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POEMS 5 - MAIN MENU |
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Before I had Marcus I’d have preferred a girl, Now I wouldn’t change Marcus for the world, When Marcus was born I’d have been happy to give birth to a kitten, But pretty soon after by my son Marcus I was smitten, Before Marcus was born, before I was a mummy, When he was inside me, in my tummy, You could feel him rejoice, Whenever he heard his daddy’s voice As up went his little heartbeat, It was if his dad he couldn’t wait to meet, They have a very strong bond, And of each other are very fond, They both feel for each other infinity love, And it is a beautiful thing, like two turtle doves, With Marcus I love the way Steve says “right sonny boy” And for me and Steve, Marcus brings a lot of joy, When I told my dad I was pregnant he said “oh dear”, It seemed to me he didn’t want to be near, He walked away into the back of the house, Things went very quiet; as quiet as a mouse, But then he came back and me did congratulate, For being in a pregnant state, He gave me a kiss on my cheek, Which I think was pretty sweet, To school Marcus has never been late, Which is truly great, And his attendance at school is 100%, And my dad when alive was a true gent, He was the exact opposite of Steve, But I think with Steve, he was quite pleased, When I rang my parents to tell them I was engaged, It was when Steve was 51, just past middle age, And my dad said “how wonderful”, He was very pleased, I could tell, Yes he was definitely pleased, I was engaged to my Steve, Although he never complained about us not being married, I think over the threshold he wanted me carried, He never complained or said, But he was very happy on the day we were wed, And my mum, she said, “and what did you say?” She didn’t assume I said “Yay” I told her I said yes I think she might have guessed, When I had Marcus it was a shock, Thankfully the trauma of the caesarean I forgot, Into sleeplessness and motherhood I was thrust, And it took me a little while to adjust, At six weeks old he started to smile, He smiled like it was the latest style, When at three months old he started to roll over, I was happy, like a kid who’d found a four leaf clover, When Marcus was a baby he once did scream for 3 hours on his own Then he realised there was no point as he was alone He never did that again, When he found nobody came, Steve is a strong father figure, And Marcus in his walker at him did snigger, Marcus didn’t usually laugh in bed, But always squealed when landing upon Steve’s head, His squeals of joy, louder than any cat, The best memory of my life was that, We’ve been lucky with Marcus with nature And Steve has been great with nurture, He is quite strict, And to Marcus he can be a bitch, Obviously I’m having a joke, Steve is a good dad and a good bloke, But sometimes with Marcus he had to be strict Because bad behaviour had to be fixed, Eliminate it, don’t tolerate bad behaviour, Did Steve put up with it, do me a favour, Steve, bad behaviour had to eliminate, Especially as my health wasn’t great, Fortunately for us, Marcus has always been very mature, Much more than Steve and me, that’s for sure, At nursery he went to the adults, to him that was common sense, Marcus has never been short of confidence, Marcus has always been blond, cute, happy and clever, Do I regret having him, no, no way, not ever, He’s a really cute kid, The best things I ever did, Marcus was an accident not a mistake, And if he was, the best one I’ve ever made, At six months he started to crawl, Even though he was still very small, He crawled up every stair, And of the danger Steve was aware, So he walked up behind him, As his mobile life did begin, At 10 months old he started to sleep through the night, For Steve this was a real delight, No more sleepless nights, from 10 months old, For Steve he’s always been as good as gold, With him in his walker, along by my scooter I did him drag, It was a funny sight; he was a good lad, We went me and Marcus, I pulled him along, That’s why together we did belong, Often we went to Tesco, By scooter and walker, off we did go, I chanted I’m buying bread for Marcus Wright, To help him sleep through the night And when in Tesco, Marcus was not very quiet, In fact I’m surprised he didn’t cause a riot, Because he liked picking up food from the shelves, In the shelves, he often did