Category — Love poems

When I started this blog more than four years ago I promised always to tell how it is for a Carer of someone with MM. It was important for me that my poems conveyed a little story of the days that unfolded on this journey. Sometimes the truth of my feelings may hurt more than at other times. I try to think of other MM sufferers, I truly do. Then of course those that may be hurt by my thoughts here, will not subscribe. So I continue through these most difficult days. The following  verses describe my feelings during a very lovely birthday weekend for Hamada. Our son Jo spent a special time with his Father, we had a celebratory meal together and all in all it was a perfect weekend. Except for one thing although I suppose I have always seen Hamada through ‘rose tinted glasses’. I could now see clearly what I suppose others can see and have notice for some time, visual changes to my dear man’s face.

“Changes”

For I am not blind I see now

clearly as these given days allow,

For I am not stupid for thinking more,

willing you to stay.

This blighted weakness pursues you

like some demon spirit

whom I curse with my very being!

The once thought improbable

is happening darling man,

I cannot close my eyes

to forget these brown eyes fading,

I cannot shut my mind for all I need

is to see your smile.

These brutal changes tear at your resistance

this beloved face is changing

dissolving and vanishing from view,

but never from my heart.

I can at last, see this Beast Within.

This wicked Beast who will not leave you

However hard we try.

I am not blind – for I can see ,

this despair at Changes…

So many changes…

All Rights Reserved November 2010

All did sparkle that special night

jewelled eyes and delicious delights,

hand painted candles on ‘twinkling’ tables

we laughed in fun and conversation.

Gathered together from near and far

in atmospheric fun filled bar,

shining ladies and handsome men

music, gaiety and many friends.

Cakes that glittered with golden stars

sprinkled gently in ‘fairy dust’

ribbons that twirled in whirls and whirls

something special for all of us.

We danced a little way from you

but you caught my eye in rendezvous,

you smiled that smile as you always do,

I drunk in the delights in coloured hues

but really …all I saw was you….

All Rights Reserved

Cup Cake Photos  by Susie

As Summer fades and the air is filled with signs of Autumn.

As the leaves start their change in colour and their sprinkling fall;

the rhythm and flow of life continues its clever path.

This in-between state that suspends betwixt the seasons is all my heart desires.

To call on the Gods to allow a stay with compassion,

cleverly keeping this season of harvest and life.

Protect and preserve these mere moments of joy and utter no anguished change for me,

as grateful diamonds of joy, spill from my heart.

Take these vibrant days of colour with their smiles intact, allow for NO fear,

for you have always been my brave one but you are more so now.

Do not snap and break this plan I ask,

keeping this Autumn complete and in my whispered prayers.

All Rights Reserved @ 2010

Photo from Susie Hemingway’s Collection.

Do we pretend dear one?

As judgements are made and disclosed

In fretful haze we nuzzle closer

To mirror the fears that we know.

Do we pretend dear one?

As smiles and platitudes wither my heart

Perhaps we do, as we dream anew

Of positive days that will last.

We laugh as we follow regimes

But I’m frightened of this new terrain

Praying, dreaming and hoping

That this time there will be some gain.

Still in the consuming darkness

When sleep will just not come

I hear you fretful in slumber

Are we pretending dear one?

As in the yellowing dawn light

As my heart pushes down the pain

I think of all the others fighting a similar game,

I think of how far we’ve all come

Such bravery that cuts through this bane

To push down this ‘Wicked Beast’,

And make positive steps to gain.

No! I don’t think we’re pretending

Not in the very least

I’m proud of my warrior

Who struggles through with steely belief ,

Proud of my friends who daily defend

Giving him cause to go on

And yes of course I know we can make it,

We’ve really no need to pretend,

                                                  We’ve really no need to pretend…

Picture: Arab Warrior Leading A Charge by Adolf Schreyer

On the eve of  Hamada starting more Chemotherapy,I felt it appropriate as we finish our lovely Summer without treatment, to  post once again this short verse  first written in 2008.

My Clock.

How peaceful in this pavilion
as the pendulum is free to swing,
I wish to guard these regulated movements
as you oscillate in free time.
I wish to savour your liberty of actions
your power of self-determination.
I need to imprison and restrain this time,
to mend this clock of mine.

