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Best Caregiving Poems

Below are the all-time best Caregiving poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of caregiving poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Caregiving Poem | |

First Communion

The powdery snow gloves the fingers of maple forest protecting barren bark with the expectation of rose tipped bloom. A meeting point between pristine innocence and the veiled promise of spring ripening. Each trunk and limb mirroring the action of man Reaching, arching, swaying, creating aisles of church-like splendor, a sacrament where the virginal may walk toward communion with their God. Inward toward the birth of faith and outward toward the wedgwood sky in celestial sight.

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Show Me Your Face


                                           Do not hide your face
                                    Let me see your beautiful eyes
                                          Do not hide your tears
                                          Let me wipe them away
                                         Do not hide your wounds
                                             Let me comfort you
                                            You should know that
                                             you are not alone 
                                    Do not be subdued by falsehood
                                          jealousy and backstabbed
                                       Raise your head and be proud
                                       Show me your face your grief
                                   No one has the right to judge others
                                   They must sweep for their own door




15.04.2013
A-L  Andresen :)

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Windowpanes

An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and 
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of 
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field 
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community 
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound 
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the 
evening to be appropriate for the purpose. 
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical 
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that 
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the 
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by 
our café.

When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew, I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true, A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent. I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more. Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore, The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry, As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by. The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes. The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve. My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before. She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside, And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride. Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart, For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part. Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear. The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years, Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears, When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew, And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless, 
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
cautiously, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

But 
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

The Malkavian..Part 1

The Malkavian..Part 1

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented 
His family, drained and defeated, finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in talked of hope and healing  
The drugs administered only made him more demented  
Cementing the feeling, that his life is just an echo 
Of the endless, timeless, all consuming screaming 

His best friend is a dis-proportioned bird appropriately named Buddy 
Who’s monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop the persistent pounding of the screaming 
Often he stared into the emptiness of nothingness contemplating the beauty of its 
existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite define 
It's hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles haven’t dropped to the appropriate 
level 
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters 
Madmen mask madness in mindless task of mass mayhem 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor 
Circumventing the system that couldn't’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be 
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy 
Just in need of some freedom from his prisons and medications
Meditations and mantras had given him a sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming and maybe even end it
\
Four years preparing and plotting the perfect moment of promise 
A fire formed from a single flame fueled by an accelerant 
Raced through the halls up the walls and killed all the residents 
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what seemed like and instant
Such little time to search through the bodies looking for a single person 
He found her on the fourth floor clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of nurse Denise 
And to his amazed mind he was astonished to find the  screaming was silenced
 

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

In The Chill Of An Open Door

 
Cleaning out my refrigerator, an ice cube slides to the floor
startling the cat, and interrupting a locomotive of thought
that often tracks me down in a beam of  light---
Today it streams through a  window, where everything seems marred,
by doubt, and dust, crusts of ice and sticky jello spilled on a glassy shelf.

Oh, not the first time, this revelation of light, 
I've had it before while kneeling on the floor as I do now,
and many times that I've knelt on a floor, 
to clean up my messes,...
praying for help, praying for light, praying for forgiveness...
and now on the floor to sponge up melting ice, water and tears

Raising a young family...a life so demanding...
Caring and nursing...two sides of the coin...
My father and children....my husband caught between...
It wasn't the impossible...but was never enough...
The time took a toll....why did it seem cold....as cold as the ice?
Could I have held out?.... Could I have been stronger?...
A little while longer....

I shiver with memory,... or is it guilt, and regret? Regret, perhaps shame?
Is it only the chill of the open fridge door?
       Or is it more?... So much more?

Hmm, interesting metaphor, "a open door"..........
          did I leave it open long enough,... wide enough?
Did I do all I could?  All I should ? Was I patient enough? Was I all I could be?
Was I tough enough to watch someone linger,
                lingering on, I ponder it now...

Difficult years......but a fraction of life, is how it appears,....
Now looking back.... black fades to gray..
but it comes back in spades, to haunt me today

A little while longer.....

