Getting up in the moaning: moan

Posted on October 17, 2016 by admin

 

 

getting-up-in-the-moaning-mug-capture

Getting up in the moaning: moan

Getting up in the moaning
Is a symphony of crackling bones
The gshshshsh of stretching tendons
The sqrk of expanding muscles
And the wheeze of effort to get feet on floor.
You pause, you breathe, you rub your eyes
You moan.
Good grief, is it moanin’ awready?
Another wheeze – a long, long wheeze of ouch!
As you extend your body to its full extent.
You stand there, blinking, teetering…
Now what the heck have I got up for anyway?
Geeze! If I didn’t know better,
I’d think I was dead.

You stumble into the bathroom,
Grope around in the dark for the sink,
Feel your way to the cold tap,
Turn it on, test it – cold!
Moan. You dare to splash water
Onto your face – Brrrr!
Why the heck did I do that? Moan.
You snatch at the towel – it falls to the floor,
You stoop down to pick it up
And you bang your head on the towel bar.
Moan.

Now you stagger into the kitchen,
Gotta get a cawfee!
You stub your toe on the dog’s bone.
Moan.
You grab the kettle – cawfee first,
Feed the dog next, get off dawg,
Don’t feel like being slobbered on
So early in the day.
It is day, isn’t it?
You stick the kettle under the tap
Reach across to lift the handle
to turn the water on…
And water runs up your arm.
Dang! Your sleeve cupped itself
Under the tap and you missed the kettle.
Substitute shower!

Moan!

Now your beloved one is shouting from the
Bedroom, “What’s all the fuss about?
Where’s my brekky?”
This for the fifteenth time since
You were alarmed senseless
By that bloody-minded clock!
Moan.

Grrrrk! Squak. Kshhhh. Spill.
Expletives deleted,
Feeling ill. The sounds in the moaning
Deafen me.
Body all aching
And wracked with pain.
Gimme an as-pirin,
Where’d I leave my bed?
Grrrrk! Squak. Kshhhh. Spill.
Moan.

Getting up in the moaning!

Well,
You know how it goes.
I’m going back to bed.
Have a nice day
For me,
Will ya?
Grrrrr!
Squak. Kshhhh. Spill.

getting-up-in-the-moaning-capture

CREDITS: Mug at http://thebigduluth.deviantart.com/art/Ogre-coffee-mug-WIP-188821894
Lady tripping at http://thebigduluth.deviantart.com/art/Ogre-coffee-mug-WIP-188821894

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Dementia, Humor, Memories, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

People of the Street

Posted on October 14, 2016 by admin

 

people-of-the-street-slouched-man-capture

The People of the Street

With homelessness running rampant and many homeless suffering with mental illness, I thought I would ‘pay tribute’ to the unfortunates…

Rough and tumble they may be
But inside, they have love.
They do what they must to survive.
They fall down, they revive,
They walk on, because they must,
And so they endure; they BE,
The people of the street.

“They” closed the care hospital
And let the people out.
The people were not well.
But the government made no plan
To take them in elsewhere,
And so the patients were at a loss
As to where to go,
And they wound up on the street.

They joined the ranks of the unfortunates
Who also landed there—
“Fallen through the cracks,” the officials said,
But they could not find these folks
A resolution that would work.

And it became an era from the past
With beggars in the street
Crying “Alms for the poor,
Alms for the poor,”
And compassion died
From over use.

You think that you have it tough.
This old gentleman of the street
Has Alzheimer’s.
He’s forgotten where he left his tent.
A fellow homeless takes his arm
And leads him to Union Gospel Hall
Where free meals magically appear;
He’s lucky on this night:
He gets a foam mattress on the floor.
But he cannot sleep; he’s looking for his tent.

people-of-the-street-man-sleeping-on-a-bench-capture

His friend takes an overdose
And he holds his friend until he sleeps.
Help is on the way, but not this day
Fast enough to save a life.

Alzheimer wanders through the streets.
Schizophrenia stalks the alley ways.
There are no cops to walk along these beats.
The people of the street, they sleep with strays.

Alzheimer man is looking for his friend.
He’s forgotten that he died.
And from the start until the end,
He doesn’t know his brain was fried.

Sometimes you think that you have got it tough,
Maybe you can’t pay your bill today
But you will tomorrow, and that is sweet.
But think a while of the people of the street.

