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Reading this poem was very heartfelt and personal. Maya Angelou has always been my favorite author of all times, but reading this particular poem reminds me of my grandmother who I was lucky...
I wake up each day
On this journey of mine,
Grabbing each moment
Of my limited time.
Miss Fleming: I was looking at a poem I wrote, SWEET THINGS FOR YOUR EAR, and I saw you left me a wonderful review. We seem to have the same outlook on life. I look back on my life a lot. I...
My eyes are fine; they are just printing words small.
I just use a walking stick to seem stately and tall.
Nothing is wrong with my sense of smell.
Very nicely described and also the way it became funny was absolutely fantastic.
When you feel bad for what you say
Remember your mom wasn't always this way.
She is your mom and used to be
A woman who cared, much like me.
My mom is not 90. She is just 66 and is in that transition phase when you begin to realize she is growing old. It is a hard thing to realize. The woman who took care of you all your...
One day my dad was hunting, from his favorite hunting stand;
'Twas a giant Oak with perfect limbs, under which two deer trails ran.
Now this favorite spot of Daddy's was as unique as it could be,
'cause a lightning bolt had burned a giant hole down through that tree.
My aging husband, who just turned 70 in October, still takes his grandsons out bowing and hunting ever year. He helps build the tree stands and everything, teaching them the way of the...
It could not be me he's thinking of
When he looks up at the soft moonlight.
And it can't be me that he's dreaming of
When he falls asleep at night.
Another brilliant poem - I love the way you write - keep them coming, please.
Very best wishes, Ann
The years are taking their toll.
Another birthday has now arrived.
People you meet say you're still looking young.
With a smile, you wink and say, "Nice try."
Age is only a number we accumulate through our journey along the path destined for us. “Just Another Year” gave our hearts a nudge. It’s all right to climb the ladder of numbers and let our...
He moved with deliberate motion
Each step a painful chore
His body bent and crippled
To the depths of his human core.
Hello Ann,
Thank you again for your kind and encouraging words. I dedicated this poem to my dearest father who passed away at the age of 98. You are NOT elderly! Best wishes from across...
Those things that meant the most to me
Are no longer in my life.
And those people most important
Have vanished now from sight.
I just love your poems - keep writing. You inspire me to keep writing myself.
A little old lady, I do not mind being.
What I find I don't like are the changes I'm seeing.
My marbles are still rolling in the right direction.
I enjoy this old world, though it has imperfections.
I enjoyed your poem. I certainly know where you're coming from. When it comes to tech, I'm not tech-savvy either. It seems like every time you get things down pat, they change the whole...