Swiss Cheese and Twisted Genes
(Take with a big pinch of salt. )
I’ve heard that my brain is turning to mush
metaphorically, swiss cheese,
with gaps appearing all over the place
and scarring too, if you please.
And now they're discovering something else,
my genes misbehave as well.
Maybe they went though the washing machine
on the hot wash cycle from hell.
Neurologically speaking I'm all messed up,
immunologically too,
and my poor old mitochondria -
don't ask - I haven't a clue.
This morning I found that, while I could write,
my speech had taken a dive;
I had to keep stopping as words disappeared
and I went into overdrive.
Right now I'm forgetting the alphabet,
it's crazy, but there it is;
my hands are working ok for once
but my mind is all in a tizz.
So how can I make up poems at all
in such a dreadful mess?
I'm beginning to think they write themselves.
And they do it with such finesse!
© 2004
Heroics
Watching Olympians exhausting themselves,
struck by the differences and similarities.
Familiar symptoms,
the time to recover,
but often all I've had to do
is get out of bed.
© 2004
Through My Window
A dark twiggy tracery stands stark against a sky of powder blue.
Beyond, the early morning light illuminates the high rise homes
lending warmth and colour to the erstwhile pallid walls.
On such a day as this our eyes
make nonsense of the temperature
and fool us into wondering if Spring is here at last.
© 2004