CHARITY
Look first to self and family, make sure that your’s is sound
Then look at your community, you’ll find that needs abound!
Discover ways that you can help, and do what you can do.
Her mind went traveling
Her mind went traveling today,
It packed it’s bags and slipped away.
It wanders old paths and memory’s lanes
while her dementia holds the reins.
It travels down roads that were not taken
and desires things long since forsaken.
It dwells on what she should have done
and fights old battles lost and won.
It re-lives talks that once she had
and remembers happy times and sad.
It replays her life again, again.
Her dementia adds what might have been.
It plays games and tricks her senses.
It concocts lies and it convinces.
It exaggerates her greatest fears
And gives her reasons for her tears
It jumbles memories all together
and forgets the truths that she would never.
It confuses facts, people, and places.
Yet remembers forgotten names and faces.
It makes her doubt the ones she loves.
It makes her question all she does.
It shows her things that are not there
and makes her think that we don’t care.
Her mind tries constantly to deceive her
She worries why we don’t believe her.
She says things that anger and annoy us.
Her mind’s filled up with paranoias.
So, is her dementia friend or foe?
That answer we may never know.
It’s stolen her from us, that’s true.
But protects her from her future too.
But why the anger and mistrust?
Why does it make her turn on us?
Her life was grand in so many a way,
What purpose does this deception play?
Does it create these stories to help her cope?
Does it ‘make believe’ to give her hope?
Does it shield her from her own lost mind?
That , in itself, is not so unkind.
Does it help us do what we must do?
Does it lessen the guilt we feel too?
Is deception dementia’s deceiving way,
to get us ALL through this difficult day
Whatever the reason, we may never know.
But lets travel this together, Here we go!.
Cause her mind went traveling today.
(It won’t be back. At least not to stay.)
***************************************
********************************************************
SpeedBump
NOTE: This was written in 2006 or 2007 about our little dog speedbump.
He sleeps in our bed now everynight,
he is psychotic for sure but we adore the little rotten beast. – 5/2/2010
******************************************************
A gold heart for love of family, a gold knot for the ties that bind us.
A silver bracelet around our wrist, meant simply to remind us
That it’s common folk we come from, and common genes unite us
We’ve many similarities that surprise and delight us
But the greater gift we’re given, the one that matters in the end
Is that we are now not just family, we are each other’s friend
Making our world a better place begins with me and you!
Written for Women's Coalition Art Auction 2007?
placed on the bottom of the chair Kasey Willard and I donated for aution.
***************************************************** Written for Women's Coalition Art Auction 2007?
placed on the bottom of the chair Kasey Willard and I donated for aution.
Her mind went traveling
Her mind went traveling today,
It packed it’s bags and slipped away.
It wanders old paths and memory’s lanes
while her dementia holds the reins.
It travels down roads that were not taken
and desires things long since forsaken.
It dwells on what she should have done
and fights old battles lost and won.
It re-lives talks that once she had
and remembers happy times and sad.
It replays her life again, again.
Her dementia adds what might have been.
It plays games and tricks her senses.
It concocts lies and it convinces.
It exaggerates her greatest fears
And gives her reasons for her tears
It jumbles memories all together
and forgets the truths that she would never.
It confuses facts, people, and places.
Yet remembers forgotten names and faces.
It makes her doubt the ones she loves.
It makes her question all she does.
It shows her things that are not there
and makes her think that we don’t care.
Her mind tries constantly to deceive her
She worries why we don’t believe her.
She says things that anger and annoy us.
Her mind’s filled up with paranoias.
So, is her dementia friend or foe?
That answer we may never know.
It’s stolen her from us, that’s true.
But protects her from her future too.
But why the anger and mistrust?
Why does it make her turn on us?
Her life was grand in so many a way,
What purpose does this deception play?
Does it create these stories to help her cope?
Does it ‘make believe’ to give her hope?
Does it shield her from her own lost mind?
That , in itself, is not so unkind.
Does it help us do what we must do?
Does it lessen the guilt we feel too?
Is deception dementia’s deceiving way,
to get us ALL through this difficult day
Whatever the reason, we may never know.
But lets travel this together, Here we go!.
Cause her mind went traveling today.
(It won’t be back. At least not to stay.)
The above poem was written upon hearing my mother had been placed
temporarily in psychiatric care due to dementia. June 2007. She went into an
temporarily in psychiatric care due to dementia. June 2007. She went into an
Alzheimers care facility a few weeks later, and her mind never really did come
back. In a way, it was protecting her from what she feared most and in a way,
it made her happy by rewriting some of her memories to be more to her liking.
