Either Or just for a laugh

narrative verse

 

Either Or

 

Though constipation is a curse,

Diarrhoea is much worse.

I alternate between the two.

 There’s very little I can do

 

Because I suffer I.B.S.

 Which is a nuisance I confess.

Retention and distention bloats

 a condition which denotes.

 

The former is full control

 though other people find it droll.

I cannot make a joke of it

Its not enjoyable one bit.

 

It is the diarrhoea I fear.

Because it tends to interfere.

 With anything I try to do

I have to swiftly find a loo.

 

Or otherwise disgrace myself.

I think that’s why I’m on the shelf.

 I search in vain to find a cure

The only thing of which I’m sure.

 

Until I do I’ll be alone

 and occupy my favourite throne.

 Such is the curse of I.B.S.

I can’t afford to be careless.

 

No decent girl would want to be

Placed second to the lavatory.

But I can’t help it I’m afraid

 it seems to be the way I’m made.

 

I’m all bunged up or far too loose.

There is no way that I can choose.

Constipation ,diarrhoea

I wish they both would disappear

 

So I could lead a normal life

 instead of this internal strife.

I either have to sit and strain

Or find the nearest loo again.

 

This malady drives me insane

I’m sick of trying to explain

To other folks the reason why

 I disappear so suddenly.

 

I have no choice I have to go

 for fear that I will overflow.

Which makes my life a misery.

I’m forced to act unsociably.

 

I cant make friends as others do.

My life revolves around the loo

Unless you too have I.B.S

 and suffer from the same distress.

 

There is no way you’ll understand

Knowledge acquired second hand,

might activate your sympathy.

 Which doesn’t do a lot for me.

 

So I must suffer silently

I don’t care what you think of me.

You cannot know what I go through

when there’s a queue outside the loo.

 

And I am forced to concentrate

every minute that I wait.

Until a cubicle is free

 and drop my trousers hurriedly.

 

And do that which I need to do

I can relax when I am through.

If only temporarily.

Until they find a cure for me.

 

07/11/2009

http:// blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

Reviews

[Richard McLin]

Will I think this is the first poem I have ever read about diarrhea or constipation so kudos on that. At first due to the interesting subject matter I thought this was gonna be a funny poem, but I didn't find it funny at all, its' actually a sad poem. Someone inflicted with this illness that is basically running and ruining their lives. It's a good piece, I found a bit of a rhyming problem on 1 stanza, but besides that it was very well done and I enjoyed it very much.

-Richard

[Through the Gateway]

I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry! The piece was a (dare I say) fun read, complete with a cheekiness that veiled a more distressing shout about your condition. It flowed (sorry!) very well and was a light read.

Excellent!

[Marie Anzalone]

Oh lord... the best part about this, is that it was referred to me by someone I thought was a friend! This person shall remain nameless in protection of the innocent and guilty alike.

I will just say this: I was a Peace Corps volunteer in Central America. There wasn't a one of us, out of a group of about 200, who did not have at least one humiliating "I crapped myself in public" story. Having been a lifetime sufferer of IBS, I was the only one the living conditions did not faze. I can only salute the painful truth of this writing, and the intestinal fortitude it took to post it after writing it.

I almost want to dare you to enter it in the "SCREW PUBLISHED POETRY" contest just for the review LJW would give you...

[Sam Freeland]

A truly light-hearted approach to a limitation of aging. Not everyone will understand the
importance of these words because they are still too young, but if they are fortunate
enough to greet as many new years as you have, they will probably find out...then too
they will still have to have learned your fluency with words in order to express anything
comparable to this excellent and truth bearing poem. I know because beentheredonethat. 80