papajacknow20 Loc: Glasgow Scotland

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When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through his meagre 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 Melbourne. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in mags for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his 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 sock 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 boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom 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 man 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 woman is 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 wife is now 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 man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man 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 cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. .... . ME!!

JAW Loc: LA

Very nicely said.

tlbuljac Loc: Oklahoma

really says it all

NOSLEEP Loc: Calgary

Its a great post...

But, we should give credit were credit is due.

"This poem was originally written 20 years ago by Dave Griffith of Forth Worth, Texas. He titled it “Too Soon Old” and put it on his website. Someone stole it, changed the title, made up a story about it, then posted it on the Internet. It’s been floating around ever since. Here, for once, Dave Griffith gets proper credit and we can all enjoy this incredible poem titled as Dave wanted it:"


TOO SOON OLD.



What do you see nurses? .. . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . When you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . .. . Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his 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 sock or a 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 boy of Sixteen . .. . . With wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . A lover he'll meet.
A groom 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 man 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 woman'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 wife is now dead.
I look at the future . .... . . . 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 man . . . . ... 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 guy 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 man . . . Look closer . . . See ME!!

viscountdriver Loc: East Kent UK

It's great

Radioman Loc: Ontario Canada

A good poem that has been 'going the rounds'. There are several stories attached to it - and more than one name for the poem.

While there is no hoax involved in the poem itself - a very good report the different versions and it's origins can be read here:

http://www.hoax-slayer.com/cranky-old-man-poem.shtml

johnbee418 Loc: Manchester Conn.

Bravo

Catfish Loc: Mississippi

I have a certified therapy dog that I take to a local nursing home once a week to visit the residents. I will see every one of them a bit differently now.

the_imaginist Loc: St. Louis, MO

It's nice to read this, in any of its forms, Thanks for posting.

the_imaginist Loc: St. Louis, MO

It will soon be seven years since my Mom passed away. Fortunately she didn't have to suffer in the nursing home too long. About a week before she passed, a couple of people brought in 3 or 4 therapy dogs for the residents to sit and pet. I wish everyone could see the joy and comfort that brought to her face, to her whole being. Thanks Catfish for providing that service to our elderly.

republican Loc: Glendora. Ca

Never read this before. It's just touching to read my dad is 90 my mom is 87 both living in a rest home 2000 miles from me. Brings tears to my eyes. Thank you for posting

Pepsiman Loc: New York City

:thumbup: :thumbup: :thumbup: