Joyce,
How's it going with the pictures you've been taking. And how's the project coming along?

jackie

I can't rhyme two words but I will let you read one of Bill's. I hope you enjoy it.

MY BLANKET OF FAITH
Bill LaJoy

No need of splendid weave
Of camel hair or mink,
Nor richness of color, texture or hue.
Any old blanket that fits your bed
And covers you will do.

I could feel my blanket of faith
Tucked in and on all sides.
I felt safe and a trust in the lord.
Knowing He would be my guide.

My journey might be short
And end up in his arms.
Or, as I pray for much longer
With more of this world and its charms.

As long as I trust in my blanket of faith
And believe that God is with me
The rest of my life will have meaning
With a strong inner sense of peace.

Along with all the pains
And aches that bother me
I’m still aware of the good feelings
And know they’ll see me through.

And even if they fail,
The feelings under my blanket of faith
Will be with me
And prevail.

.

I tried writing a new prose piece tonight, but it's really not good. I was talking about it with a friend and he agreed. The first two stanzas, which came easy and were built around and image in my head, are good. The last two are....well, in his words "I just think it needs to simmer. I like the idea." I don't know that it will get any better. I certainly won't subject the whole list to it in this state.

Any more from others?

Joyce--Thanks so much for sharing some of Bill's precious
words. I feel like I know him a little bit now. What a
wonderful guy!

Annaberry--I like that! "Simmer" for a bit! I think that's
really good advice--I often work on something for weeks.
Don't wait that long though! It doesn't have to be "perfect."
By the way, now that you've brought it up... I'm really looking
forward to seeing it... You're committed to sharing!

Okay, I am going to try my hand at this:

The last box is packed
The furniture gone
How I wish I could put it all back again
I wish I could turn back time.

Bring me back my sweet mother
Fill the empty kitchen up with her laughter
And the smell of something good cooking on the stove.

Put my wise father back in the den
Let me hear him rustle that newspaper
And call me princess just one more time

This must be a dream
One I need to awaken from soon
Surely I will find everything back
where it is supposed to be

Instead I walk the empty hallways
And in and out of rooms
I relive all the memories
My heart breaking with every step

It's time to leave now
To leave everything I have ever known
I'd give anything I ever had
To put it all back again.

Oh Snicks - that was just beautiful, just beautiful. See, I knew you of all people could write something so heartwarming. Good job my friend!!

Jackie

Thanks, Snickers. That painted a very vivid picture
for me, complete with sights, sounds, and smells.
What powerful memories.
Carol

Beautiful Snick. You broke my heart reading that.

Joyce,

Bill's poem is wonderful. Thank you for sharing.

Snick,

Wow.

You captured so well what I have been going through with mom's house and accumulated "stuff" -- and you moved me to tears.

Joyce,

I know I was suppose to keep this poetry contest clean, but I just can't resist sending this to you from an actual patient with AD. My mom said she knew this from 65-66 years ago when she was in her 20's and working downtown.



Here it is:

Said the good girl to the bad girl -
Why is it so hard to be good?

Said the bad girl to the good girl,
It's got to be hard to be good!

I just found this so funny when she started reciting it shortly after taking a catnap on her recliner. I thought she was talking in her sleep, and was saying I'm a good girl, and she's a bad girl. But then I asked her what she was saying, and she said she was trying to remember this little saying she heard years ago.

I quickly wrote it down, before she forgot it. But when hubby got home, I asked her to tell him and of course she said she had forgotten. So I started reading it from the paper I had written it on, and she corrected me as I had wrote down bad girl when it was suppose to be good girl and vice versa. Or she possibly may have got it wrong, but I think you all get the idea.

I just find this so amazing that she remembers this saying, and can't remember all the times she has fainted.

Jackie

Crabby Old Man
by Anonymous

What do you see nurses?... What do you see?
What are you thinking... when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man... not very wise,
Uncertain of habit... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his 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 sock or a shoe?

Who, resisting 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 not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am... as I sit here so still,
As I do 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 boy of sixteen... with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now... a lover he'll meet.
A groom 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 guide... and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty... my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other... with ties that should last.

At fourty, my young sons... have grown and are gone,
But my woman'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 wife is now 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 now an old man... and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age... look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles... grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone... where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass... a young guy 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 open your eyes, people... open and see...
Not a crabby old man... Look closer... see ... ME!!

(Reportedly found in an elderly patient's belongings
after his death in the geriatric ward of a nursing home
in North Platte, Nebraska.)