All Rights Reserved – June 2008

The following poem was found in my Grandson’s text book at the end of term. Nothing has been changed, it is just as it was written. It brought tears to my eyes when reading but I wanted to share it with you.

Emmanuel (Manu) is 10 years old.

My Grandpa’s really kind,

I knew he’d go to heaven,

since he got bone cancer,

when I was seven.

I think he laughs at any joke,

whether it’s good or bad,

and if he thinks it’s really good,

he laughs like he’s gone mad!

Usually he has to sleep,

since he needs his rest,

so when he is awake

he’s always at his best.

Before he ever got ill,

he used to play with me,

I used to kick a football

to him and back to me!

Alas not anymore,

we only laugh and talk,

it doesn’t stop me loving,

even if he can barely walk.

As soft as the evening breeze

that trembles through the tallest trees

as meditative as your words allow,

entwined and tangled in these Summer days.

The crystal clarity in your eyes

tells more in a dear face of courage,

than the gentleness of your silence.

Not so much now a belligerent waging war

nor a stricken fight,

just a gentle silence that goes on into the night.

Words are difficult for you to find

It does not matter  for I don’t mind,

the gentleness of your silence is far more

than feckless words that blow in the Summer wind.

The brushstrokes of our life unfold clearly

as you focus daily to capture strength,

this Summer of endless joys

nothing more is needed,

no more

than the gentleness of your silence…

All Rights Reserved 2010

We swing together you and I

in that old shaded place we love,

peaceful sweet smelling garden air

that gentle breeze that tickles hair,

the yellow Iris in our view,

Oh how I love to be with you!

Tranquil sounds of garden spirits

the chirping of the evensong thrush

lavender blue scent comes through,

we swing together like children do.

This quiet spot where we can dream

these special hours away,

amid the slowing of day ending

we talk of yesterday,

no more is needed for you and I

we know that time is short

and so we talk and dream and think

of what this life has brought.

We dream together

                                              you and I,

                                                                     on this old garden swing.

Photo: from “Hemingway”

All Rights Reserved.

“Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care,

But for another gives its ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.”

WILLIAM BLAKE (1757-1827)

“Age does not protect you from love

But love to some extent protects you from age”

JEANNE MOREAU b 1929

“Life’s short and we never have enough time

for the hearts of those who travel the way with us.

O,be swift to love! Make haste to be kind.”

HENRI-FREDERICK AMIEL (1821-1881)

It was an eternal wait that day

a long perpetual tedious episode

an abuse on the senses,

the faces filling the clinic suite

sitting too close together at tables that encumbered,

all appearing the same, all resigned to their fate;

all stricken with disbelief.

I watched…

Can you put aside like dead flowers a mind that is full of fear?

Can you not feel the pain of those set faces that await

the ‘clarion call’ for  news no one wishes to hear?

Can you relentlessly show that crumbling smile?

Can you quieten the beating of your own heart?

I watched the woman sitting opposite me, a reflection of myself,

sitting beside her Man, worry etching her face,

quietly waiting the prophecy that could change their lives,

was she to receive news that would set her Man free?

Set them both free!

I watched…I watched…

I watched this fragile life snap and break,

I  watched those tears at another table…

All Rights Reserved  @ Susie Hemingway 2010

* NB After being on  Chemotherapy – Velcade  + Dexamethasone (80mg weekly) since February 22 2010 Hamada’s Para-Protein (M-Spike) has only dropped to 15  He is to have a little break and then start Revlimid.

Under a lovers gaze stoic and stubborn

I fight for you,

in watchful waiting the power of my mind

spurs me on…

The tiredness of these determined efforts for you,

to strive is hard to do.

With strength needed as not to succumb

I walk on and on,

for there can never be amongst this pain

nothing left for you ?

Don’t ever think I do not clearly see

for if only my eyes could shut out all,

to mar, inflict distress, destroy the purity of,

impair, fatally ruin – All this !

Through my smiles, the anguish of my heart,

flows in time with this wretched beast

as it continues it’s wicked path.

Under my lovers gaze, I fight for you.

*“There is freedom within

    There is freedom without

   try to catch the deluge in a paper cup,

  there’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost”

*Extract from “Don’t Dream Is Over” by Crowded House  Written by Neil Finn 1987

Photo courtesy:  Matt Rutherford www.mattrutherford.com

© Susie Hemingway 2010

You watch your family well my love

with twinkling fervency of pride,

not much I’m sure escapes those beaming eyes

whose rays emit relentless joy.

