Sandra Osborne Poems
|243.||A Shortened Life||1/19/2005|
|244.||All Day Long||2/4/2005|
|246.||A Mouse To Man||1/14/2005|
|251.||Trolls, Be Honest Now||3/18/2005|
|252.||A Little More Poetry||3/14/2005|
|253.||Go Ahead, Rate Me||1/2/2005|
|254.||Times When I Smile||1/30/2005|
|255.||A Lost Prayer||1/30/2005|
|258.||44 Year Old Wake Up||3/8/2005|
|259.||Sonnet I: Abused Little Child||3/1/2005|
|260.||3 Word's For A Lover's Day||12/8/2004|
|262.||War Some More||12/22/2004|
44 Year Old Wake Up
Woke up this morning, with some more new pains
Getting old really sucks; I hurt when it rains.
You won’t hear me say, “Wow, THAT pain is gone! ”
But always just, “Hey, why does THAT now hurt? ”
I go off to bed hugging the heating pad,
Then hobble up the stairs and fall into bed,
Can’t lay on my side, can’t lay on my back,
Can’t get straight up right out of the sack.
Not eight straight hours in over ten years,
What with having to pee and pain in my head
And no rest in my dreams, always bending down,
Always running and jumping and smelling the ...
Sometimes I just close my eyes and pick a word right out
of the dictionary, like “Ordinary”, and start writing away.
Sometimes I see an old episode of “Gunsmoke
and I cry because Miss Kitty is dead.
Sometimes I see a beautiful sunset, a sparkling river,
an empty house, a stunning woman, an old episode of
“Grizzly Adams”, cause I really like those big guys.
Sometimes I think of God, or evil, or why we have both, or
a cigarette, or snow, or 911, or clouds, or cats, or dogs, or