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Writing Prompt

POEM STARTER

Write a poem from the perspective of an elderly person about the topic of their inner child.

Writings

Living In The Past

My hair,

Where is it going?

And where did this grey come from?

It was brown yesterday.


My eyes,

Why is everything so blurry?

And what are these lines on my face?

I swear i went to bed with perfect skin.


My knees,

Why are they so sore?

Why do they keep popping?

I was playing tag with my kids last week.


My back,

What made it hurt this bad?

Why can’t i stand up straight?

My posture has been perfe...

The Inner Child

Bazooka gum was a penny!

Pizza was .25$

If Mom gave me $1, that’s big money! With that dollar I bought, popcorn, soda, and one slice of pizza. .

I took typing and stenography in school

I talked too much, so I failed cooking

We played in the school yard with the kids on the block

Had to go home, when street lites came on


Knew everyone’s telephone number by heart

For there, were no cell phones or...

Youth & Aged

It’s dawned on me, I finally see,

what the “inner child” actually means.


All this time, I had been thinking,

“How, at this age, can I unwind time

and go back to the me who was the shortest?”


“Who was she, and how would I know her?

She’s not in the mirror, she’s barely in my memories, and all those who knew her never seemed to really.”


Yet, I had it all wrong, that’s not who I seek.

No, it’...

Lost But Never Forgotten

Dedicated to my Puppe


I’ve been sitting here and waiting, staring at the door;

Waiting for my mother who they say won’t come anymore.


I’ve been sitting here for ages, my bottom starts to ache,

And yet this feeling haunts me every moment I’m awake.


I know it was just yesterday when my mother called my name,

I know it in my heart of hearts but something’s not the same.


Now my limbs feel he...

Droplets Of Youth

When It rains,

I get excited like a child,

For when the rain comes,

There’ll always be puddles on the ground.


I go outside,

And search for a puddle,

The biggest one I can find,

To play in it.


When I do find one,

I begin to kick the water,

All over the place,

Not a care in the world.


Some people look at me like I’m crazy,

Others avoid eye contact,

Sometimes I can hear their whispers,

“What’s wro...

And The Beauty

The sun shines,

The trees eclipse,

The gravel shimmers,

The cars sit still,


Like me,

My skin wrapped and crumpling,

Shaking and quivering,

Only able to stare out,


So many decades have passed,

The day the war orphaned me,

The day I flew to the States,

The day I lay here,


But the cars and gravel disappear,

The trees turn pink,

The walls disappear,

My home had returned,


Echoes of a child’s laugh,...

End and Beginning

The tender, loving grip on my hand as my face is cusped brings me back to a different time for but a moment. That loving and caring, yet guided and concerned grasp was the same one my parents had on me when I was a child. When I first learned how to walk, when I hurt myself, when I felt sad. Somehow, over 70 years after the first, most tender hug I've ever received at this very hospital, I lie her...

Little to late

Oh Little to late

as she

used to be the living little girl

oh but too little too late

for the little girl stuck in a body that isn't hers

Hers is an elder body

with wrinkles and bumps

Her skin used to be smooth and full of life

But what had happened She would ask

We used to play and dance

but I will forever be stuck in this body that I do not fit in

...

The Photograph

My elbow hurts

Another pain on that

Dull aching highway

Twisting on my creaky joints

Just out of the corner of my eye

I see a girl, age 4 or 5


Striped shirt

Hair in four pigtails

Astride a bear statue

She is at the zoo or

Maybe a long forgotten park

Daddy, now gone, could be out of the frame

Mom maybe standing behind the camera


She’s small for her age

With skinny arms and legs

And a smile...

Alzheimer, that devil

A little hand

holds me in the sand

brings me to a memory

I never thought I had


She is blurry

she teaches me to dance

she doesn't ever judge me

because I can't use my legs


little baby

with dullen buckled shoes

and a handmade dress

from her mothers broken hands


baby leads me

to a bright white angel

and I never seem to remember

what she called herself

...