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.
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.
Thanks Rosie. I don't understand it either. I've always enjoyed poetry and playing around with limericks, but I've never felt inspired to write anything before.
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. 😉