"When an old man died in the
geriatric ward of a nursing home in country NSW, it was believed that he had nothing
left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions, They found this
poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed
to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne . The old man's sole bequest to posterity has
since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing
in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his
simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this
'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet".
Cranky Old Man.
What do you see nurses? . . . . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . . . . when you're looking at me?
A cranky 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 is beside me . . . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, . . . . . . ..Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . I 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.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. . . . ... . . . . . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone .. . . . . .. . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . . . .. A young man 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 cranky old man . Look closer . . . . see . . . . . .. . ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside
without looking at the young soul within . . . . . we will all, one day, be there,
too!
PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM
The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They
must be felt by the heart.
Maist poets get their pleasure
Fae beauty everywhere,
But tae me there’s greater pleasure
Just relaxing on a chair.
When life is fu’ o’ hardship,
When life is fu’ o’ care,
There’s still a wee bit comfort
Just dozing on a chair.
Just dreaming o’ the good times,
Of times beyond compare,
Of true friends and happiness
In your comfy chair.
And though the springs are flattened,
And your bum is near the flair,
You’re nearer no tae Heaven
In your auld armchair!
A fart is a pleasant thing,
It gives the belly ease,
It warms the bed in winter,
And suffocates the fleas.
A fart can be quiet,
A fart can be loud,
Some leave a powerful,
Poisonous cloud
A fart can be short,
Or a fart can be long,
Some farts have been known
To sound like a song.....
A fart can create
A most curious medley,
A fart can be harmless,
Or silent , and deadly.
A fart might not smell,
While others are vile,
A fart may pass quickly,
Or linger a while......
A fart can occur
In a number of places,
And leave everyone there,
With strange looks on their faces.
From wide-open prairie,
To small elevators,
A fart will find all of
Us sooner or later.
That farts are all bad,
Is simply not true-
We must never forget.......
Sweet old farts like you!
Another year has passed and we're all
a little older.
Last summer felt hotter and winter seems much colder.
There was a time not long ago when life
was quite a blast.
Now I fully understand about 'Living in the Past'
We used to go to weddings, football
games and lunches.
Now we go to funeral homes, and after-funeral brunches.
We used to have hangovers, from parties
that were gay.
Now we suffer body aches and wile the night away.
We used to go out dining, and couldn't
get our fill.
Now we ask for doggie bags, come home and take a pill.
We used to often travel to places near and far.
Now we get sore asses from riding in the car.
We used to go to nightclubs and drink
a little booze.
Now we stay home at night and watch the evening news.
That, my friend is how life is, and
now my tale is told.
So, enjoy each day and live it up...before you're too damned old!
The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well..
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'
Author Unknown~
It's the Military, not the reporter who has given us the freedom of the Press.
It's the Military, not the poet who has given us the freedom of speech.
It's the Military, not the politicians that ensures our right to Life, Liberty ,
and the pursuit of Happiness.
It's the Military, that salutes the flag, that serves beneath it, who's coffins
are draped by it.
If you care to offer the smallest token of recognition and appreciation for the
Military, please pass this on and pray for our men and women who have served and
are currently serving our country and pray for those who have given the ultimate
sacrifice for freedom.
Her hair was up in a pony tail,
Her favourite dress tied with a bow.
Today was Daddy's Day at school,
And she couldn't wait to go.
But her mommy tried to tell her,
That she probably should stay home.
Why the kids might not understand,
If she went to school alone.
But she was not afraid;
She knew just what to say.
What to tell her classmates
Of why he wasn't there today.
But still her mother worried,
For her to face this day alone.
And that was why once again,
She tried to keep her daughter home.
But the little girl went to school
Eager to tell them all.
About a dad she never sees
A dad who never calls.
There were daddies along the wall in back,
For everyone to meet.
Children squirming impatiently,
Anxious in their seats
One by one the teacher called
A student from the class.
To introduce their daddy,
As seconds slowly passed.
At last the teacher called her name,
Every child turned to stare.
