Alone

Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning:  MOVIE
Word of the Day prompt:  RIFF

Like a boring old movie
the neighbors are at it again
that weary riff of picking
at past gripes and hurts,
festering wounds.

If only they could peek
into the dark years to come,
get a glimpse of “future me.”
If they could feel how lonely
life can be when you’re
left. Forgotten. Alone.

Having worked in seniors’ and nursing homes myself, I think everyone should have to spend six months working in one. Here’s where you clearly see the truth of “What goes around, comes around” and “You reap what you sow.”

Rich & Famous

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is HOPE, so I searched my DropBox files, hoping for some suitable response. I came across this writing and thought it very suitable.

Sadly, I can’t tell you who wrote it. I’ve googled it, but nothing shows up, so it may have come from an old Friendship Book. Note to self: ALWAYS attach name &/or source to EVERY writing copied from somewhere.

I hope this gives you a smile:

The Evolution of Rich & Famous

When I was thirteen I dreamed of someday being rich and famous.

When I was twenty-one my main goal in life was to someday be rich and famous.

When I was thirty I clung to the dream of someday being rich and famous.

When I was forty I still half-ways hoped to someday be rich and famous.

When I was fifty I was disillusioned with the whole idea of being rich and famous.

When I was sixty, having seen what riches and honour did to the lives of others, I was thankful that I’d never become rich and famous.

When I was seventy I finally understood just how rich I’ve been all these years. I realized that family and friends who really care about me are worth a lot more than fame.

Now that I’m eighty I realize how blessed I am to still be moving around.

Here’s another thought on the subject:

Sand.JCarrey quote
Background sand:  Nikola Belopitov — Pixabay

 

 

Grandpa’s Bedtime Story

My muse has been fluttering around today, checking out all the prompts and spinning a tale, so I’ll post it while it’s fresh, even if I’ve already done another.

The Word Prompts are Word-of the Day’s LIGHT
Ragtag Daily Prompt’s DEEP
and Crimson’s Challenge #52, this photo:

https://crimsonprose.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/flixton.jpg\

Grandpa’s Bedtime Story

“Deep in the woods you must go
to find the golden sword
but you must never forget
the helpful magic word

for only this word can smash—
all other attempts are vain—
the seal of the calabash
and break the binding chain.

Into a cavern of stone
in the depth of the darkest night,
and you must go alone,
you may hear the call tonight…”

Suddenly the door opens. Mom eyes her two sons. “Not sleeping yet?”

In a voice a-quiver with awe her youngest answers. “Grandpa’s telling us a bedtime story.”

She takes in their excited faces, their wide-open eyes. “I see. Well, now it’s time for lights out.”

“What’s the magic word, Grandpa? Tell us quick,” they plead.

Grandpa tousles their hair “It’s ‘Good night’.”

“Awww….” The two boys groan loudly.

Mom grins. “I think we’d better let Grandpa tell morning wake-up stories from now on.”

Visiting the Home in Haiku

Visiting Grandma at the Nursing Home

I don’t remember, either
I told her
companionably

We play Yahtzee
even though she can’t read the dice
she can shake

holding Grandma’s hands
I should let go — but
her fingers are so cold

“Flower Garden” quilt
walking the winding trails
of her memory

I never told her
it rained last night
Grandma’s somewhere else

She tells me
Prince Charles visited today
bladder infection*

in the twilight
she folds her tired hands
one last time

* She really did. Bladder infection tends to cause nursing home residents to “lose it” temporarily. 😦

Gettin’ Old

by Edgar Guest

Gettin old’s not hard, I say,
if it’s done the proper way;
when you’re finding’ out how much
joy is in the common touch,
learnin’ from experience
and the book of common sense
that a man, whoe’er he be,
richly dressed or poor to see,
really’s tryin’ hard to do
just about the same as you;
when you’ve found the worth of gold,
then you’re glad you’re gettin’ old.

When you’ve come along the years
with their smiles and bitter tears,
and have seen through clearer eyes
many things you used to prize
lose their value, and you know
much you didn’t long ago;
when you’ve learned that creed and birth
are not real stamps of worth,
and you’ve scraped through the veneer
of the sham and pomp down here
to tell the truth you want to hold,
then you’re glad you’re gettin’ old.

When you’ve come at last to find
joy is born of bein’ kind;
when you’re learned to disbelieve
tales which make another grieve
and to them you shut your ear;
when you are not quick to sneer
and have turned from selfish strife
to the gentler ways of life,
in your wisdom finding out
things you never dreamed about
in your youthful way days and bold —
then you’re glad you’re getting old.

Gettin’ old’s not hard, I say,
if it’s done the proper way,
youth is made with haste and blind
to the peace which old men find,
but when you have traveled far,
come to know men as they are,
when you’ve learned through hurts and aches
all the errors hot youth makes
and have found the lasting worth
of the simpler joys of earth;
when life’s purposes unfold,
then you’re glad you’re gettin’ old.