Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Crabby Old Man

Pamela Tracy here. I don't get so many poems and jokes in my box anymore. I tend to delete them as I'm busy. This one, however, came with a picture of an elderly man. Last week, I put flowers on my dad's grave. I get to do that only every two to three years as I'm four states away from where I was raised. My dad was not a crabby old man. He was the best dad in the world. I hope your dad was standing next to mine in the race for best dad ever. I didn't see my dad often in his final years. This poem (maybe since I've just seen Water for Elephants) spoke to me. I also want to add a verse, one that has the inkling of what comes next: think Heaven.



What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?

A crabby old man . .. . .. . not very wise,

Uncertain of habit . . .. . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.

When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice .. .. . .. . the things that you do.

And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not .. . . . . lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . .. . . . Is that what you see?



Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.



I'll tell you who I am. . . .. . . As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of Ten . . .. . . with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters . . . . .. who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.

Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . . . .. And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . . .. . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,

But my woman's beside me . . . .. . to see I don't mourn.

At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,



Open your eyes, People. . .This is the real me.



Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.

I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing . .. . . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . .. and nature is cruel.

Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.

There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,

And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.

And I'm loving and living . . . .. . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . .. . . . gone too fast.

And accept the stark fact . . .. . that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people .. . .. . . open and see.



Not a crabby old man . .. . Look closer . . . see ME!!

1 comment:

Sketch Girl on a New Adventure said...

The other day he said to me "I've got it all figured out Baby". He usually makes me laugh when I'm tired and relying on chocolate to keep me going.
Also it reminds me of my dad his mind is still young yet his body is that of an old man who has lived an eventful life! Helps me remember that he is a man who I need to listen to because he has experience and he knows me better than I know myself!