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Ode to My Left Hand


Tinker

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 Ode to My Left Hand

 Oh, neglected left hand,
 I know I have not favored
 you in the past,
 the right seems to have 
 had all of the talent.
 She could write better,
 she could accomplish all
 of the mundane
 tasks I asked of her
 without your awkwardness.
 I never appreciated
 or recognized your part
 in her successes.
 
 Now that you have been
 sidelined by brutally broken bones,
 I see how much
 you contributed to every
 aspect of my life.
 How helpless the right is
 without assistance from you.
 From small tasks, squeezing toothpaste
 onto a brush or slicing tomatoes,
 to larger tasks, hooking a bra,
 opening a bottle of V8,
 or typing this poem,
 you are sorely missed.
 
 Your loveliness is now hidden
 beneath ugly wrapped gauze
 over a torturous, stiff splint
 with surgery looming,
 then plaster cast.
 How I long to see your fingers
 wiggle and grasp
again.
 Never more will I dismiss
 your beauty.
 You are the yang to my yin.
                 ~~Judi Van Gorder

Same subject, different form, a Chastushka

My Hand

Never did I think you'd fail me.
Broken bones have changed the whole scene.
Though my favored Right is trusty,
missing help from Left, was unseen.

Tasks are awkward while you're gone,
slicing onions, typing poems,
hooking bras, and pulling pants on.
Wiggling, grasping, crippled gems.
                                          ~~~jvg

  

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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Oh, what we take for granted, until . . .

Arthritic pain in the saddle-bones at the base of my thumbs sings that song now - just trying to open a sealed jar.

There must be a poem in that somewhere - maybe a senryu or a tonka . . .

Hope you heal well, tho I know that can be difficult in the "winter" of our days.

from the black desert

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Really like these two poems that make a refreshing change from reading relationship poems of the young. I'm beginning to feel like Steve Austin as I keep having artificial parts fitted. Still... there's always someone worse off. Stay well G  :smile:

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I feel your pain, waiking in the morning is a level 7, on pain scale , stooping down means ,my wife must help me up. I'am just thankful, I'am still stunningly handsome ......NOT.oh yea, fingers hit keys ,when they want too.  shake like Elvis did.  Hang in there Tink, better days are coming. 

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Thank you all for indulging my pity party.  Surgery was Monday and I have 3 new screws put into my bones to hold them together and I'm now wearing what seems like a 50 lb cast on my hand.  Drugs are wearing off and it hurts. But I have gotten a lot of poetic miles out of the incident.

~~Tink

Cross Limerick

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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David W. Parsley

Tink, I really don't know how you can write and write this well while going through the trauma!  You are in my thoughts and prayers.  But going back to the poem, I really like it, maybe one of your best works: sly, witty, insightful, brings the surprise of the mundane.

Thanks,

 - Dave

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David the trauma gives me subject matter to write about.  And the writing helps me keep self pity at bay and gives me an outlet to deal with the condition objectively.  I appreciate your validation of my ode.  Thanks,

~~Tink

~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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I need to get here more often. So sorry to hear about the surgery. Hope you have healed even more!

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