Long Nursing home Poems
Long Nursing home Poems. Below are the most popular long Nursing home by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nursing home poems by poem length and keyword.
Our story began behind bars with the broken,
Displaying our armor with truths left unspoken.
Through the gates each day, our counselor hats on,
Where pain wore a face, and hope felt long gone.
You, with your wisdom and counselor’s grace,
Me, burnt out but still showing my face.
We stitched up souls with words and care,
In a world where few even knew we were there.
"Eight and the gate" rang like a drum in our chest,
Till we traded our keys for a long-needed rest.
No longer confined, our world opened wide,
With pups at our heels and friends by our side.
Bella, a farting cutie with sass to spare,
Jack Dangles—cutest dude anywhere,
Ollie, judging all with a skeptical eye,
And mine, loyal, wild, barking at the sky.
We measured our days in tail wags and sparks,
And found light in our dogs when the world turned dark.
You’re my news anchor, my human rant,
My “yes you can” when I swear I can’t.
We share stories and snacks and fried calamari,
And laugh till we wheeze like a nursing home party.
You’re blue as the sky, I’m red underneath,
But we cry the same tears from sorrow and grief.
We talk of the world—no judgment, no shame,
Different opinions, but hearts just the same.
You bring the fire, and I bring the “me,
”?You rage at the news with raw clarity.
(You really should join that Trump-haters squad—
They’d give you a mic and a standing applaud.)
When the world gets too heavy, we know what to do—
Dogs, snacks, the news, and a cry or two.
You’ve saved me from drowning more than you know,
With sarcasm, love, and that fierce Jewish glow.
You check in with care that never feels fleeting—
Usually starting with, “Hey… what you eating?”
You’re braver than you’ll ever admit,
Still fighting each day with your sharp, clever wit.
You ache in the places that scream in the night,
But you rise. You stay. You still fight.
I’m twelve percent Jewish, I love to remind—
Which explains why I cry and complain all the time.
You yell “Borscht!”—I say, “What’s that mean
”You sigh, “Oh hush, just eat something green.”
You’re my friend beyond what words can explain—
Through doctor reports and every bloodstain.
If life’s a long walk with no real map,
I’m glad it’s with you—nap by nap.
We’re still here. We’re still us.
Still wrapped in dog fur, still raising a fuss,
Partners in crime—chaos, a must.
I went to visit her on the morning of Tuesday, March 14, 2017. Her name was still assigned to her room; so I went inside. There were bags on her bed, but no sign of my friend Beth. I questioned a nurse that was attending another patient, and she directed me to the front desk to make further inquiry. It was at that point I was informed that Beth had passed on.
Beth had departed for heaven, and I was four days late. About three years prior, after being informed by her niece of her whereabouts, I began visiting her. She was 95 when she passed away at the nursing home, having been in very poor health. She had deep longings for heaven.
There were many visits, and I was able to dialogue, sing, or read scripture with her. Although we had met some 30 years prior, she never really knew who I was when I came to visit. Her memory was gradually fading. However, when I came to visit, she always had a great smile, as if to say, "I don't really know him, but I'm loving these visits".
There were memorable visits with her, but none expressed her longings greater than her statement about a twin sister who preceded her in death. I observed a picture on the wall of Beth and her identical twin sister. I told Beth that I could distinguish her from her sister, and did so successfully. She then said in a very strong and serious tone that she was upset with her sister for going to heaven and leaving her here.
A memory barrier existed; the aging process and her health issues were breaking her body down; but I felt that the bond of friendship needed to be honored.
Within moments of being informed of Beth's passing, I was reminded of her comment about her sister and the 'longing' that I knew was so deep inside of her. As I turned and walked away, I quietly whispered, "She got her wish". 03232017cj PS
It was a sugar maple.
Fairly average in size, a good
Number of branches, some
Low enough to climb for a
Child like myself.
I was never very athletic,
Hated all sorts of sports,
But this tree, this one tree
I could climb.
I would scramble up her
Branches in spring after
School, and tell her all
About my day, in my head
Of course, because who
In their "right mind" talks
To themselves?
In summer, after I
Completed that day's
Workbook assignment,
I would sit between the leaves
And read the latest book
I had checked out of the
Local library, my second
Favorite place to be.
