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Posts tagged ‘Old age’

Aging

So I appear to be getting older
With more greys than blond for sure
With creaky joints and eyes that aren’t
So focussed anymore

And I see my midline growing
That – I don’t like, I confess
Whilst my heart’s a flipping nuisance
With AWOL beats from stress!

It also takes a little longer
To get from a to b
To mow the lawn or walk the dog
Or even make the tea!

Yet the culprit for these issues
Appears not to care a jot
Just sits there by his armchair
Almost rooted to the spot!

He never lifts a finger
Nor offers to assist
Moreso waves his arms in circles
To ensure no second’s missed

And to drive the point home further
He calls out to ensure
That hourly I’m reminded of
Time knocking on my door!

For whilst I am but human
And aging is my destiny
His face simply never changes
And he stays all wrinkle free!

His frame remains in-tact
Age makes no odds to him
He never gains an ounce of fat
And really stays quite slim

And so long as he’s wound daily
His ticker tick tick tocks
For you see the bane of all my aging woes
I blame on Grandfather Clock!

Mary

Oh raggedy old woman with
Your weak and toothless smile
With folded skin and greying locks
Has life been such a trial?

Your groans, your protestations and
Your yells and grumpy do
Your shouting out so very loud
Disguising the real you

I wonder who you really are
Beneath your upset veil
What person did you used to be
Before you got so frail

Dressed in confusion’s linen and
Dementia’s shrouding cloak
What have those eyes seen in the past
What stories have you spoke

What person did you used to be
Before the clutch of age
Took hold with mask eclipsing
The oak’s sagacious page

And what conflicts have you witnessed
Throughout your long long years
The battles, wars and struggles that
Still steel your heart and tears

The loves that came and loves that went
The jobs you did so well
I wonder what great yarns you have
What history you can tell

For through the windows of your eyes
Your sweeter soul’s laid bare
I wonder raggedy old maid
Why no-one seems to care?

My Old Morris Minor

I asked my old man
What car he would be
If he was an old banger
Back in history
To which he replied
A Morris Minor for sure
A vintage edition
With chrome trimmings and more

For you see dear old Morris
Needs a new set of wheels
And with the odd rusty patch
He now simply feels
He’s been put on the scrap heap
Is no longer worth much
An old car from the past
That has lost his sweet touch

And he’d like to go faster
Like to whizz on right by
Like those snazzy new vehicles
Or planes in the sky
Yet his throttle keeps sticking
His clutch isn’t first rate
His steering is heavy
And gear box can grate

But Morris has value
Over all of these things
A classic amongst engines
For it’s the joy that he brings
From just being Morris
And the miles he has run
The twinkle, the laughter
And all of the fun

And though gone are the days now
Of guzzling the gas
He’s fuelled now by memoirs
And a tank that on mass
Has more value than pistons
Firing quickly to go
For Morris is a legend
And one we all know

So next time you meet Morris
Or another model like him
Be kind, be compassionate
Take time, sip a gin
Or a whiskey and listen
To his tales and take note
For Morris might now be parked up
But he still gets my vote!

Morris_Minor_1000_1958

Enter a caption

By Lars-Göran Lindgren Sweden (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC BY-SA 2.5-2.0-1.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5-2.0-1.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Old Man

He travels to another place
Heads further back in time
Leaving the present where it is
In shifts cross paradigms
To days gone by where memories
Dance vividly and wild
Affection, comfort, resonance
Back when he was a child

For now as an old man he sits
In chair by the fire side
Where behind vacant eyes a life
Plays out so large and wide
And though it’s inaccessible
To us – hid out of view
He lives in vessels of the past
Whilst sitting there with you

So do not cry my sweet sweet love
Wipe tears away from eyes
For you’ll be always in his heart
Even if in disguise
For what you have and what you had
Is true to cherish dear
And though he may now be elsewhere
Your love’s the constant here

  
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/da/An_old_man_diagnosed_as_suffering_from_senile_dementia._Colo_Wellcome_L0026689.jpg.

Silver Greys

Hair; whitening over time
Losing colour as the tints imbue inward
Into the soul; the spirit; the heart
Painting a picture of life
With the tonal brushes of history
In blends of black, brown, blond and red
Revealing the spectral panorama
That stretches out across a lifetime
Rich in unique yet poignant threads
The masterpiece behind the silver greys

 

Youthful Oaks

Silver greys temple bound
Folded contours to be found
Crow’s feet resting by each eye
Dappled skin from age spots spied
Hard of hearing, aches and pains
Slowing down to take the strains
Midriff spread and puffy paws
Signs of ageing evermore

But past the tide of ageing signs
Wisdom’s wealth lays realigned
Knowledge, skill, experience
Moulded from resilience
And memories that pave the way
From yesteryear to present day
So let us all uphold these folks
Who bring today; great youthful oaks!

