Poems

Butterfly People

Author: Audrey Lee


Butterfly people who flit in and out,
Giving me hope and courage to go about,
I hear stories funny and sad,
Some are good, some are bad,
Making me feel I'm not the only one,
Some people stay a while, some are soon gone,
Butterfly people leave impressions each day,
I wouldn't have it any other way,
Butterfly people are everywhere,
You can see them here, you can see them there,
Everybody is a Butterfly at heart,
In this life we all play our part.



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Life

Author: Audrey Lee


You come from the cradle, to the grave,
And as you grow older, you grab at memories to save,
You will look back, with a tear in your eye,
At all the wasted time, you let slip by,
All the things, you should have done,
Not realising every minute, was a precious one,
Different faces cloud your mind, every day,
And wonder, was there any other way?
To live your life, the way you have done,
Now realising, three-quarters of it's gone,
You close your eyes, for just a while,
And start to dream, with a smile ....



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Geese

Author: Mary Winton

Trimar


The geese flew overhead today, to go far, far away

 I wish I could go with them to soar the skies and see the world, no cares or worries, just freedom but

no not now, I’m marked you see I’m clinic bound forever.

 

The treatments over, the getting better starts,

I wish I was rid of the heaviness deep in my heart

“Why me?” I asked the nurse at clinic, she could not answer me

All gone are the strappy tops, to wear down by the sea.

 

The scar is high, this miserable mark, so cover it up and hide it

Pretend that it’s not happened, try to live with it, be natural

The prosthesis is quite heavy, awkward and uncomfortable

But you can get lightweight ones and stick on ones, so that’s alright then.

 

Will it come back, this Cancer in my breast?

I don’t know – no one does.

You would think I was all cried out, but the tears never seem to end

Sometimes all I want to do is rage and scream and shout

I can see no light at the end of this tunnel

Although there must be, I’ll just have to wait and see.



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Goodbye

Author: Mary Winton

Trimar


No sweets for you, the doctor said, your sugar level’s high,

So now the time has come, for us to say goodbye

Goodbye my darling chocolate, the best friend I ever had,

Always there to comfort me whenever things were bad.

 

Goodbye boiled sweets and toffee too, alas this is the end,

But don’t forget you always were a very special friend.

Goodbye to all my biscuits it’s rich tea from here on in,

I’ll have to throw away your home, that special biccie tin.

 

Goodbye to cakes of various kinds, no more can you be eaten,

What shall I do? this is the end, I think I’m truly beaten.

More fruit and veg the doctor said, it’s good for you and healthy,

Oh bog off twat, I don’t want that, I’ll chuck myself off the belfry.

 

Now veg is green and so are grass and hedges, trees and bushes

You don’t eat them, no way, no how, so slow down from your rushes,

Apples, pears, cherries, grapes, bananas and whatever

A right old feast for some poor sod, but not me, not now, never.

 

Just give me back my good old friends and rewind all those years

I’m sure that me and chocolate can cope with all the fears

And biccies too and cakes galore and watch the weight pile on

I’d better not on second thoughts, those days have really gone.



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No One

Author: Mary Winton

Trimar


No one said it was going to be easy

No one said it was going to be fair

No one said it was going to be breezy

But they did say I would lose my hair

 

No one said I would ever be pretty

No one said I would ever be smart

No one said I would ever be witty

But they do say I have a good heart

 

No one said that there wouldn’t be crying

No one said that there wouldn’t be fears

No one said that there wouldn’t be trying

But they did say I’d be around for years

 

No one said that the doctor is right

No one said that the doctor is wrong

No one said that the doctor is trite

But they do say you have to be strong

 

No one knows what tomorrow will show

No one knows what next week will unfold

No one knows what will happen in an hour from now

But they did say you now have control



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Cake

Author: Mary Winton

Trimar


I’m gonna have that cake

Him sitting there on that plate

Yea, him with all his mates

Smiling, smirking, looking great

 

He’s sat there dressed to the nines

With sprinkles and decorations so fine

Keeps looking at me and winking

Little does he know what I’m thinking

 

He’s got his mates around him

All sat there on their plates

Some with sprinkles, some with cream I hope this is not a dream

 

He’s got a light sponge body

And looking mighty fine

Just a few moments longer

And that cake is gonna be mine

 

I’ll take him out to my car

Where we can be alone

Just him and me under the stars

I’ll even switch off me phone

 

I know he’ll make me poorly

I know he’ll make me ill

He’ll throw my sugar levels out the window

He will, I know he will

 

Don’t want your rotten cake now

Don’t care if it’s decorated fine

Not keen on hospital food am I

Fruit salad, oh lovely, that’s mine



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Ah Bless

Author: Mary Winton

Trimar Hospice


She’s not been well

Ah bless

 

Proper poorly she’s been

Ah bless

 

Had Breast Cancer, she did

Ah bless

 

And chemotherapy too

Ah bless

 

It took six months to sort

Ah bless

 

She had some good support

Ah bless

 

Her family and friends did help

Ah bless

 

She’s all better now

Ah bless

 

Got a new job now as well

Ah bless

 

Has got the all clear

Ah bless

 

Time to move on

Ah bless



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Where have you gone?

Author: Marilyn Prowse

St Luke's, Plymouth


Where have you gone to? You're not here any more.

Did you know you were leaving

As you walked out the door?




Did you bother with packing your toothbrush and comb?

Did you know you were leaving

And not coming home?




There's an empty space, an aching hollow.

Did you know you were leaving

And no-one to follow?




Did you know that we loved you? You knew that we might.

Did you know you were leaving

Did you put up a fight?




We'll get better in time. We'll heal, in a while.

Did you know you were leaving

And taking your smile?




We'll think of you often, with a tear and a sigh.

We didn't know you were leaving.

We didn't say goodbye.
















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Kiss

Author: Audrey Lee

St Barnabas' Hospice, Worthing,


At a really bad phase in time

Consent to be my lifeline

So come and kiss my tears away

And wake beside me to a brand new day



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My Sis.

Author: Bethany Welch

st helena hospice


I remember when you'd collect me from school

Our trips to Makky D's were always cool

I remember going swimming with you

Down the green flume but not the blue.

 

I remember the way you'd play fluffy bunnies

So many marshmallow, that was always funny

I remember your laugh and the sparkle in your eyes

I remember at Christmas when we made mince pies.

 

I remember when you dressed me just like

Scary Spice with a hairbrush as a mike

I still have the picture of me on that day

With way too much make-up and hair getting in my way.

 

I remember the games that we would play

I remember that smile every day

I remember you looking out for me

Your little sis, that will always be.

 

I imagine now that we could chat

About boys or make-up, stuff like that

I can see us in your creative room

Crying and laughing like sisters do.

 

I miss a lot of things about you

I miss our times together too

I miss having you to hug and kiss

But most of all I miss my sis.

 

by Bethany Welch



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Around the Bend

Author: Nancy  Aumont

Sweet Charity Hospice Fund


Sometimes we walk along a path

Beneath a cloudy sky

There´s nothing to the right or left

To lift our spirits high

Then, at last, we turn a corner,

And there bursts into our view

A scene of light and beauty,

And the world seems fresh and new.

So always hold this little thought

That cares are bound to end

And there´s a brighter day ahead

Just waiting round the bend.

 



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Lonely but not alone!

Author: Barbara van der Kleij

Sweet Charity Hospice Fund


I am Lonely

You are Lonely

Together we are Lonely

 

I am Nice

You are nice

Together we are

Nice and Lonely

 

I am pretty

you are pretty

together we are pretty lonely

 

 Lets meet half way

so we are lonely

but not ALONE!

Dedicated to Kate Woodland my workshop mate !

 



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War

Author: Audrey Lee

St Barnabas, Worthing, Sussex


Nations at war, at what cost?

Governments counting pound signs, not lives lost!!

Scientists probing to cause further unimaginable destruction,

Whilst goverments talk of nuclear reduction.

The minds of these people simply amaze me,

What kind of humans could they be?

They expect us to understand why,

They have the right to let people live or die.



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My favourite place

Author: Chloe Shearman

St Helena Hospice, Colchester


 

Down at the enormous pond at the Hospice.

It is so beautiful with the lily pads and the fish.

I love the little moorhens.

And the steps leading to some little paths.

And there is some bamboo on the other side of the pond.

With a kitten that lives in one of the houses around.

And all the birds singing in the trees.

And I can just go there and be on my own and sing like the birds.

And the buzzing of the bumble bee.

I could just lie there on the grass and fall asleep with the kitten in my arms.

 



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The Constant Enemy

Author: Dorethy Trewartha

Trimar


Grandmother died from it
aged 60.

Left it too long so

a massive operation

and 2 years of suffering.

 

Mother was afraid of it

never spoke of it

except in whispers.

Cancer was like that,

almost shameful.

It missed her though!

 

I found a lump and knew.

How did I feel?

Impatient, angry!

Too much so to feel afraid.

How dare a lump disrupt my life.

I had my work, a job to do,

no time to be ill

Lumpectomy, radiotherapy.

Then back to work, forget it.

 

Dying never came into it.

 

Seven years on some left-over bit

went walkabout

and invaded my lung.

‘Incurable’ they said,

but ‘controllable.’

 

So it proved but

the warning flag was out.

Work still gripped

but life beckoned.

 

Life in Dorset,

long planned, now realised.

A rich retirement

of new experience

and freedoms once denied.

 

In ‘97

another lump demolished,

another medication

which worked.

Death came closer

but stood to one side.



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An Innocent Kid

Author: Nkosnathi Ndlazi

Ingwavuma Orphan Care

Who has to die?
Why am I dying?
How many years should I have?
To qualify for death?
Whom should I blame?
I am 3 years old, but I am dying
When and how can I reach my destination?

I have never done anything wrong before God,
Before my parents, before community and
Even before myself but I am dying, why?
Before I was born, God was having certain
Goal and my parents were expecting a brighter
Future from me but all that has vanished.

Oh! I wish I was not born rather than
Having a few moments in life yet I guess
People are having nice times on earth but
I am very disheartened to say that I have not
Got that chance to show my character in
The community, who knows? maybe
I was to be a president for our nation
But all that has vanished.

If wishes were horses, beggars may ride,
I wish I stayed longer than I was supposed to
On earth, but I have failed to defeat devil in time




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The Traveller

Author: Collette Waller

Greenwich & Bexley Cottage Hospice


I'd like to say

I've been here and done this

Been there and done that

The fact is I ain't been nowhere

Recently



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Envy

Author: Collette Waller

Greenwich & Bexley Cottage Hospice


I like the way I am, but

Today I looked and saw two people running

That once was me, I thought

Today I saw someone walking their dog

I don't have a dog but I wanted to be walking one

Today I saw an old friend wheeling a buggy

I wished it were me

Last time I saw my girlfriends it was nothing but

The price of Pampers Pureed baby food

Change the subject, I thought

I've never been jealous in my life

But sadly, I am now

I have become impatient

I have become dependent



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Feelings

Author: Collette Waller

Greenwich & Bexley Cottage Hospice


The other day, well

Three in the morning it was

I said to my Dad

Who was awake

I feel so depressed

He paused, then said

Don't use that word

You're not

I said, alright then I'm frustrated



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I Miss

Author: Kay Bates

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


I miss……

our gentle, soft, silken and silver-furred Jibby,

that character Bootsie for comfort and comp’ny,

walks on high mountains, through woods and on beaches,

that warm “fuzzy buzz” that you gets when you teaches!

 It’s fun……

meeting for coffee and shopping with friends,

having a lie-in, some days without end!

e-mailing “funnies” and surfing for hours

searching for bargains – not more books or flowers??

 I have……

life support from a team I can’t cope without,

plans for the future to get out ‘n’ about.

pride in achievements both past and to come,

hopes for more days with bright blue sky and sun.

 I will……

love my partner, my soul-mate, right to the end,

be proud of his strength which seems never to bend.

enjoy his humour, his wit and his cooking,

and wish him the best when for new love he’s looking.

 I need……

people around me who treat me as normal,

who laugh, who joke and try not to be formal;

someone to talk to with no strings attached

to help sort out my feelings without any catch.

