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Showing posts from July, 2012

Drumming with Elders

Do you run a community group, day centre or care home.

Do you have an Elders group who would like a drumming session or workshop?

The drums I use are very simple to use and I have had fun workshops in all Older Peoples venues including work with people in hospital, EMI nursing and other Dementia settings. The First Nations principles of honouring the Elders in our society underpin my work.

I have designed day and half day workshops for People with Memory issues and their family and friends.

These have been great fun and help with recall and mobility too.

I can cater for larger groups as I have 20 drums


 Please contact me for details via email.

Poetry from workshops volume 6

Tomorrow
My Daughter visited so they say
Said she took me out today.
Had an ice cream, cup of tea,
Glad she can remember me!
Music playing, can I dance?
Comedy on, do I laugh?
Favourite colour blue or red
Things go fuzzy in my head.

I’m quite worn out but don’t know why
Try to remember makes me cry
Block it out, make it go away
Tomorrow is another day...


Poetry form workshops volume 5

Where I Am

Not knowing where I am.
Sitting in this chair
Watching everyone going by
As they walk and stare
Wondering who they are
And wondering why I’m here
As I can taste the fear
I call for the nurse as she walks on by
I feel embarrassed and I could cry
Where has yesterday gone
I just want to go back
Home

Poetry from workshops volume 4

Why am I here?
I don’t know why I’m here
All I feel is fear
They tell me my wife is having a rest?
I should be there!
Why can’t I see her?
Why won’t you let me see her!
I need to see her
I am confused
Why Am I Here?

Poetry from workshops volume 3

I feel like a shell washed up on the shore
Empty inside, empty in my head,
The warmth of the sun reminds me of another place
A nice place, a safe place.
Then the crash of the waves takes me back
Into the black empty nothingness.

More poetry

There’s a new one in today, she’s in the RAF She talks very loudly I’m sure she thinks I’m deaf Though I haven’t missed a thing about her whole weekend of clubbing I rather doubt that she’ll find out my shoes are rather rubbing But still they helped us in the war  when this was touch and go land Oh shit that’s it you idiot Not RAF but Poland And this new one in today Is very pretty In a polish sort of way Written as ‘Joe’ 87

Poetry from workshops

Walking along the corridors
Not getting anywhere
Looking for a face
That I would recognise...