poets

If people lie you could only see,
What your hurtful words do to me
I'm tired of hearing "It's all in my head"
You don't have the pain, no tears do you shed
Keep reading this poem, It's re-al-I-ty
It explains FMS, and, what it does to me
I wake in the morning with pain everywhere
My body is stiff and full of despair
I am achy with, muscles so tight,
I haven't the strength to stand up and fight
There are days, I feel like staying in bed
I can't seem to think, with this fog in my head
I can't hold a baby or hug someone tight
I can't even sleep, all through the night
My body sends messages, up to my brain
Most days I feel like, I've been hit by a train
I have my days when, I am feeling down,
That's when I need my "true friends" around
There you have it, now do you see..
Just what FMS does, to people like me

Jackie Garpow
Jackies Webpage: Fibromyalgia: Living With Chronic Disease.

How To Sail The Sea of Suffering

The Ocean of Pain is an endless sea
Upon which no human chart can guide.
I look for refuge, some Port of Relief,
A port from which to hide.

My muscles cramp, my nerves scream
As I struggle at the helm of my life.
Waves of pain crash over my bow
As I fight this ocean of strife.

Nails in the back, the feet and hands,
There is no relief from it all.
My soul cries for help – a moment of peace,
But with each wave I ride, I fall.

Drugs are no help, medicine - no good,
The waves of pain lap over their comfort with ease.
If, then, I take more to meet the high tide,
I soon run out, there is no reprieve!
Then, I am caught in a trough – between doctor and hell,

For relief from the fire, I get none.
They don’t understand the ebb and flow
Of this agony I try to sail from.

One moment of relief is all I ask,
A moment filled with peace.
But I hear a laugh of mournful scorn,
“There is no course for relief!”

Yet, in the depths of despair, when the sky is black
And I am wrapped in this blanket of woe,
I hear a small voice that comes from deep within,
“It’s a lie, what pain says, it’s not so.”

“Look not to the pain, but look to Christ,
When you think there is no one who cares.
For He hung from Love’s Cross – took all of hell’s fire,
You’re not alone, He knows what you bear.

“He has sailed these waters, He knows the pain
He will not have you to fail.
With the Grace He offers, victory is assured
Release the helm, and He will make sail.

Jesus knows these waters – their ugly depths,
And He knows the darkness, and the grief.”
He will teach me to steer by Faith
Christ, my Captain, is my Relief.

“Step out on the waters,” Jesus says to me,
“And I will teach you how to live.
Keep your eyes on Me, and walk by faith,
And I will teach you to sail this sea.

“It is by Faith you cross this ocean
with all its misery and strife.
I give you now the Grace to live
And sail on to eternal life.”

With Christ at the helm, my course is set
This painful sea is not my final home,
By grace, I sail these troubled waters,
And I know I am never alone. -

Contact Creth D Hopkins for permission to repost or print this work. 2007

Untitled

To deep for tears This gnawing pain
To far away It's time of gain
If I could fly away I would
Not caring if I really should
Please tell me Lord it's not in vain
Please give me hope to ease this pain
And lift me high on eagles wings
Until each throbbing muscle sings
A song of joy that turns each pain
Into a precious treasure gained.

Copyright 1999 - Mary Lou Ockert

Just a Load of Whites

How many times have I heard it said,
You don’t look too tired to me!
Why is it, after only a simple task
There is no strength left in you to see?

You look healthy, you seem well
What does it take to wash a load of whites?
You carry one basket, pour soap and bleach
Why does it seem such a big fight?

A fight you say, That, hits close to the mark
Of the battle that rises before me,
For each step I take there is a ticket of pain
That must be paid – this you do not see.

To carry a basket is no cheap feat
The price is pretty high.
The pain in the feet, the stab in the back
My soul screams for relief from on high.

The soap is not bad if I use a scoop
But the cap on the bleach is a terror,
My fingers don’t close, the nails are sharp
And in pouring, one has to be clever.

This is when I cry to my Lord,
His Grace is sufficient for such needs.
The job gets done – another victory won
As, once again, Jesus answers my pleas.

So bring on the whites, the blues and the reds,
And with each load that I bear,
I can do all things through Christ, Who loves me so,
For with each load, He will always be there.

Contact Creth D Hopkins for permission to repost or print this work. 2007

Freedom

I seek release from a container wrought with pain
The flagrant embodiment of my ignorance; an unfortunate draw
A mis-shapen heavy burden
that won't conform to my wishes of ease, lightness and beauty.
I beg freedom for the precise and perfect being
that labors inside
and knows not itself in the mirror.

Abigail Anne Smith
PoetsVibe@aol.com

Mr Fibromyalgia comes calling.

I have this awful caller who keeps popping round
His name is Mr Fibromyalgia,
I really don't like him at all

He comes to poke my eyes and blow horns in my ears
He shouts nips and grinds my bones
Pins and needles dizzy spells what else has he in store
Sometimes he even sends electric shocks
Up and down my spine

He makes me jump and twitch he also makes me cry
Sometimes in the morning I am feeling quite good
He's not come calling yet
But he'll be back ready to attack

Then I have a familiar feeling
Tingling in my hands and afternoon fatigue
Then he comes a calling dancing on my head.
He's even at my hair now pulling from the roots
Strange irritation itching on my scalp
Why is he doing this with all these strange attacks?

Mr Fibromyalgia why do you have to be so mean
You're clever and deceitful
You're never ever seen

You confuse even the wisest of people
Doctors, family and friends
You even confuse me and you're with me most of the time

You are always hanging around
And I really don't like you at all
You're like a heavy weight wearing me down
Beating up my body and driving me insane

So Mr Fibromyalgia
Take all your troubles and disappear
you're not welcome here

Author Heather Archibald
Copyrighted Contact Info. Lesdauphin@aol.com

Untitled

as i sit here all alone
i look around at the world
i smile at the faces looking at me
but i dont know who they are
this doesnt really bother me
as i walk into a store
i look at the stuff all around me
i turn around and walk out again
because i have forgotten what i wanted
again this doesnt really bother me
as i walk into the bank
a person walks up to me and says hi
we make small talk then the person leaves
i watch them leave not knowing who they were
but they look kinda familiar
again this doesnt really bother me
as i get my breakfast
i go to grab my meds
but i stop
and i think
and i question
have i taken them this morning
i dont remember...i am still in pain...but i am always in pain...
this really bothers me

"THE BEAST" A FIBRO LIFE

Waking every morn, Body full of pain,

What more can I take, It's driving me insane,
Stagger to the couch, Coffee in my cup.
Feeling lost and bewildered, like a motherless pup.

Lined in a row, All this medication,
Taking every little pill, With disgust and dedication.

My mind rushing by, projects and deeds to do,
Body won't respond, like it used to do

Bound to the couch, like shackles and a chain,
Why have I been chosen to suffer all this pain?

Pain and exhaustion, Just to say the least,
Where did I go, From where came this BEAST?

Days passing by, Seems I'm standing still,
Somewhere in this life, I've lost my every will.

Feeling like a failure, As Woman, Mother and Wife,
How long can I go on, In this awful life?

Every day I HOPE, And each night I PRAY
God are you listening?
Please take this PAIN AWAY!!!!!

Crocodiles

Red. All I can see is red.
Glaring red, with teeth.

Like crazed crocodiles with a carcass,
Pain gnaws at nerve endings,Rips at ravaged muscles.

I am their prey.
Nowhere to hide, escape impossible.

I pry at the teeth with my mind, begging them to release me.
Pitiless, they will not listen.

I bleed out the red, replace it with cooling blue,The crocodiles are momentarily confounded,
But as soon as I relax my vigilance they are back.

Green then, I think--
Cool grass, pillowy moss, springtime leaves...
The crocodiles just laugh and go on with their chewing.

What I need is a shotgun.
I could blast those suckers to smithereens!
But I am defenseless.

So they gnaw and tear
And the best I can hope for is the ability to ignore them,
A solution that is no solution at all.

Janet Martin, 2/01

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