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 »

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 »

Can you see him, my night watch-man,At the setting of the sun,Going round to turn my lights outOne by one First the talking, then the eating,Then the descending, floor by floor,Turn the power off, dowse the heating,Shut the door. Cannot stop him, he’s a jobsworth,Solid, stolid Union type;Only doing what he’s told to.Musn’t gripe! Who employed him, dreadful sentry?Middle management for sure,Once they make the hapless entry,There’s no cure.

Speech is taken, so much for granted, loosing mine, I wish I’d ranted, Against the loss of blether, tongue lassoed, by a Medical tether. Out in the Wheelchair, pushing against a Gale, The effort would be easier, if I fit a sail. Having got the hang of tacking, how do I make it stop, Falling over and rolling, I’d need help picking up.I’m used to falling, in the confines of… read more »

You took over my life, you didn’t ask me,I didn’t know what you would do to me.You made me worry and caused me stress,I as a person became less and less.I have to stay strong, with hope as my friend,I need to cope right through to the end. You take more of my loved one away each day,I fill the spaces you leave empty and I stay.I have no choice… read more »