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People’s Poems

Poem by Mark Bennett

Mark Bennett had been talking about colouring his beard red for MND Scotland for many months, and he finally got round to it. He raised £202, and even wrote a poem about it – thanks Mark! Why beard of red? Are you off your head?               With tree-fall, brain-bash? End means to make cash! Not mind a jot                                                         To get cash pile,                                                             Look like a fool,                                                         Red beard, big smile! To… read more »

Thoughts from an MND research scientist: The cycle of research

Ideas and application, Funding and experimentation, Thinking.   Results and deliberation, Writing and publication, Understanding.  Insights and appreciation, Treating and amelioration, Helping.   By Dr Simon H Parson Senior Lecturer in Anatomy Euan MacDonald Centre for Motor Neurone Disease Research University of Edinburgh

My Dad by Tina

This is a poem posted on our Facebook page that has attracted hundreds of likes and warm messages from others inspired and touched by the depth of emotion shared by the writer. It is desperately difficult for many family members to watch MND take hold of those closest to them, face the struggle of its relentless progression, and finally cope with the enevitable, as this incurable illness finally takes their… read more »

MY DAD by Tina

This is a poem posted on our Facebook page that has attracted hundreds of likes and warm messages from others inspired and touched by the depth of emotion shared by the writer. It is desperately difficult for many family members to watch MND take hold of those closest to them, face the struggle of its relentless progression, and finally cope with the enevitable, as this incurable illness finally takes their loved one away from them. MND Scotland would like to deeply thank Tina… read more »

Poem by Frank Taylor

THE CORNFLOWER The cornflower is a bonny hue It means sae much tae very few Yet speaks sae loud tae me `n you Its richness aewaes shine`n through The cornflower? is a bonny blue   The cornflower means sae very much It helps the few tae stey in touch Lends itself tae those in need Grown fae jist a single seed Spread its roots across our land The cornflower? is… read more »

Spirit by Julia Mepham

I saw the poetry compiled by MND Scotland last week thanks to a facebook post on the MND Association’s page. I really appreciated reading it.  I live in Northwood, Middlesex (outskirts of London) and I wrote a poem in memory of my Dad Roy last summer – he died from MND on 1 December 2010 aged 63. I’d be very happy for you to show the poem to raise more… read more »

Sonnet by Robert Paulley

  I can move with a musical motion And still run like the wind in my dreams Express my thoughts with facial emotion And contemplate the behaviour of meme’s I can vote in a general election  Spread my wings and fly to Holland or France I can just about fight off infection And roll the dice in the odd game of chance I feel life as it flows through  my… read more »

Her Ocean Deep Eyes by Bill Whiland

  The girl I know Her eyes like oceans deep Roundly sparkling still with love keeps our spirits high Despite this mask of pain   Those tender eyes can tell Of happy days with children When our world was young And she would sing our life In fresh and graceful tones Constant and steady as a mother’s strength   And all these things her eyes do breathe And all these… read more »

Grab It!

Frank ‘Papa’ Taylor has sent us a number of his poems that he has written since being diagnosed with MND. ‘Bad Day’ has already recieved positive feedback from visitors to our site and people on Facebook. This is another of Frank’s poems. Grab it! Grab it bi the ba’sGie it everythin ye’v gotThe question shouldnae be, what if?The questions…? What if not? What if ye never gave it a shot?What if… read more »

Bad Day by Papa Taylor

Bay Day Ye wake up…ye’r tiredYe’r have’n a bad dayYe’r body’s?…no wired Head fur the stairAne step at a timeMove slowly forritUntil ye get there Will ye use the stairlift?Or will you walk?Ye’r hae’n a bad dayIt’ll be hard to talk When ye get tae the bottomYe’v ran oot’y braithAye it’s a bad dayYe’r grey…like a wraith Still ye made itYe kin hae a wee smileFeels like a marathonIt took… read more »

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