 I’m scared……  

not of death itself, but the process of dying;

of too much pain and sorrow, lots and lots of crying;

of being all alone when the time comes to die –

but I’ve never been good at saying goodbye.

 I want……  

someone please to tell me it’s all a bad dream,

and things aren’t really getting as bad as they seem;

to know what none can tell me: the where and how - not when

I’ll take that final breath and never live again.

 I feel……  

desperate to do what I can while I can,

and spend as much time as there is with my man;

so sad to leave him with so much not done

but eternally grateful he’s been my sun.



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The End

Author: Kay Bates

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


Our cat had a tumour,

No rumour.

Just like mine!

With love we helped him go.

Miss him so -

each little sign!

 

I want that peaceful end,

please my friend,

when it's my time.

Be glad my suff'ring's ended,

Not ex-ten-ded

like this rhyme!



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Grey shades to Gold

Author: Kay Bates

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


I found myself in a harsh, helpless, hopeless world;

turned in on myself like a leaf tightly curled;

emotions in turmoil,

plans for the future suddenly foiled.

In a barren, bleak landscape,

all greys without shape,

I sought only escape,

feeling body and mind no longer whole

and so unprepared for this unwelcome role.

Despondent and despairing,

depressed and depressing,

I feared coming months as painful and fleeting.

Lonely and scared, to Sue Ryder I came,

knowing no more than the name.

A new era was born

with all the joy of a bright new dawn;

people to talk to who help and support

and a new inner happiness I could never have bought.

I turned to the golden sunlight of positive life.

Abandoning fears which cut like a knife

I entered a garden bright with a fusion

of colour and clarity,

without weeds of confusion:

flowering friendships,

giving and growing

with budding well-being

and new talents flourishing,

soft blossoms of comfort soothe my soul fraught.

Holistic care is accepted with pleasure,

provided by those who give without measure.

Sharing caring company,

the strength of community

and the power of continuity,

with empathy, therapy, friendship and fun

my day at Sue Ryder is all too soon done.

But how do I feel?

Looking forward to next week with vigour and zeal!



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Simpson's Gap, Northern Australia

Author: Pat

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


Today a butterfly drank from my hand.

A coach stop at Simpson’s Gap

In the dry-tongued brittle heat of the Red Heart.

“Go and see the rock wallabies” said our guide,

“but keep together, go quietly and don’t forget to drink.”

Whooping and shouting they piled out…….

“Quick, quick, let’s see how far we can go.”

“Run, run. I can go further than you.”

Left behind, I turned from the track and sat on a log

And as the torn silence settled down again

I heard the tick-tock sound of the bush.

Then, remembering, drank from my water bottle,

A few drops falling sparkling on my hand.

At once, down came a bright beauty.

Landed on my hand – I felt the flicker of its feet.

It drank, quivering, until the drops were gone.

Then it fluttered the fan of its wings

And then was away, that bright beauty.

I felt the air softly stir on my finger

As the bush settled around me again.

I did not see the rock wallabies

But a butterfly drank from my hand today.



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The Cuckoo

Author: Pat

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


I built my nest with pride and care,

that love might find a dwelling there.

Then came that cuckoo, cancer,

and in it laid her egg

which I, unwitting,

nourished until it hatched

and killed my fledgling hopes and plans.



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Winter

Author: Pat

Sye Ryder Care, Leckhampton Court, Cheltenham


“We’re in the dark of the year.” said the Mother.

“The men are on short time.” she said.

Drifting in the smoke about her

She saw the grey grimness of the months ahead.

The cold, the dark, the pain of chilblains.

The shortage of food.The struggle to live

Until the earth turned

And the dark of the year had gone.


Uncomprehending crouched the children

Eyes flickering with the flames of the fire.


“We’re in the dark of the year.” said the children.

“Christmas will soon be here.” they said.

Like the sparks of the fire before them,

They saw the treats of the months ahead.

The snow and the sliding, cards at Christmas.

Roasting chestnuts and hot jacket potatoes.

And father home early for tea.

And so they would live

And so the earth turned

And the dark of the year was gone.



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The Bridge

Author: Kay Bates

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Hospice, Cheltenham


The bridge lay,

still, silent, sleeping,  

spanning the swift mountain stream

which tumbled and stumbled down the steep-sided gorge.

Through the deluge of soft summer rain it rested,

quiet,

quiescent,

oblivious to torrents above and below.

The sun pierced the gloom and ‘midst the dappled light

soft steam rose from the gap-toothed planks.

So - the challenge - to continue onward when the only foundation was aged frayed rope.

I made him go first, who’s my fountain of strength,

but he woke it from slumber, striding across.

It bounced,

it wriggled,

it danced with his movement

and took an age to settle again!

Slow footstep by footstep

I edged onto its flimsiness

stepping so carefully into the unknown.

It shook,  

it swayed.

I shivered.  

But still all held fast and in my own time

I reached that far bank.

I needed a rest,  he needed a drink

so we sat together in the peace of achievement

discussing our next “expedition”.

Into our capsule of contentment intruded the sound of a distant buzz.

It grew louder,  

came closer,  

following confidently our hesitant steps down the gorge.

Suddenly he was there!

Already halfway across that precarious structure - the postman on his moped!

No hesitation,  no waiting,  no problem:

he had mail to deliver and this was just part of his daily routine.

We two laughed.

I realised my fears were for nothing.

He waved in greeting as he passed by.

So – whatever your goal -with strength and belief,  

in fear and trepidation,

or with confidence and familiarity

it can be achieved!



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Remember Rosemary

Author: Karen Crawford

Sweet Charity Hospice Fund Spain


 

Remember now that far off day

Our lives entwined in every way.

Souls bared , secrets shared

Epistles penned to show we cared.

Many words between us flew.

And then one day with no goodbye.

Released from stress and toil and pain

Your spirit soared.But memories remain

           



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"Are You Sure?"

Author: Arthur Carr

St Luke's Hospice, Basildon


Pale with shock, my darkest hour, upon me is creeping

Deep inside of me there is a feeling

Of pain, of nagging, a volcanic effect.

The feeling is creeping to the nape of my neck.

 

My head! My head! The blood rushes so, I can only see red,

The time has come, the time that I so dread.

To postpone this time of utter disbelief, I sought

To hide, to sleep. Be anywhere but HERE, I thought.

 

The grip of fear, rooted was I, frozen with pain and shock,

Quivering, uncontollable shaking, unable to take stock.

This cannot be happening, it's a dream, when will it STOP?

Broken was my spirit, composure lost. Dead was I, a total flop.

 

My voice, at last, became free from fright,

I smashed my fist hard on the table. It felt just right.

My courage restored I faced them, angry as a bear,

Venom in my words, "Are you sure it's my turn to buy the beer....?"



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but remember this

Author: Joanne Davies

Trimar


I was created perfectly

But fate turned to me

And said, “I have deceived you,

Your time is up, now see:

 

Childish dreams, fragile and weak at the seams.

Grown up plans, crazy trips to far off lands

Where I’d love to be good, but rather be bad.

What’s inside my head, is driving me mad,

Hiding swollen eyes and a wounded pride.

The best years of my life denied;

For all my wild ideas

Taunt me now. Filled with tears

The flesh is weak, the mind saddened and slow.

 

Life goes on and round we go.

Words can’t kill these things, I know,

But man can’t live on hope alone -

It can be cut, all that is grown.

 

I’ll cross the sea for a brighter world

Yet led by Angels, with life’s treasures to behold:

A daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife,

Time has slowly been twisting the knife.

 

There’s a sadness in my eyes -

No-one guessed,

no-one tried.

Some people think I’ll be far away,

Some know, I’m with them everyday.

 

But remember this…

 

I am blessed; I have loved and been loved.

Some friends have come and gone;

Ones who have lied, who said they cared

Left me hurt, left me scorned and scared

But the good ones have stayed, and played, and

Have been inspirational to this frightened little girl.

 

Bless the day you came into my life.

 

I’m looking out for Angels,

Just trying to find some peace.

Is this the right place to stay?

Please, my wings, fly me away.

 

I know Heaven sent and Heaven stole. But Angels

Lead me to some peaceful land that I cannot find inside my head;

The present like I’ve never seen it…

Is this the right place to rest, and stay?

Please let my wings fly me away.

 

Always Heaven is a place nearby.

Heaven knows I’m ready to be found,

So there’s no need to say ‘goodbye’.



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Unwanted Guests

Author: Beverly Ashill

Trinity Hospice


An unwanted purple guest came to my house one night -

She has been there ever since.

How she got in I do not know,

For I was sure my doors were locked.

But there she was, inside me

Vibrant and bold and purple,

Unafraid she made me scared.

I have tried to poison her many times.

Sometimes the poison makes her sleep for a time,

But then she wakes,

Angry and vengeful,

She rapes me repeatedly

Behind closed bedroom doors.

Having no voice of her own

She steals mine, rendering me silent.

Not content with her own company,

She brought a friend -

A chunky blue snake who wrapped herself around me crushing my breath

The snake had babies: I was her womb.

They are my family now:

Should they leave one night,

Slamming the door behind them,

Would I be lost?



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King of The Mermen

Author: Julia Fitzgerald



The clay is drawn into my fingertips.

Organic like the earth.

I'm six again, free to lose myself with no inhibition.

Feelings shaped through the clay.

My inner creation thus born, serene

Fishscaled, King of the Mermen.

Meditative and tranquil,

Inside and outside.



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Boats

Author: Rosalyn  Newman

Lions Hospice


I like fish

I like boats

To go in the middle of the ocean

My boat is green,

I am a yellow figure.

My big friendly fish swims under me, green eyes, only fish with green eyes

I would like to live there on my boat.

Problem is, my husband don't come with me.

He doesn't like boats.



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Poseidon

Author: Mavis Browne

Lions Hospice


Grey clay found under the river;

Repeated marks shaping the head;

As the river flows over the soil

The pale river reflects the colour from the sun.

Poseidon emerges from the soft earth:

Smiling kindly on the children below.



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My dolphin

Author: Alison Fitzgerald

St Thomas' Hospital


My dolphin swimming in the sea,

With her rubbery warm body she makes her way to me.

I was standing all alone with the sun on my back,

With the world's weight on my shoulders;

There was no going back.

This gentle creature's softness reached out to me.

Her smiling face was comforting,

"Throw your problems in the sea," "Be free", she said,

"Go out and enjoy giving.

Have fun, make friends, have laughs.

Life is for living."



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Winter's Lesson

Author: Helen Sanford

North Shore Hospice


 
Talk to me Winter, of your meaning

When the long cold night ...  day
Teach me the lessons of your nature
Tell me why leaves and people decay
 
Youve taken my bright summer colours
And now all around me is drab and grey
Once I could feel life's passion and joy

Now such pleasures go astray
 
"The lesson" says Winter, "is deep in the heart
Beneath all this pain is your treasure
A precious seed of Love has been sown
And the time has now come to nurture
 
The seed of Love is not lost to the bitter snow
Its magic can never be moved
While you remember the loves of your life
You can know your heart will be soothed
 
Now have faith in the season of Winter
And hope in the seed in your heart
Have trust in your love always forever
Love, you and your spirit can never ever part"


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Ray of sunshine in a dark sky

Author: Stacy  Shelton

Indirectly linked to St Francis Hospice - SA


Three year old Thandi

Who had barely begun to live

Looked up into her mother's eyes, for what was the last time.

What were once bright brown eyes were completely lifeless

Now nothing more than a dull grey.

The only thing left a faint smile

As if recalling the few joyous memories of her short past.

Thandi, you see, had AIDS

 

As she breathed her final breath,


Faith felt the warmth against her cheek

Then the tiny lifeless body on Faith's lap

So thin and so sickly, shut her eyes and all was still.

Faith felt that icy hand of sadness and pain

Grip her heart

She had lost her baby girl

The bringer of joy and hope

The bearer of all her secrets

Her one ray of sunshine in her dark sky

She wept like she would never stop

She felt her heart would break

It was almost like someone had stabbed a sharp knife

in her heart.

