Poetry Corner

For those of you who like expressing yourself with poetry, this is for you - all submissions welcome.

Dynamite (Dedicated to Helena Wilkinson: by Guss Wilkinson)

Great things often come in small packages,

But small in stature,

Does not mean small in strength,

It does not mean small in elegance,

Or in style,

Neither does it mean small in beauty,

Intellect, charm, warmth or compassion,

It does not mean small in love,

Nor does it mean small in humour or patience,

Caring, resilience, sophistication or spice…

 

…For in all these respects,

She is a giant,

The person with whom I share my life,

It is with such great and immeasurable honour,

That I am permitted to call her,

My wife.

Random thoughts (Dedicated to all suffers of Sarcoidosis: by Guss Wilkinson)

Who the hell is that fat guy in the mirror?

His face is all swollen and puffy!

Oh yes, ‘tis me and Mr Prednisone!

No, it can’t be me: I’m fit and lean and full of energy?

But that was before...

 

...Dad, please come and play football with me?

Sorry mate, I’m just so tired.

Dad, will you bike with us?

Sorry guys, not just now.

Dad, we’re playing monopoly – do you want to join?

I’d love to son, but I’m just going to have a lie down.

Dad, can we play black jack?

Maybe tomorrow boys, I’ve had such a hard day.

Dad, can you read us a story?

Ask your mum, I’m busy.

Dad, do you want to join us for a walk?

I really have to rest guys.

Dad, how about some chess?

Not right now Jake – thanks for asking.

Dad, will you take us swimming?

I’m not feeling to good Sam.

Dad, this is a great film, will you watch it with us?

I’ve seen it before.

Dad, can I borrow your computer?

No!

Dad, can you make us your pancakes?

Mum’s cooking you fish tonight.

Dad, can you build us some Lego?

I will, but not just now.

Dad, will you talk to us before we turn off the light?

No, it’s getting lat…….Ok, what do you want to talk about?...

 

…When are you going to get better?

I don’t know, but real soon I hope!

Dad, when are you coming off your medication?

As soon as I can, mate.

We love you Dad!

I love you too, guys – more than anything.

You’re the best dad in the world!

….swallow….Note to self: I must remember to stop saying no!

Good night, sleep well – I’ll see you in the morning!...

 

Dad, please come and play football with me?

OK.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, will you bike with us?

Sure thing boys.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, we’re playing monopoly – do you want to join?

OK then, set it up.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, can we play black jack?

Yep, let's do it.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, can you read us a story?

Of course I will.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, do you want to join us for a walk?

Great.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, how about some chess?

Go for it.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, will you take us swimming?

Why not.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, this is a great film, will you watch it with us?

Make room for me then.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, can I borrow your computer?

Yes, but be careful.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, can you make us your pancakes?

That's a good idea.

You’re the best dad in the world!

Dad, can you build us some Lego?

OK.

You’re the best dad in the world!

 

DEEP INSIDE – THERE IS A RESERVE: IT CAN BE VERY HARD TO FIND, BUT IT’S THERE – FIND IT, BEFORE YOU ARE FORGOTTEN!

A Piece of Cake: by Guss Wilkinson

Pour 1-cup of insomnia, 1-cup of fatigue,

And 1-cup of irritability into a bowl,

Pour in 1 full pint of frustration,

Stir in some pain, breathlessness and confusion,

Add some pills, anything you like – it makes no difference,

Bake in an oven of self-pity until firm,

Sprinkle on a pinch of hope before serving.

 

See! With Sarc, life really is a piece of cake!

 

(Inspired by Bryce Courtney)

The Book: More for Sarcoidosis people - by Guss Wilkinson

Lying in bed turning the pages of the book,

That book, the story of my life,

How many pages has this monster already written?

I certainly can’t tell,

I look at the pages as they write themselves,

The words are all blurred,

That damned fog in my head,

The lead weighing down my limbs,

The open sores of my soul,

Out of which my strength runs,

Forever gone?

Let’s turn back the pages,

I need to remember,

But surely this is fiction,

You can’t believe everything that you read,

Who is the person in this story?

What boundless energy, what resolve, what strength, what joy,

Slim and fit, the smile, the eyes that sparkle,

It can’t be me,

The monster rules now,

The past is soon forgotten,

The mirror sneers at me,

Fat, grumpy, sad, exhausted, mean, hopeless,

Who would want that as a lover, a father, a brother, a son or a friend?

Flicking forward to where the words continue to appear,

They cannot be stopped,

How many blank pages are there left,

The thickness is elusive,

Can this monster be beaten?

Can I poison it with this poison?

Three times a day, every other day, every day,

If so, what then,

Who is waiting at the other end?

A shell or a man,

I suppose it is up to me,

Get up you Norseman,

One foot in front of the other,

The ending must be,

They lived happily ever after,

Valhalla will have to wait,

I have a book to write!

 

LIVETS VÄG - By Fredrik Yderström to his new born son

Långan väg att gå,

Snabbt, snabbt, lagom, långsamt, tungt,

Långan väg att gå,

Glädje, död, skratt och gråt, kärlek, sorg,

Långan väg att gå,

Rätt, fel, fel, rätt, höger, vänster, rakt fram,

Långanväg att gå.

Plötsligt en dag,

LJUS, VÄRME, KÄRLEK, HOPP,

ETT BARNSKRIK,

Du ser dig omkring,

Och finner att du bara är i början,

Av livets väg.

Med glädje och lätta steg,

Går du vidare på livets väg.

 

(Till Nils från pappa Fredrik)

Since publishing these poems, I have had so much positive feedback and many people have expressed the desire to read more. I have now written one more and it will probably be my last...(who knows). I always hesitate to distribute this type of writing as it is so personal and there are very few with whom I am comfortable baring my soul.

But, for completeness, here it is (if you read the others first, you'll notice a different tone):

The Tunnel - by Guss Wilkinson 2007
 
Years of fog, pain, rage, confusion and angst,
 - Fighting for breath,
 - Fighting for sleep,
 - Fighting for energy,
Years of waking up in a soaking bed,
 - Struggling to find names,
 - Struggling to find joy or hope,
 - Struggling to find strength,
Years of apologising to people I love,
 - For things that I said and did,
 - For things that I though,
 - For things that I didn’t say, do or think
Years of losing myself
 - The looks,
 - The humour,
 - And the fun,
My Family, my friends and others,
 - Were losing me,
 - But I am such a lucky man,
 - For I did not lose them,
They are the heroes, soul-mates, brothers and sisters,
 - And I am back,
 - With a vengeance,
 - With a spark,
No light at the end of the tunnel,
 - For I have emerged,
 - From the darkness and gloom,
 - With a spring in my stride,
The tunnel is far behind me now,
 - The air is so sweet and fresh,
 - Vision is so crisp and colourful,
 - Thought is so clear,
But who am I now?
 - I am a husband and lover again,
 - I am a valued father once more,
 - I am a strong and dependable friend,
Push through fellow fighters,
 - The journey is hard,
 - The struggle is tough,
 - But follow the trail,
We will be waiting for you at the other end,
 - We’ll laugh together,
 - We’ll remember together,
 - And we’ll walk the rest of the way together…as better people.