Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Misfitkilljoy Oct 2015
I seen you and your memory of me was no more.
So I just left and cried out the door.
Next time I seen you your body was no more.
So I just left and cried out the door.
I hung your picture up on my wall knowing you will not be there for me no more.
So I just cry on my floor .
This poem is about my grandpa who had Alzheimer's and died of cancer.
David Adamson Aug 2015
(for Peggy, with Alzheimer’s, 1996)*

Absent spirit:
Soothe our hunger for consolation
In the presence of this woman
Who asks for none.

May the colored shapes we have become
Stand apart from these walls--
Where sun after sun has tiled
A catacomb of days--
Distinctly enough to radiate our love.

Banish our loss.
Dissolve the bitter mystery of why.
Forgive our numb embrace
That enfolds this slumping body
Whose eyes reflect glass,
Whose mind quests beyond a dark door
Searching for a land of lost names.

Give words to her passage.
Resolve the twisted path she must follow alone,
The cratered wastes she calls across,
Seeking a land of kindred beings with cognate powers
That name her as their own and exult.
Lauren Michaud Aug 2015
The wind used to howl,
but now it only cries.
The poignant sting of snow
used to ambush my eyes.

With Fall and Winter in a blur
all year is Summer and Spring.
I used to walk, walk with you
be pushed in a kiddie swing.

The geese were more afraid of me
than I was ever of them.
Oh, Memére,
how I miss the days together we would spend.

The sun still scorches,
but not as sweet,
as clouded with young eyes

You can’t compare a tropic spring
to dusted Autumn skies.

The pumpkins red,
lit up at night,
would glow upon your face.

In winter,
every snowflake seemed
to find its perfect place-
upon your window,
lit up with care,

those glowing,
plastic candles.
They’ve faded as the years have passed,
like sun-bleached, light-pink, sandles.

You’ve been lost,
like an age-pulled button.
Your stings have not held,
Your mind forgotten.

So I dig, I dig, through your sewing kit,
to stitch you back together.
At least for my own memory,
so I can remember forever.

Somehow I’m not as nimble,
somehow just not as quick.
I couldn’t find the seamstress in me
once you’d fallen sick.

I pump, I pump
the metal petal,
to piece you back together.
That button used so many times
in deadly, freezing, weather.

Somehow you slipped,
not just through my fingers,
but in a dreadful way, where the soul seldom lingers.

You just got worse
I cried to find
that stinking button
that was on my mind.

The final piece that would solve the puzzle
fix a confused mind,
your struggle.

Now I see,
now that you’re gone,
that I had had it all along.

The key, the clue, that wretched button.
And then it hit me,
all of a sudden.

Those trembling geese, the Autumn skies,
the snowflakes that had stung my eyes.

Those things are all I really need
to make sure your heart still beats.

Your eyes,
your chin,
your soft, thin hair,
all the answers
were always there.

Now whenever I miss you,
these gems of memories,
they pull me through.
In loving memory of Julie Michaud: a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and talented seamstress whom we all loved dearly.
Alex Hoffman Aug 2015
The new family dog
sits at the table
with sugar in his cereal

I talk to him so he won’t be lonely.
I ask him how his day was.
He looks at me
through his brown dog eyes
sitting in the chaos
of a hallucinatory disease.
I sit at the sidelines
of gradual Death.

I babysit him on weekends
and even from the shore, i can see him
on his island
chasing the tail
of dissipating thoughts.

He wasn’t always a dog.

He had a big bushy afro.
And a truckers moustache
that got him attention from the ladies.

He managed an automotive parts franchise
and travelled often.

He owned twelve of the worlds finest tobacco pipes, and
smoked *** out of all of them.

He married the love of his life
at 19 years old.
When the doctor told them, she would never bear children.

But he watched
four boys become men.
And only two were adopted.

He became a grandfather
and every passover, he sat in the throne
of a kingdom
he built.

His grandchildren
loved him
unconditionally.


When he tells me these stories now,
he sits behind glass, where he watches the kingdom.

Without him.

Sitting at the breakfast table, I want him to know:
I love you, I can’t help you.
I love you—
Goodbye.
A poem about Alzheimers.
For my grandfather, who visits my grandmother every day
though he can no longer take care of her.
Chloe Aug 2015
The voices in your head have tormented you so,
Your mind, now a prison to your blackened soul,
The screaming and shrieking that echoes inside,
Your hollowed, rusty heart, and emptied mind.

Memories, to you, are but a distant fantasy,
A life before the war in you raged the thousand seas,
Of a life before the voices hiding in your head,
Stole everything away, every name, every friend.

You look around the room of familiar strangers,
Faces you know, but simply can't remember,
Your heart clenches as you look at each one,
Calling you Daddy, Grand-Papa and Son.