When her leaves began
To change in fall, I would
Climb her cool limbs
In my puffy jacket and
Let the crisp October air
Flow through my hair.
He (the wind I mean)
Was my other best friend.
But the sweet maple also
Kept me high up, away from
The house below where
Mom and Dad would yell,
Where Dad would throw
Plastic cups my Mom got
From the nursing home,
Where Mom would sob
And pray he would stop.
And I prayed then, too.
Prayed I could one day fly,
Take to the sky like the
Birds in the feeder below.
I would pray for friends, too.
Human friends, I mean.
I don't think God could hear,
Even high up in my tree.
The tree isn't there now.
As I grew up, it grew sick.
The leaves fell earlier every
Year until one spring, they
Just didn't grow back.
And so the laundry lines
Were cut, and my old,
Sweet sugar maple tree
Became my uncle's firewood,
My Dad's smoking chips.
You can't see where she was
Anymore. The final remnants
Of the stump have rotted away.
Only grass remains where
Once my friend stood, where
The wind whispered sweet
Nothings in my ear, where
The setting summer sun
Would trickle through the
Jade-green leaves, the
Leaves that turned upside-down
When a storm was coming.
Now I've moved away from
That house. Two-thousand
Miles away to a desert that
Has never seen a sugar maple.
I can't climb trees anymore.
Seems that skill died with
My friend. I think I feel what
She was feeling. Still relatively
Young, but health slipping
By every year.
Someday my stump will
Rot away. No trace of me left
To tell you I was there. But
Maybe, someone will move in
With a child, and I can listen as
She tells me her dreams,
And we can watch the stars
Together.
Seven hundred and sixty two feet from corner to corner. From the huge old elm tree in Dr. Rooney's front yard on one end, to the lamppost that sat outside my bedroom window on the other. That's how long the street that I grew up on is.
So who cares? Good question. It really is irrelevant isn't it? Well maybe. At least it was until one day when I went back and visited the old neighborhood after an absence of many years. That's when I realized how much shorter it had gotten while I was away. Time was when I would walk up to Washington Street on the opposite end from where I lived and look back, and it was a very long way. If I ran from end to end, I would be huffing and puffing by the time I collapsed on my front porch.
Sitting catty corner across the street from where I lived was the Lincoln Elementary School, surrounded by fields that ran uninterrupted the length of the street. Only the Noonan's house broke the symmetry, sitting there in solitary defiance halfway down the street. I never did know why it was there, but suspect it had something to do with the Noonan's getting there first.
Today the school is a nursing home, but everything else is still as it was, except of course, the field too has grown smaller, and the Noonan house isn't at all as large as it used to be.
I had a paper route back then. It encompassed several blocks of my neighborhood, with my dad being the last one to get his paper. It took most of the afternoon to deliver my route, given the distance and all. I wish it had been as small then as it seems to be today.
Anyway, that was a long time ago. I left for the Air Force right after high school. I remember waiting for the bus next to that old elm tree in Dr Rooney's yard. My folks moved to another part of town shortly after that, so I never did go back. Occasions to visit the town at all were few over the years. It was my dads funeral that finally brought me back for a few days.
Funny how the world keeps shrinking. Once distant destinations no longer are. California seems to be a lot closer to Boston then it once was, and when did Canada become just a few hours north of here. I guess maybe I shouldn't be surprised after all that my street ended up being only seven hundred and sixty two feet from corner to corner. Small world, isn't it?
