Saturday, December 10, 2011

The Wait

She sat down looking here and there. There was no one around. She was thankful for that but still she was nervous. This was not her first visit but still each time she went there it felt like first time.

She looked at her watch! It was already very late. She tried thinking of her favorite things. She tried thinking of songs which made her happy. But she could not remember a single thing. She could not concentrate on anything at all.

There was this unexplainable fear inside her. Each time she came there she felt like a prisoner full of guilt!

And then the door opened. The Door to Hell! Some one called her name.

She went in and sat. He smiled at her. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth open.

The Wait to get in was over and the next wait to get out started.

Poems are not my cup of coffee or tea but then a poem that is very close to my heart is this particular as it gives me some relief from the pain i go through each time i visit this place i dread the most!

Ogden Nash

This Is Going To Hurt Just A Little Bit

One thing I like less than most things is sitting in a dentist chair with my mouth wide open.

And that I will never have to do it again is a hope that I am against hope hopen.

Because some tortures are physical and some are mental,
But the one that is both is dental.
It is hard to be self-possessed
With your jaw digging into your chest.

So hard to retain your calm
When your fingernails are making serious alterations in your life line or love line or some other important line in your palm;

So hard to give your usual effect of cheery benignity
When you know your position is one of the two or three in life most lacking in dignity.

And your mouth is like a section of road that is being worked on.
And it is all cluttered up with stone crushers and concrete mixers and drills and steam rollers and there isn’t a nerve in your head thatyou aren’t being irked on.

Oh, some people are unfortunate enough to be strung up by thumbs.
And others have things done to their gums,
And your teeth are supposed to be being polished,
But you have reason to believe they are being demolished.

And the circumstance that adds most to your terror
Is that it’s all done with a mirror,
Because the dentist may be a bear, or as the Romans used to say, only they were referring to a feminine bear when they said it, an ursa,
But all the same how can you be sure when he takes his crowbar in one hand and mirror in the other he won’t get mixed up, the way you do when you try to tie a bow tie with the aid of a mirror, and forget that left is right and vice versa?

And then at last he says That will be all; but it isn’t because he then coats your mouth from cellar to roof
With something that I suspect is generally used to put a shine on a horse’s hoof.

And you totter to your feet and think. Well it’s all over now and afterall it was only this once.
And he says come back in three monce.

And this, O Fate, is I think the most vicious circle that thou ever sentest,
That Man has to go continually to the dentist to keep his teeth in good condition
when the chief reason he wants his teeth in good condition
is so that he won’t have to go to the dentist.

PS: CCPed the poem from a site...

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