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The Spark !

The Spark !

Old age comes upon you

like a creeping weed or vine

a subtle early warning

that you're running out of time

 

When we realized it had us

firmly in its grip

we decided to go fighting

so we really let it rip:

 

No more early nights

sipping tea and watching telly;

we bought the 'Kama Sutra'

and really gave it welly !

 

We cruised out to Austr...

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cruiseholidaykama sutraold age

Waiting for peace

My heart breaks for those

in care homes

sitting patiently

waiting to die

 

Sometimes remembering

who you are

sometimes silently crying

 

You wait with them

day by day

 

When you look into their eyes

there is nothing there

no fear, no desperation

and above all, no hope

 

In-between doses of morphine

when the pain makes them scream

they beg to...

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care homedyingloveold age

Shutters.

Shutters.


 

Winter has come, the day is cold.

The ‘day’; now only night and depression come in for a close.

He sits these 81 and alone.

“When will the sun return?” he says as he loathes.

“Why must the sun not here for me?” weekend by old withered bones.

 

Battered and broken, he fears what’s to come.

The shutters bang in the wind, he fears no more.

Filled with sombe...

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Deathold agepeace

The Sixtieth Floor

So,

I’m in the elevator

Going higher and higher.

I’m taking the lift to the sixtieth floor

Though I can’t really see myself opening the door.

 

Still,

I often think about reaching that floor

I won’t be the first;

People have been there before.

I guess it’s all normal for a man of my age

It’s like reading a book and turning the page.

 

So,

I’m taking the li...

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ageold age

The Couple

They stand,

Hand-in-hand,

In their elder days,

absorbing view of sea, of sky, of sand,

of bird, of wave of weed,

Sky to the horizon,

Looking forward,

Peace, a shroud of the land,

surrounding them,

enshrining them,

At peace together in

their Elder Days.

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coastold ageseaWales

By the light of the local Spar

Eyes snapped shut in the street-facing bedroom

lit up by the light of the Spar

that floods it's white plastic windows

illuminating each passing car

 

 

In her curled up hands a faded old photo

crinkled,yellowing,torn,

but the hands,once so gentle,that hold this mementoe,

are as cold,are as granite, as stone

 

In came Sister with a meagre tea tray

barging in,past...

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care homedeathillnessold agepensioners

DEMENTIA HOME

the listless ones gaze through

the downward surge of memory

in a postponement of death made decent

by caring.

 

hands are pressed like autumn leaves

into the never never book that

will be offered up with a soft cry

why all this, why?

 

in a bedroom a once favourite picture hangs

sheets are turned down

and while there is life

 

still life

lights will dim

...

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old age

Dead Man Walking Blues

If we are lucky, we grow old; if we are wise, we will remain forever young.

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Old AgeSpoken Word poetry

My Back

My back is sending me a message

it says I'm getting old

That's why I don’t like the winter

My back doesn’t like the cold.

 

It’s not as if I’m in agony

And the pain is under control.

But my back could do with a massage;

Not reminders that I’m getting old.

 

I need to send back a message

I need to be rather bold

There’s no bloody need to remind me

-I know I’m ...

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ageold agePain

Growing Old Disgracefully

When I grow old I don’t want to be the typical idea of elderly,
I want to grow old disgracefully and drive all my carers crazy,
I’ll swing from the chandeliers, I’ll overfill the bath,
Then blame it on my dementia whilst I stand there and laugh.   I want to climb the rafters and play hide and seek,
I never want my bones to grow old, frail and weak,
I want to make the children laugh and ...

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Anthony KasazkajaGeriatricGrowing OldOld Age

Growing Old Disgracefully

When I grow old I don’t want to be the typical idea of elderly,
I want to grow old disgracefully and drive all my carers crazy,
I’ll swing from the chandeliers, I’ll overfill the bath,
Then blame it on my dementia whilst I stand there and laugh.   I want to climb the rafters and play hide and seek,
I never want my bones to grow old, frail and weak,
I want to make the children laugh and ...

Read and leave comments (4)

Anthony R M AndrewsComedyGrowing OldOld Age

Darling - Please Don't Call Me 'Dear'

I sit and wait for my Darling babe

To come and tell me

What

The fuck

To do.

 

She doesn't know I swear so much;

That I was once

A rebellious

Teenager

Too.

 

All my life - ALL of it -

It's still there, you know!

I know.

 

She sees only a segment, thinks I

Belong in care -

Or on death row.

 

I once walked miles my way,

All alone in shoes...

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lifeold age

supping at the Silverback Inn

entry picture

supping at the Silverback Inn

the glass stops halfway to its destination
and the sands of time are quicksand
as you survey the crowded saloon bar
in the gently creaking Silverback Inn

see him
the one with the paunch
I remember him
he was a bully
at school
a right hard case
look at him now
fat and old

the stained and sticky floorboards agree
whispering taunting mocking
all that...

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drinkingdrunkmean spiritedold agepubregret

Old Money (Fete Day at the Old People's Home)

It's hard for you to sit here and keep

your value.  You are at the mercy

of other people's whims.  'Come on'

says the boss.  'Get these residents outside!'

You look bewildered at his brusque

command, compress your lips as if not

quite ready to be addressed in this

peremptory way.  'It's fete day' I explain.

'We're supposed to go out and spend.'

 

I sell y...

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loss of powerloss of relevanceold age

The Tooth

entry picture

 

It’s always there.

Each time I visit,

on the polished table

beside the glass of water

and inhalers.

The tooth.

 

I know they care for you

so how can they

leave it there?

Old and rotten,

broken, grey.

 

It been left for months

unless of course

it is a different one. . .

a different tooth.

 

I begin to recognise it.

...

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old age

A time that glowed

 

Once it was a time that glowed:

turned-up collar, hurrying through glistening, early 60s streets.

A kind of muddling, room at Odsal Top,

or summat like that;

steam train always whistling in the distance

 

Dashing for the bus; overcoats,

shopping bags, windows steamed up,

conductor breathless.

Running the last yards from the corner,

hammering at the ...

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northold agesouthyouth

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