By Lisa Ride

This poem is about my condition; I hate to call it a disease
But that’s the way they label it, and you can tell that I’m displeased
See, I’m only in my fifties; the time when most folks plan their life
With cruises down the Danube … but I find myself in strife
Because dumb old Mr Parkinson’s is with me as I stride
And this vision of my retirement isn’t quite what I had in mind

I’d have to say right from the start that I have never been
The most coordinated person you’re likely to have seen
Any games with balls involved I’d try hard not to play
No invites to join their teams – they’d run the other way
You see, I run like a duck with legs all splayed, arms flapping all about
Games with balls, they just don’t suit; as if there’s any doubt
I simply just can’t catch anything that you might hurl at me
I’m completely uncoordinated; it’s so very plain to see

And please don’t mention dancing class or anything in tights
Throughout my life I’ve tried so hard, I’ve tried with all my might
Sadly, coordination eludes me here; it’s really been quite bad
For when you’re in a dance class, all the dancers get so mad
‘Cause they’re all dancing perfectly, all dancing round and round
But no matter how I try to get it right, when they’re all up … I’m down.

So never throw a ball at me as your team will have a loss
I’ll never catch it in my hands; my arms flail in a cross
And if I should have to be a part of any team you’re in
Please confirm with me before you go which goal post gets a win?
For the only goal I ever scored was the best I’ve ever done
But I scored it for the other side and for that I came undone

So team sports aren’t my forte; you’d think I’d do OK alone
But now with cursed Parkinson’s I’m still not in my zone
It’s been some years since I was told “You have Parkinson’s Disease”
But it’s not a diagnosis anyone wants or accepts with any ease
I tried to hide it from the job; it really was quite tragic
A police officer’s Glock should be a single shot, not fire on automatic

But there are some benefits to my plight; I know this to be true
While cooking in the kitchen I don’t read directions through
No need for me to shake the contents to ensure that they are mixed
‘Cause I’ve already don’t that just by getting out the bits

So I sit at home and watch those silly pensioner ads on TV
Where baby boomers ride bikes in parks and bounce grandkids on their knee
But I just wobble from my chair and try to walk outside
Without freezing in a doorway or tripping in my stride

There are minor gains for me it’s true, when I am medicated
I work on radio 2REM and read out ads; I’m truly dedicated
But “Parky’s” meds affect me like a chipmunk high on speed
I can get five hundred words quite clearly in a thirty second feed

But Parkinson’s won’t beat me; I’ll just find another way
To fight this battle as I go and get through every single day
Although my quilting stitches these days are large and quite absurd
Mr Parkinson’s can take a flying leap because I’m shaken here, not stirred

To read more of Lisa’s poetry or to purchase a copy of her book “A Little Spot of Poetry”, please visit http://lisaride.com/