Mental-Pause

Where do the words go
when they slip through the cracks
of my mental filing system?

And where is recognition
when words reappear,
no longer categorized
or referenced –
out of alphabetical order –

not even an inkling of recall
as if our acquaintance
is akin to discovery?

(Mental-pause first appeared here January, 2018. This version edited.
Image my own.)

Need A Verb

Movement abandons
I grasp for something…
concrete…
…air to breathe
… am fast becoming
…sedimentary
…an object

Need a verb –
transitive –
to drive me –

The wind lifted her
The sun inspired her
The day healed her…

(Image my own)

Letters and Words

Letters jostle for position
back-up
attempt to regroup
get detoured

Frustration builds
and obstacles
pop-up –
cognition faltering

Circuits are jumbled
pathways rerouting
patience exploding
expression lost.

Word recall
out of order
Word recognition
under construction

Is there an exit
from this nightmare?

(Brain fog affects cognitive functioning.  I first wrote this piece in 2015 and the condition continues today – one of the reasons I keep writing.  I resubmit it here for Ragtag Community’s prompt: jumble.  Image from personal collection.)

Tongue Tied

Two-tongued –
speaking both heart and mind –
complex languages, whose nuances
I’ve never quite mastered, yet
am conversant in.

It’s a constant learning
to nail enunciation –
linguistics a tiresome topic

the mind,
a guttural language,
leans to equation and absolutes –
hard consonants and long vowels;

while heart-speak rolls
off the tongue in softer,
cooing syllables –
elongated tones and
whimsical passages.

I’d happily demonstrate
the extent of my proficiency
but the two-tongues,
are currently contradictory,
the clamour of their discord
drowning out the peace
requisite for translation.

Losing Language

hardwood…
it rolls off my tongue
stops in mid-air, mind halting
Is that a real word?
I stretch for familiarity,
find none – I apologize
quizzical expressions
indicate my mistake –
such a funny word,
I fumble for explanation
humiliation crowding

How do you spell resile?
my English teacher brain
searches, comes up empty
Do you mean reconcile?
No.  So I google it
discover its validity
spell it out –
can’t say I ever knew the word

thicket, I type
and then back space –
need a term to describe
prickly shrubbery, off
the beaten path, but
it eludes me, the letters
line up but fail to evoke
recognition. why

is my mind turning,
blank spaces replacing
stored knowledge, as if
corruption has overtaken
memory’s files – thoughts
sputter, drop beginnings
and endings of words –
dragging me through muddy
fog, shutting me down…

(Note:  for those that don’t know me,
I am challenged by ME/CFS, a disease
that affects cognitive functioning. 
Writing is a way for me to battle
the deterioration – this poem
illustrates the frustration.

Image: pixelmuttz.blogspot.com)