Poems about Stroke

So, yeah, I have a lot of poems and prose about the stroke experience and I like to keep conversations going, so I think I’ll post one from to time. This one, “Life As Therapy,” deals with the different nature of the experience for the victim and for the person who cares for him or her:

Life as Therapy

What you do naturally

is therapy for me—

Use spoon, put leg into pant,

clap, walk to mail, button shirt,

Scrub genitals, brush teeth,

Talk, type this. The path

to getting better is backwards

by design, down to the studs.

I have wondered what clocks meant,

let gravity win without anger,

run my hand under a faucet

that steamed before I felt it.

The smallest privacy has been

the great triumph—peeing alone.

I fear sitting on stools, other

people’s showers, questions about

how I am, a tough piece of chicken

launching off a restaurant plate,

the cat’s meandering path.

You defer to safety. I shrug off.

Your loving hand guides.

I want to go alone, be afraid

on uneven sidewalks in rain.

How will we heal without

having shared the battles?

I don’t know your terrors

alone while I slept; you can’t

feel that I can’t feel. We circle.

8 Likes

@TennBob

At one time ten bob would buy me a packet of fags and a glass of ale, pay for a night out at the cinema with my girlfriend, get us a bag of chips after it all. With enough left for us bus fare home.
With Ten Bob you were king !!

I am steadily working, as best as I am able, to move stroke away from the centre of my being. I feel it would be nice to put it on a shelf over there and get on with the more important, interesting, amusing, beautiful things that life has to offer.

Inside my head,

something said,

“Who cares? don’t cry!”

“We will get by.”

"We’ve not had enough,

we can still do stuff."

I’ll write me a clever ode

as I sit on my commode.

Laugh at the rain,

smile at my brain.

Always say “Hi”

never ask why.

Are you still here ? ?

“Of course, no fear.”

Just makin’ lemonade from these lemons . . .

keep on keepin on
:writing_hand: :grinning_face_with_smiling_eyes: :+1:

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@bobbi Perfect, sir. Just perfect. Btw, I remember the first few moments of privacy on that commode after weeks and weeks in the hospital. The first time I was left alone. It was glorious.

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from July 2025

so long ago – a milestone

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Major Tom

are you there?
can you hear me?

is there anything you need to say?

Take your protein pills and put your helmet on

Here am I floating round my tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there’s nothing I can do

And I think my spaceship knows which way to go

Tell us what you feel, write what you are able

Put it in a log,
a diary will tell your fable

It doesn’t matter who hears or even if they hear.

Shout it out, it needs to be heard.

This is space, no-one has claimed it.
It is your space.

Look at yourself, see.

You are here, you will only move forward,
you will not return, though you may look back.

Listen, there is much to hear.

But cry out,
you have much to say.

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@TennBob

My apologies for spreading out so luxuriously,

but,

Poems about Stroke :check_mark:

is such a tempting, and delightful invitation to enjoy and to share,

thank you

:writing_hand: :grinning_face_with_smiling_eyes: :+1:

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I’m not a writer but think this one covers all survivors. Stroke. Cancer. Heart attacks etc.

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And everybody needs some Bowie!

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Isle of Wight has me thinking about rock music and this experience. Maybe some of you have had something similar or music therapy an “American thang”?

Music as Therapy

When I said I couldn’t figure out

how my hands worked together

and pictured a guitar as in two pieces–

one to fret over by the window,

one to strum buried in the blankets–

they sent me to music therapy.

Patients there: a shellshocked

Hispanic girl who couldn’t talk, a trached boy

in a powered wheelchair, an angry woman,

and me. The therapists wouldn’t entertain

her sullenness. I read her face. She was

fucked like us and new to the knowing.

Only I had known how to play once.

The music therapist, a sweet Black guy

named Regis, showed us his cart, every instrument

stroke and spinal cord victims would never

master. I wondered did he have a band or

was this his gig? He asked me to choose a song.

“Born In The USA,” I said. It only

had two chords. He put a guitar in my lap,

then set up a keyboard for the girl. The boy in

the wheelchair with a Vol sweatshirt put his hand

over his neck hole and said he wanted country.

He got a triangle; the woman got a drum.

We made a soft racket. The five of us played five

different beats, ignoring Bruce’s YouTube video.

Then the others dropped out, leaving Regis

and me. He clapped along and sang, then realized

we couldn’t sing. My left hand shaped the B, then E,

but chords were ghosts beyond my right fingers.

Afterward, a photographer entered, shot close

while I mimed playing for their upcoming magazine.

Regis praised my progress; I faced how far backward

I had come. Back in my room, the Hoyer lift pulled me

up and dropped me on the bed. I craved silence, dark,

and alone but couldn’t move to shut out the lights.

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Through the tenth dimension
To the certainties beyond
Dreamily inattention, and the sub-atomic bomb
Machine that spins within me
And the spirit that drives me on
Searching for an answer

Welcome to my world (welcome to my world)
Welcome to my only world (my only world)
It is full of space junk
But your words are coming through
I’m riding on the space junk
And it’s bringing me to you

Wang Chung - Space Junk

(feels like a stroke poem anyways)

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Let’s hope that someone on here is going to be able to wang chung tonight.

1 Like