Oak trees at Oak Alley Plantation

Oak trees at Oak Alley Plantation (Photo credit: Morten Rand-Hendriksen)

The Sagacious Oak

You look and see a dying oak
A tree that’s stood in time
A tree now covered in green mould
With branches bared from slime

You see the broken sticks that fall
On floor around my trunk
The leaves that do not come in spring
My frame so stark – defunct

And yet I’d tell a different tale
As I have stood my ground
The days I’ve seen whilst standing here
The treasures I have found

I’d tell of years gone by and how
They’ve shaped our history
The acorns that I then produced
What they went on to be

I’d say of those who’ve climbed by boughs
You’ve swung right off my arm
Who’ve hidden in my mighty oak
To save them from all harm

I’d relay the winters that I’ve seen
In life and lives so real
I’d tell you how they shaped our earth
And tell you what I feel

So whilst you see an old, oak tree
Dilapidated; in decay
I still have wisdom in my bones
To inform you today

For lose the past and memories
The present can’t exist
And still the future won’t then shine
Save Oak’s sagacious mist

Oak

Oak (Photo credit: Bushman.K)

No More Wrinkles

It’s been said if you stay in the water
That you’ll wrinkle up just like a prune
All creased up and furrowed and crinkled
The dawn of old age far too soon

But what if you stay there forever
And never dry out but stay wet
Would those wrinkles become rather scaly
Would you gulp like a fish and forget

Forget that you once were a human
Would you swim on the crest of a wave
Indulge in a tail and fin and a gill
And turn out as a fish, say, called “Dave”

Dave the fish!  What a legend they’d all shout
The man that turned fish overnight
From a bath where his wrinkles all dissolved
To retain all these fishy insights

Such a master, we’d bow down before him
Save the fact that we’d drown if we did
Dave the fish! Wrinkles gone and now wiped out
He’d be a hero!  All furrows now rid!

For in an instant he’d have beaten the bug bear
With resolution for old wrinkly skin
Over all that the chemists have concocted
Dave the Fish would have a straight forward win!

For with creases all gone and just vanished
And skin oh so soft as came be
We could throw out all night creams and potions
And take heed of Dave’s fish legacy!

 

Mary

Oh raggedy old woman with
Your weak and toothless smile
With folded skin and greying locks
Has life been such a trial?

Your groans, your protestations and
Your yells and grumpy do
Your shouting out so very loud
Disguising the real you

I wonder who you really are
Beneath your upset veil
What person did you used to be
Before you got so frail

Dressed in confusion’s linen and
Dementia’s shrouding cloak
What have those eyes seen in the past
What stories have you spoke

What person did you used to be
Before the clutch of age
Took hold with mask eclipsing
The oak’s sagacious page

And what conflicts have you witnessed
throughout your long long years
The battles, wars and struggles that
Still steel your heart and tears

The loves that came and loves that went
The jobs you did so well
I wonder what you great yarns you have
What history you can tell

For through the windows of your eyes
Your sweeter soul’s laid bare
I wonder raggedy old maid
Why no-one seems to care?

Recently, in hospital, there was an old woman. She was 92 years old – a raggedy old lady, confused, frail, but clearly under the impression she was going home. She kept shouting and yelling down the ward at the nurses – sometimes nicely, sometimes rather impolitely but generally her lucidity was not what it would have been. I sorted her radio out to try and quieten her down for a bit to be honest but radio 2 didn’t seem to do much – no surprises there! She then got a severe telling off from the nurses for asking where the “bastards” had got to at the top of her voice in one of her muddled, confused, insane moments. The nurse went on and on about how much they have to put with, the abuse, the poor pay, the long hours blaming the old woman all the while for her indiscretion. And I looked on and thought just what a waste it was – that sort of lecture didn’t work; she couldn’t remember what had happened two minutes ago so how was she going to remember what this nurse was saying to her two minutes later.
Needless to say the nurse left and the old woman muttered sweet nothings in the air that went behind her – mumbling away to herself, still confused, still convinced she was going home and critically still alone. I went over again and spoke to her – I sat there in the chair and listened to her for some 20 minutes. I told her she couldn’t be naughty and had to wait her turn and then got her telling me stories about her life – her marriage, her children, her jobs, her homes, her romances, holidays. We passed 20 minutes of time but probably jumped between 6 or 7 decades of memories and slowly in that time she calmed down and started to refer to the nurses as “little angels”, “pretty girls”, “the charming young doctor. 

Her aggression dissipated and it made me realise that we all judge far too quickly when we’re upset about how someone is treating us particularly when they don’t have too much nice to say but we don’t always take the time to get to know someone – to give them a bit of space and open the curtains on their lives so that the sun can really shine out of them. So from now on, I’m going to try really hard to do that so that I don’t risk keeping the drapes closed harbouring a rainy, stormy and to be honest rather grotty day.

And the old woman, well thankfully she then was so exhausted after her trip down memory lane, she dosed off for the rest of the day much to the relief of the rest of the ward I’m sure but you know I guess I’ll always remember her now! I don’t know her name but god bless her
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The Cycle of Life

There’s a somewhat cyclic pattern
That reveals throughout the years
From childhood times to adulthood
And into old age steers

For once I was a small baby
A young and helpless child
An infant needing comfort still
And succour undefiled

With childish way and joyfulness
I skipped and hopped and played
A carefree, fun existence with
Such innocent charade

Then into adolescence went
With hormones steaming fast
Discovering much more of life
Identities to last

The leaving home to venture off
And time for student ways
To make the world a better place
Those pure idyllic days

Before the time of settling down
With partners and broad smiles
And maybe starting a new job
Or career to last the miles

Then hear the cry of baby some
Parenting starts to dawn
The now due pitter patter of
Small feet or sleepy yawn

Before middle age encroaches
Time to consolidate
The changes physiological
Some good; some not so great

The senior years advancing with
Grey locks and wrinkled face
The dawn of life’s reflecting time
Towards old age with grace

Then arrives the final chapter
Old age so rich and wise
I’ll take the time to contemplate
No mask now; no disguise

Time to again accept a hand
That care’s with love and more
To ease towards the last curtain
With childlike eyes and awe

For there is a cyclic pattern
That reveals throughout the years
From childhood times to adulthood
And into old age steers