Tell Me
Tell me your name.
Where are you from?
Where do you live?
What will become
of you and your history?
Now you are living as
a lady this phase,
will you be a victim
of hate and malaise?
Will you survive
and live in better days?
Retired for many years and now re-discovering some writings, from long ago, along with new endeavor to help save my soul.
Tell me your name.
Where are you from?
Where do you live?
What will become
of you and your history?
Now you are living as
a lady this phase,
will you be a victim
of hate and malaise?
Will you survive
and live in better days?
Long ago,
when a boy,
my grandfather,
had his own toy.
A device, with a wheel,
which looked like a tricycle.
It had a seat and pedals,
like a bicycle.
You pumped the pedals,
but never went anywhere,
for the wheel was stone.
It was used to sharpen
tools, and give knives a hone.
A small container of water,
hanging above the wheel,
dripped on the stone and
provided a fine edge to
the knives with this
very large whetstone.
Ah, memories, so important
to whom we are today.
Lacey the wings,
fragile and lite.
Beautiful colors,
blessing your sight.
When will we change?
What will it be,
when all of the World
are happy as we?
A careless case
of a spoken word,
makes little sense,
when it's absurd.
Hurtful words are heard,
more often are inane.
My question seems to be,
"Am I becoming insane?"
Words once held,
with prideful joy,
were used too often,
beginning to annoy.
So many lies,
on the news today.
Who do we believe?
Oh God, let us pray.
Bronze, the bodies,
bronzed through and through.
Laying in Kauai sand,
nothing else to do.
Later we'll have Pupus,
at Old Koloa Town, Top Cat,
with Mai Tais and beer,
done where we're at.
Why am I so angry?
Why am I upset?
What has upset me,
which I won't forget?
It's a crazy time,
this life of ours,
she says she love me,
for many hours.
I believe it true,
no matter what's said
for I hear her soft voice,
which is in my head.
I am loved,
but lonely am I,
for conversations,
more than one side.
Talking to oneself,
will never be
as fulfilling as
talking to thee.
An introvert,
at an early age,
bolder he was
at life's later stage.
Confident was he,
more like a Sage.
To read more
find a new page.
If birds can fly
in their life's pursuit,
why then can't I?
My argument is moot.
Against the wind,
a song by Bob Segar.
Dealing with changes
as we mature.
In many ways, I feel
I am going "Against
the Wind" as I travail
the battle of dealing
with my wife's Dementia
Alzheimer disease.
Once a beautiful person,
with quick wit, personality
and very intelligent.
She now has difficulty in
conversations, as she attempts
to communicate with me.
No short-term memory.
Long term memory, for
the most part is not there.
She does not know the
name of any articles, from
cup to remote. Does not
know where the bathroom is,
let alone what to do. Yet,
she will tell me how much
she loves me and how she
needs to be near me, all
of the time.
What a lonely existence it
must be where she is, today.
She calls me her husband,
Daddy or her man, but does
not know my name.
I'm ok with that as the love
she professes is soothing to me.
I have been living with her
in a Memory Care facility
and am about to move out,
so, I can get some sleep.
What will that do to her?
I don't know but I know
I need sleep if I am to be
with her.