“Loves Lament”

My head lay cushioned upon your silken breast,
With your tears of sorrow caressing at my nape, 
And the fingers of an angel soothing my brow,
‘Yet’ the heart within you was echoing out lament,

For those destined moments since set to one side,
As the confusions within me will not subside,
Since this illness of my mind is just tearing me apart,
But this loving kiss, I doth still place on your heart,

I’d dreamed of our twilight years walking hand in hand,
With the romance of our love defying the blossoms of time,
For the love within your heart had been more than mere words,
Since you come into my life with the tenderness of your soul,

Now as my being diminishes betwixt life and death, 
Yet still comely unto my eyes is your every breath, 
So weep not a tear for what you behold in your arms, 
As my spirit will guide thee ever steadfast and strong,

Then whence I lay my head upon the soft clouds of God, 
Embalm my body with every essence of your love, 
Thus as your guardian angel I shall forever oversee, 
Until time doth come for ye to accompany me,

Thence once more we shall embrace our undying love, 
Never parting us again with thoughts of lament…

Barry © 

“From here to eternity”

As we walked down the lane, ne’er thought of fear,
Radiance of the sun eclipsed o’er yonder field,
With flights of swallows swooping on the breeze,
I mused of life from within another perspective, 
Free of anxiety and an incurable disease,

Cumulus clouds went aimlessly drifting by, 
As ye old babbling brook rippled in serenity of peace,
Tranquility within my mind a subjunctive of deep thought, 
Yet my body felt the silence speak, an acoustic eloquence of touch,
As a visceral comprehendible Braille, silent in its lexicon,

Oh anguished art thee that doth walk this keening path, 
Ne’er benison of slumber from apocalyptic apprehensions,
Though I’m not afraid of death, ‘tis the fear of the morrow, 
Yet our battle will ne’er be forgot, nor fortitude of those who fought it,
Since our glory walks hand-in-hand, with our kismet,

But, will our memories echo throughout the centuries,
Will strangers hear our names, remember who we were, 
Will they know of the stringent fight to retain our dignity,
Will an understanding reach beyond the vastness of eternity,
Since until the day of my demise, shalt I fight it that far,

Thence… if our stories are told within the future,
Then let them say… they walked as like giants…
Let them say… they walked with honour…
As beings, rising and falling like winter wheat,
Thence… let them know… we walked with dementia… 

Barry ©


“I’m only me”

I’m only me, and that’s all I can be,

For better or worse, no more, no less,

So please don’t try and second guess,

I love, I live, I laugh, and I cry,

And sometimes I’ve wished that I could die,

Some days I’m funny, others I’m not,

And many a day I’ve forgotten what I forgot,

Yet, some days I can be in overdrive speed,

And then I can’t stop,

You may not like that,

But that’s OK, because this is now me,

As this is the way, that dementias made me...


Barry ©


“A conversation betwixt Heaven and Hell within my mind”

My battle of wills within the intellect doth ensue each day,
So sometimes I seek a higher point of view in clarity,
For its quality of magnitude so I become not passive,
And not blurred within a haze until spring doth dawn,
Whence birds’ eloquent song or beauty of voice are not of choose,
For they will always both be welcomed with warm embrace, but…
Thence doth start a conversation betwixt heaven and hell, 
Where a foray and affray within my mind doth continual dwell, 

Compassion is mine alone to give, sayeth the heaven, 
Then confusion is mine to entail, comes the cry from hell,
I shall awaken the brightest of new dawns, sayeth heaven,
Then I will descend upon your setting sun, cryeth hell, 
Thou can seek solace within my embrace, sayeth heaven, 
Then I will lay lament on your memories past, cryeth hell,
I will give fortitude in body and mind, sayeth heaven,
Then I shall eat at the very heart and soul, cryeth hell,
I shall be at your side throughout every day, sayeth heaven,
Then I will send ghouls in the night to disarray, cryeth hell,
I will reign over your every walking step, sayeth heaven,
Then I will rain discord on the equilibrium, cryeth hell,
I shall guide ye through the storm clouds of dismay, sayeth heaven,
Then I will send a dense shroud that darkens the way, cryeth hell,
I shall calm the harshest decibels to mind and ear, sayeth heaven, 
Then I will diminish speech with fraught tears, cryeth hell,
Have no fear, for your life is in the hands of God, sayeth heaven,
Not if I have my way, comes an echoing cry from hell,
Then thou art the most cruellest demon, sayeth heaven, 
For the being that fights illness surely embodies the Lord,
To this there were no more cries to be heard from hell,
Truly Alzheimer’s doth take me betwixt heaven and hell…

Barry © 

“The Sky”

Although this poem doesn’t actually mention the word dementia it’s a reflection of how memories flash through my brain of my past due to my Alzheimer’s 

“The Sky”

Sometimes I awake very early to watch the sun arising,
From the depths of sleep high into the sky shinning,
Then I like to lie on my back and watch the clouds go floating by,
As it always looks so peaceful high up in the sky,
I try to find things I can see hidden and formed by the clouds,
A ship, a car, a dog, a cow, and look over there,
A castle with towers spiraling,

When I used to fly around the world I’d look out the window to see,
All the clouds go passing by like icebergs in an ice covered sea,
You feel you could walk out onto snow the way the clouds did lay,
Then change doth come from white to black the clouds like angry devils eyes,
Thunder claps, thunder bolts, a lightning flash light up the fearsome sky,

