by David Jensen
Copyright 2016 by David Jensen
In addition to writing short, and long stories,
I sometimes write poetic verses.
This is just a few.
Cover photo is a Lilly from
my wife’s fish pond.
The first batch of poems deal with the daily life living with Essential Tremor.
As I like to re-text songs at a moments notice, I sang this text to the German song with the same title. Somewhat quirky, but that is how it happened on a bad day with the shakes.
I’m spilling my coffee,
I’m shaking it on the floor.
sometimes I can’t take no more.
And if my hands are shaking like a Bat,
I’ll just sit down and pet the Cat.
My body is restless
I’m shaking like a leaf.
cause I got too much sleep.
And then I took my morning pill,
then lost my balance and took a spill.
Oh I wish the doctors,
would finally find a remedy.
For this awful sickness
this stressful malady!
In my eyes, a song is simply a poem with music accompanying it.
Search YouTube for the title and sing along!
Their text in German is also pretty cool!
Banal is the sound I want, as mornings
the alarm clock begins to buzz.
One foot asleep, cramped under me,
and my mouth, it seems full of fuzz.
Getting up, my eyes still full of sleepiness,
glued half closed, full of Sandman yuck.
I start my daily morning ritual of fighting
to silence the clock, it’ll work, with luck!
With only two buttons, one is cut flat,
should be simple, not as easy as that.
My hand for the button, shakes and fumbles
and hits the wrong button and the radio rumbles.
A sneer and unprintable words from my mouth,
my hand goes downward, farther south.
Finding the cable and pulling the plug,
silencing finally the radio DJ’s mug.
Just a short time ago, a Facebook member said one of her Dates had referred to her as Squirrelly. That word sort of fits when one has a terrible day with Essential Tremor. I use it now as a code word for when I have those days. The word stuck in my brain and I (naturally) ended up making a song text. Still, it makes a hilarious poem. Enjoy!
Playing Hara-Kiri mornings with the razor blade,
cursing at the mirror trying to shave my face.
Toothpaste on the brush, shoved it into my mouth,
I shook so bad I almost knocked a tooth out.
Standing there in pain with a rolled up fist,
I seem to feel most mornings like a Masochist.
I’m Squirrelly, So quirky.
But don’t look at me so queerly.
And now the Dentist is grinning
at all of the cuts,
and says; “One to the throat
would have been enough!”
Eyeliner in the morning to make you look real hip,
but the results look like a Charles Manson trip.
The daily lipstick challenge which you do so dear,
but with the shaking you’re painted up to your ear.
And the challenge of your eyelashes, Yay or Nay,
if you slip-up what will the Optometrist say.
You’re Squirrelly. Even so quirky.
Sorry if I’m smiling so dearly.
Right now I could laugh
until I start to cry.
Because the eyelash liner
don’t belong in the eyes.
Waiting at the bus stop and getting so mad,
an old lady says; “Man, I thought that I shook bad!”
“But looking at you it starts to make me glad,
Because compared to me you’re looking really sad!”
I turned to her and said;
I may seem Squirrelly. I may act flaky.
It’s because all the time I’m shaky!
Don’t treat me like I’m some
Kind of stranger version,
I’m the same as you, I’m
just a normal person.
Without the alarm clock waking me,
open eyes and bad vibrations inside.
I sit up, listen to my body and see
today my squirrelly will be at my side.
It’s going to be, for me, another bad day,
take it easy, no stress, my wife will say.
Two pills already and another one coming,
insides feel like a Harp string humming,
just wish it would quit it’s strumming!
On the outside, the gross twitching of my cup
is multiplied by hundreds inside my gut.
It’s cold and damp, which makes it worse
I feel like I’ve been run over by a horse.
Mornings in the Hotel restaurant,
I stride proudly over to my seat
and try to act so nonchalant.
Toast and pancakes, syrup Maple flavor.
And I ask the waitress for a favor.
Would like a cup with a big handle
and to my surprise she brings my cup
Large enough for only a sample!
So I butter my toast with marmalade,
and half of it flies next to the plate.
I forgot my pills and now I suffer,
observing the faces of all the others.
I shake my toast and bite in mean,
and getting more mad because I seen
the marmalade spilled on my jeans.
But that problem nobody saw
they were watching my shaky jaw.
The epitome of mad and deeply hurt,
I proceed to spill coffee on my shirt.
The waitress giggles and I’m shamed some more,
so I let my tip fall on the floor.
So on her knees, she’s picking up money
and I walk out the door thinking,
to hell with you honey!
Even before the alarm clock rings,
opening my eyes, they begin to flutter.
Try to get up, my balance swings,
from inside out, my body shudders.
I already know, experience tells,
today will not go too well.
My morning pill, as usual I take,
an hour later, another I take.
At work, my plans they won’t go through,
they’ll have to wait, another list To-Do.
So I sit here shaking, scratching this poem,
just can’t wait, till it’s time to go home.
It’s Friday, so I’ll do some menial task,
and wait for my personal earthquake to pass.
This should probably be a poem if the words start to rhyme
but it all depends on my hands and if I have the time.
A small verse about the Internet, to go and look,
and discover that we’re not alone on this illnesses hook.
