Crabby Old Woman

[clay]

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,
As I make 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 vigour 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!


8)

[Galea]

So true :(

[dawson2k5]

very nice,
thanks for sharing,
Andrew

[Jonmurgie]

brilliant.

[sestrel]

Broad spectrum of creatures, nurses. Its no easy achievement to become a registered healthcare professional, but even the most inexperienced 17 year old unqualified assistant ( who may go on to be a worthy professional) is called generically 'nurse' .....

[Griswold]

Brought a tear to my eye.

[Jonmurgie]

Broad spectrum of creatures, nurses. Its no easy achievement to become a registered healthcare professional, but even the most inexperienced 17 year old unqualified assistant ( who may go on to be a worthy professional) is called generically 'nurse' .....

Think you missed the point of the ode.

[sestrel]

No John, I really didnt, though I can see why you may think that, just pointing out something that I felt the author may not have thought about. I appreciate the sentiment sincerely, its my job. Its an nice bit of poetry all the same.

[Jonmurgie]

No problem :)

[tribe125]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

[sestrel]

I like "crabbit" thats very descriptive..

[rygel16th]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

I agree with you, but I can also understand the sentiment behind it. Unfortunately I'm at the stage in my life where I've spent the last two or three years with my parents regularly going in and out of hospital, and on the whole the level of respect shown for the elderly has been appalling.

At our local hospital it seemed to me that half of the staff were only working there because the sewing factories are now closed. My best mate is a specialist stroke nurse and he has seen a marked deterioration in the quality of staff, particularly in the "soft" skills that one would assume were present and influencing the choice of career in the first place.

[clay]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

.mawkish........................Effusively or insincerely emotional............what a .strange comment to make coming from someone in your profession........... :shock:

[tribe125]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

.mawkish........................Effusively or insincerely emotional............what a .strange comment to make coming from someone in your profession........... :shock:

Not at all. 'Respect of the individual', the theme of the poem, should be a guiding principle for everyone in a caring profession. It's the expression that's mawkish. As I recall, most nurses thought it had probably been written by a well-meaning nurse tutor.

[Neil.C]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

I tend to agree with you.

I am not a fan of mawkish sentimentality deliberately trying to pull at the heartstrings. Definitely a Victorian trait that has survived right up till "Veronica" by Elvis Costello which is essentially the same story.

[clay]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

I tend to agree with you.

I am not a fan of mawkish sentimentality deliberately trying to pull at the heartstrings. Definitely a Victorian trait that has survived right up till "Veronica" by Elvis Costello which is essentially the same story.

You are the most unusual of people .............If you do not like it then do not read it

Others here disagree with you and they have not made disparaging comment at all ............

Do you realise that I did not write it ............a smarter person than all of us did

:shock: :shock:

[tribe125]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

I tend to agree with you.

I am not a fan of mawkish sentimentality deliberately trying to pull at the heartstrings. Definitely a Victorian trait that has survived right up till "Veronica" by Elvis Costello which is essentially the same story.

You are the most unusual of people .............If you do not like it then do not read it

Others here disagree with you and they have not made disparaging comment at all ............

Do you realise that I did not write it ............a smarter person than all of us did

:shock: :shock:

So you post something to be read, but are only prepared to accept the legitimacy of positive comments?

And of course we realise that you did not write it - as I said, I first saw it about thirty years ago.

[Neil.C]

I first saw this thirty-odd years ago, when I was starting out in nursing (although it had the Scottish 'crabbit' in place of 'crabby').

I found it mawkish and condescending then, and I still do.

I tend to agree with you.

I am not a fan of mawkish sentimentality deliberately trying to pull at the heartstrings. Definitely a Victorian trait that has survived right up till "Veronica" by Elvis Costello which is essentially the same story.

You are the most unusual of people .............If you do not like it then do not read it

Yes I am incredibly unusual. :wink: Trouble is you can't tell if you will like something until you read it.

Others here disagree with you and they have not made disparaging comment at all ............

Of course others disagreed, that is the nature of a forum.

Do you realise that I did not write it ............a smarter person than all of us did

:shock: :shock:

I realise you didn't write it.

Smarter person, possibly. Kindly person, definitely.


Poet..........hmmm.

As this is now poets corner here is one of my favourites.






"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).