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”
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.
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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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.
by punkie
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.
https://myalzheimersstory.com/2018/11/16/a-daughters-rendering-and-remembering/
https://myalzheimersstory.com/2017/11/15/when-youre-put-behind-bars/
https://myalzheimersstory.com/2016/11/16/the-day-our-best-wasnt-good-enough/
https://myalzheimersstory.com/2015/11/16/joys-and-tears-these-last-three-years/
https://myalzheimersstory.com/2012/11/16/moving-day/
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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.
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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My Alzheimer's Story 