 

Slowly the large hole in her heart

Started to close just a fraction

Because she new her angel had gone to be with a choir of angels

All the other AIDS babies -

A place where Thandi felt no pain

Where she could get all the puppies and kittens

 She had always wanted but could never afford.

These thoughts comforted her

And as she left the hospital

She looked into the sky

And saw a ray of sunshine pierce through the clouds

It was then she knew, her precious baby would never leave her.

She is the ray of sunshine, in a dark sky.

 



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The Olive Tree

Author: Jim  McCleod

Greenwich & Bexley Cottage Hospice


Six weeks ago I should have died

And didn't

My feet swelled up

This arm was thicker than that leg

I should've died but didn't

This week I walked across the room without a frame

I felt revitalised

Last night I lay awake, moving my fingers

And it felt good

In Greece, when the olive tree won't fruit

They wrap it in mattresses and sacking

Then bash it, knock it about generally

They stimulate a storm

The tree is revitalised

Invigorated

And fruits again



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My First Day in Day Care

Author: Lesley Ankers

St Lukes Hospice, Cheshire


 

What is that loud noise ringing so near?

It's my bedside alarm sounding in my ear.

My body aches, I've a pain in my head

can't I stay here warm and snug in bed?

Not today – I cannot stay there,

it's my first day in Day Care

 

I'm filled with dread and fear.

Just after nine my transport does appear.

The driver and I enjoy a friendly chat on our ride,

through the lovely Cheshire Countryside.

I'm met by a kindly welcome,

making me feel most at home.

A comfy chair, a refreshing cup of tea,

this is a really friendly place to be.

My nurse, she comes and chats with me.

Then a bath - I'm refreshed and clean,

I really am being treated like the queen.

The doctor- she discusses my ills,

and helps me sort out all my pills.

At twelve it's off to lunch with lovely food,

then to further enhance my relaxed mood,

reflexology or reiki are offered to me.

It's watercolour class after another cup of tea.

I have not painted since the age of seven,

but I can tell this is a hobby made in heaven.

Under teachers Pat skilful eye,

I draw a landscape and paint the sky.

Next week I will paint the hills green,

such a lovely country scene.

I've had such an enjoyable day,

all my dread and fears have gone away.

I thank you all, fellow patients, staff and volunteers

for all your love – you are such dears.

There is no limit to your kindness and care,

my pain diminished while I was with you there.

I know you cannot completely take my hurt away,

but you make it easier to live from day to day.

You are such a help in these dark days

with your kind and gentle ways.

Thank you so much for this ray of light,

it really does shine so very bright.

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

help

Author: claire brown

Springhill hospice


Ankles barely moving but hearts revolving

why oh why this empty frame,

Once alive and vibrant full of life and unique longing,

Now lifeless, dead, wanting yet yearning and voiceless,

When will my identity return?



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LIFE ON THE EDGE

Author: Vera Marie Mecl



 

I have lived on the edge

I have lived on the edge

I have lived on the edge

Of LIFE

and death ...

 

I have known fetid fear

and lost my senses

and known despair

 

I have heard angels sing

I have felt their caress

and the comfort they bring

when I allow

silence to enter my being

 

The heart

the centre of my vulnerability

and pain

I fear to lose my heart

to illness again

and regret the loss of wasted forces

 

I have learned to be grateful

for each and every day

I see the colours of life

RADIANTLY

 

I bask in bird song

and the joy of creation's colour

and the embracing gift of FRIENDSHIP

 

I rue for those who cannot love

I rue for those who cannot forgive

I rue for those who cannot forget

the baggage of the past

and the things that cannot last

 

I have learned that I am not the centre of LIFE

not the entire UNIVERSE

 

In my smallness I am made great

by the wholeness of the LIFE FORCE

 

I forget my fear

when I recognize that YOU are near!

 

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life is Important

Author: Mona  Duncan

Highland Hospice


 

Lots of things matter to me

Being amongst people that have the same as you

We can understand each other

I'm the type that likes to have lots of friends

They can take your mind off things

It helps to stop thinking about yourself

All the time

I'm still learning really, you never stop

Family are there for me.

I'm still here so it's not my time yet

I still want to enjoy it with everybody

I learnt things I never thought I would -

Painting, drawing, pottery . . .

I have watched others and seen how they cope

I've learned from them.



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My Darkest Night

Author: Helen Sanford

North Shore Hospice


In the deepest sleep of my darkest night
The dream of the Golden Butterfly came to me
She showed me passages of my life, in images
First born, an egg - pearly white - perfect
 
When the time was perfect, the caterpillar emerged
Searching for sustenance, needing, urging to grow
As she grew bigger so her life grew shorter, shorter
When she could be no more, she died to the chrysalis
 
And the Dream Maker spoke her wisdom to me...
"That part of your life is gone, yes
And a new one about to begin
You must struggle in your release
And you must be on your own
As you cast off the shell of the old life
Your inner beauty as a butterfly will unfold
So as you transform, a new life will be
To be again, totally perfect and complete
And as before, your love and passion
Will radiate over others and you will give again
And you will never be forgotten, never"
 
Sunrise woke me from the sleep of my darkest night
Had I dreamed a butterfly taught me of life and death
That when I die my body will fall away as a cocoon
And my life will go on, that I will forever be...... LOVE


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Memories of a 90 Year Old

Author: George  Bull

St Lukes, Basildon

When we were young the world was full of promise
Prosperity was just around the door
A golden age was on a near horizon
And peace would not be broken anymore
 
Our early years were spent in just surviving
Our parents found that jobs were hard to seek
We children didn't realise these problems
Though we had to make a penny last a week
 
Then came our eager, youthful days emerging
A time for joy, a time for sweet romance
Those happy days of cinemas and music
The hours we spent in learning how to dance
 
But soon there was another war returning
How many fruitless years, no one could tell
So many precious lives would soon be wasted
So many of our precious days as well
 
Yet once again our forces were triumphant
As survivors of the rigours of the war
We found there was a brave new world awaiting
But the world we knew was lost for evermore
 
So now we had an age of man's invention
Wonders that are common place so soon
TV, computers, transplants, double glazing
They even sent a spaceship to the moon
 
Now we have found a shining new millennium
Will the young avoid the errors of our time
What was the past will soon be forgotton
Will they enjoy a life that is sublime?
 
What does the future hold for those that follow?
Will science save them all or seal their fate?
Will they discover life is made for living?
We won't be here-we've learned it all-too late


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Then you Know

Author: Beatrix Hooman

Hospice in the West


Terminal... Hysterical...

 

For an indefinate time your brain stops thinking!  Words slowly get into a numb mind, .... drowning... sinking. Into the depths of the unseeing soul. It feels like your body is turned into an iron bowl.  And that everybody could see this pain, ... this ugliness, ... the blackness.

 

Life... really stopped for a while.  And after million of tears.  You notice, life is still busy going on.

 

Suddenly you remember, small, unnoticed things that were forgotten.  When you wake up... when you see the sun... when you hear voices... when you see flowers and mountains... when you hear the birds... when you feel the wind against your skin... You remember that you are still alive.. Then you Know!

 

Even if you walk slowly... even if your body is aching with pain... even if your mirror image looks like somebody else.. even if needles and medicine take over your life... even if cake doesn't taste like cake... You remember that you are still alive.  Then you Know!

 

 Life goes on - like the sun that shines... like the laughter of a child... like a lovely song on the radio... like the moon and stars at night... like tears rolling over your cheeck... You remember that you are still alive.  Then you Know!

 

You must still live today - for your children... for family and friends... for the beauty of life... for the hope of people... for the breath still in you... You remember that God is still in charge.  Then you Know!

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry

Author: Julie Howick

Hospice in The Weald

“SORRY”


What can we do with them –
those damaged, broken bodies –
sad sorrowful souls
lamenting lives not fully lived?
Would a word have been enough
to stem the fury of a storm
of wrath and bitterness?
Just a word
to hush the growing momentum –
the persistent cries of unrelenting pain?
One small word
we refused to pass our lips –
was not whispered on our breath –
remains buried deep below a vow of care –
hidden beneath legality and fear.
With the wisdom of the years
who are the victims?
Who sheds the tears?
Is there enough power
in a word
to restore a bond of mutual trust?
Even now could honest regret
pour balm on the wounds of grief?
Of has time squandered chance?
Opportunity been lost too far?
Who can atone or reconcile?
Speak the word.
Even now it may be the means
to link our hearts and minds –
to retrieve justice, mercy and love.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fun!

Author: Cara Smith

Richard House Hospice


A fun thing is the ball pool,

Fun!

 

A fun thing is fun games with Josh,

Fun! Fun!

 

A fun thing is Charlie and Lola on TV

Fun!Fun!Fun!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Woof!

Author: Josh Smith

richard house hospice


My puppy is brown

And small

And very friendly

 

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

 

He's soft

And cuddly

And has many playful puppy friends.

 

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

 

I've had him since I was two

He makes me feel happy.

And he's very, very clever -

He can count up to eight.

 

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!

Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Volunteer's view of Hospice Work

Author: John Byamukama

Hospice


   

THE FAMILY OF VISIBLE ANGELS

 

 Hospice team, the visible angels here on earth, that are mend broken hearts of those that have been distressed by life threatening circumstances.

 

To those who had lost hope; Hospice has brought light at the end of the tunnel, and their lives hold meaning now.

 

HIV and Cancer, the most deadly diseases, which have claimed innumerable numbers of people world wide with excruciating pains of all kinds, have now been contained by this team of angels on earth.

 

With the miraculous drugs like morphine, pain is relieved.  This proves that this team of angels have been commissioned by God, who is the author of the gift of life.

 

The slogan of "Hospice is a friend" indicates the acts of mercy and friendship fulfilling the greatest commandment of "love they neighbour as thy self".

 

The comfort fund, given to those who are completely poor, brings out the picture of a Good Samaritan to those who might have heard about that good story in the Bible. This gives good hearted ones, a motivation to donate more to this team of visible angels, so as to enable them to administer to the poor, lonely, rejected and hopeless.

 

Let those who love life to be lived more abundantly, pray for the expansion of this organization, and the springs of its resources be blessed. Let the resources flow freely to Hospice treasury for the execution of this Samaritan's work to Glorify God.

 

Regardless of religion, age, tribe, race, colour and nationality, this angelic team does not discriminate, they serve the people. It is the true spirit that should be a model to be emulated by all who are in the caring professions. It is in giving that we receive! In caring for these people there is so much the team learns from them. Many people have a belief that spending so much time with people who have life threatening illnesses, may make you become miserable and depressed. This visible Angelic team is so lively, happy and hospitable, so some patients say that the mere fact of coming to hospice relieves their pain and improves their well-being, even before they are given any drug.

You give what you have!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WHO AM I?

Author: Julie Howick

Hospice in The Weald


WHO AM I?


Am I the one who reaching out
to touch in faith –
is freed?
Or do I stretch my withered arm
to be healed of
my disease?
Am I the bent and broken one
looking only to the ground?
Seeking gentle healing hands
to make me straight and strong?
I am one who was robbed of
precious things held dear –
stripped, beaten, overcome –
abandoned, alone in fear.
Looking, longing for someone
to stop, have pity and care.
Listening to so many feet
passing closely by –
seeing faces turn away –
blind to the sight they see –
deaf to my pleading cries.

One, only, stops –
stays to see
how he might minister to me.
Kneeling in humility –
pouring grace and generosity
to relieve my grief and pain.
Who is this one befriending me?
He is my neighbour.
Love is his name.
 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Dam

Author: Julie Howick

Hospice in The Weald

THE DAM


If the tears
gathered deep in me
should fall –
it seems a lake would overflow
into an everlasting sea –
carried to a distant shore.
But they do not flow.
Instead, as a dam
holds back the river’s rage,
they are blocked, confined –
captive in disarray –
in violent agitation –
searching, longing for release –
striving, fighting
to breach the walls of self defence –
built so high –
so carefully –
to protect this grieving heart
from those who yet
may further hurt
open wounds that will not heal.
Who can move this bastion
so strong it will not break or bend?
Who can release a cleansing stream –
living water –
to reveal a tranquil pool –
pure, calm, serene?




