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woodbee

National Poetry month and Parkinson's Awareness month

21 posts in this topic

I invite any of us to write a poem about anything really or to tell us what one or 2 symptoms would you like the public to be made aware of and tell why ....Here is my contribution

 

(a poem)..What is Parkinson's?

 

Those of us who are unfortunate to have it

Know.

We Know very well

the tremors

the slowness

the muscles cramps

we Know too

how it effects

Every

aspect of our lives.

 

There are the visible signs and symptoms for all to see

But hidden from their eyes and their watching

Is the

Worry

the

Fear

the

Inner Turmoil,

the slowness of our thinking

no longer able to juggle many tasks at a time

the

Courage,

the

Persistence,

the

determination to

Live

Life

Big

in spite of it All.

These things are not seen but

We

Know.

Our sisters and our brothers with PD

Know

and

Witness for each other.

 

While all the while the

Disease

continues to nibble away at us...

reducing

reducing

reducing.

 

To Win the game

is to

Continue

to Do.....

whatever

you Can

To Spit in PD's Eye

to make that apple pie

to run that marathon

to travel over seas

to plant the garden peas,

to fish for trout or bass,

to polish up the brass

to play in the marching band

to work our shift

to walk the dog

to change the diaper

feed the hog

to read a book

or cook a meal

hammer that nail

sand the wood

change the oil

mow the lawn

put on your sock

clip your nails

stretch and stretch

roll over in bed

and

remind yourself to

talk up Loud and

Smile

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Fee fye fo fumb

PD is like bubble gum on your shoe

When you get it on you

There's not much you can do

 

Popping pills do help you

Exercise does too

But that'd about all you can do

Boo hoo hoo

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I'll try

 

They tell you to think outside the box,

While I can't even put on my socks.

My bathroom door was fine before,

But how do I get a walker through the door?

Never thought I'd need a ramp

But here I am with a cramp.

I try to be happy as I can be

As I choke down pills that I need to be me.

 

 

.

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TO my fellow Parkinson sufferers

 

1- The Unknown

2- The Pain

3- The Fight Back

4- The Dream

 

The Unknown

 

Suddenly you entered my life and changed it forever.

I didn't even know who you were

but if we are to be stuck together for life

I might as well get to know you better.

So... hello Parkinson!

 

The Pain

 

The off periods seem to last forever.

The crippling pains, the immense fatigue

the loss of appetite, the loss of sleep, the loss of energy for activities.

All these essential ingredients for a healthy life.

The fear: anxiety about a future out of control and full of pain.

The anger, the despair, the sadness.

 

The Fight Back

 

Then as a miracle, the on periods appear

Like islands of peace in a stormy sea,

Restoring the will to fight for a healthy life.

And with the help of angels, good medication, good doctors and carers,

And one's own will for a normal life

Seeks to relieve more suffering.

 

Then another Rescuer comes in the form of Deep Brain Stimulation.

With the twig of certain nuclei in the brain,

The same brain that gave so much pain

Can give pleasure and the normal functioning of the movements

And helps reduce the harmful effects of increasing drugs

Making the relief periods last longer.

 

The Dream

 

We all wish this on state will last for a long time,

Then the mystery of Parkinson's has to unwind.

And the same brain that has been controlled by Sickness

Will find in a moment of Greatness

The Key

To deliver mankind from this misery

Then Parkinson will fade into History..

 

 

Lam April 2012

 

with 9 years of suffering.PD

Lam is the 1st Vietnamese woman to arrive to Adelaide in 1962 from Vietnam

So Parkinson is an EEO (equal employment opportunity) recruiter

Edited by vietkieu

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I think these poems are great. Each one gives a unique perspective. Thanks for your poems and welcome Lam. Thanks also to Marcia and Luther too.

 

Anyone else ? Can be a poem about anything

 

OR

 

It is PD awareness month. What things would you most like the public to know about this disease we share?

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Thanks Woodbee for the prompting - here is my attempt

 

Clandestine

A message comes from the foot, the hand, a dream

Who is the sender? What do they mean?

Cryptic signals keep arriving,

more often,

in rhythym

Is there anyone out there? Who can I ask? Is it meant just for me?

