Pachyderm
O' my elderly world, am I getting too bold?
The ones who go first were the elderly ones
Leaving spawns of unfertile aftermaths
Leaving my elderly world high and dry
O' my elderly world, am I getting out of control?
Doing everything that crosses my mind
Like there is no tomorrow
Like there are no rules
O' my elderly world, am I worthy of being alive?
When all my tendency contributes are turmoils
When my currupted mind only grieves others'
Like I own this elderly world...
O' my elderly world, are the rulers doing well?
When all they can offer are blood, tears and lives taken
When the rich becomes richer
When the poor becomes poorer
Like they own this elderly world...
O' my elderly world, do I still have the time?
Am always envious of time
Am always running out of time
Hope I won't be here when your time runs out
O' my elderly world...
poem by Chosen Reject
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Sonnet: The World's Aged, Need Our Help
Our world has older men more than before;
Health-carers wake up! Aged need better care;
Their problems seem so different- don’t ignore
The Elderly; no nation can then fare.
None can prevent the aging process, sure;
And die, we must someday diseased or not;
Ailments defying cure, we must endure;
Improve we can, the quality of cot.
The Elderly have served their useful terms;
They need just love, affection from young ones;
Their body frames are weak and prone to germs;
With help they can complete even more ‘runs’!
The care of Elderly is a challenge,
And needs more work; if not, it takes revenge!
poem by John Celes
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The Elderly These Days!
The younger birds have flown off far away!
Their parents aged are left alone today;
The nest looks empty, silent, everyday;
O Lord, show us your way- they pray!
Who cares who cares for elderly these days?
All children seem busy in their own ways;
Mere solitude is what the world repays;
Oh, what a blot on modern human race!
What love was shown by parents in years past!
They look now weary, dazed, with eyes downcast;
They live in penury and sickness fast;
’Tis years, their near and dear ones saw them last!
Cannot all children understand their plight?
Neglecting elderly is never right;
God sees their bloody tears when children fight;
The elderly need food, comfort, care, sight!
Our parents kept us warm when we were cold;
All children have a duty to ones old;
The elderly need young shoulders to hold;
Their virtuous deeds are worth more than all gold!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-10-2006
Dedicated most lovingly to the World’s Elderly
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet- The Elderly
Show consideration for an aged man;
Show courtesy to elderly persons;
Inhuman ways to human lives, you ban;
To do a thing, have sufficient reasons.
Their frame is frail and mind is filled with fear;
Assault of any kind, they cannot bear;
They can’t see well or sleep or even hear;
The elderly need special love and care.
Their growing age is their sweet punishment;
They flex with age and become like a child;
Their Will-power is their great armament;
Their days are numbered- why should we turn wild?
Let’s look after the elderly with pride!
Their words are wise and let’s therefore abide.
7-1-2001
poem by John Celes
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Please Respect The Elderly!
Please respect the elderly!
Learn patience day-by-day...
A little love from you and me
Can go a long, long way!
God's love towards Mankind goes on
For all eternity
And when His children must pass on,
He treats them tenderly...
Please respect the elderly!
No matter, fit or frail...
A soothing word or pleasantry,
Is hardly known to fail.
Lord Jesus died for one and all...
He died for young and old...
While young at heart we may walk tall,
In time, we're not so bold...
Please respect the elderly!
Is that too much to ask?
Our actions prove our courtesy,
Regardless of the task...
God hears the prayers of everyone,
No matter, rich or poor.
If we do things that must be done,
God couldn't ask for more...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2011
poem by Denis Martindale
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Empirical Adaptation
Elderly,
Incumbent,
Better than others;
But, with an empirical adaptation!
Which is combined with a decision tool that is,
Very close to your lovely car.
Elderly,
Incumbent;
This love is based on your muse and,
This argument is based of your works! !
And like your recent victory with the peace of your mind;
But, you can't jump the gun this time around.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sonnet: Care of the Elderly
God, bless the souls who care for elderly!
Oh, what a lovely service they perform!
And wretched be those thinking cleverly,
Escaping duties, keeping them not warm.
The elder ones took care of us when young;
What love they showered when we were children!
‘They cooked us tasty foods with wet cow-dung! ’
They told us fables showing what’s heaven.
How can we then repay the love we get?
-By taking care of elderly in turn.
Can we ever repay their loving debt?
We fail to carry sometimes ev’n their urn!
