The Poetry Thread

A Poem in the style of Spike Milligan...

I Knew That… Didn’t I?

I put my glasses on my head, Then searched for them beneath the bed.

I called my neighbour, Fred McGee—Turns out he’s not Fred… he’s me!

I made some tea, or so I thought, But poured it in the flowerpot.

The daffodils looked quite amused, Though slightly scalded and confused.

My socks are odd, but that’s alright, At least I got my shoes on tight.

Unless of course, I did forget…Hang on, are my feet cold yet?

I met a lady, seemed quite nice, She kissed my cheek (well, once or twice).

“Good heavens, man! Don’t look so blue! I’m your dear wife—been married to you!”

Oh what a life! Oh what a laugh! I use the fridge to store my scarf.

And when I try to fry an egg, I somehow end up in the shed.

But what’s the harm? No need to frown, I’ll keep on smiling upside down.

I may forget, but love stays true—And if I don’t, well… who are you?

Just the same funny little floppy ears, too!

Scruffy is lovely. I remember reading about him. His beautiful face very much resembles Fifi but different colouring. She is a cross beagle/griffon. I'm sorry for your sadness.

Your poem is a poignant reminder to me of Scruffy, my friend and companion of over 18 years, who died last summer. I used to have long one-sided conversations with him about all sorts of things. I miss his company deeply.

Fifi Poem

What happens next, Fifi?

That's my frequent refrain

When I completely forget what I'm doing, again.

I'm in the middle of something,

I don't know what.

I did know just now

But then I forgot.

I look to my Fifi

to help me out

But she just doesn't know

What I'm on about.

She wags her tail,

that makes me feel better

Thank god for Fifi

I can't do without her.

Great poem Rosie. It certainly resonates with all of us who live with dementia, and many others too!

Lost poem

I've lost my best knife.

This has happened before,

It's not on the draining board, it's not in the drawer.

I can't manage without it,

what shall I do?

Look here again,

look there again,

It's bound to be found.

I look and I look but it's just not around.

I sigh and I sigh again,

Why is everything so hard?

Things disappear so often.

It makes me lose heart.

Oh, there it is! I see it!

It was there all the time.

Where was it hiding

While I wrote my little rhyme?

A Haiku... An old broken brain

A memory sparks

Flash! silence once more

I wrote this "concrete" poem this morning. Hope you like it:

Keep it up! Little verses like these could do so much to raise awareness of what dementia is about. I find it extraordinary that you could wake up with a ready-made poem in your head and ten get it onto the whiteboard.

There was an old man who consented For people to call him demented But a word can offend And so in the end He said "that's enough, I've relented".

This strange couple of verses appeared at the same time as the limerick above. A very productive night, but now I'm very tired.

Your brain is Cheddar

Firm, strong and wholesome.

My brain is emmental

Pale, waxy and shot through with holes.

Your brain is a smörgåsbord of Cream Cheese

Light, fluffy and healthy

My brain is a chunk of Stilton

Criss-crossed with veins of bacteria and slightly flakey.

I woke up at 3am this morning with a limerick fully formed in my head. I rushed into the kitchen and wrote this on my whiteboard...

I have a disease in my brain

It gives me no physical pain

But loved ones of mine

Who watch my decline

Have to suffer again and again.

Here's a limerick wot i rote... There’s a very small hole in my brain

Things get lost in it now and again

A name or a place

A word or a face

Or sometimes a well loved refrain. 😉