 

The inquisitors make their attempts to draw out your secret

Harsh lights, shocks and strong magnets,

You can't give up

a secret you don't comprehend

 

Then you see - there are others who have heard the messages longer than you,

Others who have learned the code

Others who know the secret inside you

 

You begin to understand, and share too

Slowly

It takes time to explain

You're still learning the language

It takes time to reveal

But the message is spreading

and you know

You are not alone anymore

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i am in a DANCE FOR PD class ans wrote this poem to try to show the teachers not only the PWP feels, but to show the power of music and dance

 

NEW DANCER

 

I AM STIFF

I AM TWISTED

I AM DETERMINED

I GET UP

 

I AM ACHY

I AM SLOW

I DON’T SLEEP

I KEEP GOING

 

I AM TILTED

I FEEL SLUGGISH

I CAN’T DO IT

I FEEL OFF-BALANCE

 

I GET DRESSED

I TRY TO EAT

I MISS MY MOUTH

I DON’T GIVE UP

 

I CHANGE MY CLOTHES

I PUT ON SHOES

I TRY TO WALK

I ALMOST FALL

I TRY AGAIN

 

IT’S TIME FOR CLASS

I AM SLEEPY

I FEEL ANXIOUS

I AM CLUMSY

I DON’T GIVE IN

I CHECK MY WATCH

 

I CAN’T MOVE

MY LEGS DON’T WORK

I AM TIRED

I DON’T LAY DOWN

I KEEP GOING

 

I FIX MY HAIR

I DROP THE BRUSH

I PICK IT UP

I HIT MY HEAD

I MUST LEAVE SOON

 

 

 

I GET IN THE CAR

I MUST KEEP MOVING

I DON’T GIVE UP

 

I STOP AT THE STORE

I CAN’T FIND MY WALLET

I HOLD UP LINE

I DROP MY PURSE

I AM EMBARRASSED

 

I DON’T CRY

I DRIVE TO THE STUDIO

I AM A MESS

I PARK THE CAR

 

I FEEL SCARED

I WANT TO HIDE

I TRY TO STAND

I TRY ONCE MORE

 

I WALK TO THE ENTRANCE

I PULL THE DOOR

I CAN’T GET IN

I GET SOME HELP

 

I LOOK AROUND

I SEE A FACE

I SEE A WALKER

I SEE A SMILE

I SEE THE RAMP

I AM NERVOUS

 

I TRY TO SMILE

I START TO SHAKE

I CAN’T SIGN IN

I FEEL ASHAMED

 

I TRY TO TALK

I AM NOT HEARD

I GO AND SIT

I AM ASKED

I GIVE AN ANSWER

I FEEL UNSURE

 

 

 

I SEE THE TEACHER

I HEAR THE MUSIC

I START TO LOOSEN

I MOVE MY ARMS

I FEEL BETTER

I LOOK AROUND

I MIGHT BELONG

 

 

WE FEEL THE RYTHM

WE START TO LAUGH

WE START TO SWAY

WE ARE RELAXING

 

WE FEEL THE MUSIC

 

WE ALL ARE MOVING

WE ARE ALL SLOW

WE ALL ARE BEAUTIFUL

WE ALL ARE AWKWARD

WE ARE ALL GRACEFUL

WE ALL ARE JOYFUL

 

WE ARE ALL DANCING

 

WE ALL ARE LIFTED

WE ALL ARE SOARING

WE ALL CAN FEEL IT

 

WE NOW ARE BOWING

WE FEEL ACCEPTED

WE GET EMOTIONAL

WE ARE ALL HOLDING

WE ARE CONNECTED

 

WE ARE ALL TWISTED

WE ARE ALL WEARY

WE ARE ALL AWKWARD

WE ALL DON’T KNOW IT

WE ALL ARE DANCING

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We are very happy to read these inspiring poems, thank you all. I will add a poem from my son.

 

dear mum

you are still the precocious little girl playing on bags of flour in

your parents' bakery

who lost her mother at five

the same rebellious daughter donning lipstick to hit rue catinat and

standing up to an iron-willed father and step mother

top of the class, teacher's pet

boarding the australian-bound jet

feeling guilty away from home about everyone in the war,

then you had your own battle with a belligerent husband, a petty boss

and now parkinsons and old age

but there are always beautiful moments,

lovely legian beach in bali,

the weekly joy of ripe stone fruit from the market

travels to paris, parma, kakadu, blue mini to melbourne, bunyip

lovely yellow orange rays of sun and blue sky through the tall gums

and windows of your paradise

birds singing, koalas dozing in your garden of eden

drives with michael to a panoply of scrabble heavens with endless

gorgeous terraces, gelati, coffee and nut sundaes

caring friends and weekly visits from tanya and the kids

because you feel you carried an unfair burden, life may appear heavy,

but one must never get stuck on the rocks, flow freely to the warm

tropical pool.