The elderly can bless one’s family;
Their curses lead to ruin verily!
poem by John Celes
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Nurture the Elderly
All the elderly are all alone,
All alone in nursing homes.
Sleeping in beds with drugs
blurrying their heads.
Now this is our state of affairs right now,
before we had elderly helping out.
They lived to be healthy and take care of kids,
now we hide them away and make them forget.
Forget who they are,
for we labeled them thus far.
As drains on our society and economy,
not giving them respect or dignity.
Alzheimer's has a spiritual cause,
no family ties is the result of it all.
Now we need to give Elderly’s
a way to fit in,
to give them meaning to life
not make them a “has been”.
They could work at Daycares,
help with the children
because they have so much to share.
It’s a shame for one day we could be in their shoes,
we better change our ways, we have too much to lose.
Written by Christina Sunrise on September 19,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
www.suzaechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Undivided Attention
I 'use' to wonder as a child,
Why there were so many elderly people...
Packed inside the church,
My mother made sure...
She would take my sister and I,
Faithfully on Sunday and choir rehearsals...
As children.
When I turned 60,
I realized...
I could talk to myself,
And not get a batted eye of attention...
From anyone!
That piece of the puzzle,
No longer remains a mystery.
Now I know for a fact...
What those who are elderly know.
God is the only 'One'...
To have ever given undivided attention.
Most in their youth take for granted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How We Were Introduced
—for perfidious protectors
I was playing in the street
no one paid attention to me
as I made forms out of sand
mumbling Rimbaud under my breath
once an elderly gentleman overheard it
—little boy you are a poet
just now we are organizing
a grass-roots literary movement
he stroked my dirty head
gave me a large lollypop
and even bought clothes
in the protective coloring of youth
I didn’t have such a splendid suit
since first communion
short trousers and a wide
sailor’s collar
black patent leather shoes with a buckle
white knee-high socks
the elderly gentleman took me by the hand
and led the way to the ball
other boys were there
also in short trousers
carefully shaven
shuffling their feet
—well boys now it’s time to play
why are you standing in the corners
asked the elderly gentleman
—make a circle holding hands
but we didn’t want tag
or blindman’s buff
we had enough of the elderly gentleman
we were very hungry
so we were seated promptly
around a large table
given lemonade
and pieces of cake
now disguised as adults
with deep voices
the boys got up they praised us
or slapped us on our hands
we didn’t hear anything
didn’t feel anything
staring with great eyes
at the piece of cake
that kept melting
in our hot hands
and this sweet taste the first in our lives
disappeared inside our dark sleeves
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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Cattle Food
AN ELDERLY NATIVE WENT VISITING AT A CITY, AND ON HIS ARRIVAL, HIS HOST QUICKLY TOOK HIM TO AN EXPENSIVE RESTAURANT FOR A WELCOME MEAL!
WHAT WILL BE YOUR ORDER TODAY SIR? A WAITRESS ASKED THE CITIZEN AND HE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER! AND THE WAITRESS TURNED TO THE ELDERLY NATIVE AND SAID, SIR! WHAT WOULD BE YOUR ORDER? AND THE NATIVE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER!
THE WAITRESS ASSUMING THAT THEY BOTH WANTED THE CITIZEN'S USUAL PLATE OF VEGETABLE SALAD, WALKED OFF TO GET THE FOOD.
ON HER RETURN WITH THE FOOD, THE CITIZEN IMMEDIATTELY BEGAN TO EAT HIS FOOD, WHILE THE ELDERLY NATIVE SAT FROWNING AT THE PLATE OF SALAD PLACED BEFORE HIM, AFTER A WHILE, HE ASKED HIS HOST, DEAR FRIEND, WAS YOURS WELL COOKED? MINE LOOKS AS IF IT WASN'T EVEN COOKED AT ALL!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Saint Jeanne Jugan (Foundress of ‘Little Sisters of the Poor’)
When four, she lost her father while at sea!
Her mother worked hard, raising family!
She grew in France amidst Revolution;
Her love of God was her life’s solution.
She cared for sick and poor elderly souls,
By assuming the humblest of earth’s roles!
Young Jeanne Jugan grew up a shepherdess;
Her love for Jesus made her a Foundress!
With heart aflame with fire of love for God,
She sacrificed her life for Jesus Lord!
Through exemplary life, she showed the world
That love of God was worth more than all gold.
The elderly poor needed love and care;
So, young Jeanne chose the road traveled quite rare.
