One tooth short of wisdom

Some say I’ve lost my wisdom
But I’ve got three of them left.
The dentist pulled the bloody
Culprit out. My head, bereft

Of one quarter of wisdom,
Wept redly into my mouth
To mourn the loss, while lesser
Molars, glad to get it out,

Danced on it’s hollow gravely
Shouting warnings to the three
That were left that wisdom can
Be rendered dispensibly.

And now part of my wisdom
Has died, and some corner in
My dentists bin will always
Be wise (wiser than it’s been).

I’ll look back at my wisdom
With pride. But now… I wave, I
Kiss (when my sore jaw lets me)
My days of wisdom goodbye,

And dread the day when wisdom
Rears it’s ugly three white heads,
And gums reel in shock and awe
And flare up all red in dread,

And dentists full of wisdom
Reply with their battle sounds:
“Open wide Mister Parkin.
That’ll be seventy pounds.”

Some say I’ve lost my wisdom
So I thought I’d put in words
That I’ve still got my wisdom
Cause I know it bloody hurts!

© Simon Parkin

 I wrote this poem immediately after having a wisdom tooth out. I was dribbling blood as I wrote it and was in a fair bit of pain but by the time I'd finished the poem it had stopped hurting. That's what I love about writing poetry: it takes away the pain better than any prescription in the world!