Contributor Posts

You're a man now, don't you cry.
Words that still echo in my head.
To this day, coming from years past,
When being stoic, was not a choice,
But a state of deportment, for you.
It served me well, through the years,
To keep that "stiff upper lip."
So I was surprised, when one day
I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
A sad movie or tragic scene,
Demean me not in Public, you see,
For being stoic is what I am
Supposed to be, makes little sense.
I understand, but I must
Act like a man, not shed a tear.

Rainfall refreshes the air.
Water puddling in the street,
Except under the trees,
There lie the flowers,
In pots so dry,
Still growing with
All the colors, galore
More Impatiens are
What we need
To brighten this
Gloomy day.

In the US Navy and been at sea.
Doing Island Surveillance,
My mates and me.
Pulling into the Harbor
Our anchor drops
Into the waters of this beautiful bay,
At the South Pacific Island of Ponape.
We go ashore to walk about
And observe this Island life.
A native male, in a loin cloth.
One picture of me with ancient
Island wealth; Stone money called Fey.
The stone is not of this Island
And was carried in a dugout from
Where; not known.
Our mission was to check the population,
Pass out medicine and rations.
A great lesson of history in kind
Of reversing back to another time.

This life I knew,.
The wife I had,
Is now askew,
Has gone bad.

Dementia isn't good
And will never be,
Wish that I could,
Provide help to thee.

Trying hard to please
Caring, about every day,
Down on my knees
To think and pray.

It doesn't matter
Doing it this way,
For all the idle chatter,
Here I will stay.

To be with you
And for my care,
Please let me do,
So you are aware.

How do you write about
what you don't know?
Through observation of daily
contact and comments?
I have noted the comments,
"I don't know what I am doing."
Discussions are often started by
"Do you remember?" and then
a struggle, by me to call forth
an answer to that question.
A question from me, in return,
as I try to "pin down" who or what.
A wrong guess is accompanied by
a "No, No, No" and a waving of hands.
Sometimes, I am lucky, in my guess,
but mostly I am not. I do try
to use a process of elimination but
the asking of questions, by me, brings
a response of "I don't know:; I can't
remember." Frustrating for us both.
Every day brings a new adventure
in this our life's journey.

Here is a scene from long ago.
Owning a car, so you could go
To visit the relatives in clothes worn.
One's you knew, since they were born.
A great time, as a faded memory
Of what was and what will be.

Up very early, wife's still asleep.
Trying to be quiet, as I keep
An early morning time to run
Through the dark, shadowed streets,
Before the rising of the Sun.
It is very quiet, not much noise
Except for some figures
That appear to be paper boys.
I move up the street; a little hill
As my breathing and pulse increases;
I know it always will.
I push harder now, up this slight rise.
My breath appears white and puffy
Before my sleepy eyes.
At the top I take a left,
Down 148th's long, slight decline.
My breathing back to normal,
Now this run is mine.
I finish this early morning run,
Almost 6 taxing miles.
Returning home, my running clothes I shed,
I go into the shower; my wife is still in bed.
Finish the ritual of bath
And put on a suit and tie.
Out the door, I go to work
Feeling happy and very spry.
I will repeat this daily ritual
Until I feel like a well oiled machine,
Then I will be more ready,
If you know what I mean.

The morning fog, laid on the ground
muffling noise, from all around.
With my coat and sweater zipped up tight,
I start my walk, at Dawn's first light.
Walking early, is the best for me
as I can free my mind, readily.
I review my life, as it is now,
thinking about promises in our wedding vow.
Especially intriguing "In sickness and in health."
My love can't be measured in terms of wealth.
I will do what I must do
and keep taking care of you.

Off we go to what we know well,
As Dementia takes you slowly to Hell.
It's a one way trip, with no return,
Your life is gone, like flash and burn.
No recovery for this disease today,
So you face up, as your life fades away.

If your love for me, today
comes forth and goes away,
I will understand, it will cease;
it's not you, it is the disease.

I love this flower, yet
its name I forget.
It speaks to me,
in bloom today.
While I try to
make it stay
in the garden.

Running hard with lance in hand.
Running toward the promised land.
Dodging rock, stone and shale,
I must hurry, lest I fail,
To reach that pinnacle of this fight,
And be the first to reach the site.
I know that we will win this war
As I have fought this way before.
A victory celebration, that once began
Will be the joy for all of man.