Her charity became a noble cause;
She worked for poor without making a pause.
It was a time when violence was rife,
And begging was common by those in strife;
She followed Christ, carrying her cross of life,
And served the poor and downtrodden all life.
Her name was ‘Sister Mary of the cross! ’
All life, Christ Jesus Lord was her one boss!
‘Come to my aid, O God, ’ she prayed and cried
all life in humility, till she died!
A Saint for elderly and every age,
She wrote her life upon a golden page;
She saw the Lord in every poor man’s face,
And served God through her love of human race!
‘God wanted her all for Himself, ’ she said,
‘And kept her for a work yet unfounded! ’
On October eleven, two thousand nine,
The Blessed Jeanne Jugan became a Saint!
Dedicated fondly in memory of the Sister Saint.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-25-2009
poem by John Celes
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Cherokee Nation Will Return
This nation is in the process of reunification
people living together across the nation,
From the market crash of 2008,
families and friends are coming
together as of late.
Now we can once again be
like the Native American Tribes,
and keep this planet not only
surviving but thriving with wonderful life.
Like the indegeonus people treat their
Elderly with respect,
They have knowledge wisdom and
They will help us not forget,
family stories from not so distant past,
elderly can pass this on to the grand children
and make it last.
Like the song “Cherokee Nation Will Return”
this time we must finally learn,
learn to remember who we really are,
We’ve have come to this place once before
but now in this recorded
time of His/her story,
we can do amazing things in God’s great glory.
Written on July 30th by Christina Sunrise
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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It Happens in the B.R. Families
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Newport lie
That I roused from sleep in a huddled heap
An elderly wealthy guy.
His hair was graying, his hair was long,
And graying and long was he;
And I heard this grouch on the shore avouch,
In a singular jazzless key:
"Oh, I am a cook and a waitress trim
And a maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door!"
And he shook his fists and he tore his hair,
And he started to frisk and play,
Till I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking,
So I said (in the Gilbert way):
"Oh, elderly man, I don't know much
Of the ways of societee,
But I'll eat my friend if I comprehend
However you can be
"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
Then he smooths his hair with a nervous air,
And a gulp in his throat he swallows,
And that elderly guy he then lets fly
Substantially as follows:
"We had a house down Newport way,
And we led a simple life;
There was only I," said the elderly guy,
And my daughter and my wife.
"And of course the cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
"One day the cook she up and left,
She up and left us flat.
She was getting a hundred and ten a mon-
Th, but she couldn't work for that.
"And the waitress trim was her bosom friend,
And she wouldn't stay no more;
And our strong chauffeur eloped with her
Who was the maid of the second floor.
"And we couldn't get no other help,
So I had to cook and wait.
It was quite absurd," wept the elderly bird.
"I deserve a better fate.
"And I drove the car and I made the beds
Till the housekeeper up and quit;
And the man at the door found that a bore,
Which is why I am, to wit:
"At once a cook and a waitress trim
And the maid of the second floor,
And a strong chauffeur and a housekeeper,
And the man who tends the door."
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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He fixed his rickety ladder to the transparent sky!
Quits the school
Hardly he climbed up
The Nonentity.
'O I see the World in its real shape now.
The desperate younger generation of Arab World
Rushed to him and it's seems to be a mistaken.
O I am not the God but an ordinary crawling Man
Because of the Global warming and the unnecessary
Heat of the War I have come to the summit.
Yet I could advise you as an elderly person,
Before searching the God in the sky
Try to find your own brother in peril next door.
Death and destruction everywhere!
*6-year old brings loaded gun to school; 3 hurt in accident.
How sad this World, buying a gun is very easy but you have to wait in the line long hours to buy a loaf of bread!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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In Dark Shadows.
the pepper pot
towards the nun
on her right.
The salt follows
once more given
a gentle shove.
To understand
another’s need
without them asking,
an elderly nun
had said.
A nun is reading
from a high desk
in the refectory.
Some book on Cromwell,
a life, back whenever when.
She sips her soup,
the French soup spoon
held in her right hand.
The nun on her left
passes the water jug.
Offers to pour.
Sister Felicity nods
and smiles.
The nun pours
a liberal amount
then puts down the jug.
Opposite an elderly nun
dribbles soup,
her shaky hand
missing the target.
Nan did that.
How can one forget?
She remembers
her grandmother’s
slow decline;
the slippery slope
down to the side ward
in the dank hospital.