But then it passes as fast as it came and the sky is calm once more,
As night time sets and the sun goes down the horizon turns red and yellow,
Slowly the shades of night time to follow,
Now the clouds are but only a few giving way to a night sky of blue,
With thousands of tiny fairy lights as the twinkling stars come into view,

So passes another day from morning into night,
Maybe again tomorrow will bring more amazing sky sites…

Barry © 

“Illusions in my mind”

Do you sit and daydream, letting your mind run free,

Do you have illusions, of how things might be,

Do you visualize heaven, what pictures come into mind,

I don’t see lots of angels with pure white wings behind,

Standing with pearly gates open this if far from my mind,

But doors will be opened with a whole new world to be seen,


Yes there will be angels, but having hearts of pure gold,

Hills and downs rising, falling to a horizon light so far,

A sky so blue, soft white clouds floating before your eyes,

Maybe to see animals once loved, or beautiful butterflies,

Time to take long walks, over lush new green grass,

All the hustle and bustle of daily life, slowly passing by,


Swallows swooping and diving, graceful swans go flying by,

Never to be too hot or cold, no matter what clothes you wear,

No need to rush around, or worry of daily problems anymore,

Not to think of paying bills, or things that confuse the mind,

Just to sit back, turn off the brain, enjoy the day going by,

To go wandering where you like, standing gazing around,

Willow trees gently swaying, gracing your shaded ground,

So peaceful it will be with no noises to disturb the mind,


A chair always ready, warm drinks forever by your side,

Maybe just to relax, drifting into sleep whenever you like,

Read a book, or paper, and not to remember what you read,

Loved ones at your side caressing, calming, wiping away a tear,

This is my dream of heaven, the way I’d want it to be,

Is this just and illusion in my mind,

As this is already daily life for me...



“Macabre of Night”

Having the constant dreams and nightmares seem to haunt me every night and sometimes even at midday when I take my nap… which made me write this account of one such dream. 

“Macabre of Night” 

Oh silence of night why doth thee abide me no grace,
Whence tranquility of sleep doth withdraw to a grave,
Then in the once hallowed peace of slumbers depth,
Shrouded within the labyrinth of a distraught mind,
Macabre doth lurk, in the midst of its fiendish taint, 

Now I dream in apprehension of the blood stained knife, 
With gruesome apparitions… distorting the night,
Tremble as a mocking hangman’s noose stretches taut, 
Then running, screaming, fleeing the devilish fiend,
Thence plummeting down, towards the sod of earth, 

Ferociousness of limbs now in a frenzied affray,
Lash out at the air, or anything, with eyelids closed tight,
Whence bed doth move, thence nightlight would take wing,
The furniture therein becomes my sleepwalker’s maze,
As I fight of a foe… not within dwellings grasp,

I stumble and grope… howl, wherein doth I dwell,
As ligaments do ach and a drowsy numbness pains,
When soft arms embrace me, honey, reawaken thy soul, 
Return to the living; consume spiritual waters of peace,
For ‘twas the water of Lethean, thee hath drained… 


A grandfather’s gift

For the past few months I‘ve been having recurring dreams about my late grandfather who himself had Mixed Dementia, there not in any way scary or morbid just a mixture of my vivid memories about him, as I can see his him so vividly in the dreams as though he’s sitting roght next to me and watching me, then stretching out his arms beckoning me yet with the wonderful smile he always had on his face, it’s almost as though he’s saying “I’m here waiting for you when you’re ready lad” (as he always called me) 

‘A grandfather’s gift’


I can still remember my grandfather, so vivid in my dreams,

Reclining in his armchair beside an open coal fire,

With a mass of silver grey hair and the twinkling in his eyes,

But he was slipping into an illness…

Of which then I knew not why,


Unto all his grandchildren he was called by a pet name,

Pom-Pom, and up to this day, I don’t know from where it came,

He was a staunch upright figure with a positive attitude to life,

Though having survived two world wars,

Yet could still remain so calm,


He always wore a trilby being the fashion of the day,

And just like Humphrey Bogart, peak pulled over one eye,

Endlessly puffing on his pipe, filled with the finest Black Bore,

Or taking a pinch of snuff…

Making us all sneeze and laugh,


By profession he had been a monumental letter cutter,

A craftsman, chipping verses into granite, marble and stone,

His hands had been so steady, but now they shook like a wreck,

So I sat down by his side,

Talking and filling his pipe,


I was telling him I’d now finished school

And about to go out to work, so he tried to squeeze my hands saying…

Then advice I have for you lad…

‘Ears and eyes open to what’s going on around you all the time’…

‘Only speak when spoken to’

You’re there to work not talk’


What he had told me then still remains in my mind to this day,

But finally the day came when his own steps he had to climb,

It was goodbye… but as he left, something strange happened,

Of which then I was not aware, it was a gift,

Of his soul, and the skills in his hands,

He had passed onto I,


My mother always told me, you are your granddad right to a T,

Could this be true, since a craftsman I became with my hands,

I smoked a pipe just like him, and yes, wear a trilby just the same,

Pom-Pom, have you remained in this life…

But as a spirit within me,


I’ve followed you in so many ways,

Right to the last detail you could say,

As now I have exactly the same illness Alzheimer’s that took thee…

So please keep a chair vacant within the wisps of the clouds,

Then again we can sit together…

As we reminisce… puffing on our pipes...       


Barry ©… Dedicated to my late grandfather George Mills, (about 1893-1961)