Best Dementia Poems | Poetry

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

Search for Dementia poems, articles about Dementia poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Dementia poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Dementia Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Dementia poems are below this new poems list.

dementia by tyrrell, daisy
Dementia, All At Sea by Smith, Gary
DEMENTIA AND SHE by Rajaratnam, Gunadevi
Dementia by Michaels, John
Jenny Dementia by Shaw, Kevin
DEMENTIA by Ja, Ja
Dementia by Smith, Elle
-dementia- by Carris, Frisk
Dementia by Raina, Meenakshi
Dementia by Kinch , Elizabeth
Dementia by Miller, Mike
Daddy Dementia by Hauser , Mike
Dementia by stephens, theresa
Dementia by Farmer, Morgen
Dementia by Cusdin, Rosie
Dementia by Brooks, David
Dementia in the Making by Earnings, JW
Dementia by Hofert, Edwin
THE PAIN OF DEMENTIA by Ashton, Darryl
DEMENTIA - A LOVING PEACE TO DIE FOR by Ashton, Darryl

View all new Dementia Poems

The Best Dementia Poems

 
Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ON THE ROCKS

Whiskey on the rocks, advised by my doc
combats dementia, so bring on the blocks
no need for a glass;  I'll have me the bottle
with a big bowl of ice this baby I'll throttle

The whiskey's gone, now a brandy'd be fine
my inside's on fire, there's a hoop up my spine
swigging from the bot comes at a price
I'll temper the fire with whole blocks of ice

The flames have been doused;  rum, if you please?
my head's in a clamp;  ice will loosen the squeeze 
now, be a sport and pile on the ice
two bowls or more I think should suffice

Three bottlesh down, all on the rocksh
my tootshiesh are shtarting to curl in my shocksh
my shmile is chemented, my lipsh glued together
my fashe the feel and texture of leather

Twishe left, thrishe right my head ish shwinging
short, long, short, long my earsh are zinging
either I'm crosh-eyed or my brainsh have been fried
elsh why are my legsh by three multiplied?

I'm freefalling on shixh feet firmly earthed
alternating twixht lower and then upper berth
vocal chordsh tangled, shizhably crimped
I'm walking with a lishp and talking with a limp 

I'm teetering-tottering or tettering-tortering
I've no clue which ish which and given up wondering
the world ish a blur;  I musht be plarshtered
the liquor went down well;  ishe warsh the barshtard

On all foursh – nay, twelve, I reach the bed
now I'm pondering and shcratching my head:
am I waking up or about to retire?
I shimply topple over, my whole being on fire

In the Land of Nod I'm harnessed by tether
in comely dreams of cowboys and leather
when plagued by a swishy feel in my bladder
swelling as fast as a pregnant puffadder

Abruptly awakened when a stream emanated
unable to move, still intoxicated
stuck to my bed and severely drenched
nausea ensued in the encompassing stench

How my stomach reacted I'd best not relate
suffice to say it was a full freight
soiled and hung-over, a word of advice:
liquor's fantastic but steer clear of ice 



Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I am Me, Set me Free

I am given to you by Creator Himself My Limbs long to grow straight and tall Bathed in sunlight from above, paying homage Fulfilling my God given task From the dawn of creation, in the Holy Books I’m told A gift was given to all nations to hold The Tree of Life to feed and cure and clothe. I am Me – Set me free To live in a world- your world, to be appreciated I am needed by you and the multitudes Use me, Recycle me again and again Plant me in your soil, I will take root I live to Heal you, to Cleanse you To Rebuild you to Purify you I am Me – Set me free Do not believe the lies in your ears they whisper Free me from my confined goal, Where troops have placed me Sullied my name, Denied the Existence of my core I am Me – Set me free Yet I am you, and you are me Vital it is for us living beings Your DNA and my RNA- we talk -we communicate I am not only here to just take away your pain But here to let you - Live Your Life Again I am Me – Set me free Do not be stripped of your human privileges The Greedy will always deny Man his God given rights In the name of Democracy, Controversy, Hate, Idiocrasy, They are chained in their Bureaucracies and Hypocrisies And do not see the woods for the trees I implore you do not be Of a ‘Sheeple’ people mentality I am Me – Set me free In a world encased with chemicals, plastics, synthetics Created in the name of greed, A world that is stifling, suffocating, stagnating Poisoning you and your children Let your Farmers Plant me, grow me as in days of old, I am no weed I have been here since time has begun My leafy fingers and my palm point up to the sun Absorbing and turning it’s energy into a life giving elixir I purify the very air that you breathe I am sustainability, I am Life I am Me – Set me free I can offer you the finest spun threads of my being Does not the Japanese Emperor look good in his ceremonial clothes? And did not ‘Mona Lisa’ smile - as she was stretched on my canvas? Glowing from the oils of my seeds are Van Gogh’s ‘Stars’ And my finest for Raising Lazarus by Rembrandt My spun cloth has stood the test of time Carrying your very first Stars and Stripes still in existence And did they not all feel proud when the Declaration was signed But like Judas they turned their backs without our acquiesce I am Me – Set me free Haven’t my ropes tethered and towed ships from Days of yore Until synthetics came along and put a stop to it all My woven fibre sacks once carried your food? But now with synthetics, I lie totally unused I am self sufficient I am your nutrition I am Me – Set me free Use my Oil and Mill my Seed My healing powers are all you need Leave the chemicals for the powers that be My gifts are bountiful - I give with grace Strength is in numbers - I rest my case The way for us to become stronger United we stand - we will conquer I am the Tree of life I AM ME – I AM THE HEMP TREE A Gift from Nature - Healer of Humanity
Footnote: A poet from Poetry Soup read my poem and the Footnote of ‘Christmas in July’ and was curious about the cure for Dementia with a certain Oil which would have prolonged my Mother-in-laws quality of life and indeed her life. She emailed me to write a poem and spread the word about this species. Thank you sincerely. Our family company in Australia and have been pioneers of not only Organic Skin Products but of Hemp products. We encountered resistance but were successful in countering it and were able to bring it to the people. Including a special oil. We have witnessed miraculous results with the marvelous, fine food tasting oil and products of this plant ranging from Epilepsy, MS, Parkinson’s, Dementia, Nerve related conditions, inflammation, auto immune and the list goes on. It has even been shown to make cancer cells literally commit suicide. You can freely view research results on the internet. Hemp is not weed but a species which does not contain the all feared THC. It is a total nutrition in itself and is delicious food product that can be used for culinary delights as well as smoothies. A specific Oil that is extracted and has very special properties.


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017




Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THE VANISHING ORGAN

Sam Ebenezer
a sad ol' geezer
was lamenting his shrinkage of late:
my worthless ding-a-ling
is a bell without ring
my manhood in diminishing state
 
From whence I salute
is thin as a flute
and soft to the touch as cashmere
I search with persistence
it offers resistance
on nature's call to appear
 
On heeding that call
no waterfall
a few errant droplets at best
where once from the middle
I gushed, now I piddle
and half of my load veers west
 
Both feet on the urn
pushing forth from astern
I chant 'emerge hocus-pocus'
with my punctured esteem
watch the pitiful stream
dwindle to drops as Limp loses focus
 
Our wee-membered friend
wished his size to amend
the stiffness rerouted from his joints
have it rise to occasion
and stand to attention
consulted ol' Doc for his viewpoint:

My snake is dead
no flesh;  just head
lies comatose and useless 
my garden hose
once warmed my toes
now wrinkled, dry and juiceless 

The senile old doctor
by name Alfred Proctor
had most of his wit in absentia
his breath smelt cheesy
Ebenezer felt queasy
Doc clearly suffered from senile dementia
 
Doc's hand took a dip
to just 'neath his ribs 
as Ebenezer voiced his concern
Doc smiled all the while
said:  your hopes are futile
there's no cure for your vanishing organ
 
I lost my virility
before my senility
long mourned my lost pride-and-joy
put my plight to rest
on realizing I'm blessed
to have in hand my own built-in toy

**************************************




Copyright © delysia hendricks | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I SIT SOBBING

I’m staring at the reflection in the mirror - who is the lady with the grey hair? Today a strange man came to visit me I do not recognise him … He says he is my son I try hard to remember as we talk about the past He shows me photographs of his childhood years Memories come back to me; I sob bleeding tears Dementia is robbing me, my recall is fading fast That man has now gone Saying he will visit soon Tears flow from my eyes Trapped in my own little world I sit sobbing silently Kimo and Tanka checked with how many syllables Challenge one write Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings 08~31~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Paul Callus: Ego Sum