look at the beauty instead of the injustice, both will always be there.

i sometimes feel guilty about you back home fighting the war

parkinsons is a state of body, it is not you

you are still the loving mother, waiting for her son to come visit

i have always been here,

just as you have always been here for me

wherever i am in the world

the same woman who enjoys talking to people

learning new languages and cultures

cooking delicious food

you may think external things determine joy or sorrow but

everything comes from within

your essence is indestructible, unchangeable, permanent

like a beaming diamond radiating through your and our lives

you know who you are, just as we do

nothing changes who you are

 

with best love and wishes for the operation

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Vietkieu,

 

what a nice tribute from your son . You sound like a person who was dealt many challenges in your life and weathered them well inspite of the hardships they may have caused.. Good luck and best of health to you. thanks for sharing your and your son's poetry.

Edited by woodbee

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Minding my own business

I travelled lifes busy road

I was strong and invincible

I could carry a big load.

 

He came out of nowhere

Can I walk with you? he said.

Free country, big road,I nodded

And I strode on ahead

 

But the road got steep

My new companion right there

He whistled and smiled

I stumbled, he didn't care.

 

Who are you, go away,

You bug me. Go to hell.

I tried to out run him

But I stumbled and fell.

 

I got up but i limped,

Why did my hand shake.

Ever since this guy joined

My journey, I can't get a break.

 

I couldn't sleep anymore

Restless all through the night.

I could only hope that he would

Be gone by the morning's light.

 

But he stuck to me, I'm tired

Why is he following me I cry

I try to slip away from him

But he beats me on every try.

 

We are shackled together,

Inseperable, his choice. I'm beat.

I'm hungry, he follows me

Grabs my hand when I try to eat.

 

And squeezes my throat

when I try to chew and swallow.

Its would be easy to lie still

And in self pity I could wallow.

 

Finally I ask, who are you

What do you want,is it a game

Yes, I'm here to harass you

He said. P. Arkinson is the name.

 

Okay. I said, I give up, You win.

I can't fight no more. I am out of gas.

Good he said and relaxed his grip.

And then I kicked him in the ass.

 

Be gone you jerk, go away

He's an evil, a self serving goon

I hope my new companion,

Will get lost from me, real soon.

Edited by jb49
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Senses

 

Young nurse asked “cedar or

or lime?'

Nope.

“Two outta three, one more time.”

Was no smell, I had not lied

 

“you'll take to the grave”

It was urgency's time.

Along went humor, irony

and pride.

 

I think I hear hope packing

in the back bedroom.

I haven't peeked in,

for two remain -other is gloom.

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Roy the line in your poem....

 

I think I hear hope packing in the back bedroom

 

.....is powerful. Hits like a ton of bricks.

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I Miss You

 

Goodbye

Me

I will miss you

And your artistry,

Your walk, mostly, it turns out--

Today, anyway

 

Now that I

The person who once was

Less than artifact

More than shadows and light,

Have succumbed

To stage two

(whatever that is)

I long for the first stage again,

Remembering it

As wholesome

And real

 

But Parkinson’s

Whore that you are

Have left me rent

And hidden

Here behind the glass

Of “I once was… could… have been”

Waving goodbye

To any semblance of beauty

I once had, save for this:

The written word

Edited by WindsongMoonChild

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WMC,

"My lovely husband, sweet puppies, poetry, painting, reading, and volunteering."

 

rg

"Sweet wife, old dogs, pizza, cold beer, napping under the umbrella and fishing."

 

But same damn window. Thank you for sharing.

 

roy g

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WMC,

"My lovely husband, sweet puppies, poetry, painting, reading, and volunteering."

 

rg

"Sweet wife, old dogs, pizza, cold beer, napping under the umbrella and fishing."

 

But same damn window. Thank you for sharing.

 

roy g

 

Lovely, lovely, lovely!

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"Not of it" she said

"but with it you'll be,

from this very moment

and for eternity."

 

So, Plan that morning,

show me the door,

it'll not have me

to kick around anymore.

 

roy g

 

 

 

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