There is poetry in service

 

picture for There is poetry in service

There is poetry in service

There is poetry in service,
There is love in nursing care,
Tenderness tends to trump clumsy,
There’s dignity in fixing her hair.

And service is an ode to the poet
Who lives in your heart and your soul,
It’s a calling and everyone knows it,
There’s compassion in serving a soup bowl.

If ever in human endeavour
There’s a calling that makes one feel whole,
It’s helping the helpless without favour
And dignity lives deep in the soul.

Service is needed all over,
The need is urgent and great;
Not everyone’s cut out for the service,
Nor is there room left over for hate.

In all of the realms of service,
There is one constant trait always there,
And that is the love for the people
By the ones who are born to give care.

So if you are blessed to be one of them,
And you’ve given your life to service,
May your god bless you in abundance,
You’re a gift, we’re blessed that you serve us.

So the next time you need any service
In the delivery of some TLC,
Be assured that in your care giver
There is poetry in service—there be!

The service provider moves in verses
In regular up and smooth down beats,
She’s graceful poetry in motion
Even as she changes your sheets.

Sometimes she’s iambic pentameter,
Sometimes she’s a rhyming sweet verse,
She’s always open to blank stanzas,
The essence of poetry in service.

Her poetry takes you from sadness,
Massages your aches and your pains,
She brings you back to the beginning
Helps you to count up all of your gains.

Sometimes she swallows emotion
In musical counts of heart beats,
But she helps to even your meter
And get you back out to the streets.

So here’s to the poetry in service,
May there ever be those who do care—
Doctors or nurses or care givers—
They are they poets who dare.

–H. W. Bryce

CREDIT: http://dailynurse.com/nurse-week-maryland-high-school-program-allows-students-learn-nurse-practicing-real-patients/

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One Rose

 

picture of rose on book for One Rose blog

One Rose

A Fontanelle

H. W. Bryce

Pop-pop-pop-pop
And three men fall
Pop-pop-pop-pop
And three more die
Blood paints designs
On the whitewashed wall
Six souls rise from bodies once tall
No one asks why

A little girl recoils
She runs and hides in the park
The little girl sees the flowers
A little tear leaves her eye
She stoops and plucks one rose
Places it into The Book
She writes to remember
One good soul for ever

One rose for a soul from one left behind,
One rose is the toll to remember him by,
One rose for the world, she offers it up,
A quiet wee prayer for all of mankind.

Offered in thanks for the time she had,
Offered quite freely, nothing to buy,
Five more roses in a loving Cup,
Offered because her heart is so kind.

Six red roses for six lost lives – each one a dad,
Six red hot bullets were never asked why,
Some lost soul who’d lost his way, lost his mind,
One girl, one rose pressed in a book, one prayer to live by.

The rose stands for beauty, it stands for love,
Offered, not in duty, but in service above.

A deep red rose can be used to convey heartfelt regret and sorrow.

CREDIT: http://wondrouspics.com/tag/rose-flower/

Roses are popular on Valentine’s Day – for the living; but also for the dying and the dead:
In Loving Memory, however the death, however the dying. To leave one red rose
is good for the soul.

Posted in Alzheimer's, author site, Blogging, Caring, Loss, Memory, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

One Rose

 

picture of rose on book for One Rose blog

One Rose

A Fontanelle

H. W. Bryce

Pop-pop-pop-pop
And three men fall
Pop-pop-pop-pop
And three more die
Blood paints designs
On the whitewashed wall
Six souls rise from bodies once tall
No one asks why

A little girl recoils
She runs and hides in the park
The little girl sees the flowers
A little tear leaves her eye
She stoops and plucks one rose
Places it into The Book
She writes to remember
One good soul for ever

One rose for a soul from one left behind,
One rose is the toll to remember him by,
One rose for the world, she offers it up,
A quiet wee prayer for all of mankind.

Offered in thanks for the time she had,
Offered quite freely, nothing to buy,
Five more roses in a loving Cup,
Offered because her heart is so kind.