delve, Another time with Marcus I went to town, There I scooted all around Then with the scooter I didn’t see the kerb, Until it was too late for me to swerve, I was going to Argos to get Shaun the Sheep, When you pulled the lambs tail, it did bleat, But we didn’t get Shaun the Sheep that day, After the accident there was no way, In the accident I fell, So did Marcus as well, Thankfully Marcus did bounce, And a passing lady on him did pounce, Next minute he was eating Jelly Babies, I will always be grateful to this lady, So I got in the ambulance and went to A&E Yes we went to accident and emergency, There they found, I’d broken my thumb, Believe me, that day was no fun, The next day I went back and they did operate, For they had to set my thumb bone straight, This meant I got a lower arm pot, I wish by the kerb I had stopped, I made it to Florida and it was still good fun, I couldn’t swim but I could still enjoy the sun, In six weeks the pot came off and again I could swim, My life with swimming could again begin, At thirteen months old, Marcus let go of the wall, And I was afraid he would fall, But no he took his first steps, I was amazed; it’s a moment I’ll never forget, Pretty soon everywhere he did walk, And me and Steve he did stalk, Everywhere he went a-toddling, Following us like a duckling waddling, When Marcus was a toddler he couldn’t say again, So every time he said undeng, undeng, At the age of four, Was the first time Marcus swore, He said it’s fucking raining and he said it correct, He was careful in the swear word he did select, Steve asked, “Marcus where did you hear that word?” From you dad, is where he said he’d heard, So Steve could hardly be mad, As he’d learnt it from his ‘great’ dad, In fact I think Steve felt quite proud, Though swearing, Marcus usually says, is not allowed, On swearing he is quite tough, He thinks, enough is enough, He says to me, “Language Timothy”, He prefers English to be swear free, Marcus my son is 11 years old, And generally he’s as good as gold, But in the mornings sometimes his teeth he forgets to brush, And getting off for school is in a rush, At school Marcus is good at Maths, And is near the top of his class, He usually gets a very good report And at Dobcroft, by great teachers, is he taught, I pick him up from school, Usually on Tuesday as a rule, Once on the way home Marcus said “Mum give me a sum”, So I quickly thought of one What is, I asked, 144 squared, Most kids, to answer, would not have tried or dared, By the time he got home, he’d worked it out, He checked with a calculator so there was no doubt, He’d got it exactly right, Much to my surprised delight, Also animal, vegetable or mineral is a game we play, Who is best I will not say, Actually my brother at this is the best And minerals I can never seem to guess Yes, my brother usually comes first, Marcus comes second and I am the worst, We also play the word association game, The idea is to get back to the word, the very same, Then the game you have won, And you pick a new word and a new game is begun, Grandma and Marcus are very close, And he’s the grandchild she loves the most, I know she only has one, so he’s also the worst, But grandma would only say he comes first, The worst, no Grandma would never say that, She adores Marcus and thinks he’s a grand chap, Marcus has got mine and Grandma’s brain, And no, that doesn’t make him insane, He likes making up many a pun, I think he’s beautiful not just handsome, At school he needs help with handwriting and grammar, These he works on with his Grandma, As a toddler, he used to call grandma, gangma, She thinks, the best name ever given her by far, far, far, Marcus loves what he was named, And the name he would never change, He would give himself the name Marcus, And he’s no longer afraid of the darkness, He’s getting tall now and soon over Grandma he will tower, He’s like a beautiful blossoming flower, Marcus can twist his Grandma round his little finger, And she thinks, at Christmas, he’s a great carol singer, Marcus and Grandma go on long walks, And when they do, they have good talks, When Marcus and my mum go down to the stream, It’s a very picturesque scene, Sometimes they walk to the rock, Actually they do that a lot, Marcus loves not so much dogs but cats, He happy when Grandma’s Cleo is sat on his lap, She’s a cat that doesn’t meow, No she definitely says Cleow, Marcus is right Upperthorpe’s name needs to be changed, Because it’s not very well named, As it’s at the bottom of a steep hill, So the naming of this area is not so brill, He’s right the name that should be taught, Is that it’s called Downerthorpe, Marcus has started playing the Trombone, And no the sound doesn’t make me groan, He’s good because he’s got very long arms, And when he plays I don’t feel alarmed, He’s also about it very enthusiastic, It’s like he’s playing Trombone Gymnastics, What I love about Marcus most is his zest for life, He makes my life worth all its trouble and strife. Sylvie Wright June 2017
