CRANKY OLD MAN


AUSTRALIAN OLD GUY

 

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 vigor, 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!!

enteredbyedenbray07.05.2014


I FOUND THIS POEM ON FACEBOOK WRITTEN BY AN OLD GUY IN AUSTRALIA ~ THEY FOUND IT IN HIS BELONGINGS AFTER HE DIED

‘ its not dark yet, but were getting there … ‘

                                                                                                      ~ Bob Dylan

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About edenbray

I've always enjoyed writing and thats all I want to do... .. . I’m not sure why I stopped writing was it 9/11? .. . Eden Bray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions. The effluence of my short life .. . I'm a Writer and Artist since 1966, now a Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . please join the shebang but more importantly please leave me a marker with a comment for my ego and my encouragement :- thanks, edenbray
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