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Untold

Author: Nina du Toit

Palliative Care Service


 

UNTOLD

 

There's a moon hanging heavy in the silent star studded sky

There's no one to share the magnificence

Of a cold African night turning dawn

The window's down and air flusters through my mind

As wheels spin across African borders

My thoughts turn to you.

 

There's a chapter unwritten in the story so far

There's a door missing and wind blows briskly into corners unsettling the dust.

There are cobwebs of memories that cling and disturb the mind

There's an opportunity for speech, which speaks only in silence

And reverberates in my head with monotonous certainty.

There are horses – black, pawing the soil, which lies untilled

There's a storm brewing and lightning on the horizon

And just here and there – the thought of you

 

You my African daughter, sister, friend & young mother in agony and despair

You my fragile and strong friend so wondrous and rare

You – a life - with nothing to compare

 

Isn't it weird?

Just when you need us certainly

Then we all disappoint you "definitely"

You who chose this African skyline and the greater world to dare………

 

There was the spark of your life, your touch on our world

and a story untold

 

NOW

Hands no longer reach out in greeting

Arms no longer hug

Eyes convey no meaning

 

There's a silhouette against the African dawn horizon

And I mourn enraged the tragedy of you,

who offered me African daughter, sister, friend in faith and trust and hope unashamed         

 

 

The rage boils inside

The mourning spills over

The loss of that spirit called Fiona Nxonga

The African girl, sister, woman, mother. Queen

 

Her only "sin" was living and loving and hoping in Africa.

 

She lived with her boyfriend "Gift" next door and managed the house and tried to "manage" her life.

She ran to my friendship as a fellow countrywoman

To the arms of someone who could at least initially on some geographical level relate…..

 

Relate to her story – of the pursuit of a better life

For herself and her loved ones who were back home living in impoverishment

In Zimbabwe.

 

We greeted in Shona and shared the beauty and grace of the country of both our births.

She invited my daughters to swim off the heat of summer in the pool of the house next door.

She entertained with stories she carried in her heart and soul of her childhood and the flavours of an African Life & a Western cocktail.

 

She ran to assist me – when my sister and husband failed to understand my thinking  - my allegiances – my passion and compassion for all people.

 

She arranged bakkies and helped pack and clean the "rented" house till late and saw me steal away from the "home" my sister and her husband so conditionally afforded me - to another home.

 

She visited and shared her achievements

She was A Queen of Africa

Regal and Proud in her bearing

A dresser of fashion of note.

Hopeful in her outlook

Tearful in her longing for those at "home" to know that she "was"

She could travel without passport / ID across African borders

She could cross rivers in dangerous wild territory

She could smuggle enclosed in "taxis" "trucks"

To live, and improve her life in Africa.

 

She lived and loved in Africa.

 

She arrived on the doorstep of my new home

After some long time

The baby was almost due

She had no where to go.

 

She coughed and spluttered and was thin

She answered  "Yes"

When I asked if she had been to the clinic.

She answered "Yes"

When I asked if she had taken a TB test.

My heart was heavy with fear of the next question I would need to ask.

She answered "No"

When I asked if the test was positive.

My next question lay hanging in faith that it need not be asked.

 

She carried handbags full of tablets

All in yellow packets

She could not tell you why she drank any of them.

She could not tell you why she knew every hospital and clinic in Johannesburg

She could not tell you why she coughed up blood

Or why she went regularly to sit in long queues

For more tablets to line her handbags.

 

She chose her outfits with care.

She never appeared in the streets as the "Losing & Lost Daughter of Africa"  

The "professionals" in government clinics and hospitals  resented her looking so "good" on the exterior of things

They resented her "White" Aunty who was taking care of her and her unborn child, who drove at five in the morning to drop her off for "help" and picked her up from clinics and hospitals for check up, whenever possible

(She was full nine months pregnant – women in Africa are jealous of this coddling and tender loving care.) .

They resented her optimism that all would indeed be great & good because she was loved by a grandmother in rural Zimbawe, by me and by her friends.

They resented her speaking of her love and friendship for the "white man" she discretely never openly named.

They resented her crossing borders in pursuit of a better life.

They resented her for the African man who made her pregnant

To prove that she was fit for child bearing.

They resented that they too, would and could do, what she had done.  

They resented that she too, was a glorious, confused-clairvoyant

Queen, daughter, sister, mother-to-be, friend

Living and Loving in Africa.

 

Her evenings were filled most often entertaining

My three daughters, my German daughter and Anna

(who was HIV positive and had eight children of her own)

She told the stories and tales of her life, her childhood, her travels across borders, her loves, her life.

Anna and girls and I coached her and supported her to the point where a daughter may be born to this Queen.

 

She was delivered to Coronation Hospital

She delivered her daughter Mpho late afternoon

She was returned to the pavement to wait for me to pick her up early the following morning.

She breast fed her daughter (no money in the house for formula)

and struggled with hidden stitches in tears.

She had no guidance on how to care for herself or her child.

She had not been given any surgical spirits and I only discovered the lack of guidance when the umbilical cord was turning septic.

 

We laughed – we cried – we loved her and Mpho.

Anna carried Mpho on her back and we all coaxed and loved Fiona

We rocked them in the sunlight which streamed through the diningroom window.

 

Fiona was thin and proud

She was proud and hopeful

She carried Mpho for visits on public transport to clinics

She dressed her baby "Queen" in glory.

She adored her and loved her and struggled as young mothers do.

 

She coughed and spluttered

She lined her handbag with pills and disinformation.

It would seem no-one could explain

"the matter with Fiona"

 

Anna – discovered the stash of yellow tablets in brown paper bags during one of her spring cleaning sprees.

The house was full to capacity

Danie / Lelanie had joined our family as they looked for themselves.

Two bi-polar friends caused chaos

Trying to find understanding.

 

I was dismayed

I was astounded at the discovery

Of tablets untaken

I was outraged

At explanations not provided

Insights not afforded or gained

At "Patient Rights" violated.

 

 

 

 

I was Aunty

To take care

To probe

To question

To trust

 

She left to show off her daughter

To the father

Who had taken another.

He would buy blankets and booties

And maybe a pram

To push the baby Queen

In regal transport down the streets of the upmarket suburb.

 

She did not return

Taxis delayed transport we all thought.

Staying over with "sisters" to share the joy.

 

She was returned

Baby wrapped and in clean nappy.

Dumped at the gate.

Slung out of a passing car

Like a bag of bad news.

 

The girls phoned Mom

Fiona's back

She's bad Mom

Please come home quick

 

"Call the ambulance"

"I'll be there now – but I am far away"

"Is Mpho all right?"

"Yes – she looks fine"

"Keep her at home"

"Send Fiona with the ambulance"

 

So  - off to home.

Ambulance took her to Helen Joseph

She was abducted and raped

A set up, by a jealous girlfriend, of the father of Mpho.

 

 

At Helen Joseph

Thank God – found Fiona

Waiting to attention – five hours

Only then discover

Insensitive doctor

Wrong hospital

Woman's issue

To be dealt with by Coronation for women.

Long wait  

Back in Ambulance

Off to Coronation.

 

What about Mpho?

There's no milk at home.

It's after hours – no shops open.

Ask for milk.  Not possible. Dispensary closed..

Return home – tell Anna – take care Mpho and all the girls crying.

 

Back to Coronation.

Find Fiona

Sitting in a ward – waiting in government issue open backed issue..

Nurses can't let her rest in the open bed.

Fight with them – what is the delay.

"She is not bleeding so badly – file missing on lower floor.

In any case who are you to her?

Why are you "Involved"? "

God !!!!!!!!!!!

 

Thank God – doctor pauses on round to listen and intervene and ensure a bed in the chaos of pain.

 

"Can Mpho join her mother?

No

What can we do – there is no milk to feed the child ???

Shops are closed?"

No response – no help – no support.

God!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Petrol – borderline – no money coming in.

 

Disaster looming on all fronts.

 

Faith – hold on.

Days pass

Fiona's home – life moves on.

Scared to walk alone.

Scared to go out.

Scared Queen to live.

 

 

Conquer fear – get out there – live life African Queen.

 

Press – dress – perform

Hold head high

Hold child close to heart

Be the African Queen you are.

Trust – faith – belief.

 

So on you go.

So on we went.

 

Again upheaval and removal

Home lost to the turn of tides.

Accusations and misunderstanding

You cannot even take care of yourself and kids!!

And these people!!!!!!!!??????

Separations and partings

 

So on you go

So on we went

All our separate ways.

 

Time to time

Visit – call

How you Fiona & Mpho?

Still coughing and spluttering.

Are you going to the clinic?

Yes.

Take the medicine – take care – we love you.

How you Aunty Nina and girls and Alex and Paul and Brad and all?

All fine.

 

Phone call – Aunty Nina – they say I have TB.

Well Fiona – at last you know.

Are you going to the clinic regularly?

Are you taking medicines?

Are you taking care?

What about Mpho?

 

Yes – thank you – Yes

 

Visit in March / April 2005 just after phonecall

 

Fiona & Mpho and sisters and daughter and friend in tow.

Looking weak and thinner

Eyes huge and soulful and sad.

Great to see you (My heart bleeds)

So kind of you to bring her

You're a man of words and DEEDS.

 

Aunty Nina I'm HIV positive.

There's hope you know – we won't leave you – we won't let you go.

Not without a fight

We'll do all in our might.

There's anti retrovirals

People recover and live you know.

We love you – you know – don't give up hope – don't let go.

 

I want to go home to see my grandmother in Zimbabwe

I miss her so.

There's no food even there.

She's old and can't care

For you or Mpho.

You stand a better chance here.

 

Get on a programme

Get well and then go to greet her and love her and be with her in Africa.

 

Hope – smiles – faith – tears.

 

So on you go

So on we went

 

 Find out about programme for Antiretrovirals

Then Fiona's in clinic – CD4 count very low.

Next slapped into hospital. Transferred to another and then again without any notice to anyone else .

So far – so distant – so removed!!!!

Treatment for TB.

What about the HIV/ AIDS?

Her CD4 counts low you know.

Nothing in her file- can't trace any record of HIV/ AIDS

Confidential you know

Can't treat without voluntary disclosure.

Even then – don't have the resources / facilities for Anti Retrovirals in any case.

How's this when there is such a strong link between TB and HIV????

 

Just the way things are you know!!!!

 

Do you counsel her?

Do you talk to her – do you try to help her???????

God??????

 

Yes well – we try you know.

 

Visit her – little slip of a soul – with great big eyes.

Is that you – can't get off the bed to wash.

We brought you love and biscuits and cream and soap and a face cloth.

To make you feel better.

We love you – get better.

Let me wash your face and hands.

Don't use the water from the basin tap – another unvisited patient screams.

So sorry – just trying to care for one.

Ask ward nurses for the way to the bathroom.

Weird request – what you want to do there?

Just help her to bath – give her some care.

Make her feel better – try to do something / anything

Powerless / defenceless -  

patient and family / friend / sister / mother / carer you know.

Bathe her & talk to her & show her in the mirror how beautiful she is.

Show her that she should live – fight to live.

Remember your stories – remember your life.

Gonna bring you a tape as soon as you're better.

Tell your story – tell the world about your life.

You're such a great story teller.

You relate with such passion and joy.

You'll tell the story and live to love and nurture and tell the story to Mpho.

Hope – please cause that's all we can offer NOW

Hang in there – we'll get there – soon we hope.

Leave her in thanks to nurses , in faith and prayer.

 

Where to now?

We talk and network and try to bend powers that be.

It has to be recorded in her file or no action can be taken.

Track the file/s and tests from the clinics just before the hospitalization>>>>

Mission impossible. Not a doctor >>> Not a relative>>>

Confidentiality and disclosure you know.

 

Her honourable, true and stand by friend

Desperate

Try bribing and coercion

Get the matron on your side.

Please help us save her

Send her for the CD4 count.

Fruit and biscuits and flowers.

Yes  - O K

Please write it in the file!! Please so that it is REAL.

