National Poetry Day 2023

It was National Poetry Day on the 5th October. Who knew we had such creative people amongst us!
We asked all of our team – home care assistants and office team – to try their hand at writing their own poem about care. We added a little competitive element and offered a prize in the form of a voucher of their choosing. We had some beautiful entries. They were all very heartfelt, emotional and thought provoking. It once again showed us that we really do have some amazing home care assistants. They really do care compassionately and whole heartedly and clearly give their all.
Our winning entry came from Ebony, a wonderful home care assistant who joined the team in August. Ebony chose a Costa coffee voucher as her prize. Thank you for your beautiful poem Ebony; enjoy your coffee on us!
Ebony’s poem:
What time is it?
As she’s looking at the clock.
It’s 7 and 12, what does that mean?
But then in walks her rock.
Good morning, did you sleep well?
Asks a lady who seems so nice.
Yes I think so, who are you?
The lady begins to cry.
Where am I? Is this my home?
And who the hell are you?
It’s okay my love, I’m here to help
Maybe you can help me too?
Let’s have a little sing song,
Let’s dance whilst I provide care,
Let’s talk about the world you’re in,
Whilst I gently brush your hair.
Everything is going well,
We’re nearly at the end.
Then you turn to hurt me,
You’re no longer my friend.
I leave the room for a moment,
To let you settle a while.
To provide some care to you,
I’d go the extra mile.
I try to finish off the routine,
That we had so nicely started.
But you shout abuse at me,
Dementia isn’t for the faint hearted.
My name is Joan,
I’m 89, or am I 21?
Are my parents still alive,
Or have they really gone?
My dad was here last night.
We danced the night away,
But now I’m looking in the mirror,
My hair is really grey.
I don’t know where I am.
In walks my son.
I’m so full of anger,
I want this to all be done.
My name is Joan, I’m 89,
But in my world, I’m 21.
I don’t live in this bungalow,
I don’t have a son.
My mum and dad are still alive,
The pictures are on the wall.
The pictures come alive to me,
They’re walking in the hall.
My dad takes me to the pub.
Every Friday night.
Please don’t disagree with me,
You’ll only fill me with fright.
My name is Joan, I’m 89.
My heart is full of sorrow.
I don’t remember you today,
But I may remember you tomorrow.