Best Caregiving Poems
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 mirrors
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.
She Calls Me Home…
At days long end
Left on troubles shore
When I just know
I can't take anymore
When the last light
Of hope is gone
She calls me home
She calls me home
When my thoughts
Are racing round
And I can't find
A friend in this town
When every door
Has turned out wrong
She calls me home
She calls me home
She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face
Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home
When the dark
Won't give up light
When the wrong
Outscores the right
When the noise
Outdoes the song
She calls me home
She calls me home
When the clouds
Won't seem to break
And the sky
Just seems to ache
And the sun's
Completely gone
She calls me home
She calls me home
She calls me home
To her embrace
Wipes the tears
From my tortured face
Calms my soul
Til the demons are gone
And with her sweet voice
She calls me home
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 :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
You look at me so uninviting;
I may have some missing teeth, stumble when I walk, bout' to FALL!!!
Stutter when I talk, but yet I'll still call;
Might smell like ole mothballs or mint or maybe even Old Spice;
You see me and you stare, you're looking at the patches of my skin YES! it's different (maybe diseased ) different;
different colors and wrinkled on my face, the gray in my hair;
Yes you still stand there and stare. . .
I may talk bout RCA, Philco record players you say "what's that;
I might talk bout Annie Oakley, BoZo the Clown, Captain Midnight, you say Whose that;
Well child let me tell you all...
Don't throw me away;
Cause I'm just like you;
Don't put me out cause I'm too slow;
You think I'm in the way and I can no longer grow;
Don't throw me away, place me in a rest/nursing home;
Don't put me away because you think I'm in the way;
I', senior don't talk bout me in front of me I don't understand a word you say;
I'm alive, I have more brain cells and I got all my memory, well;
That's more than I can, say for you huh-hey!
Imagine if I'd treated you such;
But I wouldn't cause I've got God's love in me so much. . .
Love you see
::::::::::::::::::::::::what?::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
So I just suck it up turn the other cheek;
I may tumble but I won't fall;
I may forget something's but not all;
And yes I still eat meat;
Cause I got all my teeth;
Remember your just trying to get where I am at now;
I'm a senior don't throw me away;
I'm telling you I'm history and I'm a part of God's glory wanna hear, come here;
Come here and sit down, I sit in a chair can hardly rise or go anywhere;
You see me and you stare I drive slow you begin to cuss and swear;
I won't do you ill;
I won't act like you will;
I'll take you today......
But I won't, I will NOT THROW YOU AWAY
Dedicated to all Gods people's 60 years of age to 100 years
Thank you for your wisdom, thank you for your life. . .
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. July 6 2015©
For the book Poetry to Bridge Generations University Of Nebraska at Omaha 2015©
This poem also found in 2020 POETRY SOUP BOOK:." PS: IT'S POETRY A BRILLIANT POETRY ANTHOLOGY"
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
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....
_________________________________________________________
Some say you are lost
If you are not found
On their ground
Some think you are blind
If you do not find
What they find
I am an atheist who believes
The universe is a tapestry
Not a thread
The science to chart the stars
Is but a celestial church
That medicine and vaccines
Are answered prayers
That communities
Can save each other
That math and music
Language and learning
Rebuilding destruction
And regretting a wrong
Are inherent miracles
That to plant a tree
Water a garden
Kiss a scar
Soothe a bruise
Give a smile
Hug a sorrow
Cook a meal
Play a song
Clasp a hand
Bandage a cut
Wipe a tear
Hear a need -
Is divine
I believe the soul of nature
Is sacred
and a rainbow's refraction
Is all the more radiant
For the formula it contains
I believe the finitude of life
Makes a more precious day
And, to my friends of other faiths
I believe - we can meet halfway.
4/27/20
(this was inspired by a poem I read by Anil Deo called Any Athiests out there - thank you for your kind response to my novella-of-a-comment, Anil!)
In the darkest of times
be the light of a candle
but the harshest of crimes
to let melt your candle
***
Give, unmindful of a reason
feel the heavy burden light
remember to mind your reason
fill your very soul with Light
***
Like a delicate dove
bathe into sweet waters well
feed on the seeds of Love
reach not the bottom of its well.
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
Young and pretty, living a normal life
Suddenly her world would never be the same
Her lovely boy born with special needs
Her daily life now the toughest of games
She carries on with her head held high
Having a career, still being his mother
Constantly dealing with medical issues
Yet she would not change him for another
Nurses and doctors fill her daily life
Fighting for the services that he needs
Never one complaint does she voice
Knowing not where his path will lead
A special soul; accepting the hand dealt
My admiration for this woman so deeply felt…..
note---
I am privileged to be one of his nurses...I have never seen a stronger
more dedicated mother..
Be careful when going up a ladder
Be kind to those you meet
Remember,going down that ladder
the same people you will greet
The thing with giving is Expectation...
The treasure of giving is the giving itself without expecting anything in return.
A loan creates dependency, inequality.
***
I
bend over
and kiss you
while you are sleeping
The fragrance of your
helpless frailty
Softness of your skin
I cherish
I
rub this balm in the
palms of my hands
to warm it, to give you
pause of sickness
softness without pain
And I lift you against me
Gently
I
Smile in your ear
You whisper soft tufts
of warm air in my neck
You give me the gift
of tenderness
You
expect nothing in return
I only ask to be here, with
you, I give you my life
to love you
forever
***
April 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
~ everything is in your heart and hands - the end of life - empathy ~
29/03/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
MONOKU PICK A PICTURE
Sponsored by: James Edward Lee Sr.
Picture # number 2
www.howmanysyllables (16)
1st place in the contest
When I see a homeless man or woman
I instantly just throw prayer their way.
When with a little, child I will listen,
No matter if it takes them long to say
What in their mind they feel is important.
It helps to build their sense of worth, I know.
I always give compliments to strangers
Even if they regard me as their foe.
You never know what stresses they might have,
Nor how your comment could just be that light
That causes them to seek a kinder path
When their emotions rue the darkest night.
Animals see me as a pied piper...
They somehow feel my aura loves them so.
Even if they seem quite temperamental
They follow me where ever I might go.
I work my magic best with reiki hands
I volunteer my time and help to heal
Those infirm or injured in hospital
With universal energy that's real.
Last not least, I sign numbers for the deaf.
They greet me wth happy smiling faces.
They adore playing Bingo each Wednesday.
I'm rich with love, from so many places.
November 8, 2018
*Note I got busy and didn't get this posted in time for the contest.
A Little Kindness Never Hurts Poetry Contest
Sponsor Brenda Chiri ~CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL THE WINNERS~
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear
A choir of angels soft and sweet,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Eternity beckons, drawing you near,
Strains of harmonious refrains that repeat,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear.
Worries and regrets no longer will appear,
Heaven has prepared an eternal royal seat,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Rest my dear, put aside your doubt and fear,
Though shadows fall, you rise and claim your feat,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear.
Regret no more, the lonely years,
You will be home, an eternal place, replete,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
A vision shrouds the room and it appears
There is a table being prepared, a blessed fete,
In the silence; haunting echoes I can hear,
Gently, I wipe your mournful tears.
Date: March 1, 2022
For: Original Villanelle Contest Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L. Milton Hankins
Placed 10th in contest
Was the Poem of the Day (POTD)on March 3rd, 2022