The One Called Dulcie

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 03 Oct 2011
  • 2086 reads
10 comments
 

You taught me everything
I know; forever asking,
“Why?” as I used to. How
did aeroplanes fly, and why
the sea tasted salty? Where
that illusive place was,
where parallel lines just
happened to meet. Except...
so many things I didn’t ask,
only now, it’s too late.

Like, who they were...
the Laurel and Hardy
look-a-likes in your photos?
Medals on your lapel; what
they were for, and what colour –
Mother's bouquet? I’d ask her
myself, but that's another story.

Look...I brought your favourite
chocolates. Is the food good?
Do they sit – talk to you, sometimes?
Read to you, perhaps. How you always
loved your books! They’re good to you
here. Aren’t they? Is there anything
else you need, and how the hell
could you begin to tell me?

Just one more thing; me, as a child –
those, all too many, fits of pique,
and yet, you never lost your temper;
not the once. All that patience
you showed, so, how’s it done, Dad?
And how to cope with my kid; the one
called Dulcie...the one, used to be
my mum.

Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Highhat on
I don't quite unnderstand the way you expressed yourself in the last couple of lines Tina- but I suppose I am a bit slow- anyway I liked this poem- there are so many things you still want to ask the ones you have lost. ;)Pia

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Hi there, Pia. A daughter is faced with role reversal here. I.e. with the task of looking after a mother who has become a child again. In my own mother's case it was early onset Alzheimer's, but there can be many reasons, both mental and physical. I think the clue to the mother's mental state is in the second stanza, which I have slightly reworded, as it was a bit vague as it stood, and of course the last line, where the narrator says, 'The one...used to be my mother'. Hope it's a bit clearer now, and thanks for telling me. 'Slow' you most certainly are not;-) Quite the reverse;-) Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Hi Tina, just read this poem with a passion, I think there are many people that can relate to this one, including myself. When you have to watch someone close to you loose a part of who they once were, it can be deeply distressing, in more ways than one. The problem is, that when you're so close to that person, you don't want to believe that it's happening, even though you know deep down inside it's inevitable. When my dad died, it was so sudden to me, yet everyone else around me knew he only had three days to live. I kept telling them he was walking around and would fight for months, but the next day, he couldn't get out of bed and ended up with tubes everywhere, over the next three days he just deteriorated till he got to the point, he didn't even know who I was. I think it's a wonderful thing to be able to write all this down with the freedom to know that there are others out there, that have been through a similar situation. Your mum must have been an amazing person, not to have lost her temper, especially in times of stress, which I'm sure she had. I only write all this down, because I'm sure you won't mind. Thankyou for sharing your story in a poem about your mum. Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Hi, Jenny. Thanks for sharing this, too. My Dad had looked after my mum for over ten years. She had early onset Alzheimer's from the age of fifty. Then, he himself suffered a massive stroke and was obviously unable to look after her any longer. After time in hospital they arranged a nursing home place for him...unable to move hardly, or even communicate, which is where this poem comes in. By this time, my mother could do virtually nothing for herself and became even more helpless than a child. In the end I couldn't cope...this was way back in the late seventies, and she was sectioned and admitted to an asylum, where fortunately she only lived for another two weeks. In those days, 'Alzheimer's' was another word for 'mad'. Thank God times have changed. Thanks again for reading and telling your story. Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Hello Tina, I didn't realise you had been through so much, with your parents, your daughter and your husband. I'm lighting a candle for coral's health tonight, so I will light two candles for you and your husband and wish blessings for both of you. Take care. Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Thank you, so very much for your words, and for that lovely gesture. May your candles burn, ever bright, Jenny;-) Tina

 

Submitted by alice sunderland on
thought i'd read one that isnt in your cherry orchard and - think it rather oughta be! lovely stuff sss. you really can conjure up atmosphere and images without (it seems to me) going over the top. loved it!

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Alice, how sweet of you;-) Thank you, so very much for your words. You have made my day. Hope you have a lovely weekend;-) Tina

 

Submitted by Highhat on
Yes Tina- my Mum was much like a child too with her Alzeimers. Such a beautiful tender poem. ;)Pia

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
I am so sorry to hear about your mum, Pia. It is a cruel disease, both for the sufferer and their family. I am pleased, though, that you got something from this, and much appreciate your words;-) Have a good weekend, and hopefully a sunny one. Tina;-)