Poems – (1 of 4 website blogs)
Like a bathtub when the plug is pulled,
My life-energy drains
And I am left limp as a rag doll,
Like Gulliver restrained by Lilliputians.
Resistance is futile.
This disease takes what it is owed.
No exceptions.
I notice the sour smell of infrequently washed skin,
The roughening and deepening creases of unshed skin.
Everything is slowing down.
Must scrub harder with those antibacterial wipes,
But that needs energy
And mine has all fallen down the drain,
Swallowed by disease.
So I lay still and wait.
Maybe one day the tap will turn on?
– By Lydia
What does pretty mean?
When you have nothing left to give?
When a smile is strained and not contagious
Not flirtatious
Laughter forced to feel courageous
Cannot give or help when you are helpless,
Hopeless, copeless.
Where’s the beauty in the moody?
What does pretty mean
To the unseen,
Whose spirit is asleep?
Mind and body feeling weak
Is it only strength we seek?
Strong, to be admired and desired
What does pretty mean when you’re broken and you’re tired?
Why should pretty mean anything at all?
It never served me before
It certainly hasn’t found me a cure
Or helped me endure this state of fragility, gracefully or tastefully
Are you saying I’m pretty?
Or is it just pity?
Pretty isn’t real, it’s a disguise
What matters is the beauty that lies behind ones eyes
Daring you to care about the attraction from within
That which is hidden from view
Below the surface is the pretty that’s true
– By Nadine