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CMXIClement Jun 2020
To be captured,
by the radiance in your eyes,
the flow of your hair.

To be enamored by your grace,
to be a guest of honor in your life.
to be a recipient of what makes people love you.

To be a part of your family, and a family for once.
To have a place in your lineage, and a place for once.
To have a place in your heart, and someone's heart for once.

I'm independent, yet I want to be claimed.
I'm my own person, but I want to be owned.
I'm my own man, but I want to be someone's.
Molly Eli Apr 2020
He taught me so much
When no one really cared
He loved me as his daughter
When no one else was there.
He was my mentor
And later my caregiver
He was an amazing person
My half sister's father
(The only thing we had in common
Was our mother)
And he always told me
There was something wrong with her
He had known
That she was his daughter
The reason he fell from grace
But he still loved her
Though she betrayed the human race
His cold blue eyes
With warm rusty hair
Cool toned skin
My mentor
Mr. Carver
This is an archetype mentor/caregiver. Enjoy
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Caregiver,
You came into our family
As a river of hope.
Ever flowing, always there,
Providing loving care,
So we could cope.

Caregiver,
You became an uncaring taker.
With your undue influence
You spent her money
On your own selfish wants.
Under false pretenses, you dragged her along daily,
Using her vehicle for your own personal errands.
Like a foe you fought our family
As we became wise to your machinations.
And when your goose was finally cooked,
Your last act was to vandalize in secret,
Leaving her heart broken.

Oh, Uncaring Taker,
How unconscionable were your actions.
How hateful you became.
Why were you this way?
How I would like to make you pay,
But it's her wish to leave it this way.
5/9/2018 - Poetry form: Free Verse - Many elderly adults are abused in their own homes, in relatives’ homes, and even in facilities responsible for their care. If you suspect that an elderly person is at risk from a neglectful or overwhelmed caregiver, or being preyed upon financially, it’s important to speak up. Everyone deserves to live in safety, with dignity and respect. Take time to learn about the warning signs of elder abuse, what the risk factors are, and how you can prevent and report the problem. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Mark Toney Oct 2019
“Take care of yourself first.”
That’s what we told my mama
When my daddy had his strokes.
Seven long years by his side,
Caring for his body, paralyzed.
Fearing for her health we said:
“You can’t take care of daddy
Till you care for yourself first.”
That’s what we told my mama,
Until my daddy died in 1985.

“Take care of yourself first.”
That’s what I told my wife
When her mom’s simple operation
Became a septic laceration.
As she tirelessly cared for mom
I feared for her well-being.
“You can’t take care of mom
Till you care for yourself first.”
That’s what I told my wife,
Until her mom passed on in 2011.

“Take care of yourself first.”
That’s what my wife told me
As my mama slowly wasted away,
Physically, mentally, emotionally.
And we willingly provided the
Loving care that she deserved.
“You can’t take care of mama
Till you care for yourself first.”
That’s what my wife told me,
Until my mama left the scene in 2015.

Take care of yourself first
When you experience the worst,
For if you fall apart, for certain
You’ll be someone else’s burden.
7/25/2018 - Poetry form: Free Verse - Sometimes we can be so busy being someone else's anchor that we don't realize we're slowly drowning. Always take care of yourself first! - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
William Clifton Jun 2015
Grieve not the present
We had yesterday, always
Pluperfect goodbye
Merri Kathryn Mar 2019
I send forth soft touch,
Hoping to heal the damage,
Done by another,
In another time.
I dash against a hard soul,
Feel the dull edge of rock,
Rip rough gashes,
And gouge me deep.
Tear the tender fabric
Of my heart.
I retreat, bleeding,
Sorrow filling my soul
So full that I stagger,
Leaving a smeared trail
Of lost hope.
I slowly stand straight,
Anger rising,
And view the drying outline
Of the trail.
Like the ice cold barrel of a gun
Pressed to my breast
Hatred freezes me.
I stop.
The target is on my own heart,
And the finger on the trigger
Is my own.
And then I see,
That I am needed again.
Not wanted, only needed.
I feel compassion, detestable,
Well up within me.
And I return.
I send forth soft touch,
Knowing full well,
How perfectly the dull-edged rocks
Match the scars on my heart.
There is no justice.
There is no 'fair.'
There is only the return.
J L James Oct 2018
This fragile body hosts an infinite soul
whose human form may not be whole.
What may appear a tragic rift
is in fact a precious gift
to those whose spirits are attuned.
Extending our own body and soul
to others is what we truly know.
Often outside walls close in
with loneliness and credit cards spread thin,
as advocacy with officialdom weighs in.
But nothing will change what you do,
for this is what carers know.
Each body hosts an infinite soul.
m Feb 2018
Jim died last night, slipped away like the slimmest embers of light that, from time to time, would reach their arms through the clouds to show themselves. I wonder where he is glowing, if he kindled his spirit to the stars, the gray moon, the forever burning sun.

I stared into his empty room last night, the air a silent breath synced with mine, and it felt so unexpected, it felt wrong and cruel and hostile. I didn’t get to say goodbye.

When I walked home the next morning, I felt like my lips had meant to mutter some form of plea into that void space that were all cradled together by a wrinkled blanket we had not yet washed.

I left the newspaper out for him.

8 a.m shrieking birds and gravel crunching underneath my worn shoes. The morning tan wasted down to the fragmented hairs of fog that settled their bodies over the ******* of earth and I kept my eyes shut to refuse to let loose something I felt I had no control over.

At 9:30, I crawled into bed, thinking of where the sun was at his placing now, thinking of the hiding stars, the seemed to be gone, moon, and I prayed that Jim had made it to the other side.
when you subject yourself to work with the near dead, you offer up a part of your heart to carry theirs.

— The End —