Creative TraditionalCelebrating Mother Earth? Seasonal, Traditional & Rhyming poetry posts here. (i.e. sonnet, limerick, haiku & all other poetic forms as seen in the Poetry-Defined section.)
Going Home
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Biography: In addition to poetry I love music of all types. I spend far too much time on the computer.
ronbliss has not championed any arcade games.
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Going Home
Going Home
My old bones feel so heavy,
Sitting in my easy chair,
This world is getting colder now,
And no one seems to care.
I’m reaching now, my final days,
They’ve dwindled to a few,
Each one much like the one before,
And soon they will be through.
At ten o’clock my son will come,
To take me to a home,
Where all I’ll do is eat and sleep,
Bathe; brush my teeth and comb.
I glance about my living room,
Where I’ve sat, many years,
The laughter of this room is gone,
Now all that’s here are tears.
All good times are, but memories,
Now faded with the past,
So soon I leave this all behind,
Who knew it wouldn’t last?
I gaze out of my window,
To my garden ‘crossed the lawn,
Next spring it will not matter,
As all this will then be gone.
Next week they’ll be an auction,
They’ll sell all I once held dear,
My son says it will be too hard,
On me, if I am near,
Three years now, I’ve been alone,
That’s when I lost my wife,
Since then, seems nothing matters,
And I’m running out of life.
Oh yes, I know, I’m very frail,
And I forget my pills,
There’s many things that I can’t do,
And someone pays my bills.
It’s just that I don’t want to go,
My son says, “Dad, it’s best”,
“For there, you’ll get the care you need,
And your required rest.”
I’ll get to share a twelve by twelve,
With some old man like me,
Who’ll be as sad and lonely,
As a man alone can be.
My things are packed, just one suitcase,
Not much for eighty years,
Now looking back, those years now spent,
My eyes are filled with tears.
Oh God, please call me home right now,
I do not want to go,
I want to be with my sweetheart,
Because I love her so.
I want to be with you dear Lord,
Let Heaven be my place,
I want to leave my world of gray,
And gaze upon Your face.
I packed some photos of my wife,
Inside with my few clothes,
A few mementos of our life,
With meanings no one knows,
One last stroll around the house,
The bedroom, kitchen, den,
I hear my son’s car in the drive,
The clock is striking ten.
Do you know anyone who has gone through
this stage in life? Go... and visit with them.
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One can not feel the depth of this work you have written until they feel the depth of it firsthand...as I read this I could not help but breath a deep held sigh...brings a tear to my eye knowing how your old man felt in this poem. Indeed, wonderfully written and truthful to the point of pain.
Biography: In addition to poetry I love music of all types. I spend far too much time on the computer.
ronbliss has not championed any arcade games.
Instant Message Info Is Private.
Benny,
I guess that is why you and I and others write. In hopes that we can project emotion we feel into the hearts of someone else. Thank you for reading my poem and especially for taking the time to respond. When I wrote this piece I tried to be empathetic with what someone in this circumstance would experience. Again, Benny, thank you.
Ron
A good friend's father is in such a situation so I can relate, through them, with what you have written. I think you have described the varied emotions very well and, though there are also some good times, the prospect of going to a nursing home must bring on a very lonely, morbid feeling. Great write, I shall be sharing this with my friend.