Six red roses for six lost lives – each one a dad,
Six red hot bullets were never asked why,
Some lost soul who’d lost his way, lost his mind,
One girl, one rose pressed in a book, one prayer to live by.

The rose stands for beauty, it stands for love,
Offered, not in duty, but in service above.

 

A deep red rose can be used to convey heartfelt regret and sorrow.

CREDIT: http://wondrouspics.com/tag/rose-flower/

Roses are popular on Valentine’s Day – for the living; but also for the dying and the dead:
In Loving Memory, however the death, however the dying. To leave one red rose
is good for the soul.

Posted in Caring, Loss, Memory, Poetry, Remembrance, Trauma, Victims | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Summer Sounds

picture for Summer Sounds

Too much noise

Summer Sounds

 A Fontanelle by H. W. Bryce

Neighbours mowing lawns!
Kids on slides!
BBQ grill sizzling!
Baby cries! Mother sings!
Passing cars!
Screen door swings,
screeches closed
To buzzing flies!
Folks passing by, chatting!
Laughter in the park!!
Gamboling dogs woof-woof-woofing!

Children playing in the park –
Right through into the dark –
Their spirit lights up a s-s-s-spark
In my s-s-s-oul! (shiver)
Anxious mothers tut-tut-tutting!
Park bench denizens s-s-s-snoring!
Fresh newspapers crackling!
Ball catchers daring!
Auto motors humming!
Laughter! In the park!!

Crows congregate at night, they present such a sight,
They make me think that I just might learn to fly.
The crows caw-caw as dusk rolls in with night in tow,
High stakes jet roars by with a streak across the sky,
Taking people far away, to where, we do not know.

How all that summer noise annoyed me in the summer,
How I welcome it right now, from this winter snow,
To lay awake to the baying of the hounds,
To dream of babbling brooks, someone special whom I know,
And drift to sleep to fading echoes of summer sounds.

Snowdrifts congregate and I begin to hate the cold,
How I miss that summer orb that paints the sky with gold.
I stand here in the drifting snow, ‘seeing’ summer grounds,
I will never grumble more about those summer sounds.

We think we have it bad; just think about the static noise that must be filling the head of the person with Alzheimer’s. No wonder there is confusion, anger, tears. Hug your loved one today.

CREDIT: https://hdp.press/start-saying-thank-you-instead-of-sorry-7bf6cd044cb1#.ond3v9g8z

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I Am the Chooser of My Fate

 

Picture by Winch for I am the chooser of my fate

No one decides my fate but me

I Am the Chooser of My Fate

Free will is what God gave to us,
Free will guides my word and deed,
I am the chooser of my fate.

Some face their duty with a cuss
And if their acts do poison breed,
Free will is what God gave to us.

In the face of worldly cares and fuss,
Free will is there in times of need.
I am the chooser of my fate.

Though noisy men may not discuss
And in spewing venom may exceed,
Free will is what God gave to us.

Lest I do make my choice too late,
Let my resolve yet stand, and heed,
I am the chooser of my fate!

With free will I choose to love not hate,
Let peace, goodwill now be my creed;
Free will is what God gave to us,
I am the chooser of my fate!

Tough to do when exhausted. It takes all you’ve got when under fire. But, they say, there is always a choice – however impossible that choice may be to make. Hurt no one; help all.

This poem is an almost Villanelle; it doesn’t quite match the great Dylan Thomas poem Do Not Go Quiet into that Good Night in its construction. I hope Dylan doesn’t mind.

CREDIT: No one decides my fate but me by Winch

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Dementia, Hope, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Other Side of Fear

 

Picture for The Other Side of Fear

Freedom

The Other Side of Fear

On the other side of fear lies opportunity,
A chance to act with pride, to find one’s dignity,
A place to make atonement to all you’ve done a wrong,
A sinner’s chance to sing a former sinner’s song.

On the other side of fear you’ll find your confidence,
There you’ll find a place that’s filled right full with friends
You can then give up on self-efacing diffidence,
And beat a brand new path without dead ends.

