Poignant but humorous observation of the proliferate openness with which such items are sold in France, something of a culture shock to an English Woman raised to believe such things were never openly discussed or demonstrated!


Incontinence Pads

In a dingy small town Christmas street
Old women shuffled by on bunyoned feet
Past the Chemist's window display where a,

Full range of incontinence pants
is,
On sale today.

Modelled right there in the open
Pads and nappies for old women and men
Inserts and wrap-arounds, large and small
Special offers and discounts, come one, come all

Along the chilly winter street
Listless old folk squelch and squeak
Dragging their heavy way back home
Spending christmas time alone

Safe from those untimely leaks
Padded up, so to speak,
Wearing the punishments of age
Returning to the land of babes

From nappies to nappies,
dust to dust
Where goes our pride,
When it's nappy or bust?

Regarding the lurid window display
I chuckled coldly, then went on my way
To my daughter I turned, eyebrows I raised
'If it comes to that, kill me' I blithely say.

Yet, when the weak muscles of age and ill health
Rob me of independence, pride and wealth
Will I head for the chemist relieved I can find
A full range of padded pants and sweet peace of mind?




Poetry by Carey Lenehan
Read 941 times
Written on 2006-11-04 at 11:40

Tags Elderly  Humour  Life 

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oddbird
This is such a 'real' and open poem about the sad side of growing old. Excellently written with wry humour and sad reality. great! Cheryl
2006-11-04