For as long as I can remember, I have loved finding beautiful fall leaves. It's like picking up seashells at the beach: You find one ...
“STAY AWAY FROM ELECTRIC HEDGE TRIMMERS! THEY'LL GET YOU!" Seems as if my whole life, I had the job of trimming shrubs—first w...
It was my first year in college and I was at Marshall University. Nirvana. I was in sensory overload as well as excited yet somewhat timi...
“A HORRIBLE DAY AT ROCK LAKE POOL” I’ve always loved being a swimming pool but my first time at age five was the scariest thing I re...
“Remembering Glass Wind Chimes” Not too long ago, I bought a wind chime—you know the typical kind that is found anywhere: It’s part me...
Picture from zetsydishes.com A friend and I were talking about how much we love Fiesta Ware and how much the both of us have. ...
If you don't live in a place that has the season of fall [autumn,] you are missing out on my most favorite season ever. Fall has the ...
Over the years, I have come in contact with people from every walk of life--rich, poor, middle class and low class. What matters to me? No...
Visit http://usadeepsouth.ms11.net/snippets.html to read SNIPPETS online. __________ http://usads.ms11.net/sherry1.html _________________...
The Christmas Present By James Michener It was the turn of the century and I was a mere boy of 10. During the summers, I cut the ...
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
"THIS POEM IS ALL OVER THE INTERNET: ENJOY"
THIS POEM IS ALL OVER THE INTERNET AS WELL AS THE STORY
CRABBY OLD MAN RIP
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in GRASS VALLEY, CA., it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Missouri.
The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple but eloquent poem.
And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.
Crabby Old Man...THE RIPPER
What do you see nurses?. . . . .What do you see?
What are you thinking. . . . .when you're looking at me?
A crabby 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's 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. . . . .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.
'Tis 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 crabby old man. . . . .Look closer. . . . .SEE ME!!
Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.
We will all, one day, be there, too!
PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart.
P.S. I did not write this. Got it in an email that is going around.