You say I moan and want you to go
That’s not true and well you know
My pot of energy is getting less
As this pesky disease continues to progress
I just want to stay mobile as long as I can
And enjoy all the pleasures of being a gran
I appreciate your shopping and helping me out
But I‘m no angel and sometimes I have to shout
When my legs won’t move and are too weak to stand up
You will have to excuse my French when I say f**! f**!.
Sometimes my courage fails me
And I want to hide away
From the pitying looks of passers by
When I can’t move, they wonder why
I want to do all the things I used to do
What its like to be me you haven’t a clue
I would like to think you are proud of me and sometimes I do things right
So I don’t put my foot in it again I’ll end this by saying Goodnight
Well farhills you have spoken for a lot of us. Your feelings have passed through my head too and I totally agree with you. Excellent poem.
Can you post it again in DECEMBER 2012? It is just a way of keeping current poems together and easy to find. It doesn't matter if you can't or don't want to.
I hope you will write and post more.
Sorry I am ahead of myself - I mean NOVEMBER 2012!!
I've posted my first verse for you called Wear my Shoes - hope you like it
straight to the point....love 'em
Somehow, whilst I was very young
I learned via an unknown medium
How to sit, crawl, walk and run
To talk, read and write and have fun
Such things are not granted to all of us
I suppose I simply took it on trust
In between the baby tears
And those of my adult years
Nobody explained to me
How difficult it might be
To cope with this thing called pd
Should it ever happen to me
Or how I shall ever come to terms
Despite the well meaning concerns
Of those who care about me
Rather than just my pd
Just what was the reason for
The death of my beautiful boy
what use are words of sympathy to a soul that is on fire
no word can tell the full truth, so each word is a liar
but silence is ambiguous
some things are beyond concepts, that no-one can translate:
the black star in your universe, round which you gravitate.
so of that which we can not speak...
A huge thank you to M Turnip
Who seems to have the knack and the gift
Just how to reply
In words which apply
To the previous 'poet's' attempts