Well Do I Want
I have been really loving writing poetry lately...
That said, I know all of you are getting sleepy thinking about poetry. (YAWN)
Poetry to me is like the ballet.
Oh yes I LOVE the ballet!
Same sating of the arts palette I suppose.
The dancers can certainly do lots of things I have NEVER been able to do.
(But I like to watch!)
No really, please get your head out of the gutter. You can't hear me with those head phones of gutter crap blocking access.
Opera (Not Oprah) is my next art to conquer.
But to listen to "Nessum Dorme" without understanding the actual words Puccini wrote, I have to say it doesn't cut it for me.
So, now I have to learn Italian and French. Probably should brush up on my English too.
Anyway,
Here comes a little poem that I wrote about...Alzhiemer's disease...a family member has it, and I want you to know how sad it can be:It is called Till Incognizance Do Us Part, and be kind, it is still a work in progress.
(Oh and my pen name is Rose Malet.) Please enjoy:
That said, I know all of you are getting sleepy thinking about poetry. (YAWN)
Poetry to me is like the ballet.
Oh yes I LOVE the ballet!
Same sating of the arts palette I suppose.
The dancers can certainly do lots of things I have NEVER been able to do.
(But I like to watch!)
No really, please get your head out of the gutter. You can't hear me with those head phones of gutter crap blocking access.
Opera (Not Oprah) is my next art to conquer.
But to listen to "Nessum Dorme" without understanding the actual words Puccini wrote, I have to say it doesn't cut it for me.
So, now I have to learn Italian and French. Probably should brush up on my English too.
Anyway,
Here comes a little poem that I wrote about...Alzhiemer's disease...a family member has it, and I want you to know how sad it can be:It is called Till Incognizance Do Us Part, and be kind, it is still a work in progress.
(Oh and my pen name is Rose Malet.) Please enjoy:
‘Til Incognizance Do Us Part
A poem
By
Rose Malet
I love you my
darling, my dearest
he said;
she merely smiled turning her
head
preferring memories from long,
long ago;
nothing too recent
to remember,
to know;
no grocery lists,
driving, no wanting new
clothes
she gave him a kiss asking,
Who are you,
now?
he choked back a tear, with a
lump in his throat;
He grabbed her saying, I love you, my girl,
with all my
heart,
she patted his back saying there, there
and there, there,
she cupped her hand around her
mouth
so he would hear her clearly
she said, some days lose me
I still love you dearly;
Then she got up to go sit down
in a chair;
without any idea of who was
who,
what was what
where was where.
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