Please set a date.

Set for 5th July 2005

CD4 Test a nearby clinic

Then refer with date to Helen Joseph.

 

Relief – joy – maybe something will now be done.

Just wait Fiona – we're working on it

Just hang on – we'll get there with you by our side.

Hope, faith, joy, tears.

 

Date is set.

Getting on with life.

Because we must go on.

Calls - Remember to push the system.

Call the matron

Has Fiona been sent for CD4 test.

Matron's not available on 4th July.

On a training course for two days.

No one ever told us – the nurses.

She has thrush and tests for CD4 cannot be done reliably.

(What are we to know – is this true – or just delay)

No time to call – working at life and living and getting by.

Worry and wait – try pushing again on Monday 11th .

Hectic Monday – don't get around to pushing.

 

Work on Tuesday  12th

Get through lot of lots to be done.

Take a break in your mind.

Think of Fiona.

Call for matron.

Not available

Leave message

Call later again

Must push……….. must push ,,,,, get Fiona there.

Not available again

Put me through to ward

At least find out how she is

At least let her know we're gonna get her there.

 

Hello – What – Oh - Of Fiona Nxongo – that one. ……… !!!!!

Very bad news

What – don't tell me

Very bad – she passed away on Saturday 9th July 2005.

We called Yoeville police station to inform family & friends.

God – our numbers were in her file!!!!!!!!!!

Her story  is over

It, like so many millions of others, won't get told.

 

Her only sin was that she lived and loved and hoped in Africa.

 

Your daughter lives on.

Another orphan in Africa

Her Queen and mother

Has passed beyond her reach and understanding

May she know one day your life and love and hope and story in Africa

May she know how you danced and laughed with joy and glee.

How she loved LIFE and her daughter

May she live to the Glory that she your daughter with HIV / AIDS is and

Love and Hope and rewrite the story of

A Queen, a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend, a woman in Africa.  

 

Fiona  Nxongo of rural village in Zimbabwe

Your story lives

It shames all the systems

All the officials

All the governments

The local and global powers that be

who don't care

That you lived and loved an African Queen in Africa.  

 

And now

So on you go – crossing spiritual boundaries in Africa

So on we went crossing purposes in Africa.

So we all go on………..

 

I ran from work – on hearing the news.

Note I will be back – have to get it all out.

Will be back tomorrow when it's all out.

But it is never going to be all over and out.

 

We love you and mourn you – Nina, Jeudis, Nicolle, Zantelle, Alexandra from Germany, Paul, Anna, Brad  and many many more.  12 July 2005



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

for sameer

Author: Patricia Luck

Hospice Witwatersrand


 

Too young to die

Too old to hide

Just time to me

And learn how to fly




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dissertation on a delightfully delicious dessert designed just for me

Author: Kay Bates

Sue Ryder Care, Leckhampton Hospice


Wow!!!!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Friend

Author: Joan  Summers



I have a sister-in-law dear to me,

She has taught me a lot about the big"C"

 

Positive of thought and steely of will,

Watercolours, silk painting - all done with GREAT  skill.

 

These are talents she knew not she had,

So many good things have come from the bad

 

We talk on the phone for an hour at a time,

She tells me her news and I tell her mine.

 

She tells me she still has a lot of "damage" to do

and knowing my Mona, I'm sure this is true.

 

So many milestones, for herself,  she has set,

So far,  one by one,  all have been met.

 

She says "She has a lot of diel in her yet"

So please, dear Lord, give her the TIME.  


 

 

 

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Spider Inside

Author: Dorothy Trewartha

Trimar


The Spider Inside
By Dorothy Trewartha

 

She’s lurked in my body

For too many years

Growing bigger and scarier

Just like my fears

 

She sits in a corner

And sends out her thread

To my back, to my lung,

To my liver, (my head?)

 

“Why should it be me?”

Why not?” she replies,

“Someone else didn’t get it

and everyone dies.”

 

“You have many blessings

and faced up to your fear

I’m a very slow grower

which is why you’re still here.”



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Why?

Author: Valerie Fraser

Highland Hospice


 

We were a family of five

Mum, Dad and two brothers

Disaster struck, why?

Loving father taken, why?

Six months? a year? no six weeks

Why? Why?

 

Years have past by,

Yes, Daddy's pride and joy

Why!

Yes! all clear, no more.

No, not again, why?

Chemo, pain, sleepless nights

Why? what have I done?

 

Yes, all clear again -

But no, still pain.

Why, why pain?

OH no again, it's back

It escaped, the little bug(ger).

No chemo, but radio this time.

 

But it's not only Daddy's pride and joy

But many more loved ones over the world

All asking the big question -

WHY!!

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wings, my angel...

Author: Ângela Simões



 I wish I had wings to fly with you

But wings is the one thing I don´t have

I wish I had wings to grow

But if I ever get my wings, I still don´t know

I wish I had wings to live

But without wings I continued forward

I wish I had wings to know you

But I knew you even witheout my wings

I wish I had wings...I wish I don´t miss you so much

I wish you don´t flayed away so soon

I wish I have you still with me

Although I keep growing, living, smiling

And wishing that some day I have my wings

To fly right back to you!

My grandfather was diagnosted with cancer in January 1993. He died in December of that same year. He is my angel...forever.



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Thoughts of a Hospice patient

Author: Harriet  McCaul

Lindsey Lodge Hospice in Scunthorpe, DN17 2AA


The founders should be proud indeed

this Hospice cares for those in need.

Our thanks to those who volunteer

their time and cars to bring us here.

 

When welcomed with a cheerful smile

most folks are glad to stay awhile

And other people pleased to meet

once settled in a comfy seat.

 

The staff and helpers then proceed

to try and tend each patients' need.

They may a nurse or doctor be-

or someone who makes cups of tea.

 

A midday meal the cooks prepare

and we have several choices there

of food, well cooked and served aright,

in dining room that's clean and bright.

 

Some people find they still have skills

to make nice things despite their ills.

A craft instructor shows the way

to fill spare time throughout the day.

 

The drivers come back after three

when we have had some cake and tea.

So "thanks for all your care" we say

before we go our homeward way.

 

If you are living all alone

and cannot go out on your own

to mix with others is a pleasure

each visit then is time to treasure.

 

A bedded unit now is here

for those whose ills are more severe

or need to have some respite care

so carers can some free time share.

 

Supporters of the hospice know

from little acorns oak trees grow.

So grateful thanks we give to all

for contributions – great and small

 



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what is a hug

Author: jan McClaren

the rowans hospice


 

      
The world has changed in many ways

Some obvious to see

But other changes have happened too

Some quite subtly.

 
Thankfully the days are past

When a stiff upper lip was expected

But now emotions can be shown

Without fear of being rejected

 
Think of when a baby is born

The first thing it gets is a cuddle

Why does that gesture get lost?

Why is life a struggle?

 
There isn’t a person who has a life

That’s  free of stresses and strain

Everyone has their problems

And no-one can stop that pain

 
Simple things can make a difference

Perhaps a hug is all it would take

It’s easy to give and free to do

But what a change it could make

 
Because a hug can say you’re happy

It can even say you’re sad

A hug can even prompt a tear

To relieve when times are bad

 
A hug can say you’re sorry

A hug can show you care

A hug can say you’re not on your own

Or many thanks for being there.

 
So no matter what ups and downs in life

Happen to come your way

Be sure that if you’re given a hug

Remember it through the day

 
Because a hug can mean so many things

Whether you’re happy or whether you’re blue

Remember it means you’re not on your own

Someone somewhere is thinking of you.

 
By Jan McClaren

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What Happened to those Summer Days

Author: Samantha Brock

St. Lukes Hospice, Basildon


 

What happened to those summer days?

In the garden watering flowers and feeding the fish in the pond

Going to the chocolate shop in Cornwall

Eating lunch in the small caravan

That you and Grandma used to rent during the hot summer months

Remember when I got my first porcelain doll?

I’d sit in my room and played with it for hours

And then we’d go and feed the dog next door

The digestive biscuits that you always kept in a special jar

And then we’d eat some ourselves

What about the times when you would sit and watch me

While I ate the pastries that Grandma made

And all this time, we thought that it would be the same everty summer

But we never expected we’d have to say goodbye so soon

And while you’re lying in your bed, remember this one thing

I love you Granddad.

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WHY ME?????????

Author: Raja Laxmi

Bangalore Hospice Trust


WHY ME?????????

There I stand
At the end of the road.
Dazed and tired
I look back
It is all passed and gone.

I try to recollect
Where was I
Who brought me here
I recall someone dragging me.

I look here and there
There he stands
Smiling at me
With rope of death in hand.

Neither I smile back at him
Nor do I cry
My emotions are all gone
Gone with the wind of time

What more is left for me
I try to unwind my film
My own life’s film
I get lots of ifs and buts,
Lots of who and why me?

I try to get the answer
I try to find god
But where is he?
I can’t find anybody
Again I look around

There he stands
Smiling again
My buddy through my last journey
I wonder how shameless
Not liked, is tortured, but still he smiles
He is my buddy till the end
Whether I hate  or like him

So I gather some courage, some strength
I put forward all my questions and why me?

Politely but firmly he answers,
Like all other things in the world,
I exist
Your buts kept me away so long
Your ifs brought me to you
There is only one? Who I know.

I will answer to your last question
Give me another place to stay
Or just show me a person
Who will not question
WHY ME??????????

Rajalaxmi




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I Watched You as You Died

Author: Kogi Singh

Chatsworth Regional Hospice Association


I watched you as you died, Mother -

my Ma, suddenly re-christened Marmie in our pretentious teenage years.

How you laughed then, your fancy caught by your love

of wailing bagpipes and your new Scottish-inspired name!

 

Mother. A single word that defies an all-encompassing meaning,

that cannot describe the softness, the warmth, the smiling eyes and

open arms. The essential you.

 

I heard your struggle to breathe, the harsh, raucous sound

an abrasive intrusion into the stillness that surrounded us,

that held us unmoving, whispering, as though we might disturb you.

But you had already gone far away.

 

I held your hand, stroked softly through your thinning grey hair

unable to ease your pain, remembering other times

when you held me close, bathed my fevered cheeks and crooned softly

- mesmeric, comforting, a soothing vibration

like the heartbeat that thrummed through me as I nestled

in your womb.

 

I prayed you would open your eyes, see me before you go

let me show you how much I love you.

But you lay there, locked in stasis, no return pressure to hands

that held on to you, unwilling to let you go.

Only the stertorous, laboured breathing told us you were still there.

 

And then, shockingly, silence.

You opened your eyes, turned your head, looked at

the photograph of Papa on the wall beside you

and died.

 

I understand now how much you wanted to go.

It has helped to bring a quiet acceptance and even joy.

Be happy, Mother, and thank you.

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A MOTHERS LAMENT (JUST ONE MORE DAY WITH STEPHEN)

Author: IRENE GRAHAM

SWEET CHARITY COSTA BLANCA SPAIN

Why do the birds still sing in tune?

Why do the stars still shine by the light of the moon?

Why does the sun still shine in the sky?

And the wind in the trees still whistle and sigh?

 
Why do the rivers still flow and the fish still swim?

Why does the dawn still break and the evening light still dim?

Why do the flowers still bloom and the plants still grow?

And the leaves on the trees still quiver and blow?

 
Why does the rain still fall and the thunder still roll?

Why does the fire give warmth with flames from the coal?

Why does my heart still ache and my tears still flow?

When it has been so long since you had to go.

 
I hear your voice in the birds’ happy tune,

I see your face in the light of the moon,

I wonder where you are in the vast blue sky,

And when the wind blows strong, it is I who sighs

For the sight and smell and the feel of you,

For your sparkling eyes and your mischievous smile too.

 
If, just for a day, you could descend upon a wishing star,

Or dance down a sunbeam from oh, so far,

I’d kiss you and hold you and hug you so tight,

All through the day and all through the night.

 
We’d visit the park to play on the swings,

The slides, the rocking horse and all your favourite things.

We’d fly your kite, have a picnic  and play football

With laughter and fun , with never a care at all.

