Long Glaucoma Poems
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For long was I in love of light,
Light being likened with knowledge,
And when I fell in love of dark,
It was no love of a first sight,
One, led by the glory of night
In its star-spangled image.
It took time to know of my love.
But I should have known this long back
When mother used to kohl my eyes…
Yet, a beginning was made when,
I hardly knew it then,
And when she put a dark spot on forehead,
I should have realized,
I loved Lady of Dark more than of light.
Approaching soft feet from behind,
The friends in school would often block my eyes
In the game of ‘guess who’…
Later, when a girl did the same,
I began to feel my love of dark,
And I often wondered
If love was feminine.
Long years later, came glaucoma
And my love of dark was confirmed,
It looked like falling in love
With the spouse after marriage,
But it was not.
Perhaps this ailment was god’s way
To help me realize love of dark.
Maybe, in dark our inner eyes open
And we begin to see the unseen.
Light creates what is visual noise,
Dark touches deeply like soft breeze,
When we begin to hear our inner voice
Like someone on a violin
To give inner vision.
Those hands of mother that used to kohl
My eyes, of friends, blocking my eyes,
Of that girl cooing in my ears, guess who,
Were they of glaucoma,
Or just of love in dark,
To guess being an empty lark,
I may not if ever would know.
_______________________
Musings |03.12.2024| light, dark, love
It is knowledge and understanding beyond the seen
and not the mind, losing its charisma.
Laid down unmerited blessings is best imagined,
being qualified is by belief and not a diploma.
It’s unbelievable and strange to the world,
such a road is never short of stigma.
Its carriers are tagged blind and myopic
with neighbours wondering if it’s mental glaucoma.
Truth shoulders its complexities
as reasoning partners with facts,
leaving convictions to serve as reality’s aroma.
But much glory waits such stand,
fueling hope to operate a wide cinema.
The present usually blurs the future
like a child in its pregnant mama.
Sight is limited but understanding runs deep,
without it, one will live but in a conscious coma.
Wooden mouth eats word and threat.
Frozen eye stares through vaudeville glaucoma.
The master is mimicked, masked, and mocked.
Doll tuxedo stretched from neck to crotch.
Head swivels to whiplash punchlines.
If it’s all in good fun, why do I want to die?
Neck telescopes and voice screeches.
Tears spurt from stage to footlight.
Two are one, yet double of what cannot exist.
It’s nearly there, nearly a man, a malformed thought.
Hanging on the edge of another world.
A fleeting spectre in a funhouse mirror.
Curtain lowers beneath dying lights.
Gathered terrors are delivered home.
Yet tiny footsteps follow behind.
Remember crimson rictus.
Lips move, but words never come.
On cue the final joke falls flat.
Reasons to be happy
Why should I be happy sir?
I have a job and a secure marriage,
I can walk,
Talk,
And use my hands freely,
I don’t have cancer or cholera or glaucoma.
I don’t have to run away from a war,
Across deserts, over walls or seas to abroad.
I can speak freely and say what’s on my mind,
Unlike in China, Zimbabwe or Venezuela.
I don’t have to queue to get food parcels and clothes,
Or sleep on the streets holding signs for loose change.
I wake up,
Use hot clean water to wash,
Dress in a suit.
I’m not persecuted for colour,
Race or religion,
I can listen to music of choice, people of choice
Get up in the morning, sleep in a bed at night.
A "Highly" Debated Issue
From glaucoma to chemotherapy
Medical marijuana has its place
But you won’t find any prescribed
In the conservative Sunshine State
Chris couldn’t eat while under treatment
Watched him lose one-hundred pounds
He had no access to an appetite stimulant
His weight was 85 when laid in the ground
Hefty Jen had lived a life of kindness
Taught spiritually uplifting courses
She suffered when chemo raced through her system
Until people said, “How beautifully slim her corpse is.”
