Monthly Archives: July 2012

Why Am I Still Here?

Why Am I Still Here?

The older I get the harder it becomes
To find meaning and purpose
In a life that has changed beyond all recognition
With a body that challenges me
Frustrates me
Pisses me off
To the point where
Death can at times
Seem the easier option
Even my hissy fits
Are insipid caricatures
Of once powerful searing surges
And yet I persist
Like masturbating with a vibrator
Full of dead batteries
I know I’m not going to get there
But I go through the motions
I live with loss
These losses are immeasurably sad
And now there’s the incremental loss of
The slow erosion of
These things bring sensations
Known to Damocles
Why am I still here?
A question I often ask the silent book lined room
Where I spend  the majority of my days
Because going out is difficult
By the time I’ve showered
Had a rest
Had a rest
Packed the walker and oxygen into the car
Had a rest
The day is half done
And weariness is already
Seeping into my bones
Each hour out
Requires a days recovery
I’m not an unhappy person
It’s just
Life has wearied me
I struggle to find meaning that is viable 
Given my limitations
I see no purpose in a life
Spent sitting in a chair
From that chair
I can reach out
And in the reaching
Connect and contribute
All I have to offer are my words
The tales and times of my life
Tricia 6/2012

Riding Rough Roads

Anger has motivated me to post on my blog again. I wrote the following poem in response to a photo of an obese woman and her child on a bike, posted on AllPoetry’s website. The cruelty of the responses saddened me deeply. Yes all is grist to the writer’s mill but, a shabby limerick is not art.
Riding Rough Roads

A mother sits by her daughter’s bed
Holding her hand, silently weeping
She decides to tell her a story
Even though the child is sleeping

Someone took our picture today
I suspect they think it’s funny
To see a little girl all squished up
By the large bottom of her mummy
Then they posted it on the internet
For all the world to see
Never stopping for a moment to think
How hurtful their actions could be
Mummy knows there’s not much room for you
When we go riding on the bike
But I promise you child it won’t always be so
And mummy will try to live with the spite
When cruelty wounds me to my core
I’ll sit with you while you sleep
Then tomorrow I’ll get back on our bike
They will never see me weep

The mother dries her tears
Kisses her much loved child’s head
With renewed strength and courage
She takes herself to bed


Tricia 7/2012