Long Dementia Poems
Long Dementia Poems. Below are the most popular long Dementia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dementia poems by poem length and keyword.
We take our memories for granted
As we go to and from our work
Never giving it a second thought
Until it slips, leaving us in a lurk.
Memory saves us the trouble
Of thinking before we act
But when it's gone or absent
We sure want it back.
Without it, we need to relearn
Everything we thought we knew
How to walk and how to talk
How to live anew.
Memory slips are the butt of jokes
Must be a senior's moment
But struggling with memory loss
Is no laughing matter.
Oh memory, do not stray far
Stay with us awhile
So we won't be so afraid
Of acting like a child.
Without memory it gets harder
To know how to act and say
To live a normal life
During an ordinary day.
Memory, we cannot do without you
You are the rock on which we rely
To keep our ship from sinking
And keep our minds alive.
Curl of light
Dawn sparks;
Birdsong
~~~~~~~~~
Mall crowd
Feisty spree;
Window shopping
~~~~~~~~~
Food court
Hungry agendas;
Appetites dash
~~~~~~~~~
Morning papers
Bad news again;
Apocalyptic surge
~~~~~~~~~
Another typhoon
Wet dreams intrude;
Flooding moments
~~~~~~~~~
Broken hearts
Sadness glimpses;
Mail order tonics
~~~~~~~~~
If you must know
Time does not heal;
Grace inspires
~~~~~~~~~
Neighbour's kids
Noisy birdsong glee;
Sing-song savvy
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient evenings
Here at the gate;
Loneliness lingers
~~~~~~~~~
Dementia declares
Nondescript moves;
Forgetful forget-me-nots
~~~~~~~~~
Laughter echoes
Happy voices tint;
Foreign contradiction
~~~~~~~~~
Savvy somnolence
Easy escapades;
Sleepy limbo
~~~~~~~~~
She says
He sways;
Touch tentative
~~~~~~~~~
Words fail
Thoughts strangled;
Empty excursion
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
20 October 2016
Singapore
If a poem or essay can end with a conclusion or its opposite, either one,
Can it be of any use to anyone?
Do the discrepancies and disparities, dualities and densities, reflect only
the dementia
Of the bearer of the pencil?
First entertain, then enlighten if you can. One stretches truth in order to
pretend,
Another leavens with levity one’s inevitable end.
Most days it's not possible to bring your life into an expressible state.
Disparate hopes, arduous chores, word choices. And, of course, the
state of the state.
Driven by ideas rather than rhymes, for it is not metres, but a
metre-making argument,
That makes a poem. Convenience store or university English
department
The day's disputes, down to the meaning of the weather, leave you
indisposed
To share your heart of zero and your inner rose.
It is the strong force, the energy of the loved ones combined with
cooperation for good or war.
Dad's years in New Guinea fighting Japs, he said, were his best by far.
The best that can be said or done is Be where you are. Love the one
you're with
Not necessarily an adult of the opposite sex, perhaps just a kid who
hates math
And school, dresses goth, reads rarely but learns a lot from movies and
YouTube,
Has the presence of mind to say I am who I am, deal with it. That's who
I want to be
And have always been. Today clean the house, again. Woke up this
morning to two thoughts:
How sweet to be alive! Life is tough.
The hidden blueprint of destiny encoded in gene
manifests in marvels of anthropogenic evolution,
constructs shifting designs of life’s kaleidoscope,
changing with the time and morphing with vision
of the complex landscape of innate human nature
the architect brain makes.
The unique vast domain,
depth endless, carved out in the nebulous space
where the soaring birds of imagination freely fly,
where the crimson sun of dream rises and sinks,
the floating mind finds lighted way on the wave
the flashing brain makes.
The transient lone voyage,
destination obscure, in uncharted course on sea
when life is struck by the tsunami shock of agony,
when clouds of dementia dispel neurons of hope,
the wrecked life drifts losing anchor in the storm
the turbulent brain makes.
October 8, 2018
Continuing the retired boxer’s
legacy by getting annual
screenings anyone who
suffered from traumatic brain
injury ptsd trauma rather
armed forces football players
boxers car accidents gun shots
including domestic violence
or victims of head trauma
recovery taking high
blood pressure high cholesterol
diabetes medication or
controlled substances
for mental health care getting
annual screening saves lives
preventing drug and alcohol
misuse due to self medicating
mental illness on Martin Luther
king jr birthday my husband
and I volunteered healthcare
fair senior communities supporting
awareness it’s personal to me
because I suffer traumatic brain
injury also my uncle Bobby Satterfield
boxer from Chicago painful death
many retired boxes like Alex Ramos
founders of the dignity foundation
for retired boxers suffering mental
illness living homeless CTE continued
head trauma dementia my family
is very blessed to be a part of
giving back to the community
if you or anyone you love suffer
traumatic brain injuries PTSD
CTE take the mental health
drug and alcohol screening you
could save a life from suicide
screenings are annually if you
don’t have medical care reach out
to local charities churches like the
dignity foundation resources
remember awareness saves lives god
bless all retired boxers and their families
And God bless the United States of America
In loving memory of my
uncle Boxer Bob Satterfield
he died a painful death
broke and broken I love you
uncle Bobby never forgotten RIP
Grave Yards
A walk into the grave yard of my memories hoard.