You no longer see with your mind and eyes,
But rather with your heart and soul,
For your head and mind is your enemy,
Lost to the wailing voices in your brain.
The rhyming scheme kind of went awry at the end :(
I can't remember when
I asked you to be mine
I have lost that memory
Somewhere in my mind

I can't remember when
You said to me "I do"
I have lost that memory
It's only known by you

I can't remember things
I'm always at a loss
I have lost those memories
But, I don't know at what cost

I can't remember when
I last said "I love you"
I have lost that memory
Each day is all brand new

I can not remember who I am or who you are
I look up into the sky, and can't wish on a star
I know that I once loved you, but my mind won't go that far
I don't know who I am or who you are
Mark Lecuona Jun 2015
It was one of those days
Like being all out of paper products
Or your last pair of dress socks
Only worse
Much worse
It’s not so much how much you love them
But the realization of how much they loved you
They planned for you
And thought of you
Before you were even born
And a day never passed
That they didn’t love you
Even when you let them down
And cursed their name
And counted the days until you could leave home
And then that day came
And you rejoiced
While all theycould do was cry
And now history has passed
Everything you have ever known
Or read about
Is a part of them
A world that collapsed
A world at war
Nations fighting over holy land
Because they couldn’t share God’s love
And the fight for a man to be treated like a man
And an eagle that landed
All of this happened
And the entire time they loved you
And while you knew they wanted something simple
Such as a phone call
Or even a thank you
You still held them at arm’s length
And now you want them in your arms
To tell them these things
But it’s too late
Too late because it is
A moment has passed
A lifetime has passed
And suddenly you know about life
And each day brings a reason for tears
Because your entire life is now day to day
Because it’s your turn to be the one who loves
And as the leaves turn brown
You look to your children
And hope that while they curse you
And long for freedom
That one day they will know this day
And realize what you meant to them
And what they meant to you
And in the dreams of the future
And remembrance of the past
Today shall mark time
And watch the sun set once again
As the chance to come together
As parent and child
Has lost another day
William Clifton Jun 2015
Grieve not the present
We had yesterday, always
Pluperfect goodbye
Dishes Jun 2015
One day after a couple of blunts in my friends car the conversation of
"Whats the worst thing you have that you could lose?"
Someone said their eyesight cause they like colors too much, I almost agreed; I dont know how long I could last in a world with no tie dye and  where I couldnt watch the sunset dance its ****** and the sky take its curtain call.

Someone said hearing,
God this one I almost totally agreed with. My favorite songs are now only the parts I can remember.
My mom can now only yell at me with her eyes and never will you hear your love say I do in their violin voice.

Still something else seemed worse, and it might just be because im so sentimental, but I answered memory.
I REMEMBERED a friend from middle school that I rode the bus with who was usually very cheerful getting on the bus one day looking very distressed, and it was only 6:45, what couldve been wrong so soon? So I asked.

"My Grandmothers alzheimers has gotten worse,  she forgets my name sometimes."
That hurt me to hear and I could only be there for her that morning.
As time went on she returned to slight normalcy but one day she got on the bus looking more sullen than ever, I moved to her seat to talk to her about it.

"My grandmaw is in a nursing home now, and every day when she wakes up she doesnt know why shes there. She doesnt just forget my name anymore."
She. Didnt really return to any normalcy and as months went bye she was out of school for a day and when she came back she explained to me why and it still rings in my head as one of the saddest things I've heard.
"My grandmaw got worse and worse, eventually having to be reminded how to use utensils, and she forgot about my grandpaw, and eventually how to eat and drink. Her funeral was yesterday."


So when the question was asked I thought about having to visit a loved one and having to introduce yourself,
And not being able to say,
"Remember that christmas when we both over ate?" Or "remember the time you paid for our first date? Do you still remember what I ate?  Do you remember our vows? Do you remember when we hid our hickies from our parents and it didnt work? "
"Remember riding our bikes past the firehouse and scraping our knees? Do you remember the time at your birthday when you let me help you blow your candles out? Remember when we talked about how to talk to girls remember summer days spent swimming and laughing till our stomachs hurt because nothing really mattered? Do you remember?"

That would eat me alive,
Take my legs and arms,
Those things can be made fake,
But memories cant be replaced.
Make them while theyres time to be made, and write a detailed autobiography just to be alzheimers proof.
I was thinking of you,
I know this isnt poetry but its late and im thinking okiedokes
Atypnoc May 2015
I like the little one.

They are ready so if someone
Comes down here, and says
they, I, well,
would like to see what youve got
I may be interested in them,
in buying some
I'd say, well, sure
so they can look, and see if there is anything they want to purchase.

And they may decide it's nothing they want,
maybe they don't have anything with them
I won't take that
and that's fine by me.
I like the little one.

We made sure t have them all be different
i said, what'S the point if they're the same
I have three metal ones
Can you, well, make sure they are
so nobody will knock them over
so someone can look at all of them and
they won't break.

I got those bells because I enjoy them.
I used to place them around the house so
people could enjoy them
they are in that so people come down here, They can see.

they meant something to me, but nobody else.
and that's fine.
well, if it means something to you, that matters
Yeah.
Next page