Thinking of... CAP

Out here in the field
Not everybody wants to hear you
To see you
To know you
For all you know, you might just be a plain jane
A party pooper
Or just really boring.
In frustration you look to all others
Who have in the past listened to you
Noticed you
Sympathised with you
And they don't reply.
Where would you go to then?
The answer: Almighty God
Wonderful Counsellor
My Shepherd
A Friend who knows all your thoughts
And, despite all your prickliness and thorns
Which deter all other people
He has an amazing ability to love
Even hypocrites
Know-it-alls
Smart alecs
Holier-than-thous
Aliens
Or the one that just doesn't fit in.
He has an amazing ability to listen to you
Comfort you
Guide you
And just pick you up in a gentle bearhug.
He is my Lord and my Shepherd
Able to do everything
Able to be everywhere at once
Able to carry me through the hard times.
Under the shadow of His wings
You will be loved.

My grandmother has fallen
Fallen she has
And zoom! In a flash she is in a hospital bed.
Looking at her in that dim room
I see five others
All with that faraway look
With that same pink pajamas
With the same greying hair
All lying back.
Some have visitors, some do not
Some have loving attention, others don't.
I look at the IV drip, liquid going in
I look at the urine bag, liquid going out.
Out there, the clouds gather in dark sponges that look wet and threatening.
My grandmother's legs are cold
I massage it for her
Trying to get some life back into her veins
She complains about the nurses
The doctors, the care they give
My mother feeds her
And she says:
"When you are young, your mother feeds you,
When you are old, you feed your mother."
And I see her, looking like the mother my grandmother was
Stooping over her, gentle words to encourage eating.
In the corner ward, an old lady snores
My mother says she sleeps all day and all night
She has a stroke;
But she is conscious while she sleeps
And when her children visit
It is only for a short while
It is getting dark
My grandmother wants us to leave
And I imagine how it is to sleep here at night
Nodding off, waking up again
Looking at five other beds
Just like yours
Looking at the outside world
Through a row of slanted stained glass pieces
With no one to remind you of the family you have
No one to look and listen to you
I hold my grandmother's hand and squeeze it
Trying to offer her comfort
We cannot bear to leave
Slowly, as day progresses
As visitors leave
We wash our hands, pick up our bags
And plod slowly to the door
I look out to the corridor
An entire row of similar rooms like this
Each a scenario, a situation, not that different
I look back at my grandmother
She gazes blankly at an unknown object
On a mimed shelf
And we fade into our own worlds of thought and thinking, living for ourselves
Forgetting that reminder of our own mortality.

Tell me how to write a poem please
I have no idea how to do it
Tell me how to write so that
Critics will pick it
Students will analyse it
And teachers will pluck every remaining feather from it, visible or not
I write my thoughts out
And see people discovering things that weren't there
See professors examine it under a large magnifying glass
And I wonder, what exactly goes on in my head.
Tell me how to write with hidden purpose and motives
Whether I know it or not
Will I be famous?
A century after, and have people knowing it?
Slap myself
It will be forgotten, read once and forgotten
Just to give amusement
Just to entertain
Just to pick up your train of thought once, and set it back on its tracks again.

Hello. Three poems of emotions and feelings to warp your heads.