Life’s journeys, experiences, recollections are stored.
Tombstones lay in wait, years have eroded the engravings,
Nothing left of excursions but dust upon thoughts one is saving.
Difficult to recall, especially in old age, all that has been written
upon the pages of my history books, stories of having been smitten
during life and so long ago, memories to let go of, memories to behold,
of many relationship, platonic, meaningful, friendships forever to hold,
laying within files, in the deep, dark depths of my memories reserve.
I have to wonder, as time slips by, just how many I will preserve
during what years are left to this old soul, that will come to consciousness
and how many will live on, enlighten, brighten, or become forgetfulness.
B. J. “A ” 2
May 6th, 2022
Dedicated to a Lover, from so far away and four plus decades ago.
A Friend, for forty eight years who is shrouded by the devastation of dementia .
Two glasses of water
wait to be touched by hands and lips.
The water itself remembers the taste
of Fixodent, the salty funk
of being swallowed into a body
so blind to itself
that thoughts have dimmed to patches
of slowly shuttering lights.
It is then that the water is their memory
it is then that the water can drink them.
The water also drinks
parents, grandparents,
multiple layers of children,
but only in parts, only in shallows
and shadows.
Two Alzheimer patients
look upon each other.
both reach for a glass of water at once.
Now the water
can fill-in, recall and paint mind pictures.
They begin to talk about people
that they both remember
as if the past was always
just one shared glass of water.
Revving the Ante
She ploughs down the sidewalk on steeled chrome
A free spirit victorious of sorts over senile dementia
Got a quad-bike for her birthday and defeats her age
Che Guevara bandana nestles her orange purple hair
Bells and whistles attached to a gargantuan lip ring
A modern crusader in cruise control defying the odds
The sweet smell of illicit indulgence drifts on the path
To heavenly peace with painful joints doped into joy
That she never surrendered when age has crept in
She sports the number tattoo on her kind forearm
Of times she surpassed from evil camps to survive
Her sunken cheek bears an inked motto ‘sod botox’
The world is too poisonous without cheeky remarks
And turmoil has given way to mindfulness’s peace
In which she flows past barriers and speed checks
One day she was not there any longer on the road
Of infinite wisdom screeching through memory lane
But I shall take a tender leaf from her journey and pray
13th March 2020
A fleeting moment in time,
Is all I need for this rhyme,
Perhaps 10 minutes, no more
Sit in your armchair, close your eyes,
And to your utmost surprise,
Your life flashes past like an express train,
Happy moments with unimaginable joy,
Horribly sad ones, like the day
I lost my baby boy.
Where does each year go, life is greedy,
And definitely always needy,
Progress demands youth takes over the reins,
What will become of us,
Next week you or I are forty,
And in a decade we will be fifty,
Birthday cards sent to us,
Inappropriately witty,
You’re on the downhill now sis or bro,
You have to settle for second best,
Along with all of the rest.
You work you slog, but at sixty five
You are retired, what to do with each day,
Such a drag, but we all love poetry,
So we will never be solitary.
Soon we will be 3 score year and ten,
Our lifetime over, says The Book of Psalms
Psalm 90 verse 10, this is an older translation.
Today’s verse 10, has been adapted
Into many a version.
We wonder, how did we become so vulnerable,
We reach eighty,
And then ninety,
We could have dementia, our minds quite muddled
The way forward, every day a sad venture,
Or we could be arthritic or have Parkinson’s,
Chronic pneumonia, had an accident and
Broke our back,
At this age the cards stack,
Against us.
One day we can’t breath, rushed to hospital,
The family, children and grandchildren abound
No regrets, life has been profound,
We heave an accepting sigh,
As a tear rolls down from our eye,
Have we any regrets, is this that
Moment in time, you, means all of us,
And we and us, means as it does,
So you, us and we,
Means also my and me.
My husband, also sick, whispers, let go
My love, I’ll see you soon.
He lies next to me,
I feel cold, the clock strikes three,
It is mid afternoon,
Finally, my spirit leaves my spent body,
Hovering above my bed,
I wish I could tell them hey, stop crying,
Life is a journey,
And so is dying.
2025.05.25
Dementia, how cruel you were,
You stole my mother long
Before her final breath.
You placed upon her
An incurable silence,
A sickness she herself
Could never truly understand.
Her body remained with us,
For loving hands to hold,
For family to cherish and cradle,
Yet little by little,
You carried pieces of her away, over decades.
You spared her physical pain,
But left her family
To bear the sorrow,
To witness the slow fading
Of someone deeply loved.
Still, she lives on
Through her children,
Grandchildren and
Great-grandchildren,
And through every soul
Who proudly called her family
Thank you and bye-bye.
Mummy.