Comment #8

TigerAngel — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:04:34 GMT

Nice poem Emily. Glad to see you back!

Comment #7

louise black — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:00:08 GMT

This is a very sobering poem for all to view where they think about our elderly, they too are important people,I work with the elderly during a period of my life. His words are profound,what a loving poem.

Comment #6

MADDOG10 — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 09:40:54 GMT

Welcome back..

Comment #5

rdgrnr — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 05:28:04 GMT

Glad to see you back.

Comment #4

emilyg — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 01:47:52 GMT

Thanks sully.

Comment #3

sully16 — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 23:39:44 GMT

Thanks for sharing Emily, so good to see you home.

Comment #2

emilyg — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 23:04:00 GMT

Thank you Jarasan. So good to be home and on LP.

Comment #1

jarasan — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 22:59:21 GMT

<br /> And very happy,<br /> to see you tapping those keys,<br /> and making that mouse,<br /> move so very snappy

Original Blog Entry: Crabby Old Man

emilyg — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 17:16:18 GMT

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 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 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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