Someone saw me digging through the trash this morning
And gave me five bucks
The embarrassed gin-mace of the nursing home volunteer
Plastered to his face
For the three seconds I could see it
Before he looked away
Everyone is more human than you'd imagine in these streets
So I bought two Blacks and a Hershey's Milk Chocolate bar
And I watched the candy wrapper blow into the drainage ditch
And I picked up a lighter someone had dropped on the ground
One those cheap, translucent ones that will melt
If you keep the flame burning too long
And I made my way back to the place where I sleep
Everyone is more human than you'd imagine in these streets
At the intersection, I run into Mike
Flying the, "Hungry" sign that I'd watched him make
With some recycled cardboard and a jumbo Sharpie
On the floor of my abandoned-building living room
Because he was hungry
And KFC hadn't thrown away anything edible in days
Everyone is more human than you'd imagine in these streets
Wiping my fingers of my snack's melted remains onto the cutoff denim
That I've been wearing for six days
I round the corner and see J trying to shake off the cops
That have him pinned against the security fence around our camp
Ryan tells me he has a warrant and an eight-ball of speed in his pocket
Sucks, he was supposed to see his daughters tomorrow
Everyone is more human than you'd imagine in these streets
When it's safe, I slip into my sparsely insulated corner of a Texas July
Sweating from the core-heat I've trapped against a discarded mattress
And remembering that I used to look at us
The way Five-Dollar-Dude looked at me this morning
Before I learned the hard way that we're just seeking some of the comfort
Enjoyed by the very condo-dwellers who frustrate our ability to obtain it
Everyone is more human than you'd imagine in these streets
And I'm not saying everyone out here is a saint
But I am saying if you need a dollar or a cigarette
You've got better odds asking someone camping under the overpass
Than someone with one hand on the door of their Lexus
And the other one smoking a Marlboro Red
And I think when you don't have anything, that Marlboro can tell you a lot
Original Poem: poetrysoupdotcomslashpoemslash51stunderscorestreetunderscore1599123
I struggle and battle in the night, twisting and turning,
All day I was so inner, deep and peaceful in my soul;
Now images and pictures from my past flicker and flare,
I am a small little girl playing with baby dolls;
Then I am sipping delicious tea with my grandma.
I see my child self, looking into an ornate china cabinet,
And my grandma saying be careful now dear heart;
Oh why, the pain of night, dreams that pierce the soul,
For my grandma is sipping her tea in heaven;
Then I am back in the present and my painful reality.
My old, old, sick cat is hanging in by a whisker these days,
I am hesitating, unsure with making the right decision;
And then she presses her little paws on my face,
I am lost, the price of this bottomless love, is grief;
Tomorrow I will make a decision or maybe the next day.
Now I am with mother in her tangled wild summer garden,
How we loved to plant and care for those sweet flowers;
And we would stroll hand in hand to appreciate and admire,
And father would say is this lawn getting smaller,
For sure dad each year the garden is getting bigger and better.
Dad never knew about the flowers we concealed in the garage,
Now I am in the cemetery, weeping, weeping and weeping;
Engraved in that cold, lonely stone, mother and father,
Oh why, the pain of night, dreams that pierce the soul;
Is it real that I have been left alone in the world with no anchor.
At work I hold the hands of the old people at the nursing home,
I want to make their day happy even if just for today;
To do whatever I can to bring joy, happiness and compassion,
And they press their fingers to my face with smiles;
Oh why, the pain of night, dreams that pierce the soul.
_______________________________
March 5, 2015
Poetry/Verse/''Oh Why, The Pain of Night, Dreams''
Copyright Protected, ID 03-648-621-05
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, The Pain of Night,
sponsor, Tammy Ream, Judged 03/2015
Third Place
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"
A PART OF THE SOLUTION
We have many ministries at Heritage Baptist Church;
For willing, faithful workers we’re always on the search.
For we have many challenges within our ministry;
A part of the solution each worker here can be.
We have so many people we can bring in on a bus,
And so we have the drivers to bring them here to us.
We have the willing workers who Saturday will go,
And ride on Sunday with them, their care and love they show.
We have a good mechanic to help us with repairs;
He’s one we oft depend on, and he is always there.
We have some special people challenged by handicaps;
The Gems and Jewels workers have filled that need and gap.
And what about the “rejects”--the drunks and druggies, too?
We know they need the Savior, and so there is R. U.
We have some folks to counsel, to help them on the way;
Perhaps we’ll build a home where they can live in some day.
And how about Sunday morning--those kids who fill the aisles--
We have some special teachers who greet them with a smile.
And then we have some widows--oh, what a special place
We’ve given to these women we call “Ladies of Grace.”
There’s others who are shut-in and cannot be here where
They hear the pastor’s message, so there is Care to Share.
And those who may be living in a nursing home today
Have someone come to see them, have church for them, and pray.
Our church’s sole priority is the souls of all mankind,
So some go out soul winning, the lost to seek and find.
We have a Christian college, a Christian school so nice,
A camp for use in summer to train our youth for Christ.
We have a missions program, and helps for needy, too;
A pastor who is burdened, a staff who helps him through.
