Poetry

Two Mothers Remembered

By Joann Snow Duncanson

I had two Mothers - two Mothers I claim

Two different people, yet with the same name.

Two seperate women, diverse by design,

But I loved them both because they were mine.

The first was the Mother who carried me here,

Gave birth and nurtured and launched my career.

She was the one whose features I bear,

Complete with the facial expressions I wear.

She gave her love, which follows me yet,

Along with the examples in life she set.

As I got older, she somehow younger grew,

And we'd laugh just as Mothers and Daughters do.

But then came the time that her mind clouded so,

And I sensed that the Mother I knew would soon go.

So quickly she changed and turned into the other,

A stranger who dressed in the clothes of my Mother.

Oh, she looked the same, at least at arm's length,

But now she was the child and I was her strength.

We'd come full circle, we women three,

My Mother the first, the second and me.

And if my own children should come to a day,

When a new Mother comes and the old goes away,

I'd ask of them nothing that I didn't do.

Love both of your Mothers as both loved you.

The Car Boot Sale

By Dawn Cox

We've just been to the car boot sale, to see what was on view

There was lots of tat and this and that, and some stuff that was new.

We bought some plants, and a lovely picture - of sheep being herded home.

We looked at books, and toys and hooks, and even an old black phone.

We watched a man try on a hat, and a woman bent over a stool,

But none were as funny as what we saw, when a woman grabbed at a kagool.

She was stood behind another - leaning in fact, I believe.

Pushing and pulling to get to it first, she appeared to be very naive,

'Cause all of a sudden the table gave way, the clothes rail still held in her hand,

Not only her, but others as well, on the floor in a heap they did land.

Well we laughed, and we laughed, as we tried to get up,

Some cursing, some laughing, some sad.

But still, that kagool, she had in her hand, as she was helped to her feet by a lad.

How much is this?, she said with great pride, as she held out her prize with glee.

The stall holder said, you can't have that kagool, because it belongs to me!

Well that just made us laugh even more than before,

We're certain there are morals to learn.

But we can't quite make out, if it's greed, morals about,

Or, that we should never ----- laugh out of turn!

The Other Woman

By Namirla Bankhead

I've watched them both together

She doesn't know I see,

Exchanging looks of pleasure

She doesn't notice me.

I must confess she's beautiful

With hair of flowing gold,

She dresses in the latest style,

Though her ways are somewhat bold.

Now and again she'll say "hello"

When passing through the door,

Or peek in through the window -

But it's HIM she's looking for.

Here! She's coming up the path,

New dress for him to see,

He'll take her hand and make a fuss.

Well! She's only three.

THE CARER
By Dawn Cox

I look at you now, the one I love, but in another way.
The world we used to know and share, has simply gone away.
We come and go, we carry on, I try to meet your needs,
I try to keep you calm and safe, but sometimes my poor heart bleeds.
I remember when we used to share, a laugh, a joke or two,
But now, that's changed, and all I seem, is a carer, just for you.
I feel such guilt I feel so tired, I feel I let you down,
But I have come to realise, that it's okay, if I sometimes frown.
For I can only do my best, I do the best I can
And, I'll love you always, today, and tomorrow, as this is who I am!

TIME
By Dawn Cox

I've had a chat to those now old,
And this is what I have been told.
We chatted at length, those friends of mine,
Their reply, was such, a poem was prime.
I asked them if in all the world,
They had a wish they would unfurl.
I asked, what would mean the most to you,
What gift, or present, or what to do,
Would bring you joy, would bring you love.
They all reflected, looked above,
They said, we have it all.................
Our wants have changed to needs, yet few,
All I ask or want of you,
Is TIME, I want your time...not to do a job for me
But sit and chat, with a cup of tea.
I do not need a brooch, or chocs
I do not need new shoes or socks.
I need to know, you love me still
I need your time, THAT I can fill.
I do not want to be in your way,
But I'd love to have you call and say
Will it be alright if I visit today????......

And that is what I need!
And that is what I need!!!

To My Children

By Anon

When I spill some food on my nice clean dress
Or maybe forget to tie my shoe,
Please be patient and perhaps reminisce
About the many hours I spent with you.
When I taught you how to eat with care,
Plus tying laces and your numbers, too,
Dressing yourself and combing your hair,
Those were precious hours spent with you.
So when I forget what I was about to say,
Just give me a minute – or maybe two.
It probably wasn’t important anyway,
And I would much rather listen just to you.
If I tell the story one more time,
And you know the ending through and through,
Please remember your first nursery rhyme
When I rehearsed it a hundred times with you.
When my legs are tired and it’s hard to stand
Or walk the steady pace that I would like to do,
Please take me carefully by my hand,
And guide me now as I once did for you.

Where Would We Be?

By Namirla Bankhead

Where would we be without the oldies, where would we be without them all?
What would the country do without our goldies, After they fought and answered the call.
How many lives did it take to bring them, back to their loved ones, wrecked and sore.
Too much for the human brain to consider, No spoken word to describe what they saw.
No such thing as money, or hand outs, no such thing as borrow or lend.
Recycle, adapt was our motto - it was always make do and mend.
But now we have lots of hot water, we have tv and plenty to eat,
Double glazed doors and windows, carpets and turn-on heat
We have plenty of comforts and a garden, photo’s but visitors few.
Our body is wearing, as is our brain but it may someday happen to you.
I sometimes forget what I’m saying, I turn on the tap but what for?
I remember my mother and father, but not the day before.
I just need a gentle reminder as I stare into space whilst I'm sitting
That its time to get ready for my day of fun, at the day centre, 'Later Life Living'.

Who Cares For That Carer?
By Megan Jenkins

"Who cares for that carer?", I hear a man say,
Her day blends with night and then night becomes day,
The cooking, the cleaning, the hospital trips,
The changing, the bathing, wiping food from his lips,
The meltdown, the tears.... So hard to endure
What keeps her from walking straight out of that door?

I'll tell you what stops me from leaving each day
And what gets me through when I don't want to stay
It begins with an "I" and ends with an "e",
It's a power, a force, emanating from me,
An empathic heart, a gift from above,
I do this, my friend, in the name of love.

Poetry Corner