Each of them was searching,
A man who wasn't there.
'Where's her daddy at?'
She heard a boy call out.
'She probably doesn't have one,'
Another student dared to shout.
And from somewhere near the back,
She heard a daddy say,
'Looks like another deadbeat dad,
Too busy to waste his day.'
The words did not offend her,
As she smiled up at her Mom.
And looked back at her teacher,
Who told her to go on.
And with hands behind her back,
Slowly she began to speak.
And out from the mouth of a child,
Came words incredibly unique.
'My Daddy couldn't be here,
Because he lives so far away.
But I know he wishes he could be,
Since this is such a special day.
And though you cannot meet him,
I wanted you to know.
All about my daddy,
And how much he loves me so.
He loved to tell me stories
He taught me to ride my bike.
He surprised me with pink roses,
And taught me to fly a kite.
We used to share fudge sundaes,
And ice cream in a cone.
And though you cannot see him.
I'm not standing here alone.
'Cause my daddy's always with me,
Even though we are apart
I know because he told me
He'll forever be in my heart'
With that, her little hand reached up,
And lay across her chest.
Feeling her own heartbeat,
Beneath her favourite dress.
And from somewhere here in the crowd of dads,
Her mother stood in tears.
Proudly watching her daughter,
Who was wise beyond her years.
For she stood up for the love
Of a man not in her life.
Doing what was best for her,
Doing what was right.
And when she dropped her hand back down,
Staring straight into the crowd.
She finished with a voice so soft,
But its message clear and loud.
'I love my daddy very much,
he's my shining star.
And if he could, he'd be here,
But heaven's just too far.
You see he is a British soldier
And died just this past year
When a roadside bomb hit his convoy
And taught Britain ’s to fear.
But sometimes when I close my eyes,
it's like he never went away.'
And then she closed her eyes,
And saw him there that day.
And to her mother’s amazement,
She witnessed with surprise.
A room full of daddies and children,
All starting to close their eyes.
Who knows what they saw before them,
Who knows what they felt inside.
Perhaps for merely a second,
They saw him at her side.
'I know you're with me Daddy,'
To the silence she called out.
And what happened next made believers,
Of those once filled with doubt.
Not one in that room could explain it,
For each of their eyes had been closed.
But there on the desk beside her,
Was a fragrant long-stemmed rose.
And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,
By the love of her shining star.
And given the gift of believing,
That heaven is never too far.
When an old man died in the geriatric
ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, it was believed that he had nothing
left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre possessions,
They found this poem.
Its quality and content so impressed
the staff that copies were made
and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Missouri ...
The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas Edition
of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health..
A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author
of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man.
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,
Again, we know children . . . . . . . ...My loved one and 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 vigour, 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!!
Remember this poem when you next meet
an older person who you might brush aside
without looking at the young soul within.
We will all, one day, be there, too!
PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM
The best and most beautiful things of
this world can't be seen or touched.
They must be felt by the heart..
Oh wit a sleekit horrible beastie, lurks in yer belly efter a feastie,
Nae metter wit ye dae, abdys gona hiv to pay,
Even if you try to stifle, its like a bullit oot a rifle,
Hawd ur bum tight to the chair, to try an stop the leakin air,
Shimmy yersel fae cheek to cheek, an prey to god it disnae reek,
Oot it cums like a clap thunder, richochets aroon the room,
Michty me a sonic boom! Help mi Kilt it fairly reeks,
Hope i huvnae crapped mi breeks.
I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess
He asked if I'd been 'computering',
And I had to answer 'yes.'
He told me to get off my butt,
And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up...
The smudges off my mouse.
I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick...
I was just admiring my good work.
I didn't mean to 'click.'
But click, I did, and oops - I found
A real absorbing site
That I got SO way into it -
I was into it all night.
So nothing's changed except my mouse.
It's as shiny as the sun.
I guess my house will stay a mess.....
While I sit here on my bum.
This page was last updated on 31/12/2009 10:39:58