An Ode to My Hands

 Poetry  20 Responses »
Feb 152011
 
*I wrote this poem hours before my right thumb/wrist reconstruction

I’ve demanded much of you

Abused, neglected, forced you to do

More than you were intended to

More than a pair of hands should go through.

Heft and cut and carry and carve.

Knead, paint, write, fold, twist apart

Pushing then pulling beyond the limit

Until, cartilage gone, the pain~ can’t inhibit.

So you need repair.

Your lesser partner’s already been flayed.

It’s your turn to join the brigade

Into the cold room, stainless displayed

Give up bone, grist, tendon waylaid

To the surgeons deft blade.

And then

You will be strong again.

 Posted by Kim Nelson on 02/15/2011  Tagged with: ,

In Appreciation of Life

 Poetry, Quote Inspired  8 Responses »
Feb 082011
 

“Before we can find peace among nations, we have to find peace inside that small nation which is our own being.”

~BKS Iyengar

 

Despite the war waging in her bones,

She is at peace within her own being.

…

Hugging her au lait with both hands, tight

She wonders if she has the right

To be content at this “late stage,”

Knowing full well that she will not age.

Is happiness allowed to those

Whose end time everybody knows?

(Or at least assumes)

If she was proof, and proof she was

That death’s imminence really does

Inspire one to settle accounts

To create closure, and achieve what amounts

To a simple acceptance of this fact:

We all die.

Then be happy, she decides.

And she is.

So

She finds joy in every day that’s left.

Soothes those who feel bereft.

Pays her bills,

And writes her wills.

(Both living and otherwise)

In the here, in the now~

She kisses and hugs whenever inspired.

She drinks good wine, she naps when tired.

She tells her loved ones how she feels.

Enjoys, when possible, really good meals.

She takes her meds and walks every day.

Paints, reads, writes, and laughs and plays.

Because soon

Very soon,

She won’t be able to.

Because we all die,

And then begin anew.

*Inspired by Big Tent Poetry

 Posted by Kim Nelson on 02/08/2011  Tagged with: , , , , , , , ,

Loving The Fig

 Photos, Quote Inspired, Stories, Stuff  No Responses »
Jul 262010
 

 

Pliny The Elder, the noted Roman writer and natural philosopher, said “Figs are restorative. They increase the strength of young people, preserve the elderly in better health and make them look younger with fewer wrinkles.”

Bring on the figs!

Figs symbolize abundance, fertility, sweetness. Like a ripe and ready, fecund woman. The most mentioned fruits in the bible, figs also played key roles in ancient tales of love and seduction. Not surprising. Figs are sexy. Consider the words used to describe figs… Fleshy, Luscious, Rosy, Satiny, Smooth, Succulent. You get the picture.

Figs. I love them. Have I made you think twice? If so, take a look at some of mine:

Inspiration:

The Fig

by Gabriela Mistral, as translated from the Spanish by Maria Jacketti

Touch me: it is softness of good satin, and when you open me, what an unexpected rose! Do you not remember some king’s black cloak under which a redness burned?

I bloom inside myself to enjoy myself with an inward gaze, scarcely for a week.

Afterward, the satin opens generously in a great fold of Congolese laughter.

Poets have not know the color of night, nor the figs of Palestine. We are both the most ancient blue, a passionate blue, richly concentrating itself because of its ardor.

I spill my pressed flowers into your hand. I create a deaf meadow for your pleasure. I shower you with the meadow’s bouquet until covering your feet. No. I keep the flowers tied – they make me itch; the resting rose also knows this sensation.

I am also the pulp of the Rose-of-Sharon, bruised.

Allow my praise to be made: I nourished the Greeks, and they have praised me less than Juno, who gave them nothing.

 Posted by Kim Nelson on 07/26/2010  Tagged with: , , ,

Anxiety Returned to Me

 Art Journal, Poetry  6 Responses »
Jul 192010
 

 

Anxiety

Returned to me.

Why?

We had an agreement,

You and I.

We worked it through, we made a deal, I figured you’d be gone.

But no.

Recognizing destination, path and plan ~ you came along.

WTH?

Habit? Memory? Trauma exacted long ago?

Irrelevant!

Damn you and be warned:

You’re unwelcome.

Your tricks and games, old news.

I’m movin’ on no matter how you coax and woo.

I don’t need you.

Get it?

GO.

I AM in control.

 

Tell me... How do you react to, banish, deal with anxiety?
Share what works, what doesn't, your thoughts on the topic.

 Posted by Kim Nelson on 07/19/2010  Tagged with: , , , ,

KOK-see

 Poetry  7 Responses »
Feb 232010
 

 

An Ode to Valley Fever

 

Breathe them in

To the lungs

Airborne filaments and spores

In the warm, moist pleura

Spots and spingles form

Then plan

Their next move

 ~

For most

It is mild,

This inner invasion

~It means~

Fever, cough, chills, ache

Perhaps a rough, red rash

~ 

Six months

A year

You’re better

~

For others

Even twenty years later

Fever, weight loss, cough, chest pain

Blood-tinged sputum

Nodules to blame

But you don’t die

~ 

For the vulnerable few

Lung growths, ulcers, abrasions form

Skull, spine and bone lesions, the norm

Knees, ankles, other joints ache

The brain and spinal cord join in

Forsake

~

Recourse?

Rest

Fluconazole

Itraconazole

~But perhaps most important~

Learn the lessons

Do your best

This may be

The final test.

A few years ago, my dear friend died from a mad conflagration of valley fever and lung cancer. This piece emerged from that experience.

For the latest information regarding Coccidioidomycosis, commonly called Valley Fever, click here.

 Posted by Kim Nelson on 02/23/2010  Tagged with: , ,
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