~*~ Hope~*~ By: Emily Jane Bronte

 

Hope Was but a timid friend;

She sat without the grated den,

Watching how my fate would tend,

Even as selfish-hearted men.

She was cruel in her fear;

Through the bars one dreary day,

I looked out to see her there,

And she turned her face away!

Like a false guard, false watch keeping,

Still, in strife, she whispered peace;

She would sing while I was weeping;

If I listened, she would cease.

False she was, and unrelenting;

When my last joys strewed the ground,

Even Sorrow saw, repenting,

Those sad relics scattered round;

Hope, whose whisper would have given

Balm to all my frenzied pain,

Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,

Went, and ne’er returned again!

********

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

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An Old Lady’s Poem

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt 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.

Goes to show that we all leave

 “SOME footprints in time”…..

 **********************

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, nurses, 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 one day be there, too!

****

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

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~*~ Parting~*~ By: Emily Dickinson

MY LIFE closed twice before its close;

    It yet remains to see

If Immortality unveil

    A third event to me

So huge, so hopeless to conceive,

    As these that twice befell.

Parting is all we know of heaven,

    And all we need of hell.

***

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

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~*~ Song~*~ By: Christina Rossetti

When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me;

Plant thou no roses at my head,

Nor shady cypress tree:

Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet;

And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain;

I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain;

And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,

Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

****

Jyoti Arora
Author of Dream’s Sake, Samsung Mobiler

www.jyotiarora.com

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