I miss her dearly. My mother was an awesome woman in many ways.
***************************************
The following poem was written also the summer of 2007, my mother Avis Alice Eaves
was being admitted to an Alzheimers care facility and it was hard for all of us to take.
She had been living with my eldest brother Lee and his companion, Donna.
Donna had been Mom's friend, care giver, and daughter for almost two years.
She had shared her home and her family and her time with Mom. She had
She had been living with my eldest brother Lee and his companion, Donna.
Donna had been Mom's friend, care giver, and daughter for almost two years.
She had shared her home and her family and her time with Mom. She had
opened her heart. Mom was not an easy person to live with and none of us will
know how significant a gift this gift of Donna's was, not just to Mom, but to all of us.
Mom loved her very much and was very thankful for inviting her to live with them.
When Mom became paranoid with her dementia and alzheimers, we had to look for
professional care for her. Even then, Donna still looked after and
visited her regularly. I am so grateful for Donna.
I am so thankful she was there when I could not be.
My Gratitude
When she was all alone and needed care.
When none of us could do what should be done .
You were the one to say you would be there.
You stepped up to the plate and did not run.
You took her in and offered her your home
You cared for her and when the truth is told
You treated her as if she were your own
and showed her children how to treat their old.
Donna, I hope you are aware,
I’m very very thankful you were there.
The gifts you gave are many and all precious
Companionship, respect, and dignity
You helped her laugh and took away her stresses,
You included her in your own family.
You took her where she needed to be taken.
You made sure she had her every need.
If not for you she would have felt forsaken.
What you have done is generous indeed!
Donna, please don’t think I’m unaware
Of all you’ve done and of how much you care.
I know that what you did was never easy
I know that what you did was never easy
and I know it was a selfless sacrifice
I know how difficult she can be, see
and I know that you were always kind and nice.
She, herself, may have never thanked you
but I don’t believe she meant it to be rude
Her need was such a hard thing to admit to
and she found it hard to show her gratitude.
So though to tell you she may never dare.
Donna, she was thankful for your care.
And I feel I haven’t thanked you near enough
I only wish that you could know my mind.
Speaking from the heart is always tough
It seems the proper words are hard to find
But now your heart is breaking just like mine is
But now your heart is breaking just like mine is
None of this is what we would have planned
We must realize our limitations
And put her care in someone else’s hands.
Donna, THANK YOU, for your many months of care.
Donna, THANK YOU, for your many months of care.
I’ll always be so grateful you were there.
********************************************************
SpeedBump
Out on the runway, under the sock
from out of the trenches his head would pop
a little guy, with stiff wiry hair
if you tried to approach him, you’d give him a scare
At first sight of someone he’d scamper away
At first sight of someone he’d scamper away
you might not again see him for many a day
but then he’d be back, peeking out from his hole
little eyes shining, black pieces of coal.
The controllers, they knew him, to the pilots they’d say
The controllers, they knew him, to the pilots they’d say
‘Beware of the speed bump at the end of runway’
They’d check on him daily, how did he survive?
They wanted to help him, to keep him alive.
But others that knew of him, really didn’t care
But others that knew of him, really didn’t care
all that they wanted was ‘him out of there’.
They sent out the little truck that said ‘Follow me’
they tried and they tried, but they couldn’t catch he.
They sent out the port authority, armed ready for bear.
They sent out the port authority, armed ready for bear.
Dead or alive, they really wouldn’t care.
Eventually they’d get him, and he’d cease to be
so we called for the warden from the AWC.
It didn’t take long, once they set up the trap.
It didn’t take long, once they set up the trap.
The poor little guy, scared out of his crap,
was brought to the shelter and stuffed in a cage.
Although he was fearful, there was no sign of rage.
Everyone loved him, he danced in his crate.
but he’d shrink back in fear if you opened the gate.
Life there wasn’t easy, he was slow to adjust
and try as he might, he just couldn’t trust.
Foster homes were looked for, but there just weren’t any
Foster homes were looked for, but there just weren’t any
Days turned to weeks, and the weeks there were many
The summer flew by, and he improved everyday
but his chance of adoption was far far away.
And a ‘new day' was coming, and with it a ‘new way’,
we knew that our Speed Bump would not last a day.
His name sadly appeared on the blue juices roster
so I tucked him under my arm and decided to foster.
He sheds like a snowstorm. The rugs covered in hair.
There’s more on the sofa, and more on the chair.
He howls when we leave him, if even a minute
whatever we’re doing, he wants to be in it.