Paul
Husband of Sheila, Father of Kirsty and Paul-Mark, 
Grandfather of Valentina, teacher, and friend 
Son of Pauline and Nazarene, brother to six siblings:
Joseph – Angela – Carmel – Catherine – Victor – Maria Concetta
Lover of  freedom, honesty, dreams, dark chocolate, nuts, red wine, and windmills 
Patient and diplomatic, but like a dormant volcano is liable to erupt
Enjoys sports, swimming, walking, travelling, reading, writing, painting, and drama   
Detests lies, double-faced people, wars, cheats, bullying, and vandalism
Who feels for those in need, the persecuted, and the marginalized    
Who fears loss of countryside, betrayal, hate, suffering, and dementia 
Who would like to see tomorrow’s dawn, peace on earth, beyond the mountain peak, 
Resident of Safi village, Malta, Europe 
Callus  

-----------------------------------------
17th October, 2014 
Contest: Bio Poems
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placed: 1st


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A THRILL SEEKER - PART 1

A THRILL SEEKER (PART 1) He is a sick man with no life that is running around in a world that cannot be lived. All but not one knows his dementia and does not respond. He is defiled. Violating the sanctuary of the profane, he is a mammoth that conserves his evil realm. This is his dark kingdom. Top hats he could wear with pearly white teeth, he smiles. He is mixed with Caucasoid and some other origin. He will capitalize on his people fear. However, he is a law-abiding citizen. He of the high intellectual kind in which he is an oracle sphered. Many have gaited his walk in history. He will un-warp his time to manifest destinies. At six-four and three-hundred and fifty-five in weight, he is ranked among the elites. He resides in the Hemisphere as an art curator. Of course, he is of sound mind and mental faculty. He has been chosen by deity to do great things this millennium. At the midpoint of the centuries, he is testing his physics skills. His schooling is superior to ways of man. As a chemist, he is a way beyond humanity. Scientific profound and with a mathematical precision, his minds travels into divinity. Similarities are there between his insights and enlighten. He entrusts some knowledge to philosophy. He is a thrill seeker. Neither abominated nor does he has a reprobate mind. He is well educated and a mover and doer of his time. His leadership tactics sublimes. He is foremost concern with the organization’s prosperity and this is only done through motivation of his employees. Awe-inspiring he is super-awesome. Insofar as he is exalt hoisted into action, His interaction transmogrify. He is the simple stakeholder of joyrides. He pursues his objectives as his optima. His style is not to subject anyone. This epoch is his. A thrill seeker is Emarta Van Doyle, II. A person of mixed blood forewarns us that holiness will prevail on earth. He is a naturalist and a refined scholar. In foresight, he subsists. He is an illuminator of another’s providence. No constraint is allowed when it is time for Emarta to rouse. He is the elevator of minds during the twenty-first century. For the next hundred years, he will invest his spirit, his soul, his intellect into the workforce formed. His slumber is of silent sleep. He will marry and procreate. A faith of a divine being will sentient. This is the age of thrill seekers. |_________________________________________________________________________| PENNED ON DECEMBER 09, 2010!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Lost To Dementia

Night of the dark soul 
demons infiltrate 
the gap between self
and oblivion. 

Your mind’s a fragile  
dysfunctional place
that is under siege
and cannot be saved.

As reality 
morphs into a dream
sanity slowly
starts to slip away.

And part of you is
lost to dementia
where confusion lurks
behind every thought.

Hope’s been depleted
only time exists
and your lonely heart
cries out for a friend.


Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dementia



voices, this tapestry sewn of broken threads
murmured words  that now spell confusion
attempt to smile, a troubled mask we see instead
voices, this tapestry sewn of broken threads
all those chapters that will now go unread
the way it was now only our sad illusion
voices, this tapestry sewn of broken threads
murmured words that now spell confusion 



Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dementia

I see her sitting in her chair The wheels are locked in place My gaze is met by hollow eyes No expression on her face It's clear she does not know me Nor does she recognize The life that swirls around her chair She cannot visualize In her lap there rests a doll Cupped within her arm With the instincts of a mother She shelters it from harm. I wonder what still lies within What thoughts run through her head When her whole life consists of Her wheelchair and her bed How much of life does she retain What treasures does she hide How much does she really know That she keeps locked inside Does in her heart a love still glow Do cherished memories play Or like her withered body Have they too gone away I wish that I could reach her And visit for a while But I can offer nothing But compassion and a smile
11/25/2011


