Posted: 5 months ago

A theatre friend in Canada sent me this poem which was written by a dying old man in a nursing home (who died pennyless and alone). It does touch many aspects of one life as a person (and also as a Rotarian). It has been making the rounds of the Internet but I feel, for those who have missed it, it is worth your time. Here it is:

Crabby Old Man 

What  do you see nurses? . . . . What do you see? What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me? A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,Uncertain of habit . . . .  . with faraway eyes? Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply. When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd  try!' Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do. And forever is losing. . . . . A sock or shoe? Who, resisting or not . .. . . . lets you do as you will, With  bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to  fill? Is that what you're thinking? . . . . .  Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me. I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As  I sit here so still, As I do at your bidding,  . . . . . as I eat at your will. I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another. A young boy of Sixteen  . . . . with wings on his feet. Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet. A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap. Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep. At Twenty-Five, now. .  . . . I have young of my own. Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home. A  man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown  fast, Bound to each other . . . . . With ties  that should last. At Forty, my young sons  . . . . . have grown and are gone, But my  woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't  mourn. At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee, Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead. I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing . . . . .  young of their own. And I think of the years  . . . . . and the love that I've known. I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel. T’is jest to make old age . . . . look like a fool. The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor,  depart. There is now a stone . . . .where I  once had a heart. But inside this old  carcass . . . . . a young guy still  dwells, And now and again . . . . . my  battered heart swells. I remember the joys.  . . . . I remember the pain. And I'm loving and living . . . . . life over again. I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast. And accept the stark fact . . . .that nothing can last. So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see. Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Posted: 5 months ago

I don't have words to say about this poem. The perfectly written poem by good poet. Most thing I like about this poem is it contains whole life mystry as well as including from small kid to old man.

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Posted: 4 months ago

Wow...

makes ya ponder

My horse and I ...