Marcus and Grandma with me hiding at the back |
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In 1993 mum felt a lump in her breast, And knowing this I was stressed, At first the doctors couldn’t give an answer, But then they told us it was breast cancer, My mum had radiotherapy and chemo, I just wanted the cancer to go, Thankfully the cancer to her lymph nodes hadn’t spread, The word cancer filled me with dread, I was really scared she would die, I really felt I needed to cry, Emotional stress, mum, cancer, why?, why?, why?, Then they got the chemo dose far too high, I was definitely not at my best, But to mum didn’t want to be a pest, They killed off all her white blood cells, My mum was very sick and unwell, Mum had a blood transfusion, My life, MS, full of stress and confusion, All these new symptoms of MS, I was definitely not emotionally at rest, During treatment my mum wore a wig, Once it got hooked up on a twig, When she noticed she could hardly believe it, Even as she went back to retrieve it, The wig was not the best style But when I tell this story, it makes people smile, Thankfully the chemo worked, she was eventually cured, I started with MS, oh how I hated those words, Thankfully the cancer was fixed, My mum is now seventy six, Talking of MS, my vision did shimmer, At 21 I was an MS beginner, Yes it was a little blurred, And my speech at times was a bit slurred, With MS, to look at me you couldn’t tell, That I was at all unwell, But I knew what was wrong, And to the MS community I didn’t want to belong, I felt off balance and dizzy, To cope I kept myself busy, I knew MS was bad news, And I was feeling battered and bruised, Often with fatigue in my bed I collapsed, Dreading the thought of a MS relapse, I felt like my life had been shattered, I knew exactly, what was the matter, I was very young and scared, For life with MS I wasn’t prepared, MS for me was a living nightmare, It all seemed very unfair, At university I still enjoyed an odd beer, But MS was still my greatest fear, Sometimes I didn’t want to get out of bed, It didn’t help that a psychologist in Germany said, “Die Augen mussen sehen wollen”, And in Germany I sometimes ate stollen, I think she meant my problem was anxiety, This meant I did not see clearly, Instead I did hyperventilate, Breathing at too fast a rate, It made my vision shimmer, I did not at this time feel like a winner, But with her I did disagree, There was another reason I could not see, Because the signal from my brain was interrupted, Meaning my vision was disrupted, In Freiburg I went into a clinic for tests, After a week of this I was very unwell and stressed, Into the clinic I did go, When they said possible MS, I thought bingo, My legs and arms did tingle, I wasn’t happy because I was alone and single, I knew MS was bad news, Sometimes to cope, I drank booze, To numb myself from the pain, And to stop driving myself insane, After a hangover I felt shattered, Totally knackered and cream crackered, I also had awful fatigue, In the final year, it made my notes and books more difficult to read, I was on this awful rollercoaster ride, I went numb on the torso on the left hand side, I was on an awful living rollercoaster, I felt like a piece of bread being burnt inside a toaster, I was very scared, nightmare, The cross of MS, I found very hard to bear, Life seemed very unfair, Facing MS, I didn’t dare, I thought I had very bad luck, And if I’m honest, I wanted to give up, I just wanted to run away, But of course with MS you’ve got to stay, You can’t run away You must face the day, In my final year I put my head down and studied, With symptoms of MS, I was very worried, In my final year from MS I wanted to flee, What really helped me, were classes of tai-chi, It helped the chi flow round my body, I could then run home, I was symptom free, It was as