                          I could have been stronger....





_________________________________________________________

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Just a note-Humbleness is a virtue

Be careful when going up a ladder Be kind to those you meet Remember,going down that ladder the same people you will greet

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

I Am A Gerber Baby

I am a super duper Gerber Baby all I love to do is wee- wee winning all the attention of my mommy so that all day long, she’ll stay beside me I love to loudly fart and burp after taking my Gerber Baby Foods prepared by dad all my tiny fingers in my mouth as I give them a crunchy baby’s laugh they both run to give me their sweetest kisses and hugs Oh, how I love to wear my soft baby’s diaper I walk around my crib producing sounds, “ mmma pppa brrrr brrrrrr” please bathe me in my lovely little bath tub or wash the smudges of my “ poop” now I feel them on my ass How I love to be an adorable baby no problem yet nor worry all I have to do is drink milk and sleep the whole night or day cuddled in the loving arms of my mommy and daddy In my cozy crib are colorful toys feeling like sitting over the rainbow with so much joy my picture books are scattered all around I pretend to read them smartly as I look at the picture of a clown
Jan. 27, 2012 First Place Contest: Gerber Baby (poem contest) Judged: 2/1/2013 Sponsor: Greatest Poet, Linda/PD First Place Contest: #1 Poem Only Judged: 17/13/13 Sponsor: My dearest Poet sis, Linda

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Faith, Trust and Irony

She's dressed in freshly laundered scrubs,
a floral top and pants pale blue.
There for a moment to hand me a gown,
and tell me what to do.

As I'm getting undressed, she checks on a man,
he's in the room right next to mine.
He's crying in pain and begging for help,
I hear her tell him that he'll be fine.

A few moments later, the crying has stopped,
as she leaves she turns out his light.
Whatever she did, it's done the trick,
he'll be able to sleep tonight.

She's back with me now and with her this time,
she has her tools in tow.
It's 3 in the morning and she must be tired,
but if she is it doesn't show.

Thermometer ready to check my 'temp,
lift my tongue and tuck it under.
As she wraps the black cuff around my arm,
I watch her and I wonder.

Working twelve hour shifts,
three days off then four days on.
Has she a husband or any children,
who miss her when she's gone?

Does she like cooking or singing?
Does she paint or like to read?
The needle, she pricks me, with such precision,
I hardly even bleed.

My IV's in place, my medicine given,
she says goodnight with eyes so kind.
Just as I'm drifting off into sleep,
a thought suddenly enters my mind.

To this woman I leave my health in her hands,
a serious matter, this isn't a game.
It strikes me as crazy just how much I trust her,
when all I know of her is simply her name.

By~Michelle Lacey

Details | Caregiving Poem | |

Before the night is Over (He's coming back) pt.2

             
                  Well my friend, my conscience would not allow me the pleasure.
              The pleasure not to report the news that I treasure.  That as I
              open the book, the book full of new's, a book full of true's.
            
                  All that I know, and them to be in doubt, one day they will all
              shout, "He's coming back", "Before the nite is over".  That's what
              the Bible (the book) is all about.  "Enter ye in at the straitgate: for
              wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction.
              Lord (now): "Show me the way Home", the poem is all about subduction.

             "Before the night is Over, the attempt is to capture your mind".  So may
               you be aware, as he is lead, lead like a lamb to be slaughter.  He is
               beaten like as if they don't care, he look like news I cann't share but
               the book (Bible) say's the reason he suffer for you and for me.
                  Because Love, Well yes my friend, [Love] is the reason to feel free!!..
                
                    My conscience want allow me the pleasure, that I too was less inform.
                That, cause of my sin, I couldn't be reform, and many amonst many was
                 also in doubt.  "Before the night is Over, hope all once blind, now see".
                Before the nite is over, before the night is become dawn and just before
                the dew hit's the ground.   

               "Give your life to what is living and not to a deadless Clover".  Do this, feel
                this.
               "Before the night is Over".

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