We’d visit the aviary to see your favourite birds, then paddle in the stream,

And, of course, on the way back, we’d buy your favourite ice cream.

 
Then back to home we’d wend our merry way,

And laugh and excitedly talk about our day.

We’d get out the cards and play a game of Snap,

Then Ludo, Snakes and Ladders and all of that.

I’d read you a story and we’d sing rhymes and songs

And you’d fall asleep in my arms before very long.

       
Then in the morning you’d have to leave me once more,

You’d climb on a sunbeam and into the clouds you’d soar.

I’d shudder and cry and be lost in my grief and pain,

And know in my broken heart I’ll see you again

Someday when my life comes to its end.

Until then, my lovely little boy, my heart will never mend.

 
Your park is now in Heaven, and you’ll swing on the stars,

You’ll skate over the rainbow and pass right by Mars.

You’ll slide down the moonbeams and race round the sun,

You’ll jump and bounce on the clouds, and have so much fun

With your many playmates in the sky above,

Where you’re guarded by Angels with oh, so much love.

 
And as for me, I know the birds will still sing in tune,

And the stars will still shine bright in the light of the moon.

The sun will still shine in the vast blue sky,

And the wind will still whistle in the trees and I will still sigh.

You will always be there beside me wherever I may be

In everything I hear and everything I see.


 
Irene M Graham

 


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Tear and the Telescope

Author: Kate Woodman

Hospice in the Weald


The tear said to the telescope

"People see more through me"

The telescope replied

"Oh really, how can that be?"

"They see deep down into my soul"

The tiny tear replied

"I show sorrow, grief and scars

While you see only distant stars"

"But I can magnify the world"

The telescope replied

"You are just a drop of dew

In someone`s crying eyes"

"I don`t agree", the tear retorted

I can help to get things sorted

Open floodgates of disaster

Or run with joy and fun and laughter"

"But I can see a million stars

And planets - Venus, Saturn, Mars

I can cross the seven seas

So I`m the greatest, if you please!"

"But I am precious to the world,"

The tiny tear went on

"I show compassion, grief and pain

Helping people take the strain

Of all the things they have to bear

While all you do is stand and stare"

"Alright", the telescope conceded

"I guess you`re right

But tell your eyes

When tears have dried

That I can help to open wide

A world of joy in secret skies

Hidden from the naked eyes

So let`s agree to work together

You show joy and pain and pleasure

While I show galaxies and treasure"

"Oh, yes!" the tear replied

"I see your point,

We both are blessed by God above

Who sends us different gifts of love"

And so the two walked hand in hand

Throughout the world

As God had planned.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What Makes It Bearable

Author: Ken Brewer

Pain Medicine and Palliative Care at UU and VASLCHCS


WHAT MAKES IT BEARABLE

   
Outside my window, the sky shines,

deep as I can see, blue.  Blue.

 
Closer, last night’s snow melts

from black and gray maple branches.

 
Closer, pine siskins cling to thistle bags

and peck seeds through the thin mesh.

 
Closer, dried water spots from blowing rain

glisten on glass like jewels in the sun.

 
Inside, the open blinds cross my vision

like the lined notepad on which I write.

 
Closer, the small orange tree on the table

has shed another leaf though the oranges thrive.

 
Closer, the stack of papers and books

balance like desert rocks, waiting.

 
Closer, the cell phone needs charging,

and the calendar shows yesterday.

 
Deeper, my hands wrinkle before me,

purple spots, blue veins, thin.  Thin.

 
Deeper, my pancreas and liver churn, my stomach

gurgles, while chemo keeps my cancer entertained.

 
All around me, the love of family and friends,

a tangible aura, lifts me into light.  Light.

   
            K. W. Brewer

            Providence, Utah

            1/12/06



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

escalier

Author: ASTRID GUILLERMIN

CENTRE DE SOINS PALLIATIFS LYON SUD


Escalier

 

Comme il descend vite l’escalier en spirale.

Tout est rond, interminable, entêtant.

Dans ses bras, des feuilles et et des cahiers

Chargés de contes, de maximes et de poèmes

 

A chaque marche descendue, une feuille s’enfuit, s’envole

 

Que faire de ce trésor lorsque la symphonie stridente et

Sombre à la fois , grise et cruelle , déchire murs et jardins

Comme du carton ?

 

L’escalier tourne encore et toujours et l’homme court

Bientôt la fin ; voici l’abri.

Il ne reste à l’homme qu’un seul poème qu’il pose sur la table.

 

Poème d’amour luttant de tous ces fruits contre l’entourage maudit

de la poussière et des coups.

 

Puis les familles arrivent dans la nuit,.en quête de sécurité .

Elles lisent le poème et le murmurent.

Et les mots d’amour, petit à petit,  éteignent la symphonie maudite

Et demain existe, ce soir.

Il y aura un nouveau destin.

 

 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Astrid Guillermin

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PALLIATIVE CARE

Author: Job Wekesa Wamukaya



Thanks to Palliative care approach

The approach has no comparison

Palliative care transforms life

It gives hope to the hopeless

Palliative care is a "U" TURN                                                   

It is a source and a well of springs of Hope

 

Palliative care has improved quality of life

It is a  granary to reap from

Palliative care relieves suffering

Pain is managed to nothing by Palliative treatment

 It provides  walking aids, wheel chairs and beds

It is a source and a well of springs of hope.

 

Palliative care for those diagnosed terminally ill

Life is threatened by the illness to no where to turn to

Palliative care team has opened hands to receive you.

No visitor comes to your door step, no friend

Nor relative knocks your door

Palliative care team pays you a visit

It is a source and a well of springs of hope.

 

Palliative care makes symptoms meaningless

Vomiting, diarohoea, itching skin, constipation

 Physical, psychological, spiritual problems

Palliative care controls them all, it is an answer

It is a source and a well of springs of hope.

 

Palliative care a wonderful approach

If I were a musician I could compose you a song

Palliative care is like salt for food, It tastes

It is a lit lamp in the darkness of terminal illness

A forest of problems in terminal illness

Palliative care is a path through that forest

It is a source and a well of springs of hope.

 

Palliative care in bereavement

Dying is borne normally.

The bereaved have support to cope

 It offers this indiscriminately,

Readily available and timely support

Just like breast milk

It is a source and a well of springs of hope.

 

 

GOD BLESS YOU


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For All at Willowbrook Hospice

Author: Mary  

Willowbrook Hospice


Not everyone

can understand

or offer us

a helping hand

 

Nor lend an ear

when we feel low

They're far to busy

They HAVE to GO!

 

But there's a place

that welcomes us

Warts and all

Without a fuss

 

A helping hand

is guaranteed.

They meet our each

and every need.

 

Listening ears

Allay our fears

and chase away

the threatened tears



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janus

Author: Edward  Gittens

Trinity Hospice


Janus dangling

Like Damocles' sword

By a hair.

 

Swinging

Outlook on life

Negative.

 

Driven by dark

Brain impulses.

 

Swinging

Outlook on life

Postive.

Driven by purgative light

Receptors.

 

Between the negative

And the positive

Is life's totality.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fluffy

Author: Olive Levett

Trinity Hospice


She was alone and so was I,

So alone we both could cry.

I called her Fluffy, she was beautiful;

So I made sure her dish was full.

We grew to love each other more each day,

So I knew she'd come to stay.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stepping Stones

Author: Kate Woodman

Burrswood, Independent non surgical hospital specialising in Palliative Care and Respite care ...


Courage, mon amie!

Life evolving,

Creates new rhythm.

Stone to stone:

Pattern emerging,

Finding refuge.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life and Death

Author: Bill Wallder

Trinity Hospice


In a cracked brown shell

Is life's beginning;

Next step, survival.

Too late!

 

The weakened shell,

Spotted by

The wicked eyes

Of the predator,

Already lies inside

Its powerful jaws.

Too cruel!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Scottish Eagle

Author: Patrick McGowan



The Scottish Eagle

Perched on a rock.

Eyes alert,

Watching his prey.

 

In the arch of his neck

Lies all of his pride.

 

Majestic in flight,

On outstretched wings;

As I would like to fly,

To  glide and soar up high.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flow

Author: Gill Thomas

Trinity Hospice


The river flowed,

Holding me;

I focus on the infinite,

Safely framed.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being Bathed in the Hospice.

Author: Gill McEvoy

The Hospice of the Good Shepherd, Backford, Chester


 

Your hands tender for my safety, you helped me

into luxury of heat and foam,

told me there was lots of time, enjoy.

 

Each burst bubble was a letting go of pain.

I took the time you said I might and used it well,

cruising islands of warm sand, soft ocean,

woodlands moist with leaves and mist,

summer fields of berries winking out

from straw, came back at last

to you wrapping me in huge hot towels.

 

It was like those nights of perfect sleep -

Restful. Starless. Peaceful. Deep

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fred is dead

Author: Sue Lattey

Phyllis Tuckwell


I'm sorry to hear that Fred has gone.

Gone where?

What do they mean?

Has he gone for a walk, gone abroad,

to do the shopping or to the pub?

Why can't they say that Fred is dead?

 

I'm sorry that Fred is no longer.

Is no longer what?

No longer fat, no longer thin,

No longer bald - he'd be pleased about that.

Perhaps he has shrunk an inch or two.

THEY just can't say that

Fred is dead.

 

Have I heard right that Fred has passed away?

What way has he passed, and does it matter?

Unless he's passed the way home and is lost.

I just don't like these euphimisms.

Please admit that

Fred is dead.

 

What! Fred's passed over?

Passed over what?

Passed over the road or the river?

He could never run, so it's not the baton in a relay race.

What they mean is

Fred is dead.

 

I regret that Fred has passed on.

I know that Fred has passed on so much to me.

I have the house, the car, the debts are all paid.

Fred taught me to mend a fuse,

to change a plug, to change a wheel and maintain the car

Why regret that?

No I'm pleased.

What I regret is

Fred is dead.

 

I hear that Fred is singing with the angels.

We all know that Fred couldn't sing!

He's gone upstairs, gone to heaven.

That must be a consolation.

Yes Fred was good.

I too am a Christian but at the moment the consolations are few.

I shall not find them until you admit that

Fred is dead.

 

I'm sorry to hear that Fred is dead.

You will miss him.

At last in those few words,

probably felt to be inadequate,

someone knows how I feel.

I will miss him, his humour,

his company, the early morning tea,

the shared views, the love of cats,

the annoying cough, the toothpaste tube!

Nevertheless that was love.

Moreover I have my memories.

No one can take that away.

With that understnding from this true friend

I can get on with my life.

Now I can say -

Fred is dead, long live Fred.

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Old Age is Golden

Author: Marjorie Webster

Lions Hospice


Old age is golden I've heard it said

But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed

With the aid for my ear snug in the drawer

And surgical socks cast aside on the floor

My teeth smiling back at me there from their cup

My specs on the table until I wake up.

 

As sleep overtakes me I say to myself,

"Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?"

I wake up each morning and dust off my wits

And pick up the paper and read the obits.

If my name is missing I know I'm not dead,

So I take all my medicines and pop back to bed.

 

When I was young my shoes were bright red

I could kick up my heels right over my head.

When I was older my shoes became blue

But still I could dance the whole night through.

So how do I know that my youth is all spent?

Well my get up and go has got up and went.

But I really don't mind when I think with a grin

Of all the grand places my get up has been.

 

Old age is golden or so I've been told

Though at 70 plus six I now can't fix a bulb.

I'm scared of heights, feel I'll trip and I'll fall

And knock myself out with my head gainst the wall.

But still as I sit writing this at the table

I give thanks there are things of which I am able.

I can see, hear and breathe and know that I'll be-

A true Golden Oldie, that's me - Marjorie.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Garden in the Sky, In Remembrance.