Credits: Dozing man, top – Photo by  Leroy Skalstad: CC0 Public Domain, Free for commercial use, No attribution required.
Man on park bench: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b4/Homeless_and_cold.jpg

 

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Dementia, Hard time, Trauma, Victims, Warning signs | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Just a Leaf: blowing in the wind

Posted on October 10, 2016 by admin

 

autumn-leaves-single-leaf-capture-jpg-just a leaf-october-9-2016

Just a Leaf: blowing in the wind

Just a Leaf is a collection of rambling thoughts prompted by a blog entry in WordPress by my great friend Giselle Roeder, author of We Don’t Talk About and Forget Me Not. The title of the blog was Change of Seasons, and can be found here: 
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/14227125/posts/1173822547
She ended it with the comment, “…I am next in line, just a leaf blowing in the wind.” And my thoughts were off and running.
To all who have Alzheimer’s or who have a family member suffering Alzheimer’s.

Like the gusting wind
Swirling eddies of autumn leaves,
My rhyme scheme circles round
My thoughts are not anchor bound.
— —

Just a Leaf

Autumn leaves all turn to gold,
My life to live in fashion bold,
The wind will take me from the cold
And my story will be told.

Autumn leaves, all my memories turn to gold.
Autumn leaves, they’re blowing in the wind,
My shuffling feet, they stir them up to dance
And I am just a leaf, a blowing in the wind.

Each leaf a picture of the past,
Each one a face of one now gone,
Each one a memory to last,
Each a light that so brightly shone.

But I see the smile of newborn ones
And I see my dreams just drift away
And I pray for another season
To give me another reason
For blowing in the wind.

I’m just another leaf, I’m blowing in the wind,
The breezes takes me from my past,
They blow me to a season yet to come:
The breeze is blowing much too fast.

I wish this season long to last,
My life can beat another drum.
I’m just a leaf a blowing in the wind
My turn has come, I’m next in line,
I’m just a leaf a blowing in the wind.

Autumn leaves all turn to gold,
My life to live in fashion bold,
The wind will take me from the cold
And my story will be told.

Like a leaf just a blowing in the wind,
The last one left this autumn round,
My fellow leaves are on the ground,
I want to live to face the wind.

autumn-leaves-at-sunset-capture-jpg-october-9-2016 - just a leaf

My memories will also turn to gold
To comfort me as they unfold,
And I will build a future yet untold
To share with you to share with yours,

And build new dreams with autumn leaves,
That drift like magic on the breeze
And visit back upon the trees
To greet next year’s new spring leaves.

Autumn leaves are drifting now
And I’ve become the next in line,
And though I’m feeling very fine,
I’m just a leaf a blowing in the wind.

But before I go, before I glow
In my autumn dress, I will stay
Long enough to see you through
With your plan for life, the one you drew.

You see my time is coming soon
I’m starting now to lose my rhyme
I started off oh so smooth
But now I have no more to prove.

I’ll see you then, be with you when
We meet from the drift upon the wind,
In the scatter pile of leaves of old,
Autumn leaves, and memories of gold.

Autumn leaves drop off by age
And I am now the next leaf in line;
How long do I have before the wind
Carries me, carries me?

Autumn leaves all turn to gold,
My life to live in fashion bold,
The wind will take me from the cold
And my story will be told.

autumn-leaves-capture - Just a leaf
CREDITS: Top picture: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Nature-19-5-102727363
Middle Picture: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=26157
Bottom Picture: https://www.pinterest.com/sun_and_shadow/the-beauty-of-fall/

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Memories, Remembering, Reminiscing, Waiting | Tagged , , , , , | Comments Off on Just a Leaf: blowing in the wind

Quiet Walk

Posted on October 7, 2016 by admin

old-english-church-font-capture-jpg-oct-4-2016-photo-by-h-w-bryce

 

 

On our quiet walk, we found this in a little old English church. We instantly forgot the world and our troubles.

Ann and I stumbled upon an old English church while walking the old English countryside in a rare break from overwork. Inside was this amazing baptismal font with its bas-relief of ancient kings. We stopped to venerate and to meditate.

Quiet Walk

If you are feeling at a loss,
That your life has been a toss,
Try going for a quiet walk,
Listen to your inmost talk.

If a-walking you should go,
Do your walking very slow
To take in all the sights,
See the shadows through the lights.

Listen to the rhythm of your walk,
A quiet walk will never mock
The truth that lies within your heart;
Let not the truth divorce your heart.

And if perchance you come across
An old stone church, an old stone cross,
Stop and venerate a while,
And you will find the fault in style;

You will learn to value substance
As the key to life—take your stance—
Should you find the need to talk
Along your own pastoral walk.

A Good Life’s Poem

And if perchance you come across
A lonely soul who’s at a loss,
Stop and comfort her or him,
Your own true light will never dim.

If you come across an old tomb stone,
Listen to its eternal tone,
It’s Mother Earth’s eternal song,
Honour those who’ve past, take them along.

