Poetry

You've even got me reading it Harry, and I don't do POEtry unless it's in motion

I'm learning because I can say chow, chiau, umm, err cia, or whatever it is!! 

Thank you, Ron.......both Harry and I appreciate the effort ;-) 

 Hi Ron,

I believe you refer to Paul Kaufman & Mike Anthony with their song,

"When I see my baby

What do I see

Poetry in motion...etc".

Glad to see you have become one of the converted, my friend...At 77 years of age I wouldn't be without my Po....!!

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Re -  my last poem I shall title it "Not-so- poor me!" 

Forgive the typing errors therein. 

Harry

                              KATE

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking, when you look at me --
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice -- "I do wish you'd try."

Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe,
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you're looking at ME...
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still;
As I rise at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another,
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet;
A bride soon at twenty -- my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep;
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home;
A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last;
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn;
At fifty once more babies play 'round my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,
I look at the future, I shudder with dread,
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I've known;
I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel --
'Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where once I had a heart,
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again,
I think of the years, all too few -- gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last --
So I open your eyes, nurses, open and see,
Not a crabby old woman, look closer, nurses -- see ME!

What incredible insight into the ageing process, Peggy, and how others, somewhat dispassionately, may perceive its effects on the individual throughout the physical erosion.  The mind remains young, and nothing can erode that, despite time occasionally tinkering with it. Thank God there are those who have their eyes well and truly open. Sadly though, too few.

Regards,

Harry

That has bought tears to my eyes Peggy.

 My mum had alzheimer's and lingered for eight years, he last nine months in hospital. I think I will print this out and share it with some care workers I know, it's a good reminder that there are real people living inside those bodies they take care of every day.