Author: Eric Duly

Lions Hospice


     Do not sigh, for there is a garden in the sky

and in this garden is a seat where you and your

 loved ones do meet

     And all the sorrows of the past will

be gone at last

     They will wait at the garden gate,

for you to come at a later date

     The flowers do bloom all the time, in this

garden of mine

     They drink the water from my well, to

put them in my spell

     Their fragrance is divine, their beauty, words

cannot define

      The buzz of the bee, as the pollen it does take

for the honey it does make

      And the singing of the birds sounds like a

symphony with words

      And in the sanctuary of flowers, of bird and bees,

is a golden apple tree that gives eternal life to thee

      And as you cross the shallow stream, you think

this all a dream.........

       And then a voice from the past does say,

"you are home at last".

       Eric.

 



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Those we've loved

Author: Anne Lee

Sweet Charity Hospice Fund


To those we've loved. For those we miss;

A bleeding heart, an empty kiss.

The hand we held, those blanket arms.

Annoying habits, so sweet their charms.

 

I close my eyes and hear them say

The words they spoke of yesterday.

I hear their laugh, I see their smile.

Happy memories last for a while.

 

Their arrival in Heaven. Our road to Hell.

Numb with pain - an empty shell.

The tears will dry. So sad our days.

The weeks, the months are just a haze.

 

The things they did, day in day out.

It's hard to know they're not about.

Life's saddest day will stain forever.

Beloved friends, forgotten? - Never.

 

Years go by. Fond memories stay -

Will bring a smile from day to day.

No more 'floods', just lonesome tear

On that same day, same time each year.

 

We place some flowers, we plant a tree

In honour; remembrance, forever to see.

A continuing 'life' for those we love

Who have sadly departed and gone Above.

 

I'm sure they watch; hope they approve

Of the way we soothe our hearts so bruised.

I'm sure they hear our words so true

You are loved so much. We so miss you.

 



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Tranquility

Author: Alfred Osborne

Lion's Hospice, Gravesend


"I" stand all alone,

beneath the massive great oak,

filling my lungs with fresh air,

Its boughs they hang down,

nearly touching the ground,

and all I can do is just stare.

 

For the great big dark cloud that floats in the sky,

with its edges of silver and grey,

Show up like a mountain of slate coloured coal,

at the end of a near perfect day.

 

And way out beyond those far away hills

the most wonderful sight you can see,

As the sun dips low with a beatiful glow

I stood as if glued to the tree.

 

As I quietly watch the bright sunset,

So gracefully and carefully unfold,

With its brilliant and bright red reflection,

and those long streaming rays of bright gold.

 

"I" shall never tire of these evenings,

for the pleasures it always gives me,

This amazing world-wide reflection of lasting tranquility.

 



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My boat

Author: Rosalyn Newman

Lion's Hospice, Gravesend, Kent, UK


I like fish

I like boats

To go in the middle of the ocean

My boat is green, I am a yellow figure

My big friendly fish swims under me, green eyes, only fish with green eyes

I would like to like there on my boat

Problem is, my husband doesn't come with me.

He doesn't like boats.



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I LOVE YOU DADDY

Author: Karen Baugh



I love you daddy as i climb into your bed

And your face cuddles against my head.

I love you daddy each day as i grow tall

You loved me from the start when i was small.

I love you daddy you're always there for me

You give me a cuddle when i hurt my knee.

I love you daddy even when you're cross

You tell me off but you're still the boss.

I love you daddy no matter what i've done

Without you my life wouldn't be fun.

I love you daddy, as we are getting old

Even though your hairs receding and getting bold.

I love you daddy as you help me on the way

To get through my chemotherapy every day.

I love you daddy more than words can say

So don't leave me and ever go away.

 

 

 



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They were here

Author: Margaret Sheales

Holy Spirit Hospice Brisbane Qld


They were here, they held my hand

Those once strong Aussies that walked our land.

The pain reflected in their eyes,

Their upright frames now on the bed just lies.

I'm here to help, what can I do?

To wipe away the fear.

By banishing pain, by holding hands. I am here.

They were here and now have gone;

Fighting hard to stay so long

The fight was fought, the battle won

They were here and my work is done.



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Daughter of a headmistress

Author: Kay Bates

Leckhampton Court Hospice


Daughter of a headmistress   (in the words of Kay Bates)

 

All my life I've been a dustbin,

stuffing things in and keeping the lid pressed down.

Two years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer.

Straight into chemo. I went to see our vicar,

I was terrified of meeting my mother again.

You see, I was the daughter of a headmistress.

Oh the hours I spent hitting a ball against a wall.

And when I was small, I can remember her saying:

“You came to me once in a dream,

when you were still in Mummy's tummy,

and you were dressed in a red velvet cloak.

And you said to me: 'Don't worry Mummy,

once I'm born, everything'll be alright ...'”

But the lid's off now. The lid's off!



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Access to Care for All

Author: Ratna Chopra

Hindu Rao Hospital,Department of surgery


 
Let us be duty bound

To provide

Access to Care for All

In and around

 

Let this be a right

To demand

Access to Care for All

As a legitimate human right

 

Let there be a law

To ensure

Access to Care for All

Without a flaw

 

On 7th October 2006

Let us fix

Access to Care for All

Once and for all

For one and all

 

          Dr Ratna Chopra

         Surgeon, Hindu rao Hospital

           India

          8th September 2006

          



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I never saw her

Author: Ratna Chopra

Hindu Rao Hospital,MCD , Delhi , India



 
I never saw her


She was forty four

In 1964

When I was born

I never saw her

 

She noticed a lump

That felt a bit numb

It was in her breast

She never took rest

She was scared to tell

What if heavens fell

Her son's wedding was nearing

For which she was preparing

For herself she had no time

She was too excited to hear the wedding chime

 

She broke the news

Only after she cleared all her dues

Civil Surgeon, her husband could not pardon himself

For the biggest blunder he owned on himself

His wife had carcinoma

He lost the life's aroma

All technology and treatment

Could not end the bereavement

The three sons and a daughter small

Only wondered how they could avoid this fall

Every one prayed

But life betrayed

She left in a hurry

Her face showed no signs of worry

How well she fared

Reflected they cared.

 

She was my grandmother

I never  saw her

When I was born

                            ratna



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Dear Wee Granny

Author: Natalie Miller

Ayrshire Hospice


  Dear Wee Granny

 

You were the best granny in the whole wide world

I loved you so much, I loved your kindness and your touch

Everytime I wanted something I would say "but granny"

And you bought it for me

 

 

You always made soup and tablet and it was the best

Way better than all the rest

You always put on silly programmes and sang along

You loved singing and laughing and you taught us silly wee songs

 

 

You always had a smile on your face and were kind to everyone  

I just want to thank you for all that you have done

I will always remember that there is no such word as canny

And that you used to call us names like Jeany, Maggie and Sanny

 

 

We used to play dominoes and cards and you used to smoke your fags

But we didn't really care and I remember all the secrets that we used to share

I loved you more than anything, I loved you so much

When we weren't feeling well you helped us with your magic touch

 

Lots of Love from Natalie xxxxxx



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Me Vs The Mirror

Author: Beth Fletcher-Hall



It's given a name

Apparently BDD

I'd rather call it

'Please help me'

 

The image I'm handed

From the mirror in front

Is much different

From how my mind would have me portray

 

What is me?

Who is me?

Am I who I see, or what I will be?

The mirror tells me I am me

 

People say the mirror is wrong

Either that - or I am wrong

Which is it - me, or the mirror?

 

Reflections are deceiving

In my eyes anyway

As my reflection tells lies

It betrays the person inside

 

Should I obey the mirror

And conform to the ideals it holds?

The blob, the lump,

The gruesome folds?

 

I'd rather say no

I'd rather lie

The mirror in front

Is telling a lie

 

 

 

 



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Waiting

Author: Alison

St Christopher's Hospice


This room does not appear

on any plans of the house. I enter

through an unmarked door,

find blank walls of bleached calico

around a space stripped of distraction.

 

A single chair without a cushion,

no artificial flowers or dog-eared

magazines. No scum of congealed

milky coffee. The floor smells of teak

faintly seasoned with salt, like the deck

on a cross-channel ferry. Bare feet explore

cracks between the grainy boards, aware

of lurking splinters. There's no dust,

no noise. The syncopation of my pulse

keeps silent time. The clock has stopped.

 

It is cool, not quite dark, outside.

The uncurtained window looks beyond

what might be water or bone-hard sand

under a four o'clock sky. Nothing disturbs

that opal interlude before the birds

begin their morning roll-call. Is it my turn

to go? I listen but do not hear my name.

 

Alison

April 2006



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I am .... Gordon

Author: Gordon



I am a total non-conformist, but a believer.

I am an individual, a rose amongst the thorns.

I am a lone stallion, free roaming.

I am a child of a travelling man, but being blessed by the grace of the Almighty.

I am the melody and rhythm of the sounds of the heart.

I am originally from Central Africa, a country bumpkin by heart.

I am happy to be here now. Self realization is God realization.

I am at the bottom of a beautiful, peaceful garden.

I am at peace, totally accepting of my place in time but disappointed by the state of the Human Race.

If it be blind optimism, I believe that it is still a beautiful planet.

I am!!!



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I am ...Bekokwakhe

Author: Bekokwakhe



I am sustaining, unsinkable ship.

I am Shakespeare, closed book.

I am a crocodile: in Australia they call me by another name, in America they call me Alligator; some fashion gurus call me LaCoste.

I am a child of the soil from the womb of a painful past to the horizon of democracy.

I am the boy of Izingiane Zoma Masikandi music, awulteth'umshiniwam song, created through solidarity of fellow Zulu brothers who are treated unfairly by the system of ultra-capitalist colonialists.

I am a child of Africa, my community and a custodian of my cultures and customs that appreciates the Africaness.

I come from kwaZulu Province,

To heaven

Anywhere, but surely not in Prison.

I am!!

 



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I am .... Joan

Author: Joan



I am a retired woman, generous and tired.

I am self centred.

I am a dog with a waggly tail.

I am a traveller.

I am a classic symphonic piece.

I am a child of God.

I am a South African.

I am the warm waters of the Seychelles.

I am in the golden years of my life.

I am going along in a happy, contented way, without too many hang ups.



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Palliative Care....what's it all about....

Author: Julie Oakes



"You matter because you are.   You matter the last moment of your life.   
We will do all we can, not only do to help you die peacefully,
but to live until you die".
Dame Cecily Saunders of St. Christopher's Hospice, London,
in all her wisdom wrote
this deep & meaningful quote,
And without the whisk of a doubt
it sums up what the Holy Spirit Home-
Helena Hospice
is all about.
And how fortunate could we truly be,
to have in Brisbane City
such priceless Staff in an ideal facility...
they're there to aid not only the patient
prepare for that peaceful journey
on the wings of a Snow White Dove
to a place of serenity
high above,
but I'm here to genuinely tell
that they're there for us loved ones as well,
they see us through many difficult times
and have a way of ensuring peace of mind.

Their aim is to create
a home away from home,
it's a real lap of luxury,
one's own space, television and even a private telephone,
but it's the high standard of 'Duty of Care'
and old fashioned kindness,
that you'll find in the Holy Spirit Hospice,
it stands out above the rest,
to us,
it's simply the best!
The Nurses, to us, are Angels in disguise,
and their experience in this caring field
has made them very wise,
their insight is always close at bay,
and each have their own individual way
of helping to convert a difficult circumstance
into a better day.
But before I come to a close,
I musn't forget to give credit to all those
whose generosity is shown quite clearly
as they share their time freely,
they're our Volunteers,
who right from their heart
play the important part....
in helping to make
the world go round!

To Holy Spirit Home
wide spread,
the Holborn family think you're great,
to us,
you rate,
ten out of ten!