If you are feeling at a loss,
That your life has been a toss,
Try going for a quiet walk,
Listen to your inmost talk.

If a-walking you should go,
Do your walking very slow
To take in all the sights,
See the shadows through the lights.

Listen to the rhythm of your walk,
A quiet walk will never mock
The truth that lies within your heart;
Let not the truth divorce your heart.

And if perchance you come across

old-english-church-bells-capture-jpg-photo-by-h-w-bryce

Church bells used to call the faithful to worship. Now the neighbours complain about the noise

An old stone church, an old stone cross,
Stop and venerate a while,
And you will find the fault in style;

You will learn to value substance
As the key to life—take your stance—
Should you find the need to talk
Along your own pastoral walk.

And if perchance you come across
A lonely soul who’s at a loss,
Stop and comfort her or him,
Your own true light will never dim.

If you come across an old tomb stone,
Listen to its eternal tone,
It’s Mother Earth’s eternal song,
Honour those who’ve past, take them along.

And if along your pleasant walk
You hear the ancient church bell talk,
Take it as your own warning bell
And make your life one worth to tell.

Walk on, walk on and meditate,
Set your compass to gravitate
Toward a higher value’s sum
And the better things yet to come.

old-english-church-record054-jpg-enhanced

The Mortuary Chests IN THIS OLD English church includes this plaque commemorates the ancient kings of the area. The list begins with King Cynegils, the first Chritian king of Wessex, 611-643, includes the famous king who demonstrated that kings could not stop the ocean waves, CANUTE, 1016-1035, and ends with Stiganty, 1047-1070. We walked away invigorated and refreshed from our quiet walk. You never know what will come out of a quiet walk.

Do this and then come back home,
You’ll be at peace, not want to roam;
Your loved one’s now in her new home,
Eternal rest, a good life’s poem.

And if along your pleasant walk
You hear the ancient church bell talk,
Take it as your own warning bell
And make your life one worth to tell.

Walk on, walk on and meditate,
Set your compass to gravitate
Toward a higher value’s sum
And the better things yet to come.

Do this and then come back home,
You’ll be at peace, not want to roam;
Your loved one’s now in her new home,
Eternal rest, a good life’s poem.

CREDITS: All photos on this page were taken by H. W. Bryce.
(As all the words written on this page are by H. W. Bryce.)

Posted in Advocate, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Memories, Peace, Reminiscing | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Babbling Brook: Babbling minds

Posted on October 3, 2016 by admin

 

babbling-brook-capture-jpg-oct-2-2016

Babbling Brook

Babbling Minds

A Fontanelle 

Babbling brook, babbling minds,
Life is rushing by,
“Hurry, hurry, try keeping up,
Don’t get too cozy in your nook;”
Then pause to enjoy the land
Slow your mind, talk to me,
Listen to your friend.

Be the brook, caress the land,
Connect with the spirit of;
The brook may sound as babbling,
But the brook runs clear and deep;
The brook gives life.

And what does the babbling mind give back?

—

We made a raft and pushed upstream,
The rapids laughed as we poled our dream;
We floated back and docked on the pier
Under the bridge, a spot so dear.

And every night in bed before the sleep,
The babbling brook sang, sang us deep,
The babble of the brook became a part of us
And we became its trust.

Tuckered out from adventures wild
And after chores, the evening mild,
As night closed in and tomorrow’s dream
Began to roll as real, not just as seem,

The babbling brook babbled on,
Our minds drifted through till dawn;
The breezes blew, the trees they sighed,
Imagination opened wide.

And now I see that babbling brook
Running through her dreams.
She remembers then, forgets the now,
And smiles for all her yesteryear
When peace and babbling meant
Excited voices running rapidly
And laughter then was laughter free.

Still I travel with that babbling brook,
Still I daydream, seeking my wee nook;
Still I’m fishing there for food for thought,
Still recall the fish we caught.

Babbling brook, babbling life,
Travel far, defeat the strife,
The spirit lives, it is the book,
My life lived as a lovely, babbling brook.

We lived beside a river when we children were little. The rapids were at the bend of the river, perhaps a quarter of a mile in from the bridge where my parents ran the country general store. We did indeed fall asleep every summer night to the babbling of the narrow brook part of that old meandering river. It widened out and flowed generously under our old wooden bridge.

I nearly drowned in those rapids. I got caught in the deep end and was pressed there by the volume of water. I did manage, however, to haul myself up and escape. My mom was not pleased when I showed up on the doorstep dripping river water all over the wee porch. Again.

In more recent years, with my wife suffering with Alzheimer’s, her meanderings and apparently meaningless babbling reminded me of that idyllic scene: The going to sleep to the murmur of the brook part.

