Poetry Blogs (2016, care home)
Encouraged by comments on my latest blog - and reminded that I always intend to post my blogs on WOL and usually get distracted before doing so - I'm repeating a blog from a few weeks ago which I didn't post here. With thanks to those who commented on the last one!
I've been thinking about what happens next. There's been a lot of talk in the press, and shared posts on social media, about t...
Saturday 4th July 2020 12:39 pm
I've been up a forest of gum trees
Got cornered in many a spot
Up the creek is a formality for me
Some of us simply preferred it hot
Often I swam far out of my depth
Within an inch of deep water
At times had my back against the wall
Loved much but never had son or daughter
Trouble is the thing I was made for
Dire straits always seemed too tame
I loved facin...
Monday 15th June 2020 1:45 pm
She died in a
Care home before the
Complications after a broken hip.
She helped see off Hitler but
If granny had lived
Would she have
Seen off the virus?
During the War she worked in munitions
Her factory got bombed, she
Made ammunition for the boys at the
In the care home both her
Choked to death for want of testing...
Saturday 16th May 2020 12:03 pm
Annie was eighty and lived in a care home
Someone had wanted her out of the way
Unsung staff were her guardian angels
Love of the job more important than low pay
The home was a sanctuary for Annie
For her age she was mobile and fit
Her life was peaceful and quite secure
Until the day the covid-19 pandemic hit
Matron and her assiduous staff
Worried about Annie a...
Tuesday 28th April 2020 3:48 pm
My heart breaks for those
in care homes
waiting to die
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...
Monday 14th January 2019 5:59 pm
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
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
Sunday 31st January 2016 6:01 pm