He’s constantly licking, it drives us insane.
He rarely responds when you call him by name.
He and Leo are buddies, but Riot he hates
He growls at him daily. They’ll never be mates.
At night when its time for him to go outside
he heads for the dining room table to hide.
but if we let him spend the night in the house
he’ll be just as quiet as a little grey mouse
until Peter arrives at seven or somewhere there about
then he raises a ruckus until I let him out.
Once Peter’s been greeted and Speed’s pee’d on a tree
then he raises a ruckus until I let him out.
Once Peter’s been greeted and Speed’s pee’d on a tree
he’s back at the kitchen door staring at me.
When I let him in he jumps straight in John’s lap
When I let him in he jumps straight in John’s lap
and after his belly rub, he’s ready to nap.
When not on the sofa, he sleeps at John’s feet
but he makes every kitchen run. He can’t miss a treat!
He whines to get out, he whines to get in
if you leave the room he starts whining again.
Don’t leave him behind, he will not be forgotten!
Yes… its true, the dog’s spoiled rotten.
NOTE: This was written in 2006 or 2007 about our little dog speedbump.
He sleeps in our bed now everynight,
he is psychotic for sure but we adore the little rotten beast. – 5/2/2010
******************************************************
Daddy's Love
Daddy’s Love
It was there in the beginning, before I could even see
when through my mother’s belly, you gently felt for me.
You whispered, through the darkness, the promises you’d keep.
Your voice a distant murmur that calmed my unborn sleep.
It was seen on my birth day, when you first held me in your arms
Cradled there. Protected. Safe from this world’s harms.
With tears and trembling kisses your lips touched to my nose
You marveled at the perfectness of my tiny hands and toes.
And as I grew, so many times, I’d reach, and it’d be there
To smile away my boo boos, or wipe away a tear
You’d wrap your arms around me , and with a big hug or squeeze
You’d set me back upon my feet, another day to seize.
Oh I was not a perfect child, and sometimes your hand was hard
I tested all the boundaries, and often went too far
But even when I misbehaved and you’d paddle my behind
Deep down I knew your heavy hand was of the love-filled kind
In my teens and early twenties, I fought my need for you.
“I could do it by myself”! , “I knew just what to do”!
You let me go. You cheered me on. You let me find my way.
But IT was always with me, no matter where I’d stray.
On the day of my wedding , when together we walked the aisle
it was written on your face and was in your tear-stained smile.
Our last walk together, I didn’t know that’s what it’d be.
Our last private moment, you, your love, and me.
You’ve been gone so long now, but your love has stayed behind
It lives on forever. Memories of it fill my mind.
I know that it was real. I know that it was true.
But Daddy, I sometimes wonder, Did you know I loved you too?
Written in September, 2011. Thinking about him a lot lately.
The US Virgin Island's has a thing for hook bracelets. There are many artists and many designs. I have bracelets from several great jewelry artists. One special one that I have adopted kind of as 'my family' bracelet is the heart bracelet by Crucian Gold which features a beatiful stylized heart with a knot. Whenever family comes to visit, at least the ladies, I always try to make sure they go home with a heart bracelet around their wrist.
This tradition started in ???2011??? when my niece Christine visited. I wrote this poem then to remember the meaning of family and make this bracelet a reminder.
The Bracelet, by Laura BallardA gold heart for love of family, a gold knot for the ties that bind us.
A silver bracelet around our wrist, meant simply to remind us
That it’s common folk we come from, and common genes unite us
We’ve many similarities that surprise and delight us
But the greater gift we’re given, the one that matters in the end
Is that we are now not just family, we are each other’s friend
I modified it in 2019 when my great niece Charlotte Eaves visited and preferred the charm version of the heart to wear on a necklace.
The Charm, by Laura
Ballard
A heart for love of family, a knot for the ties that bind us.
A silver charm around the neck, meant simply to remind us
that it’s common folk we come from, and our common genes unite us
We’ve many similarities... that both surprise... and delight us
But the greater gift we’re given, the one that matters in the end
A heart for love of family, a knot for the ties that bind us.
A silver charm around the neck, meant simply to remind us
that it’s common folk we come from, and our common genes unite us
We’ve many similarities... that both surprise... and delight us
But the greater gift we’re given, the one that matters in the end
Is to have the love of family, and when your
family is your friend
Time Of Your Life - Poem by Laura Ellen Eaves Ballard
The years creep up on each of us, guietly and unseen
before we know what’s happening, we’re no longer child nor teen.
