His mind like a deciduous forest
has shed all its leaves
in the blighting autumnal blast.
It is bare - dismally barren
of all memories - sweet and sour.
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.
Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed so sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his one time self
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow.
The horror of dementia, very well expressed in these very poetic lines.
sad facts if Dementia! People who live with such patients, really know the difficulty of it. They need constant attention and proper medical care! Well written poem!
A very keen observation and description of this disabling disease. Excellent write.
Good poem! Long time ago I knew of somebody who would envy those who can't recall or keep the days or ways of life, saying they are the happy chosen ones... to a space and time impenetrable with nothing to make the mind agog or depress it to let out a sigh.. Not to feel anything, to loose awareness hmm...don't know what to believe I can only feel very sad yet can't stop my wonder...
A well observation is found in this poem on dementia. It is a serious mental disorder that you have captured well in this poem. Some lines may be cited here......... or like serpents intertwining, hissing in turmoil within the brain, unable to sense the gusty blast, or hear the whispering air, dead to sounds that disturb, deaf to songs that soothe, like a phantom he moves weird, Beautiful poem.10
The greatest fear of those aging, you have put the fear in me, but such is the reality of life and such a state is not for us to decide. Indeed, it is a blessing not to know the morrow. Thanks Valsa.
with dreary nights ahead that shall not know another morrow. We all are helpless in the courts of time.
As we age, parts of the brain tend to shrink—even in the absence of neurocognitive diseases, such as dementia or Alzheimer's...........Valsa.......a state of serious emotional and mental deterioration so well presented in poetic form.......great write
I wonder why no one has so far invested a Ph.D on Bri Edwards for his extensive research in Etymology! Thanks Bri, for your critical comments and linguistic analysis! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fantastic poem, really like it, a great write.