Copyright © Bob Quigley | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Missing Links

Missing Links This passing year, another one of love and joy with family...some sadness too within our hearts. Good health, accomplishments, rewards we did enjoy. But oh, our golden chain of friendships fell apart. Some links within our golden chain were lost this year; last year had twelve and now are left with only eight. Our chain has weakened as we share each heartfelt tear. Those missing links have made us more aware of fate. Within one year, two gentlemen to heaven went; their widows, still our dearest friends, we now embrace. Another from our group with legs too weak and spent, confined to home, too painful to keep up the pace. And too, her dear companion...twenty years and more, has moved so far away to live with daughter since dementia has now settled in; our hearts are sore to see him leave; we surely miss our gentle prince. So often we spend time together out to eat; our smaller group of golden links still joined with hands. But oh, those empty seats, whenever we do meet, make us aware how just one year can change life's plans. Our chain has weakened as we share each heartfelt tear. But still, eight left, our links hold tight to face next year. Sandra M. Haight ~1st place~ Contest: Second Chance Sponsor: Broken Wings Judged: 03/20/2016 ~NA~ Contest: My Abiding Memory Sponsor: Viv Wigley Judged: 01/31/2016 Form: Verse - Rhymed Iambic Hexameter: 12 syllables and 6 feet per line


Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

......Helter Skelter.......

"Tertium guid...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spending a few moments pondering

The syllogism of existentialism, and

All of the pages of histories

Finds, movements, theories and themes....

The intricities; complexities

Compounds; variables and factors

Real or imagined? 

Proven, and reproven

Or, reasonings and conclusions

Breakthroughs!?

How far we've come

How far we've gone

On and on, and on and on....

Scientifical; anthrolifical; astronomical

Enlightenments, and advancements

Psychological; philosophical

Both, for me and you

That is, if we do, share

The same points of view?

Oh how I love complete silence

Stillness....

The meditation of contemplation

Trying to take hold, of the transitory

And to incise it, into forevers

Monomorphic stone!?....

Standing amid, a quaglistic earthium

Chisms of revisums; revisums, of the isms

Circular conjugation, concoursing

It's configurations....

Unbeknown, toward, a conflagration

Beyond the eyes?

This, schizogenic, schizogenesis

Genesis, of another nature

"Dementia Praecox"....With no eraser!

Gabylon, now in every nation....

Welcome, to, "My View!!!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

......Helter Skelter.......





Note: Smile ~ A repost as a contribution
towards the Halloween spirit here at..
..Poetry Soup!:) ~


Copyright © John Rhinem | Year Posted 2010

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Oblivion

Waiting in the shadows
dementia devastates 
your life as sanity
begins to slip away.

Once your memory fails
life losses all meaning
thoughts turn to suicide
and death becomes your friend.

Your heart morphs into a
desolate derelict
a floundering vessel
not even love can save.

Hope’s long been depleted
and trust doesn’t exists
only pain remains true
in life's facade of lies.

When reality feels
stranger than any dream
depression escorts your
soul to oblivion.




Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

LIVING WITH A STRANGER - EMOTIVE WRITE

You stare at me with vacant eyes It’s like living with a stranger Tears and tantrums we both despise Where is the man I once loved? Locked inside your own little world Sometimes a piece of music makes you smile But every day I know I’m losing you I’m losing you bit by bit I no longer get greeted with a loving kiss These days you lash out uncontrollably I get battered and bruised by your flying fist But I’ll never give up loving you NOT written from personal experience of living with someone with dementia 08~07~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Wonderland

Let me take you on an adventure,
Through insanities doors, to the land of dementia.
I guarantee you will be spellbound,
While holding on for dear life, riding hell’s bloodhound.
To seek the excruciating pleasures of pain
Where your piercing screams will be my gain

Let me take you through the narrow passage ways,
With the wall embedded razor blades
If you must know, there is only one way in
If you try to go back the blades will rip you skin
And as the passage narrows, believe me the pain will be a real scream.

Why not try the bondage section
This I consider my favourite selection
Watch them sloooooooowly  slice chunks from your flesh
And eat them while they are pulsating and fresh.

