The works on this page have been created by members of Parkinson's New Zealand.
Having Parkinson's you get told you can't do this and you can't do that. I am a quiet person, and through my art I can shout, my art work is my scream.
All the lines in my line drawings start as straight lines. They get warped by the tremor in my hand. Parkinson's creates the art, but it can ruin it too.
I've used the term FOG here to describe how Parkinson's fogs your brain.
Some of my earliest art was pictures of fish. I imagined the different fish you would see if you put a big net into the sea and pulled it up.
When you have Parkinson's you undergo all sorts of investigations and tests, it makes you feel like a lab rat. The key in the picture signifies finding a cure for Parkinson's. The flower is because I think if you've got Parkinson's, just live with it and do your best.
We have a new poem by Beverley Fraser (see also below)
The Parkinson's Path
We are travelling on our path through life
No two of us alike
We’ll have our different twists and turns
It’s more than just a hike
We all have different loads to bear
And often have to rest
Weighed down by all our grief and pain
The journey’s harder than we guessed
Sometimes a light surprises
As we turn around a bend
And find there is a change in view
With the warm clasp of a friend
Just as the clouds can hide the sun
We know it’s always there
So too our Lord and Saviour
Who’s borne far more than we could bear
We wish we knew His healing power
In our hour of pain
We wish He’d lift this heavy load
And set us free again
But we know He walks beside us
Willing to share our load
We simply have to take His hand
He’ll lead us down the road
When the sun upon us smiles
With courage we’ll rise high
We’ll reach out with a hand of love
To those who cannot fly
The path goes on and so do we
We take each bend where're it goes
Where there’s a choice we only have
To ask the One who knows
This poem was written by a member from South Canterbury
Walking home from church I fell in the gutter
On picking myself up I was heard to mutter
'Why don't you lift your feet instead of shuffling along'
Swing your arms and get with the throng
Then Parkinsons was diagnosed as the dreaded disease
As my daughter declared I could shake the cocktails with ease.
Writing is getting more difficult day by day,
Instead of the neat script I used to display
I now have a tiny scrawl that no one can read,
Even myself has a lot of trouble it seems
While a magnifying glass might be of some use
If it wasn't for my computer my writing would be of no use
I'll not let this beat me 'oh no',
I'll carry on forever even though I am really slow,
I've taken on painting which brings comfort and joy
and I have found a passion for painting old homesteads
that would have been someone else’s old pride and joy
Card making, embroidery and gardening are my escape
I can even see paintings out in the landscape
I have learnt to laugh at myself and have fun
I will not let this beat me as I sit in the sun.
I have a lot of living to do, conquering
dressmaking, gardening and embroidery to name but a few
and with three little grandsons to encourage along the way
Hopefully they’ll find a cure in my day
For now I'll make the most of each day and live it to the full.
It's not going to beat me 'oh no'. I'M NO FOOL.
Gwenda Morris 2012
Let’s Rock ‘n Roll
If the Fifties came around again
And rock ‘n roll was new
I’d be shaking with the best of them
And rocking all day through
Even on the keyboard
My fingers dance and bound
With complete and mad abandon
They jump and bump around
They type in King James’ English
Every ‘the’ becomes a ‘thee’
And then while all unknowing
I see a row of ‘eeeees’
So when I hear the music
And the walls begin to rock
I’ll shake and roll and rattle
As I dance around the clock
And then its time for supper
And the food I pass around
The muffins join the dancing
And they topple to the ground
We’re the movers and the shakers
And the world has need of us
So we rock ‘n roll together
From morning until dusk
Yes, the damn thing creeps on slowly
A good attitude won't keep you lowly.
There are ways and means you know,
To keep you smiling and on the go.
When turning from left to right in bed,
Count how many moves instead
Of feeling frustrated 'cause it takes a while
Then better it next time, with a smile.
Automatic life style is what we had
Now it's to manual, it's not so bad
Sure it slows one down a bit, then a lot
But the thing to remember - don't lose the plot.
A button hook, a stand for your book,
Slip on shoes, plus more, just look
What can be achieved by looking around
And seeing what else can be found.
With medication, it's really a must
Try taking it regularly but don't bust
If you miss one or are jolly late
It's not the end of the world mate.
You can still go for walks, drive the car
You're a whole lot better off by far
Than a lot of people in the world out there
Who would gladly swop places, that's clear.
So don't sit and mope around
Get out and enjoy life and you'll be bound
To feel a lot better at the end of the day,
For you will always find there's another way
SO GO TO IT - WHAT DO YOU SAY?
Margaret Palmer, 2001
The following poem was submitted by David Belz, Editor, Tawa Catholic News, on behalf of John Patrick Keenan (15 February 1932 - 20 March 2008) who had Parkinson's in his later years. The verses that follow were written by Patrick and were included in the order of service for his funeral.
With me, I see P.D. as my
And in the long run, will see,
P.D. make a betta fellah out of me.
Good days, bad days, we all have these
We need to compare, decide, prefer
Select your place,
In mankind's happy space amongst your people's family.
With God's will, our wisdom growing,
Our inner strength in us awakening
The strength to suffer patiently
the sufferings that indeed are blessings.
I used to walk fast, man
Real fast, ask anyone
A real high-stridin honkey
I walk slow now, 'cept when I'm dancing,
Then I go.....slow, slow, quick, quick, wow.....
Watching others with maybe greater woes
The laughing man, with crying eyes, wherein
does his strength lie,
The singing child, with songs to come and go on,
And not a cry.
Lovely lady, with the sad caring smile of Mothers
Let me like these, meet each new day
Blessing each holy morning.
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