 |
|
|
| My Brother He Isn't I learned from my brother To not get excited, or my tremor Would multiply exponentially. Trouble was, so laid back was he, He was the dullest guy in town. I could imitate him, but get bogged down In a state of boredom? Well, maybe. Afterall, I hate getting more shaky Whenever I become excited. So I deadened my emotions, like he said, And walked around like a zombie. Soon people would point at him and me And call us the dullard brothers. Well that was no fun, better to tremor All over the place than be seen as one. So I let loose my pent up emotions. This much excitement set my tremor on wild, And I'm now called hyper styled. But my brother still has his imprisoned And he's now thought my brother he isn't. |
| Tremor Tales page 26 |
| Call Me Pinocchio She looked as though she thought me Pinocchio After she asked if I was nervous and I said no. I wasn't, but my trembling made me seem I lied, And my nose she suspiciously eyed. "It's bound to grow," she said confidently. And when it didn't, she blurted, "Excuse me, I know you're nervous, admit it!" But I'm not!" I said. "Cool your fit!" Then suddenly my nose grew a foot long. "See!" she said. "I knew I wasn't wrong." And there I stood, holding my proboscis, Peeved that my tremor had increased From stress and made me nervous for real. "My nose will decrease, give up your zeal. Till then you may call me Pinocchio." And facing my delemma relaxed me so My nose shrunk back to normal. |
| Put A Saddle On Me "I'm tellin' ya, I must be nervous, Or I wouldn't be shaking so much." "Honey, you're not. The essential tremor In you speeded up. Like jabbing a spur To a horse to make it run full speed." "Great, now I'm a horse. So it's all in my head?" "Well E T can fool you into thinking you are, And thinkiing you are, well..." "That's bizarre." "Yeah, but that's the game E T plays. The tremor goes into an increased phase For no good reason, but this you can't see, So you think you're nervous, and it gets off free." "Well put a saddle on me, my lovely bride, Hop on and enjoy an E T ride." "Yes! But I've gained weight, can you carry me?" "Uhhh, make that tomorrow, maybe." |
| Frustration Cushion Oh patience, where art thou? I moaned as I saught to resist Butting in on my husband's struggle With the screwdriver to slip Its tip into the screw. Don't! I thought, Let him beat his tremor, do it on his own. But oh how I believed to help I ought. And much faster I could get it done. My edginess must have shown on my face For in anger he said, "I can do it!, leave." My heart broke at his words, disgraced At wanting to help. Then it hit me, To be fair, he must learn composure When suffering task hampering tremor. Composure towards those who, to ease his bane, Reach out to help. Still, my eyes fill with tears. He sees and his face softens with compassion. "You are my ready support," he gently shares. My helpmate, my frustration cushion." , |
| Deep But Petite My friends and I went to a Chinese Restaurant last night. Ordered fried rice In bowls deep to make slight my splattering Rice on my friends with hands that tremor. Two waiters returned bringing just one, But so huge it took up most of the table. I leaned over it to scoop out an onion And just like that, I fell in. "Oh, sorry," I said as out I lifted. "I'll eat just the rice that to me clings." My friends said they lost their appetite, And that I could have it all to eat. How generous of them! Sure wish they Had stayed while I dined. Today, I joined them at the restaurant at noon Bringing with me a bowl deep but petite. And they served me refills from their big one. |
 |
 |