if there was nothing wrong with me, It also reduced my anxiety, It made me grin within, with glee, Yes I was that happy, I studied hard and I came second in the year, In spite of undiagnosed MS which was my big fear, I got a first, Very far from the worst, When I graduated from Sussex University, I graduated in German and Chemistry, When I got diagnosed with MS, I really was not feeling my best, I’m the first case of MS in my family, No, no one with MS in my family tree, After my MS diagnosis I climbed Win Hill, Keeping up with mum was quite a skill, But I got right to the top, That’s a memory I think of a lot, To a rock called the headstone, I went out-of-doors, I had to walk across the moors, I battled through the wind and rain, Those who saw me must have thought me insane, When I got to it I climbed to the top, Of this quite tall rock, Between mums chemo’s, my dad and mum went to China, I don’t think mum and dad had a trip that was finer, They also went to the States, And they thought that trip was great, At 23 I got my MS diagnosis, And progressive MS was not a good prognosis, I felt of my future I’d been robbed, And regularly about this I sobbed, I felt all battered and bruised, As well as feeling very confused, I felt all bruised and battered, And that my future had been shattered, MS continued its progression, It led in me to severe depression, Mum is no longer sick, She doesn’t need a walking stick, She goes out walking on the moors, She loves being in the great outdoors, She loves walking by the heather, She walks, no matter what the weather, My mum from walking so much is very fit, That’s truly understating it, You know when I did my skydive, I felt truly alive, Doing it was quite a ride, Something I’m glad I did survive, At the time everyone said I was brave, But my life the skydive did save, I did it at the time as I wanted to die, That’s why I flew out of the sky, When skydiving everyone has 2 parachutes, And when I skydived I wore a jumpsuit, From thirteen thousand feet, From that high I did leap, I must admit it was pretty sweet, As well as being pretty neat, Free-fall was for a couple of minutes, not that long, Fortunately skydives, they rarely go wrong, There is truly little danger, Less than a car ride with a stranger, Or just getting into a car, And travelling any distance, short or far, Or even crossing the road, Even when the traffic has slowed, So overall it wasn’t so brave, But it did lead to my life being saved, When I did my skydive, I changed my attitude, Afterwards I was in a far better mood, I changed my diet and attitude, And a positive way of health and living with MS then ensued, I changed my diet and stabilised and recovered, A new way of living I had discovered, For 10 years from MS’s claws I was released, I found a kind of inner peace, I took charge of MS, I was in control, no longer a mess, MS was stabilised, I stopped its progression, And I came out of my depression, I was no longer in an awful state, I stabilised, recovered, which was truly great, That’s when I met Steve, now my husband, then my lover, Now I’m not just a wife, I’m also a mother, A lot of the world together we discovered, I’m so glad that I changed my attitude and recovered, Since 2009 the battle has resumed, And by MS at times I feel consumed, I’ve had pneumonia, not once, not twice, but thrice, It’s an understatement to say it’s not nice, But I’m lucky, for 23 years to have been alive, It’s truly remarkable I’ve survived, I’ve got MS, That’s Multiple Sclerosis, I’ve also got Marcus and Steve, Yes I really do, indeed, Marcus is my mini Steve, Something I find hard to believe, I enjoy my time with my son And having with him a lot of fun, Marcus is eleven years old, And generally is as good as gold, With Steve we’re a family, And Steve I still find very funny, My mum is SalFish, But do not worry my mother I do not diss, She used to be called Miss Sally Fisher, And good health for the rest of her life I do wish her, I was so happy the cancer was fixed, I really love my mum to bits, She’s grandma with Marcus, she’s to me my mum, With her grandson, she has much fun, Mum loves the composer Percy Grainger, From her he’s far from a stranger, In fact he’d be her specialist subject on mastermind, She says Percy was born way before his time, Every time I hear my mum’s voice, I’m so happy she’s here and I do rejoice. Sylvie Wright August 2017
Me, Marcus and Grandma. |
