Gran, Clocks and Time

 

Gran, Clocks and Time

Gran and Clocks 1 - Capture - July 11, 2016

 

Gran:
-What’s that?
Man (her son):
What’s what?
-That think. There. On the wall. What’s its name?
It’s a clock. It tells the time.
-I don’t hear it speak
No, it doesn’t speak. That just what we say.
-But why say it if it can’t say for itself?
Okay, it’s a clock. It marks the time.
-So it’s just marking time, like a—a man in a-a…
A soldier? No, no. It doesn’t stay on the same time all the time. That would mean it was stopped.
-Then what is it doing?
It’s passing the time.
-You mean like—
No, no, dear. Not THAT passing. Just, like, you know, passing by.
-I didn’t see it pass by me.
No, well, you wouldn’t. It’s passing you by.
-What? What does that mean?
Never mind. It’s a clock. It tells the time.
-What does it tell Time?
Uh-Mmmm. It tells us what hour it is in the day.
-Don’t you know?
Not always.
-Well, I could tell you the time.
Could you?
-Yes
Okay then, what time is it now?
-It’s dinner time. I’m hungry.
But the clock says—
-Never mind. The clock doesn’t know what it’s talking about.
Of course not. It’s addled. It repeats itself all the time. All it ever says is tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc…
-Are you quite all right dear? You seem a bit befuddled.
I’M befuddled?
-Yes dear. You look very befuddled.
I’m not– I’m fine. I’m fine. Fine.

-I’m still hungry.
It isn’t eating time yet, Gran. The clock says—
-Oh, there you go again about the time, dear. You shouldn’t worry your head so much about the time. There’s time enough to go around. We can all have some.
Time enough to– (He makes strangling signs.)
-Now dear, you mustn’t get yourself in a knot. When the time comes you should have a warm milk. All that coffee time has your nerves jangled.
Yes Gran.
-Just listen to the clock.
Oooo! I never knew what time it was…

Gran and Clocks 2 - Capture - July 11, 2016

What Time is it Anyway?

Matron enters the room.

I’ll tell you what time it is. It’s time for your pill, Gran, the little pink one that you like.
-It tastes like strawberries.
And gives you that nice warm and furry feeling. And make you feel at peace.
-You should give one to that man. He talks to clocks.

The man, trembling:
THANK you.

Matron:
Come now Gran, don’t you stall,
Take your pill and leave the poor man alone.
He thinks you are pixilated

Gran:
Poor man, he doesn’t even know what a clock is.

The man:
I didn’t know what time it was
Until she came along.
Now it’s time to wake me up
And realize how long we have
Before it’s all too late.
The clock tells me the time
As it hangs around upon the wall…
But does it tell a lie?

Sometimes I think I’m in the hall
At the mental institute.
It isn’t me I’m sure it’s her
Who’s addled about the time…
Whoever woulda thought
That a clock would turn my mind
To mush?

CREDITS: Clock with outspread hands — http://www.amnottheonlyone.com/ten-time-management-tips-for-social-service-workers/   Labelled:  credit discoveryteachers.com

Man hanging from clock – https://ccchampagne.wordpress.com/tag/time-for-routines/  Labelled: Image from Google Images

first found in Clip Art

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Grandmas, Nursing, Time, Warning signs | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Early Warnings: Ignored

 

Early Warnings Ignored pic

Early Warnings: Ignored

It was on the eve of destruction
In the Earliest Stages
When the earliest signs went unnoticed
But all of the signs were right there.
First came the scouting,
All deception , and smiles,
Followed by sniping.
And then the shooting began.
And still the people behaved unaware.
Then came the skirmishes,
Then came the raids.
These were followed
By bombardments
And the loss of the aides…

And the defences began to fall,
One by desperate one.
Spies snuck through their falling walls
And ramparts were torn all apart.
Anger raged,
The mildest of tempers flared
Everywhere, on all of their fronts.
Desperation set in
And despair crippled will,
And the forces fell into complete disarray.
The scrambling was pathetic to see.

Weak and defeated,
The patient lay down
In surrender
With a final farewell
And a sigh that said,
“We did fight our best,”
As the doctor declared
“This patient is gone.”

In the City

In the city the people were happy,
The brothers and sisters, they played,
Their conversations were snappy
And all of their bills had been paid.

They heard not the bullets, saw not the fray,
They even pooh-pooed the warnings,
And even pretended to pray—
Then went on to a house warming.

They refused to join the brotherhood fight,
They said you’re doing a good job,
And were ever so upset at the news
Their loved one had died for his views.

In the end, they said, it’ll all be all right—
Then they were attacked by the mob,

And the doctor declared
“This patient is dead,”
And the family planned
His burial with
With a diatribe for the foe,
Wishing devoutly
That he had not died,
But that the victim had been
the killer instead:
Alzheimer’s.

And the people in the city regretted their choice,
Then went on exercising their own voice.