When Dad’s glaucoma grew severe
He relied only on eye drops that made him tear
His gift of sight was taken slowly
Though THC might have helped his eyes clear
And when I first wrestled with ulcerative colitis
A college friend brought me a joint, said, “Try it”
Less than an hour later I was eating without pain
But laws are clear, Florida doctors can’t prescribe it
Research has proved there are benefits
Only medical marijuana use can provide
But those who worry about drug abuse
Say those who could benefit should be denied
Each day in the headlines we read of drunk drivers
Mostly teens who seek access through friends
And if they want marijuana, they find a way to get it
But for those who abide by laws, agony never ends
If smoking pot or ingesting a tablet of THC
Can help a person who is suffering great pain
Don’t you think the time has come
To ask prohibitionists to explain
Why people who are hurting needlessly
Cannot have access to any remedy
That soothes their aches, improves their last days
Diminishing the symptoms of their tragedy
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Why I love C.D’s poem “ A Highly Debated Issue”:
Carolyn Devonshire’s poems showcase the extraordinary thoughtful mind behind those lines. All of Carolyn’s poems are profound, and full of depth, but this poem especially touched me - I had the similar experience of losing a beloved one to the deadly disease, and we were not able to give him relief during the last days of intense pain. Carolyn was a strong, sensitive, generous, caring human being and a talented poetess, who loved life in her own way - she loved sand, and left her footprints on the shores of this mysterious earth.
Celebrating Carolyn’s poetry: an Uncontest Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
SUNDIAL WISDOM--
I only tell of sunny hours;
And my face looks toward heaven's skies;
And a gnomon, which casts a shadow onto my dial;
My eyes gnomon clouds ruin my view;
Glaucoma vision clouding my decision;
I yet still can't see my time;
Numerically can't read the sign;
The earing of sun-block, keeps me from buying a watch;
As time goes by, shadows lie;
Numbers Roman or old English;
Without the sun Can't be read;
I have no, No time stone-face;
Wish someone would tell me what time it is;
1/30/19
For Sundial Wisdom Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:Julia Ward
Personification poetry form only
If I see balmy bliss more than bane,
Every leaf filled with fresh new wonder,
Each cloud an omen of copious rain,
The new world would nudge me to ponder…
The dismal would still bestir my brain,
The bizarre would give me boundless joy
To muse if I were a child again--
A wide-eyed wonder-struck little boy!
And for sure, I was just so of late--
As one hopes to be in his eighties,
Lovely did the world look, worth a wait,
Were I bestowed brand new pair of eyes?
A new stance has taught me how to see,
What so far was tunnel look to me.
____________________
Sonnet | 15.03.2017 | child, life, lovely/beautiful, world
Note: Set in anapaest tri-meter. And it was so despite my glaucoma-caused constrained peripheral vision.
Reggae artist Peter Tosh said it best with his hit song "Legalize It". The legendary
Bob Marley also glorified it in his music. Of course they were referring to marijuana.
In the 1970's marijuana was just as popular as it is today. However most were using
it to get high, some were using it for medicinal purposes. We've come a long way since then, with many states now legalizing it. There is ongoing research to tap into its
medicinal uses. It has been used for many years to treat glaucoma, and given to
cancer patients to alleviate nausea.
I think this herb will prove to have great impact in the field of medicine. Though
Peter and Bob are no longer with us, we can certainly appreciate their vision.
many will continue to use it to get high, many more will benefit from its medicinal
attributes. To all those who will benefit now, and in the future, I'll just light up my spliff and say; "This buds for you".
Look deep, deep in the mirror
Do you see color?
What do you see?
Can you see the sins of the humanity,
And the hypocrisy creeping at the doorsteps?
Blinded by the murky and muddy
Glaucoma of jealousy,
You can neither see the footsteps
Of your consciousness,
Nor the smears of your unconsciousness.
Look deep, way beyond the third heaven.
Tell the world candidly about your exploration
And your obvious observation.
Look deep, dig beyond the grimaces of the pen.
Come clean and you shall see that no one is perfect.
There is an ever-present secret skeleton in the closet.
You simply have to cross the deck,
Take a few steps beyond and let
The reality blows whistle and ring bells.
Never forget to look beyond the dirt under your nails.
Copyright© December 12,2011, Hébert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
Been diagnosed with start of glaucoma
It certainly was to be expected
Members of my family have also suffered
So why wouldn't I be affected
As most families go, so go its members
Very few of us miss this inheritance
Scads of money would be much more welcome
But we're all a slave to happenstance
Hopefully it's progress is really slow moving
And I'm good for a while yet to come
Not keen on anything to do with the eyeballs
Feel squeamish and come all undone
Maybe I'll be spared and catch a good break
I won't need to go under the knife
That word knife always scares the poop out of me
The most disturbing word of my life
“Okay Jack, you're sissy side is showing
Remember you're a male, stand up tall!”
Male, schmale, I cringe at the image
Of a doctor scraping my eyeballs
© Jack Ellison 2013