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What Time Is It?
“What time is it?” he asks of me,
__“It’s now eleven o’clock;”
“What time is it?” he asks of me,
__As I hear the tick and tock.
“What time is it?” he asks of me,
__“It’s now eleven o-two;”
His eyes light up in childlike awe,
__This information is new.
“What time is it?” he asks of me,
__“It’s now eleven o-four;
It’s but a couple of minutes since
__You’ve asked that of me before.”
I’m so grateful it’s not Alzheimer’s
__To steal my beloved away;
Instead he asks me simple things,
__Like what is the time of day.
The knowledge of self and surroundings and
__The twinkle in his eyes still there,
Bespeaks a greater presence than of
__Even I’m aware.
We laugh and we commiserate,
__Our joyful moments abound;
“What time is it?” he asks of me;
__I’m so grateful he’s around.
.
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I Dreamed I Went to Heaven
I dreamed I went to heaven,
Where I saw the rainbow bridge,
The creatures I had cherished,
Were playing just over the ridge;
I saw my old friend Peggy,
Her breathtaking beauty intact,
Her visage was clear as glass,
It wasn’t at all abstract;
There was no need for coins or paper,
Or trappings of vanity and wealth;
And everywhere I chanced to look,
All were happy, in eternal good health;
I saw children playing on swings
As their grandparents pushed to and fro;
And daffodils swayed in the breeze,
The air had an entrancing glow;
A warmth overtook me in waves,
A burst of intensity, then calm;
It surged and it ebbed like the tide,
It soothed like a blissful balm;
Would I could live here forever,
Yet that wish will one day come true;
A dilemma to stay or to leave,
To wake is to shatter the view;
As I passed back to my earthly domain,
A tear drop alit on my cheek;
Where is Eden’s elusive ideal,
Where is the garden I seek?
.
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Come Play With Me
Come play with me, my mistress, please
With squeaky toys to chew and squeeze,
Let’s tug-a-war with my knotted rope
Then rub my tummy for a while I hope;
Afterwards a treat will do
And then let’s start the games anew;
My nap time’s not till Daddy’s home
After which the house I’ll roam;
Soon on the couch we three shall be,
A picture show for us to see;
Then off to bed our dreams take flight
Chasing butterflies through the night,
The daylight comes as I stretch and yawn,
Sunrise teases the sluggish dawn;
I’m ready for the day to seize,
Come play with me, my mistress, please.
.
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A native of Long Island, New York, Vicki Roberts spent her career in Los Angeles and was a Judge Pro Tem for the L.A. Municipal Court from 1984 through 1990 and presided over thousands of trials and related matters. She has appeared on television numerous times as a legal commentator. She is a contributing and named co-author of the book, Beyond a Reasonable Doubt Introduced by Larry King (Phoenix Books, 2006). Her inaugural poetry book was Bourgeois Poetry by Vicki Roberts (Mira Digital Publishing, 2019). She resides in Palm Beach County, Florida.
I find all three poems reveal a sweet sensitive soul that speaks to me of love and joy. Although I have been blessed that none of my relatives had Alzheimer’s, like most of us we have observed someone in that condition and empathized with the caretakers. We all are on a quest for our lost Garden of Eden and your depth of feeling from a dream was a great self-visualization.
The poem adopting the personality and thinking of a pet was precious. Needless to say I became immersed in all three poems and read each one more than once to savor them.
Dear Mr. Peterson,
Thank you so much for your beautiful and thoughtful comments. I appreciate your words more than you know.
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts
Hi, All,
The first poem “What Time Is It?” is about NON-Alzheimer’s dementia as the poem specifically states (that it is NOT Alzheimer’s). There are different forms of dementia, including frontotemporal dementia (which is the kind about which the poem reflects), vascular dementia, and Alzheimer’s, the latter of which robs the individual of knowledge of self, others, and overall understanding. The poem specifically notes the blessing that it is NOT Alzheimer’s because if it were, there would likely be very little quality of life for the individual, and interaction with the individual would be minimal at best if at all. The poem was inspired by a true interaction I had with my 98 1/2 year old Dad who lives on a hospital bed in our living room. He is a joy to have around and he participates daily in quality communication. He does not have Alzheimer’s as the poem clearly states in gratitude. Thanks so much for reading.
Cordially,
Vicki Roberts
Vicki, thank you for the information on different types of dementia. May your father continue to enjoy a happy life with his loving family.
Your sweet poems are a delight.
Dear Ms. Gardner,
Thank you so much for your comment! I really appreciate it. 🙂
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts
All three of these poems have an ethereal, dreamlike feel to them which I found quite enchanting, not matter the topic.
Thanks for sharing your unique voice, Vicki.
Dear Mr. Freeman,
Thank you so much for your wonderful comment. I so much appreciate your words.
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts
All three poems are very beautiful, with “What Time Is It?” being the sentimental one (especially its concluding stanza). I enjoyed the simple language pervading throughout all the pieces. Perhaps this is my first time reading a poem on Alzheimer’s. It’s quite an experience to read about it through a poet’s lens who knows about the condition. The other two poems have a blissful nature to them. Thank you for these gems, Vicki.
Dear Mr. Banerjee,
Thank you so much for your kind words. I so much appreciate your comments!
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts
Vicki, “What time is it?” taught a valuable lesson: that we must treasure our loved ones for whatever time they have with us. Sometimes, when caring for those with dementia, that isn’t easy. But it’s still true. Thanks.
Dear Mr. Whippman,
Thank you so much for your beautiful comments which are right on the money. I am grateful for every single day my parents are still here (my husband and I are the 24/7 caretakers of both of them, who are incapacitated and who live with us).
I would be remiss if I did not mention one of my references in the other poem which was about my dream where I saw Peggy again. Peggy Dalton was a 17-year old high school classmate who was killed in a horrible car crash in 1975. It’s hard to believe that it’s almost 50 years – a half a century – and yet her image is so clear that it’s as if she’s standing right before me now.
Thank you again.
Cordially,
Vicki Roberts
Vicki, you have two contrasting views of time in the first and third poems here. “What Time Is It” is a poem title with the words used as a significant sort of refrain. As you and David Whippman point out, repeated insistence on time, with a loving response every time, embodies the poem’s message about the value of time spent with loved ones–even those whose capacities may be failing. “Come Play With Me” also uses a refrain to show how the pet regards each day’s plan as a thing to be playfully repeated. I love this one because I recognize the unreasoning but logical schedule schematized by our cat even in her numerous variations about the order of desired daily activities. Best wishes for love and fun in your days!
Dear Ms. Coats,
Thank you so much for your very insightful and observant comments which I read more than once! I very much appreciate it.
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts
Your poems are unusual and perceptive. Thank you!
Dear Ms. Cook,
Thank you so much for your kind words!
Best regards,
Vicki Roberts