But what sparked these musings was a Facebook entry from my friend #Ivan Boudreau, in which he made reference to a babbling brook. You just never know what you can hear in the babble if you just listen. Thanks Ivan.

CREDIT: Clip Art. Link broken.

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Grandmas, Memoir, Poetry, Reminiscing | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Shadow Cast Is Long

Posted on September 30, 2016 by admin

 

the-shadow-cast-is-long-capture-sept-2016

The Shadow Cast Is Long

The shadow cast is long,
He haunts my every step,
He echoes what’s in my heart…
He matches each footstep.

Oh, he may fade in time,
When I grow into my strength,
And your grief may rise, like mine,
And cast a sim’lar length.

And if and when he does,
I hope that he’s a faithful friend,
I hope your shadow loves,
For he can ease your grief to end.

The shadow cast is long,
And yet he is my friend in grief,
For he carries my grief along
And he gives me some relief.

The shadow cast is long,
But as the days progress,
The sun will peak at noon
And melt my shadow into dust.

The evening shadow grows,
But soon he goes to sleep,
And I am free again,
And may my spirit leap.

And with the morning sun,
The time he comes again—
He is familiar now,
And so subsides the pain.

Yes the shadow cast is long,
But the pain is easing now;
I can now outpace his stride.
Yes, the pain is easing now.

Now I cast my shadow off!
He no longer haunts my steps.
My stride’s no longer off,
My grief no longer he abets.

  • Grief does indeed cast a long shadow, and can be very hard to shake. I am indebted to my friend Lori Hickling in http://myalzteam.com for inspiring this poem in a post in response to one of my blogs. She wrote that as a result of reading my post, “…I will hug my mother…I imagine that your grief is a constant shadow…”

You may have encountered grief in your life, or you may be undergoing the long shadow chase now. Feel free to comment. Use the form below.

CREDIT: Shadow reflection, clip art; Links don’t work

 

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Dementia, Love, Memories | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

There Is Always Morning

Posted on September 26, 2016 by admin

 

there-is-always-morning-sunrise-capture-september-26-2016

There Is Always Morning

RE: There is always morning: –Gabriel Garcia Marquez. In his farewell re his lymphatic cancer (i.e., his last words to his public), he writes to the effect that If God forgot…(i.e., gave him more time), “…I would value things not for what they are worth, but for what they represent…”
This from my good friend Claremary Sweeney, Around Zuzu’s Barn, July 10, 2016, upon the baptism of little Gilbert. This takes you to the site:
https://aroundzuzusbarn.com/2016/07/10/there-is-always-morning/
**Note: this takes you to WordPress login
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/35231810/posts/1160963223

There Is Always Morning

There is always morning,
It’s God’s good day to you,
It’s God’s most gifted way
To prove that love is true.

When there is no more morning…
Your aura will paint the sky,
The Earth will lose its orbit,
And God will cry!

But for today, my darling,
There will always be a morning;
Have faith in that, my darling,
No more mourning.

There is always morning,
Time to say your love,
Time to hug your loved ones,
Embrace the dove.

Say your mornings new, my love,
Say your mornings new,
Do not keep them secret,
We crave to hear them now.

Life is not for mystery,
Life is for to love, you know;
Don’t waste them on futile hatred,
You know what hatred can bestow

Now that God has granted.
One more day to live,
Live it with all-out vigour
Love that you are loved

There is always morning: Kiss the Sun

there-is-always-morning-kiss-the-sun-capture-september-24-2016

Kiss the day with ardour,
As if nevermore a morning;
Embrace it like an arbour,
It’s a gift, adorning.

Savour the flavour of the day,
The sun has blessed this morning.
Stay your discontentment,
For there is always morning.

The sun shines even when it rains,
The sun shines above the clouds
Waiting for us to clear our banes,
For there is always morning.

Do not drop into despair,
For morning comes to bless you,
And morning can repair.
Believe that morning’s true.

There is always morning!
It’s how God says ‘good day.’
It’s his gift to calm the storming,
It’s God’s most gifted way.

If there is always morning

If this were your final morning,
Would you greet the day with love?
If you were given one last wish,
Would you wish me love?

I wish you sunshine all your days,
With new hopes to be a-borning,
And rain to make them bloom,
For there is always morning.

Value things but not for worth,
Value what they represent;
Value people’s inner worth
More than they present.

For there is always morning,
And that you can’t deny,
For if the mornings ended,
God would cry!

CREDITS: Sunrise:  Clip Art. Links are broken.
A Kiss for the Morning Sun:  http://www.polyvore.com/kiss_for_morning_sun_other/thing?id=27089206

Posted in Alzheimer's, Cancer, Care Giving, Dementia, Love, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments