Tiffani's Fibromyalgia Poetry Page

Updated January 22/2006

Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia!

Oh, how I hate ya!

You drive me quite insane.

I sit and wonder,

How in God's thunder

They came up with your name?

Why do you exist

And can I resist

Your nasty pains galore?

As I contemplate

Cruel tides of fate,

You serve up even more.

Just what must I do

To be free from you

And your hard cruelty?

All those side effects,

Are they life's rejects

That we're not meant to see?

So why do you bring

That vicious feeling

Of sure, impending doom?

And now I must run,

There's no time for fun,

Oh, Lord, please, a washroom!

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 5, 2005

Fibro Is My Name

I am the one that makes it rain,

The one that causes you such shame,

The one that leaves you in great pain.

Don't you know? Fibro is my name.

The one that makes you want to scream

For the lack of fortune and fame

In your life. I will take your dreams

And crush them; Fibro is my name.

Then I will make you wear Depends

And wish for times before I came.

I will strip you of all your friends;

You will learn: Fibro is my name.

Then you will wish that you could run

To find a place where life is tame,

Where one and all can have some fun!

Watch out now! Fibro is my name.

Run and hide, for I do not care;

I know your deepest inner name.

I will follow you ev'rywhere

Without stop: Fibro is my name.

When the time comes for you to die,

Know that the end of life's hard game

Will have you looking at the sky

For all time. Fibro is my name.

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 6, 2005

The Fibro Fog Has Come Again

The coffeepot sits all alone

On a counter made of false stone;

Coffee has spilled across the top,

I hear the pitter-patter drop;

As it hisses and sizzles on,

All hope of a quick pot is gone.

The Fibro Fog has come again

And I know not what I did then,

When all the world seemed dark and gray

And had not one good word to say.

The bathtub water overflows;

How many times, God only knows.

Now I pull out the mop and pail

And clean the floor, slow as a snail.

How did this strange event occur?

I was enrapt with friend of fur.

The Fibro Fog has come again

As I remain here, stuck within

This eerie land, where all is strange,

Where nothing ever seems to change.

To my appointment, I should go,

But where it is, I just don't know.

Is the doctor's name Tom or Tim?

I'm not even sure it's a him.

Where's the number I was given?

To such great lengths, I am driven.

The Fibro Fog has come again,

Only He knows the where and when

Of why I need to stop and sneeze

And all of life's strange mysteries.

Where is the letter that I wrote,

In answer to the wretched note

Of the lover that passed me by

And caused me to sit here and cry?

It was right there, and yet, it's not!

How could I ever have forgot?

The Fibro fog has come again,

My body it has o'ertaken.

Will I remember my true self,

Lying buried on that high shelf?

I went for a drive in my car,

Ended up in an ancient bar

Where the whiskey soothed my poor soul,

Sent me dancing 'round the Maypole.

I woke up lying on the ground,

With not a single soul around.

The Fibro Fog has come again,

I sit and take it on the chin.

I wonder if I'll ever know:

Which way am I supposed to go?

I sit beneath the starry sky

And contemplate the reason why

I was placed here, upon the Earth;

What came about, that caused my birth?

I realize, with my last breath,

That there is no more pain in Death.

The Fibro Fog has come again,

I wait to meet an unknown friend.

From head to toe, he wears all black;

When he takes me, I'll not come back.

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 6, 2005

Whatever Crossed Your Mind, Lord?

Whatever crossed your mind, Lord,

That you cut me with that cruel sword

Known as Fibromyalgia?

What possessed You to make me bend

Beneath this weight until the end,

When I pass the gates to meet ya?

As I go on my painful way,

My thoughts go wild, begin to stray

And my work is left undone.

I sit and think about it all

Every time I trip and fall;

Where, O Lord, is all the fun?

I sling the bag upon my back

And feel my bones begin to crack

Beneath its uncaring weight.

For brief moments, the sun has shone,

As I worked till the day was gone.

Why me, Lord? Is this my fate?

To be forever bending o'er

And walking into every door

Without thought of what I do?

As I walk that never-ending road

Beneath life's unbearable load,

I trip over my own shoe.

And why is this my lot in life,

That I should feel that heavy knife

Pressing deep into my spine?

It makes me feel like such a jerk

Because I cannot even work

And, thus, cannot toe the line.

Here I go, doing many things

On what, it seems, are broken wings

That keep me tied to the ground.

So I hang my head down and cry,

Hide in a dark corner and sigh;

Will my pain-free life be found?

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 7, 2005

Fibro Dream

One recent night, I had sweet dreams

Of walking 'neath the bright sunbeams.

There was no pain, there was no hurt,

I'd not been scarred by life's hard quirt.

No shadows there could bar my way;

Happy I was and thus would stay.

These gentle beams did soothe my soul

As their softness then made me whole.

As I walked on, I smiled to see

The funny antics of a bee

Who, searching for his flower right,

Did come upon a pretty sight:

A boy and a girl, lying down

On a blanket laid on the ground;

Close together, never apart,

Their lives were entwined, heart to heart.

The bee ambled there, to and fro;

What he wanted, I'll never know.

He dove at one, then the other,

He made himself such a bother

That, finally, the brash young man

Did try to slap him with his hand.

The bee first dodged and then he fled

Toward the nearest flowerbed.

Onward I walked, beneath the sun,

Glancing 'round at everyone,

Looking high, and then looking low:

Was there something that I should know?

Onward I went, through sweet sunshine,

And thought that the whole world was mine,

Until I stumbled and fell down,

Then slowly stood, wearing a frown.

The sunshine, sadly, disappeared

And, in my mind, the Fibro reared

Its ugly and corruptive head

And filled my mind with fear and dread;

At which point, I swiftly awoke

And realized, life was no joke:

Fibro is such a part of me,

I feel that I'll never be free

From all the many aches and pains

As long as the Fibro remains.

I want to run in life's meadows,

Not hide within deep, dark shadows

Brimming with pain and misery:

There's more to life that I would see.

And now, I wish for happy dreams,

Where I can run 'neath bright sunbeams.

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 10, 2005

Fibro Daze

My brain has gone on holiday;

When it will return, I can't say.

It seems to wander to and fro,

Its destination, I don't know.

Looking 'round as I wander on,

I seem to sense something is gone.

What it is, I can't determine,

And so I look around again,

Trying to find what can't be found,

To hear a noise that has no sound,

To find a door without a key

Where, on the other side, is me.

When all around seems endless black,

Can I, at last, find my way back

To that place that I remember,

Where once that slow-burning ember

Did light my way through deepest night?

Will I return into the light,

Where time is reckoned without cost,

And things are found, that once were lost?

Shall I live with the endless fear

That I shall lose what I have here?

And so I fight and struggle on,

Trying to find the hope of dawn.

Tiffani Pontchartrain

© June 14, 2005

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