CREDIT: Photo from
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/331577591292041390/

 

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Poetry, Trauma, War and peace, Warning signs | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Don’t Go

 

Don't go pic-lilies

Don’t You Weaken Now: Don’t Go

H. W. Bryce

Don’t you weaken now.
Don’t you leave me now.
Don’t you know I need you now.
Stay with me, don’t you go,
I need your help, I love you so,
I just can’t say this out loud
But I say it my head.
I used to take good care of you,
Now I need some help from you
’Cause I can’t take care of me.
I’m so sorry dear,
I don’t mean to burden you,
It’s not my fault
I am just caught
Inside this silent world.
I know you’re tired,
You’re feeling weak,
You want to quit,
So do I.
You want to sleep,
You ought to sleep.
How unfortunate
Just when I need you most,
Hang in there, hang with me,
I’m trying hard,
I want to help.
Why did this come to us?
Gotta try, gotta be
Strong!
I thank you dear,
I love you so,
Please don’t you
Up and go,
I need you so,
Don’t you weaken now,
Don’t go.

Lovers: Don’t Go

People in my online support group are having a hard time. Their loved ones’ lives are deteriorating; they are becoming uncooperative, unseeing, demanding…I didn’t quite know how to encourage them. I am not a certificated expert. I am a writer. I wanted to remind them to stay strong.

Those two words sang out to me, and I almost began writing a poem with that title. That’s what I do, I write poems. But with the words came Burton Cummings’ voice, so I had to look up lyrics. There are tons of Stay Strong and Stand Strong pieces out there. Burton’s is Stand Tall.

And that led me to the “patient’s point of view.” The patient knows, somehow; and half of the anger, I believe, is anger with themselves for being such a burden. And they seem to be a burden to the beloved care giver, mostly a family member, when the care giver becomes run down by the incessant need for their love and services.

I believe the “patient” understands. This is their “apology,” and expression of their undying love.

Could this also be a song for lovers?

CREDIT: Photo by H. W. Bryce

Posted in Alzheimer's, Caring, Poetry, Time | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Happy Canada Day

 

Happy_Canada_Day_-_2016-07-01_0814

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Grandmas, Grandpas, Heroism, Remembering | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Somebody’s Taken Over My Mirror

 

Somebody's Taken Over - Ever Feel Old - Capture - 6-27-2016

Somebody’s Taken Over My Mirror

Hey!
Somebody’s taken over my mirror!
When did I start looking that old?
Stop painting wrinkles on my image,
I don’t look like that, I look bold;
My face is firm, my smile it is solid.
If I catch you, I’ll have you arrested
For fraudulently faking my face.

If I had an eraser I’d erase you,
You have no right to make me so blue.
How can I believe you, you’re an image–
An image inside of an image–
So how can you possibly be true?
And yet you stand there before me
And you snatch my face from me,
Who are you to live in my mirror?

Somebody’s taken over my mirror!
And he’s stolen my face off of me.
So how do I get my face back now?
Please Mr. Mirror reflect now,
Is this a kind thing for you to do?
Please Mr. Mirror reflect now,
Please give my face back to me now,
And please won’t you get out of my mirror?

I’m going to climb inside of that mirror
And strangle that thief of my face,
For if he has done that to my face,
What has he done to my body?
And what if has he made it look gaudy?
Oh! I’m going to crack that damned mirror–
That’s not what I want to see in my mirror–
And make that damned thief pay for his theft!

I need to salvage my face or what’s left of it,
Please give me back my trusty old mirror,
The one that showed me my truer old self.
Somebody’s living inside of my mirror
His face is nothing short of a horror,
And
Look what he’s done to my poor face!
This is not a wrinkle, it’s a bloody great gap!
Ooh, I’m in such an awful old flap…
Somebody’s taken over my mirror!

–H. W. Bryce

Somebody's Taken Over My Mirror- Ever Feel Old 2 - Capture - 6-27-2016

CREDITS: Top Picture from Clip Art, to desertsojourn.com to :
https://www.google.ca/search?q=elder-in-the-mirror.jpg&espv=2&biw=1366&bih=667&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwja14rnjMbNAhUL4GMKHQzeALYQsAQIIg#imgrc=1r15x8qxfdYZHM%3A
–Bottom Picture from Clip Art and also to google pictures as above.

Posted in Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Humor, Mirrors!, Poetry, Remembering | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Have Walked in Your Shoes

 

Walking shoes - Capture - 2016-o6-24

I Have Walked in Your Shoes

H. W Bryce

I have walked in your shoes, friend,
I have walked in your shoes,
You may feel down, friend,
You may feel down,
But you will not wear them out friend,
You will not wear them out,
And you will walk free again, friend,
You will walk free again,
And so will she.

You have your troubles, I’ve had mine,
Our footsteps match, they combine,
Experience shows that you’ll be fine.
You can fight or you can flow,
You will learn as you go,
And as you learn, you will know
How to step another step,
Another step to grow.

You feel that life has let you down,
But there’s no need for you to frown,
Your steps will take you to higher ground,
And you will find that you’ve been found.

So don’t you despair, there is hope,
There is repair, keep the faith,
Even to the power of the eighth.
Keep up hope, footsteps will take you there.
I’ve walked your walk and yes you dare,
I will help you along your way,
There are signs, look for them.
Yes I have walked in your shoes, my friend

She is not your burden, friend,
She’s no burden after all,
She is fighting hard to be
What it was she used to be.
She is weak, and she is lost,
She does not wish to be bossed.
She only wants to be herself
And all of her that’s gone away.

