Blog Archives

Cranky Old Man

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, 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 Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? What do you see?

What are you thinking, when you’re looking at me?

A cranky 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 is 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 I 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.

It’s 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 cranky old man, look closer, see… ME!!

Poem originally by Phyllis McCormack; adapted by Dave Griffith.

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!

The best and most beautiful things of this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!

But You Didn’t

Here is a beautiful Story, read It till the end..

I loved it, hope you’ll like it too! 🙂ButYouDidntRemember the day, I borrowed your brand new car and dented it?
I thought you’d kill me, but you didn’t.
Remember that day, I vomited strawberry pie all over your new carpet?
I thought you’d hate me, but you didn’t.
Remember that day, I dragged you to the beach, and it really was raining as you said it would?
I though you’d say, “I told you so.”, but you didn’t.
Remember that day, I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you really did get jealous?
I thought you’d leave me, but you didn’t.
Remember that day, I forgot to tell you that dance was formal wear, and you ended up wearing jeans?
I thought you’d abandon me, but you didn’t.
Yes, there were lots of things you didn’t do, but you put up with me, loved me, protected me.
There were lots and lots of things I wanted to make up to you, when you would return from Vietnam. But you didn’t.

%d bloggers like this: