Life & Living, Poetry, Spirituality

7 poems to share because they’re there

women writing treated

 

I write because I must. But not always about my journey as a dementia care partner or to advocated for better care. Sometimes I write about other aspects of my life, and sometimes that writing takes the form of poetry, which I first began experimenting with in late 2012.

Here are links to seven pieces posted on my personal blog amazing susan, which I invite you to follow if you find it of interest.

Enjoy!
Continue reading “7 poems to share because they’re there”

Life & Living, Love, Poetry, Spirituality

some gods write plans

sunset painterly w logo

This poem demanded to be heard after I listened to a long-ago telephone conversation with a familiar refrain:

“When are you coming home? I can’t wait to see you.”

Both dementia and life make us all want to go home in one way or another.

destiny

a poem by punkie

download the past
the die is cast
brave souls get torn apart

i hear your voice
there’s little choice
it echoes in my heart

come home you say
to laugh and play
create a brand new start

walk down the road
where love once flowed
see skies that look like art

we’ll pay the price
and roll the dice
believe in dreams sweet tart

before too long
forget the songs
whose ends aren’t ours to chart

some gods write plans
in shifting sands
and grant us small bit parts

yet still we give
these lives to live
our blood, our tears, our hearts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These pieces explore similar themes:

 

© Susan Macaulay 2013 – 2015. I invite you to share the links widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

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Joy, Life & Living, Love, Memories, Poetry

joys and tears throughout the years

November 16, 2015: Despite the tears and sorrow infused in passing years, I am grateful for the joy and tender moments I found, and continue to find, in the ebb and flow of the days, weeks, and months of our journey. This poem is about the changing seasons of life, experiencing sorrow, and finding joy in unexpected places. Even when the sun sets, beauty lingers in the afterglow.

in the afterglow

by punkie

in the afterglow

countless years
of laughs and tears
say yes or cry oh no!

the shell retained
a pearl remained
tied without a bow

yet joy was hidden
it rose unbidden
in daily ebbs and flows

spring came and went
fine times we spent
walking to and fro

summer bloomed
‘twas none to soon
get ready, set and grow

one season grieves
dead fallen leaves
the geese begin to go

now drink hot tea
‘tween two and three
waiting for the snow

it didn’t seem long
we sang our songs
some god controlled the show

one thing is sure
fate we endured
then cast aside our woes

we loved and shared
reached out to care
and found the afterglow

© Susan Macaulay 2013 – 2015. I invite you to share the links widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

November 16, 2018:

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2018/11/16/a-daughters-rendering-and-remembering/

November 16, 2017:

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2017/11/15/when-youre-put-behind-bars/

November 16, 2016:

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2016/11/16/the-day-our-best-wasnt-good-enough/

November 16, 2015:

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2015/11/16/joys-and-tears-these-last-three-years/

November 16, 2012:

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2012/11/16/moving-day/

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Care Partnering, Death & Dying, Life & Living, Poetry

broken doors and a gun to my head

guns and lace

This is a dark piece of poetry. Like the joyful, tender pieces I write, this poem was born of the powerful emotions and unexpected circumstances in which I found myself involuntarily immersed. I was trapped in a multitude of ways by forces beyond my control. My heart was in a jar; I was bound, gagged and tortured. I gave; but I did not give in. I grieved; but I did not give up. Thank you for reading, listening and watching, and thus validating my experience.

broken doors and a gun to my head

a poem by punkie

 

today like every other warm summer dementia day

i liberate my jailed heart and free it and me

because we love to be out where

life lives but where no one

else cares to take us

besides ourselves

and few can

go now

so

i push the escape button on the white wall

and the door opens half of halfway

because it’s still cracked and

broken like this place is

and no one wants to

hear me or my

core self no

way no

how

i gag on words and spit through bars and

leave abusive sins unspoken for the

sake of sharing this space for a

pair of daily hours even

if love sleeps and so

won’t know i am

here with old

hands in

mine

wicked ugly wounds weep bloody yellow pus

that collects in clear pools then runs

down to feet that can’t anymore

and screams why we must

start from a scratch

and create better

because to fix

this is too

hard

yet see how the boat rocks and pitches as

pl/r/ayers cling to gunwales for fear

they’ll drown in waves of their

own lies and i watch and

wait for the day a gun

is held to my head

cocked, pulled

then shot:

bang!

and if i’m not back again this time

tomorrow carry on with one

foot in front of the other

because it may be the

bitter dead end

of me or not

we’ll all

see

 

© 2015/2017 Susan Macaulay  I invite you to share the links widely, but please do not reprint or reblog or copy and paste my poems into other social media without my permission. Thank you.

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2015/04/16/10-poems-i-didnt-want-to-write/

https://myalzheimersstory.com/2017/06/21/5-more-poems-i-didnt-want-to-write/

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