.
After the Stroke
Aphasia: an impairment of a previously held
ability to produce or understand spoken, written,
or signed language, due to disease or injury of
the brain.
With pencil at the ready,
Thesaurus for the word,
Mind full of concepts heady,
Profound but slightly blurred,
By light of beeswax taper,
And hoping for some cues,
I hover over paper,
Stand open to the Muse.
Unlike the flow poetic
Of one or two years back,
Creative things noetic
Are hard now to unpack.
Ideas that should be signposts
That need to be expressed
Hang in mind-workings hindmost,
Aphasically repressed.
It’s been a long stagnation
Since last I penned a verse;
With each reiteration,
The desert widens worse.
I’m lucid. It’s not mindless
Literary decline.
So, Muse, accord some kindness
And send a metric line.
.
.
Mary Gardner is a poet living in Florida.
Mary, if this announces a personal affliction, I very much hope that you are recovering as well as this nicely done literary complaint indicates. I especially like the classic old-fashioned desk setting with a beeswax taper in the first stanza. But the real fun is the word “literary” being the only place where normal syllable stress fails to fit the meter. Best wishes for further progress and more poems!
Margaret, I am happy you enjoyed the poem. The feel of a printed thesaurus and the scent of a beeswax candle do enhance the poetry-writing experience. I share your opinion that “literary” does not fit the iamb, but in this case I forced word and meter to coexist.
Thank you for your gracious wishes for my health. I am fine! The mild (thanks be to God!) aphasia of a TIA almost three years ago dissipated after about two months.
Mary, this is a wonderful poem under any circumstances. I appreciate the wonderful words and rhymes that certainly rise above any literary decline. I hope you have a great New Year of continuing to write with such verve and elegance.
Thank you for your most kind comments, Roy. I am pleased that you liked the poem.
As I wrote to Margaret, I am fine. The TIA and its mild aphasia were short-lived.
“So, Muse, accord some kindness
And send a metric line.”
The muse obliged.
Thanks for the read, Mary.
Your comment is high praise, Paul. Thank you so much.
This is a powerful poem, Mary, which eschews self-pity as it candidly describes the slow restoration of a deeply-valued artistic gift after it has been severely challenged. It is not a sentimental poem. Nonetheless, there is great vulnerability here as well as an enviable grit. I find this poem extremely inspiring — it puts hope in the heart of so many who badly need it.
Thank you for the deep insight you always provide, Brian. I am happy that you find it inspiring.
Mary, this poem showcases your recovery journey. There are so many phrases that I like: “pencil at the ready”; “concepts heady”; “open to the Muse”; and “noetic” (now there’s a word you don’t see every day!).
Thank you, Cheryl. I’m pleased that you liked it. Uncommon words and well-turned phrases are a joy.
Mary, can I just wish you a speedy recovery and to say that I thoroughly enjoyed your poem today. I hope 2024 brings better days for you. Thank you.
Jeff, thank you! I am happy you liked the poem. I am fully recovered. Best wishes for you in the New Year!
I am so glad the Muse is complying with your request, Mary – the poem races along, smoothly and beautifully… and I am so glad to see from the comments you have fully recovered. Here’s wishing you a happy new year and many more encounters with your eloquent and entertaining Muse. Thank you!
Thank you and Happy New Year to you and Mike, Susan. I am pleased that you enjoyed the poem.