And when you cry out expressing your pleasure in pain
They’ll gouge your eyes out and eat them, the crunchy sound is appealingly insane.
So if you are interested just sign your name on this scroll
The price is not much just the price of your soul


Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Sperm Whale Dementia

Sperm Whale Dementia. Here I am an old Sperm whale, A swimming in the deep, Sucking on the Crill, inhale, As fearless I do leap. And then I come to surface, And clarity does seep, Dementia nursing home this place, Me poor old bones do creak. Back beneath the water, A swimming in the deep, Happy as a tadpole, More Crill to maybe eat. Back up to the surface, Who is that woman here, She says she is Molly Brown, A rellie so sincere. So come visit sweet Molly Brown, I may be far away, Or surfaced with a puzzled frown, A sperm whale here today… Don Johnson 22-aug-11


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Psychosis

Anxiety Borders Crazy Dementia Erratic Frantic Grasp Hyde Introduces Jekyll Kooky Lunatic
Manic Neurotic OCD Psychotic Quack Rage Schizophrenia Tirade Unbalanced Valium Willing
Xanax Yearns Zen


Copyright © Aleera De La Keur | Year Posted 2009

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Last Sound Heard


It was not the sound of babies crying

Or anger,
fear
Old folks dourly discussing
Nor disputes,
debates
Strident voices of cussing

It was not the sound of children weeping

Or taunts,
doubts
Young people rowdily ruminating
Nor oppression 
craftiness,
Ungrateful tones of murmuring

It was not the sound of grown ups mourning

Or dementia 
regrets,
Middle age crisis managing
Nor depression,
unforgiveness
Poisonous tongues of viper stings

The last sound heard was the sound of death dying


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dementia

She sits by herself in the dayroom
absent-mindedly taking her med,
her head is a blank, she knows nothing,
braceleted, brought to her bed.

Sedation has settled her nightmares
and delivered her safe from her fears,
but who are these strangers with clipboards,
where'd she come from, and why is she here?

She's showing no signs of aggression,
as a matter of fact she's serene,
no tantrums, no throwing or spitting,
picture-perfect, a story-book queen.

By day she's the doctors' conundrum,
every measure is tried for a clue,
but the secret is buried inside her,
closed for business, not out for review.

As night falls she's back in her bedroom,
left alone in confusion and tears,
frightened, with nothing to contemplate
but the blood, and the screams in her ears.



Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2006

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

State of Mind

State of Mind

I am uninhibited and long in years
but still here to praise the day
and my present mien amid the strife
that I endured I can see a light
as if reflected on a watery path
that glistens and shows the way
to another day that I choose 
to accept and come what may
I will not age , I  will evolve
To demolish dementia with my thoughts
I have recaptured youth 
With the tools I have wrought
To trot in the world with a steady gait
as a child, I am uninhibited
still here to praise the day

Introspective the deep…Contest
Sponsored by Lewis Raynes
May 14, 2017





Copyright © Ralph Sergi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Repetition, Repetition, Repetition

I can’t always remember what I said So maybe these may be words you’ve already read But once I get a line in my head I can’t always remember what I’ve just said I like to try and entertain with my humour Brits have no talent – well that’s just a rumour But once I get a poem in my head I can’t always remember what I’ve just read Have I told you this line before I may be repeating – sorry I’m a bore But once I get a thought in my head I can’t always remember what I’ve just said My dear old mum she has dementia* She’s repeats herself or loses her dentures Sadly once she gets a thought in her head She can’t remember what she’s just said. 26th April 2014 Written for ‘Irritate Me’ Contest Sponsored by Charlotte Puddifoot *Mum's dementia/memory issues aren't too bad at the moment this bit is poetic licence, but sadly over time she is getting worse


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

You were the best Mother

 A true poem of my own Mothers battle with Dementia.  You were the best Mother.