Yes, we at HBC know all the challenges we face
To reach out to Columbus with God’s great saving grace.
And we want to continue to reach out and to grow,
To spread this precious gospel, to learn, to give, to go.
And so we thank our workers, those who have seen the need
And give their time to help us in faith, in word, in deed.
Each part of the solution is honored here today
For all their dedication to the straight, narrow way.
Written for Workers Appreciation 2005, Heritage Baptist Church
As the old couple were placed in a nursing home the other day,
They were placed in different rooms on separate floors so far away.
Their children thought it would be for the best,
So they placed them there thinking they need the rest.
They had never been separated since the day they wed,
Now they lay grief stricken in separate beds.
They cried out to the Lord to hear their cries,
Neither wanted the loneliness neither could understand why.
They felt as though they had lost all dignity,
No decisions could they make this to them was pure insanity.
They were not allowed to make decisions they were treated like children,
Then a new light came into the old mans eyes and he managed to grin.
He said I’m breaking out of this joint just me and my wife.
And we ain’t coming back if it means giving up our old lives.
He said I’ve treated my dogs better than you’re treated in here,
He said I’m old but I’m still a man and I want my wife near.
He said I’d rather be shot like an animal than caged up in this coop.
And I sure don’t need some little want to be nurse telling me it’s time to go
p__p.
He found his wife and she looked like she’d aged ten years,
As he held her and loved her he fought back the anger and tears.
He said we’re leaving right now and we’re going away.
She said papa where will we go where will we stay?
He said I don’t know as he sat down on the foot of her bed,
He said I need you with me as he hung down his old head.
She said if you want to leave I’ll stand by your side,
So out they went as they had to sneak and hide.
Pajamas on him and a flannel nightgown on her was all that they wore,
As they made their way out an unlocked side door.
Well they wandered around till they found a school ground .
And he sat her on the merry-go- round and gently spun his love around.
There was a bench just a few feet away,
That’s where they found them frozen in each others arms is what the papers
say.
The paper had read two elderly runaways from local nursing home were found
frozen to death,
But a strange smile was frozen on their faces as they drew their last breaths.
Thelma Leeson.......
is in a nursing home, dementia will take her,
and I will recite this at her funeral.
Thelma Jane was a Leeson and she was premmie born
Size of a sauce bottle to a tent her tiny form
Oh thy bathed her in olive oil, good for her premmy skin
And mother Eva said to Tom no tent for it’s a sin!
Because she needed better care Jane Tattam took her in
Jane and Morry they were childless, second Mum and Dad did grin
May,1930 the ninth, was when she came to earth
Cool day in a rug , snug as a bug, this tiny babies birth
Her parents then lived in a tent for Tom he was a fencing
With Walter, May, and Henry some of the older kids I’ll mention
Little sister Marge arrived, sugar diabetes so grim
Mum Eva did her best to do the doctoring
Thelma would return to Eva and live in the big old tent
But she was used better things a house and all it meant
Marg was in the Warwick hospital, Thelma drove the sulky in
She clung to the reins, but the horse knew the way there and back again
At school in the forties two Soldiers did walk in
One asked for Fay and Thelma, just brother Walter tall and slim
Nervous Thelma took em to see Tom and Eva at home
Eva said it’s your brother, he’s been a Droving on his own
Thelma would become a nurse, but first she worked in a store
Aunt Jane didn’t like the hair clips in Thelma’s hair she saw
It was in Toowoomba forbidden clips were then a sin
Aunty Jane she made the rules, and Thelma wore em thin .
Thelma was a great Nurse with a timid gentle humor
Prince Alfred in old Sydney, and Mt Olivet would groom her
Michael Lalor of the Irish had captured Thelma’s heart
And Mary arrived a love child, right from the very start.
Then Michael he was called away the lord had taken him
Mary married in the church of Michaels christening….Ireland..
Thelma loved the wedding place, in old Ireland lovely crowd
Mary is her father's daughter, Thelma was so very proud
We always laughed with Thelma for at parties she would cook
At cousin Nell’s the Great Grandkids ate her cakes and sometimes chook
We all miss our lovely Thelma, it’s sad she goes away
But written on the mist of time is Thelma this I say…..Don Johnson
A much loved lady....