In the springtime, the essential tremor afflicted
on the Internet begin to take notice.
Communications slowly wind down even
before the coming of the summer solstice.
The cold combined with the shaking makes
us embarrassed to partake in a normal
life of community social living.
So we hibernate in our homes like the
bears before the thaw of spring.
But when nature starts to warm itself and
the leaves begin in the wind to flatter,
a walk in the woods helps to relieve
the stressful life and the shaking.
While listening to the birds in the trees
as they begin with their spring chatter.
Looking around and I feel like I’m the only one,
constantly surrounded by others that are normal.
I stand with my head held high, looking for someone
the same as I, and seeing no one, wave my head informal.
There must be another one, someone like me,
but I’m a person afflicted with ET.
If others are there, show me, give me the power,
for in a field of wheat, I’m the lonely Sunflower.
Here is another song text written for the Piano. Unfortunately I never found someone who is good enough to play it out for me without having notes. The tune is in my head!
I may sometimes stumble and I may shake.
When I’m walking along, I got a funny gait.
Please don’t laugh when I stop and stand,
if you’re not afflicted you can’t understand.
Essential tremor is a strange disease.
If you want to know more, just ask me please.
I can talk to you about it all day long,
and your queries about it are what make me strong.
We are so many, were in the millions.
We pass it on to our Daughters and Sons,
Eight times more prominent than Parkinson’s.
Our balance and shaking really takes the cake.
This sickness knows no color, creed or race.
When you’re at the doctors, they know what to do,
because the basic illnesses they learned in school.
But when I arrive shaking they begin to ogle,
and turn to the computer and begin to Google.
Try to get a job, for you a simple norm,
but I could just cry filling out the form.
My handwriting looks like Hieroglyphics,
so illegible they think I’m being unspecific.
And if they someday finally find a cure,
I’d give them every penny now that’s for sure.
But till then I’ll keep on taking all my pills,
if my balance holds out I won’t take another spill,
And keep talking about it for one good simple reason.
For we are Legion.
So now for the rest, which are not related to Essential Tremor.
The shadows which sometimes dance around in my brain,
a framework thought filled with my painting of pain,
of the remembrance of the time that they came.
Or some psychedelic vision which drives one insane?
The prodding, the probing, the sticking and such,
leave me alone. I can’t take it. It’s simply too much.
The visions, I’m seeing him!, I can’t believe my eyes!
Can’t close them, can’t stop it, I can’t even cry.
He stands there looking, naked, directly a fore,
and I too, naked, my feet on the spongy floor.
But behind me, a silver OP table where I once laid,
the wrong place and time, and the price that I paid.
Then they left, as they came, as if in a dream.
No blood, no marks, no stitches or seams,
my cognizance, a slate wiped total, almost clean,
with expertise done, were it not for their beam.
Maybe I’ll explain this last one in an upcoming book.
This is something which really aggravates me when walking down the street, so coming home, I jotted this down.
Down the sidewalk they speedily walk, as if hiking,
staring downward oblivious to their surroundings.
Thumbs flying, deeply involved with typing and liking,
a call goes out, but they don’t ascertain the sounding.
Bad mood day. I waver not and walk straight like a Viking.
We crash and they notice my face, somewhat frightening,
sorry, they’re apologetic, for they know their wrong.
for the ignorance of all, except their cell phone.
It is hard to remember exactly how many pets we have had so far, but they were always there, always patient and faithful to us.
They come in all shapes, sizes and colors
sharing their unconditional love
not like the others.
If they could, they would,
stay “Till death do us part..
but they always go first, leaving
us grieving with a heavy heart.
If we have a bad day shaking
our thoughts depressive, black like soot,
they are always there ready to sooth
our aching souls, regardless of our mood.
With a wagging tail, the nudge of a muzzle,
irrefutable acceptance, it’s not a puzzle!
We can scold or scream with all our might,
they snuggle up to us, it’s alright!
Homeless, crippled, ugly or poor,
others would have showed us the door.
They’ll never leave us, on that I’ll bet,
they’re more than friends, our house pets.
In the dead of the night, as I lay deep in my darkened well of sleep, I slowly start to take notice of his presence.
I am afraid.
Even through my unopened eyes, I can actually feel him staring at me, ominous, surely a deep penetrating look and I think; “Please, leave me alone! My only wish is to remain in my Nirvana state of deep peaceful dreams.”
I am afraid.
I slowly arise out of my foggy mentally incapacitated state of sleep, and I feel his presence on my blanket, and think; “Please, leave me alone, I do not need this!”
I am afraid.
Wishful thinking, praying or pleading will be to no avail against this entity, pressing heavily down on my blanket with his body slowly coming towards my face. And I think; “Why me?”
I am afraid.
I can barely hear him as he quietly breathes, and decide to face up to the fact that I simply have no other choice in the matter. For he is relentless, persistent, persevering.
And I am afraid.
Very slowly, opening one eye just barely enough to see, he is now so close, and he is staring directly into my face!
Now I really am afraid.
As I open both eyes and face the truth, the entity then speaks to me; “Meow!”
I am afraid, that I simply have no choice but to get up and let him go outside.
Simply a small collection of poems that I have written about Essential Tremor, animals, pets and such.