Khairul Ahsan

Gold Star - 47,111 Points (13 December / Bangladesh)

The Language Of Dementia - Poem by Khairul Ahsan

These days I am off and on haunted
By some thoughts that keep me daunted,
And make me sad. Often do I wonder,
Will that drive us asunder,
If, one fine morning I wake up to see,
That my brain has depleted its memory!

That under oblivion my past lies buried,
I do not remember if I'm single or married,
To you or to anyone else. Those loved faces,
Of them my mind do not have even traces
Of remembrance. They all appear so queer!
Instead of love, they bring only fear.

Your visage that once occupied the lion's share
Of my memory, now gets only a blank stare.
When you try to catch my ubiquitous attention
That wanders vaguely, beyond comprehension,
Our looks may connect but without a meaning,
Side by side we would sit, without any feeling.

Well if that be so, I guess I know
What should we do at such a show.
Dementia would have a special language
To some extent that could salvage
Our lost communication.
And give our memories a reincarnation.

Touch would be the language of Dementia,
This is not at all a crazy man's utopia.
A touch would send signals to the mind
And vision to the eyes heretofore blind,
As soon as you would touch my forehead,
A flurry of activity the touch would spearhead.

28 September 2014
Copyright Reserved.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

Comments about The Language Of Dementia by Khairul Ahsan

  • Anupa Subramanian (10/12/2014 7:42:00 AM)

    Brilliant use of words! ! inspiring piece of work Mr Khairul (Report)Reply

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  • Kumarmani Mahakul (10/7/2014 12:03:00 AM)

    Touch would be the language of dementia, beautiful continuation and answer to Bri Edwards' poem. A furry of activity. Nice poem composed. (Report)Reply

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  • Bri Edwards (10/2/2014 4:48:00 PM)

    the mistakes made in my poem Dementia.....Death, written in my first comment to The Language Of Dementia, have now been corrected and a couple of other small changes have been made, AND it is now submitted. :) bri (Report)Reply

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  • Bri Edwards (10/2/2014 4:17:00 PM)

    so far my favorite line is: That under oblivion my past lies buried, [i looked up oblivion to be sure it fit for me]

    Khairul, you've inspired me. i'll try to REMEMBER to post this, giving you and your poem due credit. :)
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

    If someday oblivion, my human past, does bury,
    I'm sure for some, but not for me, it will be scary.
    I'll be the lucky one; no longer will I have worries,
    as, around me, one or more caretakers scurries.

    Well, I HOPE I'll have no worries if it does happen,
    and I'd hope that you're willpower, it doesn't sappen.

    And when my mind is fuzzy and doesn't remember,
    i hope I'll die quickly, like some worn out, dying ember.

    (October 2,2014)
    - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    When you try to catch my ubiquitous attention

    i had some trouble with the use of ubiquitous, a word which is not really part of my vocabulary, though another PH member used it in her poem recently. it is a good word, but not one of mine.

    adjective: ubiquitous

    present, appearing, or found everywhere.
    his ubiquitous influence was felt by all the family
    synonyms: omnipresent, ever-present, everywhere, all over the place, pervasive, universal, worldwide, global;
    rife, prevalent, far-reaching, inescapable
    after WWII, television became almost ubiquitous in the United States
    antonyms: rare

    MAYBE ALL OVER THE PLACE is the way you mean it in the poem?
    the last two stanzas sound like the wishful thinking of a person hoping for a scrap of goodness from an unfortunate situation. i suppose there could be some clarity brought about by a touch to the forehead. i don't know much about dementia. i believe it comes in different forms, different intensities. i hope i become no more 'demented' than i already am. my dad was, i guess, somewhat demented for a year or so before he died. i had little contact with him then; he lived in an assisted-living facility, partially for physical reasons. his last day or two, spent in a nursing home, was different. he thought his daughter (my sister) was his mother or his sister; i don't remember for sure (dementia?) . ha ha? OR no laughing matter? ?

    i like poems with a story and a message. i am a sucker for (good) rhyming. so i enjoyed the poem. i enjoyed the way you manhandled words in some places to suit your needs, such as:

    Of them my mind do not have even traces


    A flurry of activity the touch would spearhead.

    i also liked how you sometimes continued a sentence into the middle of the next line.

    thanks for sharing, and GOOD LUCK with the future. i really hope i can achieve death before dementia, and my death may be self-induced, despite some people's cries against it. getting too old is not good for several reasons i won't go into here. :) bri

    p.s. Side by side we would sit, without any feeling. .....perhaps you would have no feeling, but i''m sure she would have plenty. either feelings like oh, my darling, come back to me my sweet. OR finally i don't have to put up with you reminding me how much i spent on vacation 17 years ago! [i couldn't resist.]

    ok, this deserves a spot on MyPoemList.

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  • Gajanan Mishra (9/28/2014 5:42:00 AM)

    this is not at all a crazy, good writing, thanks. (Report)Reply

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  • (9/28/2014 5:35:00 AM)

    This is a wonderful poem. Written with so much understanding of the terrible disease that dementia is. I have experienced it twice with relatives, my uncle and my mother in law. I think this is the finest poem that I have read from someone from your country. Considering that English is not your first language you have an exceptional command of it.. (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 28, 2014

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