Before My Very Eyes

As I age before my very eyes
I find myself superfluous and blue.
And with this notice, I hereby apprise
you: do not worry, as I am in queue.

Not silence, but restraint is my “new” aim.
It may not look so different to some
who see the surface and inside the same.
They wonder where this bother cometh from.

But words do not come from no place at all,
though outwardly they seem such little things.
To casual observer –  even banal,
or possibly – of cabbages and kings.

From that deep place this eidolon keeps on;
laughs and cries and listens as a sage,
re-reading of the Snark, or Kubla Khan,
and all the things that now become my age.

©p.johnson Sept.2015

 

Alzheimers Poem

I forgot the word today
that one that I know so well
it didn’t seem like my usual forgetting
though you tried my fears to quell

The insistent uneasiness about
the stuck word and its route
yes I did remember it eventually
it was obvious and stout

So if I forget how to rhyme
and if my thoughts turn away
and if I cannot speak things sublime
and forgetfulness takes over to stay

I want you to know that my heart
deep inside never forgot for a minute
and though gone will be wordcrafting art
I still love, though my memory’s not in it

I can only say this on before
that I loved you all deeply through life
so before I pass through that dark door
I’ve so loved you through sunshine and strife

I cannot make you to understand
how I never meant for anything bad
standing now on that movable strand
I hope you will not feel too sad

But do not forget what I say
though soon a new minute’s a new dawn
that I loved you with such fervent joy
and now I say goodbye – mind is gone.

©July 2014 pam johnson

More or Less

It is a quandary common to
My age and gender and if you
Will hear between the lines.

My anxious thoughts go round again
Decisions should be just so plain
I weigh the options mine.

To gain will stretch the wrinkles well
To lose -with distance-may look swell
All is ancient must not whine.

excess adipose tissue will
Very cheaply wrinkles fill
A Trojan horse.

The losing of much weight
May make me feel great
Difficult of course.

My Neck has Moved

I checked the other day and found
against the law, I’m losing ground,
of gravity, I’ve fought the fight.
At first it seems it isn’t right

but then see reason, Yes you must.
We sink and sink until we’re dust.
So sure, I think my neck has moved
but in the scheme it’s simply proved

that though it seems we’re getting old
we’re really nearer streets of gold,
where everything is new again
so I’ll take heart because I can

begin in heaven the place where
no sadness and there’s no night there.
Because of Jesus, there I’ll be
(where there are no wrinkles, presumably)

©Pam Johnson 2009

My Stature Flexes

My stature flexes
And it vexes
When I’m told I’m shorter

But when I’m taller
Bet a dollar
I’ll be fixing it with mortar.

Normal ebb and flow
I probably will grow
Seems only right by logic

This can’t be permanent
Just give me a moment…
…might need a bit of magic…

©Pamela Johnson 2009

Variations on a Gray hair

Creeping slowly first one in my twenties
So busy didn’t notice in my thirties
Forties were spent writing silly ditties…

I looked one day and noticed many more
And couldn’t quite decide what is in store
Brown, blonde, red, gray, probly more than four.

Which color wins is looking very clear
No matter how I part it in the mirror
I see reflected Grandma’s hair – so dear. :-)

 ©Pam Johnson 2009