WALK WITH ME -Poetry

Hold my hand// Please walk with me.

I need your support// Please don’t flee.

There is too much in this life to be on my own.

I can’t do it without you// Don’t leave me alone.

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Walk with Me

by Stephanie Daich

CRAZY AS A BAT -Poetry

CRAZY AS A BAT -Poetry

In the nursing home, I wander,

Sometimes fast, sometimes I saunter.

I get bored, you see,

That’s when I decide who I should be.

They’ve closed their eyes to who’s inside.

At first, it hurt, and I would hide.

But that was no way to live.

I am still full of fire, with much to give.

So with the staff, I look for fun.

I trick and joke, and often pun.

And when they don’t have time for that,

That’s when I pull out 'crazy as a bat'.

I might act like a drama queen,

Demand and yell, create a scene.

Sometimes in them, I found my spouse,

And chase them around the nursing house.

Other times I’m a schoolchild,

As I run down the halls acting wild.

Once I was the God of all,

And demanded tribute as I reigned the hall.

Sometimes in the middle of the program,

I’ll stand and sing and bleat like a lamb.

Once I sat in the administrator’s chair,

I told him to bow and give me fanfare.

With me, they don’t know what to think,

Making me visit more than one shrink.

But during those times of our private sessions,

I pull out the knowledge from my doctorate lessons.

Where the therapists see my knowledge is deeper.

We laugh, and we converse, then I’m returned to my keeper.

With a diagnosis “as smart as a whip,”

I give them a smirk, while by them, I skip.

And they are left baffled, not knowing what to do with me.

And really, the answer is quite simple, you see.

I once was a doctor, a parent, a scout,

But here, no one knows what I am about.

I ran committees, the top of my class.

Eight years in the navy earned me some brass,

But to them, all they see is wrinkles and grey hair.

They’ve closed off their heart without care.

I am not going to be brushed under the rug,

To be ignored and despised, not even a hug.

They will notice me. I’ll make sure of that.

I am not to be brushed under their mat.

So if they don’t have time to sit and learn,

Or if they are gruff and impatient acting stern,

Then I will pull out a new character to play.

The one I will act as the entire day.

But if they want logic, then with me, take a sit.

I’ll tell them my stories. It will only take a bit.

It’s worth it to them, for I won’t act like a loon,

Running around screaming, like a baboon.

We’ll have a great visit, both will learn.

Go back and forth in respect, each taking a turn.

We should be friends, you see,

Instead of me whipping out my bag of crazy.

In the nursing home, I wander,

Sometimes fast, sometimes I saunter

If they don’t pay attention to me,

That’s when I decide who I should be.

WHERE’S DADDY

WHERE’S DADDY

“Where’s daddy,” his daughter cries through the night.

“Where’s daddy,” his precious cries at first light.

He had been there so often to tuck her in,

And always there with his morning grin.

Her face lost some of the sparkle it had,

Because she doesn’t know what happened to dad.

She looks for him in the faces she does see.

But none of them are who she needs them to be.

They buried him in the ground last May.

She thought the funeral was a party to play.

She doesn’t understand where her best friend went,

While the family is sad with lament.

“Where’s daddy,” his princess cries each day.

“Where’s daddy? Why did he go away?”

TAKEN -Poetry

TAKEN

Once a field of green, lush and wonderful;

Now a stretch of asphalt.

Once trees climbed to the lowest cloud;

Now a chain-link fence.

Once a stream branched in several spots;

Now a cement ditch.

Once sky blue and clear;

Now air brown as dirt.

Once we played outside;

Now everyone confined in the house.

Once we reverenced Mother Nature;

Now electronics is our God.

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TAKEN

by Stephanie Daich

YERSINIA PESTIS -Poetry

Yersinia Pestis

Today, we call it the Black Death.

Medieval times called it Blue Sickness.

An epidemic spread by living breath,

But mostly flea vectors flow of viscous

Causing fevers, chills, and extreme weakness.

If diarrhea was all you got

Consider yourself one of the few blessed.

For other’s appendages blackened and rot,

While the growth of buboes progressed.

Yersinia Pestis, it fury behest.

Pneumonically, the droplets carried,

And through fluids, the Bacillus is spread.

-Three forms, unique yet varied.

A bacteria, bringing nations great dread.

And leaving two-thirds of the population dead.

Through centuries, they could only fear the plague

As it brought countries to their knees.

Their knowledge to fight it was too vague.

A pandemic spread by a simple sneeze,

Or when one got bit by an infected flea.

Today, antibiotics can curve this beast.

And we see fewer transmissions.

The death toll has decreased.

And even though Yersinia Pestis is not in full remission.

Thank goodness for medicine and physicians.

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Yersinia Pestis

by Stephanie Daich

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