(by Julie A. Oakes
11 Natalin St.,
Cleveland, 4163,
Brisbane)




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ode to my illness

Author: Barry Sykes



Ode to my illness

Serenity, Tranquility and peace is broken

When the dreaded cancer word is spoken

Onset of the disease arouses weeping and tears

Realisation brings forth pain and fears

Mental anguish of family and friends

The torture seemingly never ends

Anxiety of knowing what not to say

Graciously one is granted yet anoter day

Inner thoughts it may have spread, not redemption

Alas, serendipity, my hospice presents another outlook

Perhaps a prologue or chapters in a new book

Amongst colleagues and friends sharing thoughts on a common illness

Brings joy, happiness and relief from poppin-pillness

Most of us are in the twilight of life

Many having suffered trauma and strife

Dedicated medical and volunteer staff

Dispense their diverse duties with laugh

Colleagues afflicted much worse than I

Seize the moment as the world goes by

For one can feel lonely in a crowd

Thinking deeply, siliently, but not out loud

Ode to my illness

Melancholy thoughts can disturb

The mind must discard the absurd

Walking, talking to oneself

What's left in the locker what's on the shelf?

optimism abounds, one way forward thinking

Pessimism not allowed cowardice-sinking

Utter faith in the medics and a supreme being

Retains a world of unshakeable belief calm and serene

In all one gains tremendous inspiration and succour

Culminating in confidence and relief to find a future



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Depression

Author: Melanie Anne Beresford

Fundraising

Depression  

My child has gone and left me, she’s in a foreign place

To which I cannot follow her, for I cannot find a trace

Of the road that she has travelled on her expressionless, blank face.

She is on a journey, to where, she only knows

In a dark and gloomy house through which the Cyclone blows.

I stand in the garden, a dappled, fragrant place

Kept out of this house round which I ceaslessly pace.

 
The windows of her soul are shuttered, dark and blank

While inside her house all is shattered, foul and rank.

I stretch wide my arms to enfold this grotty tomb

My heart reaches out to try and pierce her gloom

But the place she inhabits is like some vengeful childhood fare

Of a Sleeping Princess, pricked by a spindle rare.

Her Courtiers and attendants in their clinical white

All Pharmacologise and say “it will be alright”

“she needs a little red pill to tell us where she’s been,

  And a blue one and a yellow one will tell us what she’s seen”

The Psychobabble that they give me with a superior smile,

Warp and alienate the being of my precious chile.

 
But I will not desert her to this foreign court

For she is constantly with me in my prayer and thought.

I will vapourise my love and send it as a cloud

And maybe it’s wispy fingers will penetrate her shroud

Touch an exposed nerve somewhere deep within her tomb

And set a tiny spark of light to illuminate her gloom

A will-o-wisp to find her and bring a little light

To lead her back to all who love her, but cannot fight her fight.

      
Melanie Beresford

1995



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Meriel

Author: Frank Hill

St Barnabas Hospice

Meriel,

It's just a name,
A single word,
Yet whisper it and then for me that simple single world becomes,
A symphony.






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Thoughts of a carer

Author: Norman Davies

Mount Vernon, UK


 Dedicated to my dear wife Vera

 
                     ---  The thoughts of a Carer  ---

   
I’ve been married for a long time, and love with all my heart,

My Wife, she’s my partner, until death us do part.

When we were young, parting seemed so far away,

But now she has Cancer, please get well, so together we can stay.

 
Now I am her Carer, and so glad to be,

For the love of my life who looked after me,

She bore me three children, been faithful and true,

Gave a lifetime of happiness we want to renew.

 
I find it so sad as I see in her eyes,

The worry and pain, but so seldom she cries,

She bares it all stoically, never complains,

I wish I could suffer for her now and again.

 
She’s having that Chemo we’ve all read about,

They cut into a vein if it’s proud and it’s stout,

Inserting a tube with a long pipe in place,

To a bag full of drugs which feed in at slow pace.

 
The nurses are gentle and kind to my wife,

It seems that this Chemo has saved many a life,

And now every night when I offer my prayers,

I ask the Good Lord to keep guard on our cares.

 
I feel so helpless, as I must standby,

And know that from Cancer some people can die,

I must have faith in recovery, I must stay strong –

And look to a future that’s both happy and long!

 


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The Cancer Journey

Author: Vera Hannah May Davies

Mount Vernon, UK


The Cancer Journey
   
“You have Cancer” what a shock this simple phrase contains,

Why me, you say, when did it start, I’ve had no stomach pains,

Or anywhere else that I’m aware, I think it’s just profane

That I’m the one that fate should choose, whoever can I blame?

What have I done, what can I do, where did it come from too?

Was it my Dad, or was it my Mum, or is it something new?

Which I have got in some foreign parts where things are not so clean?

Where the waters bad, and the flies abound, where ever have I been?

 
Well, it is here, and that’s a fact, which I must face alone,

Or with my partner or a friend, my heart is turned to stone,

I feel so frightened and so alone, at this most awful news

I’ll be an outcast; will I keep my friends, what will be their views?

This will change my life, I know it will, I fear the great unknown,

Of hospitals and nursing staff, and lying in bed alone,

I ask myself "who’ll be my help, my confident, my guide,

I’m sure to be lonely, as I shall miss, my husband by my side."

 
He’s always there to lean upon, to love me, or to chide,

This awful thing has come to me, is there nowhere I can hide?

I say my prayers, and ask for help, “O Lord be by my side,

Please hear me in my desperate cry, I need a friend, a guide.

 I’ve heard of Chemotherapy as a means to beat this thing,

They say its “no bed of roses “ but I’m determined that I’ll bring,

All my effort to fight this thing which has found it’s way in, and grown,

Unknown to me, far deep inside, with a stealth and skill of it’s own! .

 
My Cancer’s still inside of me; but I’m not beaten yet,

As now I know I’m not alone, a target I have set,

With these wonderful people in Hospital I’ll fight to reach that cure,

God bless them all, they have given me hope, and my road ahead’s secure.


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The Spider Inside

Author: Dorothy Trewartha

Trimar


She’s lurked in my body

For too many years

Growing bigger and scarier

Just like my fears

 

She sits in a corner

And sends out her thread

To my back, to my lung,

To my liver, (my head?)

 

“Why should it be me?”

Why not?” she replies,

“Someone else didn’t get it

and everyone dies.”

 

“You have many blessings

and faced up to your fear

I’m a very slow grower

which is why you’re still here.”



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Retirement

Author: Dorothy Trewartha

Trimar





Almost 60 years ago we thought

(years before cancer struck)

that when we retired we ought

to move to Dorset on the coast.

In time our dream came true

for sea and boat we loved the most.

 

Within a year my cancer paid a call.

But treatment did the trick

and for years we had a ball.

Going everywhere we hadn’t been

especially on water

delighting in each change of scene.

 

We cruised the Nile and Aswan Dam

and the Atlantic under sail.

Before the modern tourist trade began

to Belize and Honduras we sailed

on a banana boat.

And off Cape Town watched Southern Right Whales.

 

When Illness hit next time it wasn’t mine.

My Tom had stomach cancer.

Incurable, inoperable, he lived on borrowed time

And died just seven months further on

and two years after that

my cancer came and dropped another bomb.

 

So is there a message in this tale?

I think there’s only one.

When you are well and fit and hale

grab the chance, do what you dare.

Do not leave it ‘till later.

There might not be a later, but just an empty chair.



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Friends in Need

Author: Dorothy Trewartha



Friends we make and keep

though sometimes we drift apart.

Friendships of youth can fade

while other stay true.

 

Partners are often dear friends

as mine was, through all our fights and ups and downs.

Our friendship was our secret strength

until his early death.

 

An unwelcome lump became

a long term ‘friend’ in 1985.

Our friends were not dismayed

and showed their care and love

in many kindly ways.

 

A fond memory is of visiting

some friends down in the south.

Of drinking coffee by the Thames

as boat and barge meandered by

and swans reflected back the light.

 

Why then do friends of cancer victims

sometimes abandon them?

A heavy burden added to

when already full of fear,

desertion seeming to confirm

That death is somewhere near.

 

Cancer may seem like death to some

and so they edge away,

abandoning when needed most.

 

Or just, perhaps, in fear and doubt

they don’t know what to say.



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Approximately 10 things which are wonderful, in no order

Author: Nancy Jeanie Brown

Hospice in the Weald

 Deep warm bubble bath with candles & incense,watching the fish as I soak. Real fires: - inside & outside giving warmthto all senses. Waking up with Andy next to me,reminding me every morning of what love feels like. The first fall of fresh snow,and the feeling of ‘cold’ on your face. Having MacDuff: - a place in my heart is just for him. Long chats & laughs & going shopping with friends. The moments you have when you read a passage in the bible,and you feel God talking to you. Going back to bed after breakfast,because you can. Listening to tunes in the car,with the roof down. Watching nature unfold, Everywhere.  

Swimming in the sea.


Reliving memories in your mind......


These are some of the things wonderful to me.   


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seeing the specialist again

Author: Susan  Gregory

Joseph Weld Hospice Day Care


you must ask questions you want to know is it getting worse and worse? you know, the whole thing. I really want to know. meanwhile we're keeping 'a watching brief'....



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in Mother's Care Home

Author: Susan  Gregory

Joseph Weld Hospice Day Care

They all, all want to die; they think they've done it you see. You can't wish yourself dead but you feel you've done everything there is to do. It's time to move on.


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In praise of madras curry and pickled onions

Author: Daniel Dean

Richard House Hospice


I like madras

Because it is hot

And the smell of the curry.

And the chicken

In the pot.

 

I like pickled onions

 - a lot.

My Dad has a jar of them

He keeps in the cupboard.

Bernie treats me!

 

I love food!

The flavour,

The smell

The taste

Of heat and spice.



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Barbie Princesses hee hee hee

Author: Olivia and Jo

Richard House Hospice


Jo:

Olivia’s nurse at Richard House Hospice 24 07 06.

 

I’ve known Olivia for five years now

She loves the nail varnish on her toes

 

And likes the mirrors so she can watch herself play

Makes sure she looks pretty all day

 

She loves hearing her toy turn round and round

The mirrors and bells make a lovely sound.

 

A Disney wand rings out princess voices

Like her, beautiful in pink enjoying the noises.  

 

Olivia:

 

Hello. I’m Cinderella

Let’s make our dreams come true.

 

Nk. Gnk. Gnk. Gn. Gnk.

 

I’m Snow White.

How do you do?

 

Wfffh Wfffh Wfffh

Cool air on our cheeks

 

GNk. GGNK. k. nk. Gn. Gnk.

Vib-rat-ing gums.

 

Touch of teeth on teeth

Jaw. Gnaw. Gn. Jaw

 

Stampf Mmmppf mmpf

Feet on soft sheet.

 

Hello. I’m Belle.

Are you ready for magic?

 

Toes become fingers

Holding the toy

Tongue licking the base

Sensing wood on tongue

Fingering toes turn the bells

 

Ink clink. Clin. In. k.k.

Ack.Clack.cllck.cllck.

 

Mirr-or-ing clinking belling

Turning tirning clinking singing  

 

Hee hee heee.Giggl-e –e -hee-

 

Hello I’m Cinderella

Let’s wave the magic wand.

 

Wfffh Wfffh Wfffh

 

Stampf Mmmppf mmpf Ink clink. Clin. In. k.k.Ack.Clack.cllck.cllck.

 

Stampf Mmmppf mmpf GNk.

 

GGNK. k. nk. Gn. Gnk.

 

Ink clink. Clin. In. k.k.

 

Hee hee heee.  



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Life's Lesson makes me a Diamond

Author: Charlet Soundararajan

Arulagam Hospice


No Wonder! God creates me,
No Wonder! I am the Image of God,
No Wonder! I am the temple of God,
No Wonder! I am the valuable person.
Is it? My disease makes me worst!
Or, is it? My sin makes me worst!
My body acking made me to scared
My soul is filled with "Fear" and "confusion"
I know my life is like a "Tsunami"
I know my life is "very short"
I am counting my days with the fear of death
Some times I have the tendency to suicide my self
To reduce the fear of death, I try to drink oblivion...
I feel that everything is "dark" and "gloomy"
Fellow people look at me like a "desert" and "unwanted barren"
Social "stigma" makes me sick
Social "discrimination" leads me to the alcohol shop
Alas,
Palliative care is the place where I have the "holistic care"
For all my physical, psychological, social and spiritual need
The staff [Angels] showed me with the hope of light with compassion
They make me to think that my life is a valuable one
Now I know that, I am the most "Valuable Person"
Here after I am no need to fear about my life
Vulnerability makes me a "valuable diamond"


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