Sunday, September 12, 2010


i fit tight jeans
with my 49 year old body
that feels 25
kindles sexual desires
mocks youthful flirtation
seduced by music & your
piercing eyes that
cut the chains of
limitations & boundaries
get me out of me

i am coming to you
i drink liquid gold, flaming red
molten copper through
my third eye

i lick the cold thin ice-
ing off the pond
your lips sear memories
steal my energy

your hands~arms pull me
close into your vortex
remind me now- the fall
of my life
your voice is brittle like glass

i go from bed to bed
not quite sure where to lay my head
you have become the bears you hunted
i lay in silence
arms flail, fists pound
with your roar~my tears flood
moans into fitful sleep
you are lost forever
still i yearn your viceral
your thoughtful mind~you

you are silent now
as you hold my hand
i hear the shrill grate of your sorrow
we are not immortal, invincible or immune
one in six will be cursed with dementia ruin

Copyright: Dianne Tchir September 12,2010


  1. I wonder if you ever read my poem on dementia - The Way Home? You can read it here:
    It's different from yours, of course, yet touches on the same subject - is the same subject.
    Yours brought tears to my eyes. The subject matter is so difficult, often personal (in my case my mother and grandmother had it), but you have penned a poem describing an often hidden side of life when dementia descends - and you have done very well indeed.
    I tend to use capital 'I' for I - in the I that I am - but that's nitpicking.
    It's a great poem and one that tugs at the heart strings.


  2. Stanzas 1-4 are memorable..sensual, sensitive, then real, raw emotional pain and love. Rich imagery and understanding. Wonderful poem.

  3. mighty well written and powerful Dianne. I think you really freed yourself to be expressive in this and it shows. the image in stanza 2 is very striking and original.

  4. I can only repeat what was said in the Wizard of Oz, "I'm melting. I'm melting." Any hotter and I would be any witch way. Ouch! How do I explain friction-burns being done by static words. Rope burns, maybe. But friction-burns? Or was that suppose to be fiction-burns. Whatever! Hot cha!

  5. Hi Dianne, this additional comment is for you to post on John Smith if you wish.

    "We are not immortal, invincible or immune" I don't think you are just referring to losing the "viceral" and "thoughtful mind" of a loved one here to dementia. For me, it equally refers to the loss of youth and gradual erosion of sexual confidence in ones long term attractiveness to others that comes with ageing. The imagery and beauty of stanzas 2,3 and 4 is memorable, sensual and erotic and I like the way you explore sexual feelings in this poem, but for me, the poems heart is in its opening stanza. You are conscious of the body physically ageing but "fit tight jeans".. and the mind still feels and wants to act like it is 25 which "kindles sexual desires". Youth is confident and adventurous, but ageing beauty tempers this with caution and "mocks youthful flirtation". Its like that moment when men glance at your daughter in the street instead of you...a slow slide into self invisibility. You resist its decline, let yourself be "seduced by music &..piercing eyes" because only passion can "cut the chains of limitation & boundaries" and "get me out of me". This is so beautifully written. A very skillfully crafted poem with real dramatic impact.

  6. I am unsure which emotion to feel. It's powerful and sad Dianne. Dramatic and raw with an unexpected ending.

  7. I really enjoyed this Dianne, The words are astounding; as you easily lead the reader into the depths of your passion & psyche. Producing the sense of desire and of time, and the want make a leap of faith! Beautiful work x :-)

  8. This poem is my life from ages 41 through 50. Really. I'm not as good of a critic on the writing as the others, but it touched memories viscerally withing me. Haunting. My biggest dread is when it is going to happen, like waiting for a hurricane to strike.