The room is filled with noise and bustle

laughter amid the smell of pungent food delights

and scents of Capri Fig Frangipani

as candles burn long into the night.

Your efforts never go unnoticed not in my eyes,

burden of encumberment hampers movement,

such little comes now from tired voice but eyes embrace it all.

Just quietly watching… makes you the man so tall.

My heart suspends this time as softly plays

the husky subtle pleading of Lamontagne,

good French wine is poured amid the illuminated sounds

of laughter,

as  we count our blessings of these vibrant days, bathed in burnished sunlight of joyful laughter with you.

I glance across at your smiling face

just quietly watching…

All Rights Reserved @ April 2010

We waited the hours together,

us and the man with the white knitted hat,

pale and often slipping down in his chair he looked desperately ill.

His wife sat tiredly and patiently by his side.

He joined us once again sitting opposite, in the ‘chemo chairs’ the four of us waiting as if for a bus, but really to win further days.

The skilled nurse attached the Cannula to his oh so pale hand, difficult but finally achieved, he smiled a weary smile across at me.

The jaunty white hat seemed to perch on top his shiny pate

far too small and not really doing the job it was intended for.

My heart ached.

I smiled back, while my man was busy being attached to

the life giving elixir that would hopefully give them both extra time?

I offered up my usual prayer.

The man with the white knitted hat whose face was

waxy pale, glanced across at us.

His wife or carer I noticed had swollen ankles,

perhaps from the many hours spent caring and fighting ‘this beast’ that was trying to take her husband from her.

The vials appeared like a sunburst of golden treasures, “it seems  we are travelling the same journey” I said

“Yes, it’s a tough long battle isn’t it” said the man with the white knitted hat.

I turned my eyes to see the beautiful slim brown hands of my beloved, my Father’s ring adorning his  right hand resting on the heated pillow.

Then looking across at the pale transparent hands of our new friend I noticed,

that the first two fingers of his other hand, were tightly crossed.

How my heart ached….

All Rights Reserved @ 2010

Addendum:  I learnt that this nice gentleman passed away shortly after this poem was written. He was  indeed a fine Warrior!

Are you a jewel?

Priceless exquisite, cut of flawless clarity.

A glittering seven carat white diamond perhaps?

A gleaming diadem of chosen stones or a

desirable vibrant emerald, of richly sparkling hues.

No!

For you are shades of purple…

Purple like the dark rings that surround your eyes,

Purple like the feeling of these past weeks,

Purple coloured days that were draining, not pink.

Purple coloured nights that stretched forever,

as purple as the scarf I wore today, for I was sad.

Definitely purple but no amethyst are you

a solitaire yes, a single flawless gem.

A most valuable priceless jewel and extremely rare.

A Jewel to fight as you do,

Yes! A Purple Diamond,  that’s you….

Written with love by Susie Hemingway for all those who love.

“Shades of Purple – A Jewel Perhaps” is now to be published by United Press in their new book “Reflections”

All rights reserved @ 2010

Late winter months as news imparts

the gravity of this new start

dear God as we  begin this fight

in restless days and feverish nights,

as poison flows through damaged veins

please not let this be in vain…

Smaller smiles through struggling days

of waiting for the nausea waves,

understanding strange regimes

jab jab as harsh it always seems,

as draw for tests to go ahead

when all he wants is his fresh clean bed.

Perpetual hours that make me sigh

impatience that since  child has always been

and now this purgatory of hopeful scene,

as tedious the walks I make

through lengthy corridors and doors of pain,

please Lord! let there be a gain.

How good the compassionate nurses who

bring solace to my broken warrior,

a smile or a tender word all make a difference,

I notice a gentle hand on his shoulder,

in their relentless comforting care.

I also notice many sitting there,

with their dreams of better days…

My mind whirls as the precious cylindrical vial arrives with pomp and ceremony,

to scientists far away who have tried to bring

with knowledge gained, further days.

It is received with hope and joy

but will it work to overcome?

for this Man who waits expectantly with those oh! so trusting eyes.

A Poem about Chemotherapy  February 2010– all rights reserved