We learn, we grow,
We make mistakes.
We seek what we must find.
A path is made, we follow it, by destiny or design.
Our clock of life is ticking, steadily and quick.
We are not even aware of when our halfway mark is hit.
We move so fast.
We work so hard.
We never ‘have the time’.
A look into the mirror and we find we’re past our prime.
And the sand sifts through our hourglass, silently and fast.
We now know what is happening, but we can not change our past.
We wish we’d said,
We wish we’d done,
We wish we could once more.
Blow out the candles on the cake. Now forget what’s gone before.
Every hour of every day, so precious and finite.
Each one’s an opportunity, each dawn’s a new delight.
So, laugh out loud,
Set new goals,
Make every minute count.
Cherish all the little things, cause they’re what life’s about.
When years have flown, time has passed, and the sand is almost out.
When the final hour approaches, then there will be no doubt
We’ve lived good years
We’ve shed true tears
We’ve loved, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed.
And ‘lived life to the fullest” will be our epitaph.
before we know what’s happening, we’re no longer child nor teen.
We learn, we grow,
We make mistakes.
We seek what we must find.
A path is made, we follow it, by destiny or design.
Our clock of life is ticking, steadily and quick.
We are not even aware of when our halfway mark is hit.
We move so fast.
We work so hard.
We never ‘have the time’.
A look into the mirror and we find we’re past our prime.
And the sand sifts through our hourglass, silently and fast.
We now know what is happening, but we can not change our past.
We wish we’d said,
We wish we’d done,
We wish we could once more.
Blow out the candles on the cake. Now forget what’s gone before.
Every hour of every day, so precious and finite.
Each one’s an opportunity, each dawn’s a new delight.
So, laugh out loud,
Set new goals,
Make every minute count.
Cherish all the little things, cause they’re what life’s about.
When years have flown, time has passed, and the sand is almost out.
When the final hour approaches, then there will be no doubt
We’ve lived good years
We’ve shed true tears
We’ve loved, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed.
And ‘lived life to the fullest” will be our epitaph.
A PRECIOUS PACKAGE - a poem by Laura Ballard
I'm anxiously awaiting the arrival of a box.specially prepared for me by a crazy red-haired fox.I'm told its full of treasures, gathered here and there
individually chosen with lots of love and care.
Along with every treasure, there may be a little note
special messages, just for me... I wonder what she wrote? .
The box is on its way to me, and I can hardly wait.
I don't know what'll be inside, but I know it will be great.
It doesn't matter what I get, one way or another.
each will be a cherished gift, sent to me by my mother.
My Mother is a redheaded fox, both beautiful and sly.
for years she's answered questions; who, what, where and why
She raised her seven children, and whatever they went after...
she made sure they filled their lives with happiness and laughter.
She taught them all life's lessons, like knowing wrong from right,
like when to work and when to play, and how to sleep at night.
Her life has been exciting, with happy times and sad.
she taught her children to survive, through both the good and bad.
Now she watches as her children learn their lessons on their own
she's proud of every one of them and of the way they've grown.
And today, she packed a package, and she mailed it in the post
that in itself a precious gift... the one I treasure most.
When I receive this special box, I' ll open it with great care,
for no matter what I find inside, my mother will be there.
Her love will be inside that box, that's what it’s all about.
And of my mothers love, I have never had to doubt.
There may be many many miles that keep us far apart.
but when I need my mother... she's right here in my heart.
Along with every treasure, there may be a little note
special messages, just for me... I wonder what she wrote? .
The box is on its way to me, and I can hardly wait.
I don't know what'll be inside, but I know it will be great.
It doesn't matter what I get, one way or another.
each will be a cherished gift, sent to me by my mother.
My Mother is a redheaded fox, both beautiful and sly.
for years she's answered questions; who, what, where and why
She raised her seven children, and whatever they went after...
she made sure they filled their lives with happiness and laughter.
She taught them all life's lessons, like knowing wrong from right,
like when to work and when to play, and how to sleep at night.
Her life has been exciting, with happy times and sad.
she taught her children to survive, through both the good and bad.
Now she watches as her children learn their lessons on their own
she's proud of every one of them and of the way they've grown.
And today, she packed a package, and she mailed it in the post
that in itself a precious gift... the one I treasure most.
When I receive this special box, I' ll open it with great care,
for no matter what I find inside, my mother will be there.
Her love will be inside that box, that's what it’s all about.
And of my mothers love, I have never had to doubt.
There may be many many miles that keep us far apart.
but when I need my mother... she's right here in my heart.
