Dementia’s realness with no lifeline,
The burning desires spills its ashes
On reality thru the twilight years.
Memories struggle against the power
Of the black hole of nothing,
That claw at your struggle
To hold memories in a box.
A box of time zones black and white,
Now spilt out in fragments
In disarray
All around your feet,
Tapping to the memento of the rocking chair.
I of your blood, who love you so,
Cannot let you go to the shuffle rooms of an
Old peoples home.
Your glazed eyes see thru me,
Am I not real, a ghost
A shell of myself? I feel you know.
Breakfast time approaches
“Mum your tablets”
You exude repetition
“Before or after? ”
“After mum, after.
The nitty gritty of alzheimers. True facts. Witnesses it with an aunt, and also a dear friend. Very painful and unfortunate. Thanks Ken.
touching, very real... went through this with my mother... like this poem very much.
I of your blood, who love you so, Cannot let you go to the shuffle rooms of an Old peoples home. Your glazed eyes see thru me, Am I not real, a ghost her memory itself brings tears in eyes. evenreading this poem i cry such is universal character so wovenwith our flash and blood..10. read mine o, mother, mom i miss you, mmother and i wept..just reference
'Breakfast time approaches “Mum your tablets” You exude repetition “Before or after? ” “After mum, after'... touching scene Ken...visually eloquent lines...10
this is a touchng poem about another world where dsome one can't be aware about the time the person or the place..a sad feeling..well done..10++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice composition.