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Author Topic: Bad Grandma Poetry
Adelaide
Remembrances of Things Bass


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If Grandma can't even feed herself, how did she write this bad glurge? And oh yeah, this came in Plum Comic Sans, centered on the page. I've edited for your reading displeasure!

The Old Woman

When an old lady died in the geriatric
ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it
was believed that she had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through her 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 Ireland.

The old lady's sole bequest to posterity
has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the
News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for
Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been
made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author
of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet:

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?

A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her 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 stocking 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 girl of sixteen
With wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet

A bride 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 woman 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 man's 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 husband is 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 woman
And nature is cruel;
'Tis 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 girl 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 crabby old woman;
Look closer . . see ME!!


Remember this poem when you next meet an
old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within...........we will all, one day, be there, too!

PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM. IT'S SOMETHING
WE ALL NEED TO READ!

--------------------
Natural selection is a beguiling counterfeiter of deliberate purpose. - Richard Dawkins

Posts: 620 | From: Alaska | Registered: Apr 2004  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
Lotta Palaver
Jingle Bell Hock


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Just because they found it in her possession doesn't mean she wrote it. It might have been given to her, maybe from one of her kids or grandkids.

I used to work in a nursing home and I don't think a poem like this would do much to change the attitude of most of the aides. A few were kind and caring, but most of them did it because it was one of the few jobs you could get in a small town if you didn't have much education and it paid slightly better than Dairy Queen.

--------------------
Your ultimate source of superfluous flummery.

Posts: 595 | From: South Carolina | Registered: Jun 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
Adelaide
Remembrances of Things Bass


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quote:
Originally posted by belaglik:
Just because they found it in her possession doesn't mean she wrote it. It might have been given to her, maybe from one of her kids or grandkids.

I suppose it's possible, if it's even true that this poem was found in any old lady's possession. But the glurge does hint that she's the author:

"The old lady's sole bequest to posterity..."
"based on her simple, but eloquent, poem"
"is now the author"

--------------------
Natural selection is a beguiling counterfeiter of deliberate purpose. - Richard Dawkins

Posts: 620 | From: Alaska | Registered: Apr 2004  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
Giselle
Happy Xmas (Warranty Is Over)


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quote:
Originally posted by belaglik:
Just because they found it in her possession doesn't mean she wrote it.

I worked in a nursing home too and we had some serious thievin' grandmas. So that was the first thing I thought of when I read this. [lol]

--------------------
Ralphie, get off the stage sweetheart.

Posts: 2041 | From: Yuba City, California | Registered: Apr 2002  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
mrs.hi-c clown fishies
Happy Holly Days


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Hey! That was the poem that got me posting here a year ago! Chow'd ya--sort of [Smile]

mrs.hi-c "mindlessly drifting through a world of glurge for over a year!"

--------------------
This song has no title...just words and a tune.

Instant Hi-C--Just add water...

Posts: 1620 | From: Michigan | Registered: Sep 2004  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
senshisteph
I'll Be Home for After Christmas Sales


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I was an HCA and have seen that poem pinned on the noticeboard of nearly every home I worked in these last 10 years or so!!

--------------------
七転び八起き
nana korobi ya oki
'fall down seven times, get up eight.'

Posts: 155 | From: Nagoya, Japan | Registered: Jul 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
Revolution 9
The Red and the Green Stamps


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That poem's been around for a few years at least, I had a hippie PSE teacher in high school who made us read this while she preached about making assumptions based on first impressions and how the elderly aren't as well treated as they should be, you know, stuff that would probably have been profound and wise words, but she just had this comedy tree-hugger vibe about her that made her quite hard to take seriously, although to be honest listening in PSE was just not done in my high school any, standard high school procedure round here was that in a class where there wasn't an exam imminent, you would slack off, chat up a member of the opposite sex, take some sort of illegal substance or anything else that could potentially get you high, tippex or glue were perfectly acceptable in the event that nothing better was availible mind, or attempt to sneak out of the class when the teacher went out of the room. [lol]

In any case, I seem to remember the poem being shorter, there are bits I don't remember, although that could be because of the above. [lol] I don't remember it being accredited to a Scottish person either, now we Scots are responsible for a number of atrocities, deep fried Mars Bars for example, but I will not stand idly by and watch my nation be accused of aiding and abetting the clogging up of indexes everywhere! [lol] [lol]

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ChelleGame
We Wish You a Merry Giftmas


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I worked at a nursing home for a brief while.

There was a woman who everyone hated to assist. I felt for her and didn't think she was all that bad. Until I noticed little tricks too gross to mention here. She would also thank you sweetly to your face, but as soon as you turned the corner her voice would call out with -- um -- Effin "C."

--------------------
Michelle

Posts: 953 | From: Ely, Minnesota | Registered: Aug 2005  |  IP: Logged | Report this post to a moderator
   

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