15-10-2013, 10:24 AM
1
When I Become Old
When I'm a little old lady, then I'll live with my children and bring them great joy.To repay all I've had from each girl and boy
I shall draw on the walls and scuff up the floor;
run in and out without closing the door.
I'll hide frogs in the pantry, socks under my bed.
And whenever they scold me, I'll hang my head.
I'll run and I'll romp, always fritter away ..... the time to be spent doing chores every day.
I'll pester my children when they are on the phone.
As long as they're busy I won't leave them alone.
Hide candy in closets, rocks in a drawer ... and never pick up what I drop on the floor.
Dash off to the movies and not wash a dish. I'll plead for allowance whenever I wish.
I'll stuff up the plumbing and deluge the floor. As soon as they've mopped it, I'll flood it some more.
When they correct me, I'll lie down and cry, kicking and screaming, not a tear in my eye.
I'll take all their pencils and flashlights, and then .. when they buy new ones, I'll take them again.
I'll spill glasses of milk to complete every meal .... Eat my banana and just drop the peel.
Put toys on the table, spill jam on the floor. I'll break lots of dishes as though I were four.
What fun I shall have, what joy it will be to Live with my children....just the way that they lived with me!
15-10-2013, 12:46 PM
5
Re: When I Become Old
Originally Posted by ben-varrey
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Glad you liked it Alan - when I was reading it, it sounded just like my family life when the children were younger which, I'm pretty sure, is what happened in a lot of families!
My aim is to be eccentric - I'm halfway there already !
16-10-2013, 04:37 AM
9
Re: When I Become Old
Found this on the internet,it said "please share"Heartbreaking Poem From An Elderly Man - We are all young inside! We must remember th
My dad sent me this poem...He is now 89 years old... he'll be 90 soon! I often talk with him about the mixed feelings that I have getting older and how I feel so young inside despite a body that is definitely getting older. I find myself almost baffled now about getting older. This poem shows that inside we all have spirit, soul and a yearning for the good memories in our lives. I truly wish that I had more than I do but I'm very grateful for what I do have. One thing I do know... I will always be young in spirit! - Jill
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska, 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 Assoc. 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
What do you nurses see? . .. . . . 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 guy 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.
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