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Writer's pictureStephanie Daich

CRAZY AS A BAT -Poetry

Updated: Apr 11, 2023




In the nursing home, I wander,

Sometimes fast, sometimes I saunter.

I get bored, you see,

That’s when I decide who I should be.

They’ve closed their eyes to who’s inside.

At first, it hurt, and I would hide.

But that was no way to live.

I am still full of fire, with much to give.

So with the staff, I look for fun.

I trick and joke, and often pun.

And when they don’t have time for that,

That’s when I pull out 'crazy as a bat'.

I might act like a drama queen,

Demand and yell, create a scene.



Sometimes in them, I found my spouse,

And chase them around the nursing house.

Other times I’m a schoolchild,

As I run down the halls acting wild.

Once I was the God of all,

And demanded tribute as I reigned the hall.

Sometimes in the middle of the program,

I’ll stand and sing and bleat like a lamb.

Once I sat in the administrator’s chair,

I told him to bow and give me fanfare.

With me, they don’t know what to think,

Making me visit more than one shrink.

But during those times of our private sessions,

I pull out the knowledge from my doctorate lessons.

Where the therapists see my knowledge is deeper.

We laugh, and we converse, then I’m returned to my keeper.

With a diagnosis “as smart as a whip,”

I give them a smirk, while by them, I skip.

And they are left baffled, not knowing what to do with me.

And really, the answer is quite simple, you see.

I once was a doctor, a parent, a scout,

But here, no one knows what I am about.

I ran committees, the top of my class.

Eight years in the navy earned me some brass,

But to them, all they see is wrinkles and grey hair.

They’ve closed off their heart without care.

I am not going to be brushed under the rug,

To be ignored and despised, not even a hug.

They will notice me. I’ll make sure of that.

I am not to be brushed under their mat.

So if they don’t have time to sit and learn,

Or if they are gruff and impatient acting stern,

Then I will pull out a new character to play.

The one I will act as the entire day.

But if they want logic, then with me, take a sit.

I’ll tell them my stories. It will only take a bit.

It’s worth it to them, for I won’t act like a loon,

Running around screaming, like a baboon.

We’ll have a great visit, both will learn.

Go back and forth in respect, each taking a turn.

We should be friends, you see,

Instead of me whipping out my bag of crazy.

In the nursing home, I wander,

Sometimes fast, sometimes I saunter

If they don’t pay attention to me,

That’s when I decide who I should be.


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Crazy as a Bat

by Stephanie Daich



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