Yes there’s life beyond the other side of fear
Where you can start a brand new spanking happy life
Where you can deal with human beings peer to peer
Where no one puts you down and no one gives you strife.

All you have right now, my friend, is dreadful fear of fear.
All you have to do is to resolve to face it down,
For on the other side of fear, people hold you dear,
And no one ever treats you like a silly clown.

It may take some courage to turn your life around,
But that’s okay, you can practice with the little things,
Every time you win a bout, you’ve gained some ground,
Then before you know it, your courage gained its wings.

No more trepidation, no more fear,
No more ghosts and goblins, no more fear of night,
No need to see a chimera, no need for fright,
Face the day with courage, let there be light.

There are no such things as hob-nob-goblins, right?
People bullies are only people, after all,
Once you make them laugh and see the side that’s bright,
You can make a friend of an enemy with gall.

Yes, there be freedom on the other side of fear,
There be occasions to shed a happy tear,
There be love and comfort for you year after year
Waiting there for you on the other side of fear.

In the realm of health and illness, Fear is the first
Impression that comes with Diagnosis.
Fear will walk beside you until you learn
The facts of the disease you’re dealing with.
Then, on the other side of fear,
You can take charge.
CREDIT: Freedom by La-Chapeliere-Folle in Deviant Art
http://la-chapeliere-folle.deviantart.com/art/Freedom-336262938

 

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Footprints in the Snow

 

Picture for Footsteps in the snow

Footprints in the Snow

A picture on my friend Jackie Medaris’ Facebook page inspired me to write this poem.

Footprints in the Snow

I was lost and very lonely,
Wand’ring, where I didn’t know,
When I stumbled upon some footprints –
Footprints in the snow.

By then despair had taken hold,
Hope had wafted far away;
I shivered with the cruel cold
And mindsight, shaken, couldn’t stay.

My frozen mind did not believe
These footprints could be fresh;
It couldn’t grasp they could retreive
A broken soul in frozen flesh.

I stood and stared, then something stirred,
My feet filled up those deep footprints,
And so with eyes that both were blurred,
The most arduous of my travelling stints.

Footprints in the snow, “Lead me home.”
They led me on my weary way.
I trudged but saw a fairy dome…
Till a candle in the window bay.

They said that no one had gone out,
Nor had anyone come in at home.
So whose footprints in the snow
Without a doubt brought me back home?

I don’t know how it is or why,
But all is well in this universe
When magic happens and we can fly
In the dark like migrant firefly.*
When we are chosen to be care givers,
we are lost in that snow storm,
as are our loved one.
The realization makes us feel cold.
But somehow, from somewhere,
some footsteps do appear,
and we place our feet in their imprints
and follow to that candle light,
and see our loved one safely home
in that warm and lovely good night.

*Ladybugs generally migrate to North America for the summer and South America for the winter.
Ladybugs can migrate anywhere, as long the place has food for them.

CREDIT: lADYBUGS – https://prezi.com/mhwiihvjfh7l/ladybug-migration/
FOOTSTEPS: https://www.google.ca/search?q=images+echoes+031.jpg&sa=X&espv=2&biw=1227&bih=533&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&ved=0ahUKEwjq1rGaj-bRAhVI62MKHXYuDpQQ7AkIKA#q=images+echoes+031.jpg&tbm=isch&tbs=rimg:CczGoFf1JhyBIjidJJBN84vndz2FeF8xQ-zeUClnQVmDb9okdrh9xIwDYtXuEI41zf9ELCrDeRs-AZ4ftBop6ANmQyoSCZ0kkE3zi-d3EXj_1ajh2fIyPKhIJPYV4XzFD7N4RNh8FyIz7oVwqEglQKWdBWYNv2hHXFMKzAjfxRioSCSR2uH3EjANiEX0plJF0C2itKhIJ1e4QjjXN_10QRlkZ6AQj95koqEgksKsN5Gz4BnhFmmLszSgFzPyoSCR-0GinoA2ZDEbyM7XWgwIXW&imgrc=PYV4XzFD7N6ZRM%3A

 

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