Skill with the drill

Returning to the dentist and her scary drill,
a visit on a day that tested my will.

Whiled away an hour, cause she was running late,
a harrowing time spent contemplating my fate.

She wasn’t too happy with my teeth last week,
so off for full X-rays a clearer picture to seek.

Then full of dread waiting to learn the result
Envisioning another painful drill- assault

Like a lamb to the slaughter I’m led to the chair,
Nurse keeps chattering a trick to keep me there.

My Dentist arrives … face mask in place,
I simulate a demeanour of dignity and grace

“Muzz the news is not good so I will be blunt,
a root canal’s needed for that tooth in the front”.

On having the needle, I didn’t utter a peep
I’d just removed myself … pretended to sleep.

A light doze I’ll admit while still being aware,
in a twilight zone far too drugged up to care.

While practicing her craft with talent and might,
she drills and she digs until she gets it just right.

Arose next morning in more pain than before,
with no end in sight there’s still appointments galore.

I gifted this poem, hoping mounting fees to stall,
next visit it’s there framed up on her wall

My catchcry being …we are girls we can do this,
reneging at this stage would be quite remiss

Costs rocketed so high … for this little lot,
reckon I bought my dentist her very own yacht.

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Writing 201, poetry: Day Seven: Fingers, Prose Poem, Assonanc

201

Nerve damage

Hand

The intense searing heat of nerve end damage

causing loss of sensation in fingers,

would engage a certain encumbrance,

albeit not entirely encroaching on independence.

Item identification must then depend on the

vision of eyesight still enabled, when endlessly

wending through a purse without any sense of

touch.

Writing 101, Day Nineteen: Don’t Stop the Rockin’

Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing: just go. Bonus points if you tackle an idea you’ve been playing with but think is too silly to post about. 

writing-101-june-2014-class-badge-3 

How Sad.

 

As I don’t have anything on the back burner, I thought I would just note down my thoughts on attending today what has to be the saddest funeral, not the sadness born of losing a loved one, I have ever had the misfortune to attend.  We received the phone call just two evenings ago; hubby’s uncle had passed away and was to be buried on Friday morning at nine am. Because of the distance, we had to travel in and around the morning peak time, so would have to leave home at seven thirty. Ok, for family we can do this, and we did, arriving at our destination with fifteen minutes to spare. I had met this uncle on a few occasions over the years at different family gatherings, though never having spent a great deal of time chatting with him, his wife being my Mum-in-law’s best friend was the one I was naturally drawn to at get-togethers.

            Looking around we noticed that there were very few cars in the lot, assuming others must have parked around the back until we spotted my sister-in-law driving up, while waiting for her to park my other sister-in-law and her hubby pulled into a spot. Entering the funeral parlour together, we were greeted by Hubby’s Aunty, his cousin and his wife, their four adult children, partners and grandchildren, along with a handful of non-family mourners.

                        It somehow seemed wrong to me, twenty five adults present to say goodbye, this was a man, who had raised a family and worked hard for sixty odd years, only to hear within a short time of arrival that he had not been very popular at the end of his life.

           The service was over within about twenty minutes at the most, Frank Sinatra’s recording of I did it my way, was playing as we entered the chapel, after being seated, we were welcomed by the officiator, who then gave a short eulogy on behalf of the family, in this he mentioned that the deceased, was a hard working family man, a keen golfer, and dedicated football supporter, albeit not a people person he was respected by all who knew him. It was then time for those that wanted to, to light a candle for uncle; this offer was taken up by about half the gathering, after which to the strains of uncle’s football-club theme song the curtain closed in front of the coffin.

            Gathering afterwards at the family home for refreshments, we learned uncle really was not a very social person or even a friendly one, supposedly being bought up by a very stern father himself, without having ever experiencing family warmth, had none to share with his own family as they were growing up. In his advancing years, he had become an uncooperative, bitter and demanding person, hence the playing of the Sinatra song at the service

            I cannot help thinking how sad, ninety six years old and not one person with a good word to say for him at his funeral

The games people play

One can feel the crunch of despair

when you’re suddenly made aware

that you have become another victim of the games people play

 

How many times have you been cheated?

by ones who have counted

that you’re gunna be best buddies for ever and a day

 

They always sound so damn convincing

as they carry through their trust facade inducing

your confidence tho any fears try to allay

 

Time and time again

they inflict their intangible pain

while to the outside world never are their true colours on display

 

It’s often the inner ache that forms your doubt

when sympathisers always say good karma will out

albeit they know it’s still hearsay

 

Pessimism born of such exposure

is damaging to human nature

leaving emotional wellbeing in utter disarray

 

This widespread affliction

has no cure in pill nor lotion

it’s exclusively in the hands of those practicing emotional foray

 

Just beware on life’s perilous journey

of what’s real and what is blarney

both being fundamental tools in the games people play.