Twenty Five years ago this week you died. It was such a shock I cried and cried


But deep in my heart, it didn't feel as if you had just died.
To me your illness took away my Mother.
And left someone else there, another
Someone who didn't even know the time of day.
Or even what day it was, Monday or Saturday.
You couldn't even make a cup of tea.
Let alone keep your flat, like it used to be.
You phoned me constantly day and night.
I tried to get to see you, with all of my might.
But I couldn't do it, not then at all,
then you had that dreadful fall.
You didn't know what Agoraphobia was.
I couldn't tell you well, because.
You hated the home we had to put you in.
But by then you couldn't do a thing.
Alzheimer's, senile dementia, I’m not
even sure what you had.
All I know is, it was very bad
It robbed me of my Mother so many years
before she actually died.
We couldn't get through to you
no matter how hard we tried.
You lived in a little world of your own
making us all feel so alone.
You used to be so clever, so strong, so true,
 Then just look what this illness did to you.
You used to knit, sew all our clothes you did make
everything we ate, you did bake.
When you were younger such good jobs you had.
like ten whole years at the Nat.West.Bank.
before the war. 
Then seven years nursing the soldiers during the war.
After you married and had us two.
You still worked so hard, so much to do,
For years you ran the taxi business we had.
Throughout the good and even the bad.
I had to answer the phone at four years of age
(Haywood’s taxi’s) I would say,
Then our business folded through, 
you still worked so hard' so much to do.
With my father you managed the Bridgford Wine stores
on Melton Road,West Bridgford, for many years,
Then on Parliament Street to
   Smith Englefield  you went
You worked there for many years 
until to ( Gem ) you were sent
You worked so hard, all of your life,
A wonderful Mother, a wonderful Wife
You were the best Mother, anyone could have had, 
until your illness, made everything so bad
So please God in heaven above. 
Send my Mum all my love.  By Pat Dring Nee Haywood






Copyright © pat dring | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

I FOLDED MY MOTHER UP

I Folded My Mother Up

I folded my mother up
Into a creased peace of paper 
Folding memories into intentions.
Flattening the dementia of unstructured emotions
Into a neat, file-able document.

We  arc this abyss;  tightening ropes  over time.
We are not our worst intentions, 
but we are the acts that follow.
Like clobbering footsteps tripping over 
broken pavements of Being.

We are the not sum of our categories 
or the crimes that we have witnessed
But we are the balance 
That keeps us falling forwards without stumbling
Over our own shoelace sense of time.


Copyright © Igor Goldkind | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Mother In Law Just Did Die

My Mother In Law Just Did Die

Lee McCarroll Webster died around
One AM today. We were just notified
b the Batesville, Arkansas care home
near the Whitewater River. God had
allowed us to see her one last time.
Dementia and old age took their toll.
She did not recognize us. Also, just
read Poem of the Day by Liam McDaid
after I wrote this.

Closer and closer to God did grow and grow
Died and was with Him short time ago
We had been told by a telephone call
She know receives sympathy from us all.

What is last memory we remember of her?
Was love she had for us that is for sure
Later visit made which was well planned
And for last time she squeezed my hand.

So in heaven is where she happens to be
Where she is waiting for you and me
And it is on God who we always relied
Will save place for us after we died.

James Mysterious Serious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet



Jim Horn



Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dementia Poem | Create an image from this poem.

LOVE Conquers All

 Scene 1 - In a cabin on the Mountain side: 
      " Kenny, you ol' Food Dog you. How was your trip" '" Long and boring. I came as soon as I got your letter. How's Chef doing?"
"Not well, they have him over at the old folks home, they want to commit him for Dementia; as Executor of his estate they need 
your signature." " I doubt they'll get that." " A Dr. Mendelsohnn has a status meeting tomorrow at 2" " Well what happened? "Chef
was on one of his nature walks when he ran into two hikers, they got scared and called 911, said there was a crazy man in the woods.
By time the cops got up here Harry was home." "Who was with him, Phil who was with him?" " Kenny, it was Black Friday everyone
was at work" " Jesus Christ, Sorry Lord. Phil, you guys promised never to leave him alone after he was diagnosed with stomach cancer"
" Sorry Ken I got called into work, Chef said he felt fine, you know how Chef is about working." Yea I know, but we also know he's 
not always truthful about his health. So they just took him away" Not really, when Mike got here there was 4 cop cars in the yard, they
had to literally drag him out. Chef wasn't acting sane. Dr. Mendelsohnn said he has Dementia, and wants to commit him to Easy Rest Adult Care."
" Not a problem, Phil, Does the year 2004 and 2007 mean anything to Chef" "Redsox World Series Wins." Right , Chef said when he doesn't 
remember them, then it's time to leave this realm 
 
Scene 2 - Easy Rest Adult Care Fascility 


Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2012