Be supportive of her, my friend,
You are stronger than you think.
You have strength enough to lend.
And giving love will help you mend.

Yes I have walked in your shoes, my friend,
I have walked in your shoes.
Our footsteps match as they walk on,
Yours and hers are never twos,
Your footsteps walk as one.
You are asked to be her support,
You are asked to be a sport.
Now she walks new shoes, my friend,
Now you walk in hers.

CREDIT: https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/LR4sKwld3CcWNVxX3XLVqA
Found in Clip Art, Credit: Take_a_walk_in_my_shoes_by_Hiilda.jpg
POEM inspired by a very touching Facebook posting by #https://www.facebook.com/JeanneVeilletteBowerman/, writer extraordinaire.

Posted in Alzheimer's, Blogging, Care Giving, Hard time, Nursing, Poetry | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Music Can Do That for You: Put your rifle down

 

Gerald mourning - Music Can Do That - capture - jun 18 2016

Music Can Do That: Put your rifle down

A cry for peace on all fronts

*Something a little different today, in the light of the continuing reign of the rifle. My metaphor is that the person with Alzheimer’s is continually bombarded in a similar manner, and that “music can do that for you.”

Have You Ever?

H. W. Bryce

Have you ever seen a grown man cry?
A man distraught and don’t know why
Life can hurt so hard he want to die
’Cause he thinks his life has been a lie?
Have ya?

Well turn the music on because
Music salves the bitter tears.
Music’ll carry you through the years
And lift you up to carry on.
Music can do that
For ya.

I need to hear that music now,
Play it for me, play it now,
I need to hear the farmer’s plow
Put your bullets down my man,
They will only make you die.
Put your bullets down right now,
They will make your widow cry.

They will make your children bitter
And they will shoot and they will die,
And sad the music that will play
As you kneel and as you pray.
Listen to the music.
Won’t ya?

But listen to the music, man,
Music can help to heal the holes
That bullets yield when bullets deal
In pain and sorrow for you to feel.
Listen to the music.

Music talks and it can tell
In whispers what your voice would yell,
Put your rifle down my man,
There’s no need to kill at all.
Listen to the music,
Won’t ya?

Listen to the music - Capture -Pixabay - 2016-06-20

Have you ever heard a widow cry?
Have you ever wondered why
Such bitterness controls the world,
Why we dance in such a whirl?
Have ya?

Well instead, try listening to
The song the children sing,
They sing it for their missing ones
Who died by bullet without a song.
Listen to the music.

Listen to the children’s song,
Listen to the children sing,
And if that don’t ring right true
You are a hard-hearted thing.
The children sing it true.
Don’t they?

Have you ever heard a lifer cry?
He’s rued each cruel act and lie.
For sure he does not want to die;
For once his prayer is not a lie.
Is it?

So he will kneel and he will pray
And he will sing a hymn to stay,
And if you hear his plaintive cries,
You will join his choir of sighs,
’Cause music will do that
To ya.

Have you ever seen a mother cry
Bitter tears for one who died
At the barrel of a gun?
No one here has ever won
When bullets fly,
Have they?

Tear--eye_in_sky_--2015-11-04_1143

Have you ever heard the heavens cry?
They cry for all of those who die
Needlessly when bullets fly.
Bullets only make you die,
Don’t they?

So won’t you put your rifle down
Trade it for song and sing it down
’Cause music soothes the savage breast,
And won’t you work for peace and rest?
Well won’t ya?

Race_to_Arms_Crossed_Rifles_--_2015-10-16_1027

Have you ever heard a vet’ran cry?
Have you heard him ask God why?
And have your heard him once decry
All his sins that cloud his sky?
Well have ya?

Have you ever heard policemen cry?
He cried until his tears ran dry
For all of those he couldn’t save
And all the ones the bullets crave.
Well have ya?

And have you heard the fireman cry?
His tears could make the fire die.
Bullet powder fired the blaze
That left a city in a daze—
Listen to the music.

Have you ever seen a killer cry
Because he’s killed and wants to die?
Have you ever heard of such a thing:
A dying crow with a broken wing.
Well have ya?

Gimme_a_Break_--_praying_silhouette_--_2015-11-25_0831

Have you ever heard a small child crying
At his mother’s side as she lay dying,
Shot by a bullet bought to kill
By an angry soul with a twisted will?
Well, have ya?

Music can break or heal your heart,
Music and you should never part,
Play the music, play it now,
Make my peace, make bullets bow.
I need to hear that music now,
Play it for me, play it now,
I need to hear the farmer’s plow,
Put your bullets down,
They only make you die.
Don’t they?

CREDITS: Mourning man by H. W. Bryce;
Crying eye in the sky: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/264586546829138685/
Music: https://pixabay.com/en/music-guitar-violin-treble-clef-748118/
CC0 Public Domain  Free for commercial use  No attribution required ;
All others from Clip Art; links led nowhere.

Posted in Advocacy, Alzheimer's, Care Giving, Peace, Poetry, Trauma | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment