I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

4 April 2009

The trouble with my leg (April Challenge 3)

Prompt: Write a poem with the title "The trouble with (blank)" and fill in the blank. (Actually "problem with" but we're allowed to depart from the prompt.)

Now I need to write the title here again, for continuity:

The trouble with my leg

is the pain. And it’s constant.
That is, it’s there all the time
like a dull headache, and when
it flares up it’s excruciating.

It makes me cranky and I’m sorry.
I’ll try not to be so grumpy.
I’m going to watch television.
I can’t concentrate on anything else.

Yes I got an x-ray. Yes, of my leg.
That didn’t do any good at all.
And I’m only allowed to take
six Panamax in one day.

Yes I know the doctor said
I could take more. I’ll
decide on that if you don’t mind.
I don’t like taking tablets.

I don’t know what I want.
I can’t stand, I can’t walk.
I can’t even think. Why
can’t you tune in or something?

(No, this isn’t me. It’s a “found” poem –
found in someone else’s conversation.)


  1. glad it's a found poem. I had a leg like that a couple years; nasty. all better now, gone as completely as a storm. I left today's PAD in the comment at Humanyms.

  2. Oh, ta! I'll go have a look. Didn't find it yet amongst the many on Poetic Asides.