Onion soup. Too hot.
She blows to cool.
Sunlight reaches down
through high windows.
Worlds explode
in dark shadows.
poem by Terry Collett
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Courtesy
I remember years ago
when courtesy was quite normal
amongst most people.
Giving up your seat on a bus
to someone elderly or a mum to be.
Opening the door for a woman
or someone struggling with something.
Being polite to everyone, you met.
Courtesy and respect
then used to hold each other’s hand,
but not anymore, I am afraid.
They have almost vanished
through the passing of time.
Some youngsters swear at you
instead of saying thank you
when you offer to help them out a bit.
The helping hands are hardly ever there
when you need one occasionally.
Instead, they just ignore you
and pass on their way.
I hope someone soon will think
of having a courtesy day.
A day when the whole world
can back on track
with giving a little courtesy every day.
27 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Sonnet: in Old Age
All life they slogged till crept on them old age!
Their children were the pupils of their eyes;
By habit still, to work they yet manage,
With spirit good, weary their body lies.
The toil they put is ‘yond an estimate;
Their loving service is just very great;
They wait for Time’s scythe to emancipate;
Disgruntled world, they can never satiate.
What a wretched world, this happens to be!
Unprepared even now, their senescence is;
Busy children care not for elderly;
But wise old-aged humans on earth’s a bliss!
’tis sad when strikes old-age the aged its gong!
The frail figures cannot withstand for long.
poem by John Celes
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Sure i'm for helping the elderly. I'm going to be old myself some day.
quote by Lillian Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Precocious Baby - a Very True Tale
An elderly person - a prophet by trade -
With his quips and tips
On withered old lips,
He married a young and a beautiful maid;
The cunning old blade!
Though rather decayed,
He married a beautiful, beautiful maid.
She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be,
With her tempting smiles
And maidenly wiles,
And he was a trifle past seventy-three:
Now what she could see
Is a puzzle to me,
In a prophet of seventy - seventy-three!
Of all their acquaintances bidden (or bad)
With their loud high jinks
And underbred winks,
None thought they'd a family have - but they had;
A dear little lad
Who drove 'em half mad,
For he turned out a horribly fast little cad.
For when he was born he astonished all by,
With their "Law, dear me!"
"Did ever you see?"
He'd a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye,
A hat all awry -
An octagon tie -
And a miniature - miniature glass in his eye.
He grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap,
With his "Oh, dear, oh!"
And his "Hang it! 'oo know!"
And he turned up his nose at his excellent pap -
"My friends, it's a tap
Dat is not worf a rap."
(Now this was remarkably excellent pap.)
He'd chuck his nurse under the chin, and he'd say,
With his "Fal, lal, lal" -
"'Oo doosed fine gal!"
This shocking precocity drove 'em away:
"A month from to-day
Is as long as I'll stay -
Then I'd wish, if you please, for to toddle away."
His father, a simple old gentleman, he
With nursery rhyme
And "Once on a time,"
Would tell him the story of "Little Bo-P,"
"So pretty was she,
So pretty and wee,
As pretty, as pretty, as pretty could be."
But the babe, with a dig that would startle an ox,
With his "C'ck! Oh, my! -
Go along wiz 'oo, fie!"
Would exclaim, "I'm afraid 'oo a socking ole fox."
Now a father it shocks,
And it whitens his locks,
When his little babe calls him a shocking old fox.
The name of his father he'd couple and pair
(With his ill-bred laugh,
And insolent chaff)
With those of the nursery heroines rare -
Virginia the Fair,
Or Good Goldenhair,
Till the nuisance was more than a prophet could bear.
"There's Jill and White Cat" (said the bold little brat,
With his loud, "Ha, ha!")
"'Oo sly ickle Pa!
Wiz 'oo Beauty, Bo-Peep, and 'oo Mrs. Jack Sprat!
I've noticed 'oo pat
MY pretty White Cat -
I sink dear mamma ought to know about dat!"
He early determined to marry and wive,
For better or worse
With his elderly nurse -
Which the poor little boy didn't live to contrive:
His hearth didn't thrive -
No longer alive,
He died an enfeebled old dotard at five!
MORAL.
Now, elderly men of the bachelor crew,
With wrinkled hose
And spectacled nose,
Don't marry at all - you may take it as true
If ever you do
The step you will rue,
For your babes will be elderly - elderly too.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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