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Health Narrative Poems | Narrative Poems About Health

These Health Narrative poems are examples of Narrative poems about Health. These are the best examples of Health Narrative poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Narrative |

The Drying Of The Ink

No longer at desk the typewriter has been given 
it's final rest.
As he cant recall the day or year.

The once strong mind is closed the body
but a museum or tribute to what once was.
he his home but locked within himself.

Vist's from thoose who once knew the man 
are like people viewing a body at a wake.
he calls from within the shell for for release.

Yet his lips will not move his voice never sounds.
Inside he burns for the chance to run as the river
chases the sea.

To be the man they never knew and the one he 
could admire and both despise.

The page sits in typewriter like a willing 
eager lover in bed. 
Waitting in stockings that cling to delicate thigh.
the tears escapes it's minds prison.

He thirsts for it like a drunk for that morning drink
of whiskey waitting hands held togather trying
to keep from shaking.

He sits as a painter without hand.
watching the most beautiful sunset fade without 
a chance of ever capturing this moment.

The ink is drying he feels it everyday.
Soon he hopes like the dust that does gather
he will be swept away.


Details | Narrative |

Alone in a Hospital Room - An Alzheimer’s Song

Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand, 
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could – 
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet; 
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go 
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach, 
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing 
about our best years – our long ago days together? 

Honey? 
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl 
left within that beautiful head of yours…please; 
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember? 

My love, do you hear? 
They’re playing our favorite song…



*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)


Details | Narrative |

Making Lemonade

When you're walking Scuffling along in trouble's shoes Head hanging low Mumbling moody blues Well me, I'm making lemonade Why can't you Taking bitter adding something sweet Maybe a smidge, no a heap full of hope Heck, by days end I'll mix it up Movin' straight to, getting crazy in root beer floats When all you see is red Awful thoughts pound your head "Honey do this, honey do that" I'm sitting back Feet up, sipping lemonade again You look my way and say "Boy, he's got it made" Not so my friend I just taking my lemons And making me some lemonade instead There's so much "other time" To have your little gripes Or your petty cries But, now let's toast away the grind And partake in some lemonade on ice You've come this far "And guess what? You've got your health" Check your pulse you're still alive So change your ways Brother, embrace the lemons Squeeze fresh into winner ala mode And "live baby, baby live! in lemonade days "Ahhh ... such sweetness"


Details | Narrative |

AGE

I have worked with the elderly for many years,
Heard many happy stories and shed a few tears.
I keep in mind a story I was once told,
How it is like for the elderly to grow old.

Put on bottle cap glasses so you can’t see to well,
While I finish my story I must tell.
Place ear plugs in so that I must shout,
My words will be very hard to figure out. 

Now dear put some pebbles in your shoes,
So when you walk slow you have an excuse.
Some think that because I where diapers I'm a baby again,
And treat me like I can’t understand.

And when I'm sometimes blue,
Nurses patronize me saying I know what you’re going through.
Remember I once lived in a grand home,
And had a family of my own.

I took my youth for granted like we all do,
So you must understand why I sometimes get blue.
Nurses come into my room and don’t even knock,
Sometimes assuming I'm as deaf as a rock.

Sometimes they talk as if I'm not there,
Some just pretend that they care.
Some call me sweetie and dear,
Sometimes forgetting “ Yoo-hoo! I was born first here.”

So when I get snippy and snap at your heel,
You must understand how I must feel.
To once have control and lose my dignity,
Is not what I envisioned for me.

I am perpetually young at heart,
even if my face don't play the part
So next time you see me wheeling through,
To assume make an ass out of me and you


Details | Narrative |

SHAKEN BUT NOT BROKEN

 
FROM THE MOMENT THAT SHE MET HIM 
SHE WAS AWESTRUCK!!! 
HE HAD THE WORDS, HE HAD THE CLOTHES, HE HAD THE LOOK 
HE HAD THIS SMOOTH, UNCANNY WAY 
THAT EASED HIM RIGHT THROUGH HER DEFENSES 
THAT LEFT HER DANGLING, HELPLESS...FROM HIS HOOK 
SHE WAS A CHRISTIAN WOMAN, AND 
SHE MINISTERED IN CHURCH 
HAD NEVER KNOWN A MAN LIKE THIS BEFORE 
A MAN WHO KNEW THE BIBLE 
EVERY CHAPTER...EVERY VERSE 
A CHARISMA, SHE FOUND TOO HARD TO IGNORE 
HE DATED HER THE CHRISTIAN WAY 
SHE MET HIS FAMILY 
THIS HUMAN BROOM, WHO SWEPT HER OFF HER FEET 
RESISTING EVERY SEXUAL URGE 
UNTIL THEIR WEDDING NIGHT 
BUT ON THAT NIGHT, HE TOOK HER, HOT, AND SWEET 
HER SPIRIT KNEW, BEFORE HER "MIND" CAUGHT ON 
SOMETHING HAD CHANGED 
A HORROR UNEXPLAINED HAD GRIPPED HER SOUL 
THIS CHRISTIAN MAN SHE MARRIED 
HAD TURNED OUT TO BE A DEMON 
AND HER COMPLETE DESTRUCTION, WAS HIS GOAL 
WITH COLD METHODIC PURPOSE 
HE HAD PLANNED HIS WIFE'S DEMISE 
HE GAVE HER AIDS, AND THOUGHT HER FATE WAS SEALED 
SHE WAS SHAKEN, BUT NOT BROKEN 
AND WITH STEADFAST FAITH, SHE SHOUTED... 
"THANK YOU JESUS! BY HIS STRIPES, I'M HEALED!!! 
HE HAD COME TO CHURCH TO FIND A SAINT 
WHOSE LIFE HE COULD DESTROY 
THE DEVIL WRAPPED, IN CHRISTIAN MALE ATTIRE 
HE GOT IN THROUGH HER EGO 
AND DESIRE TO BE LOVED 
BUT OH PRAISE GOD, THE DEVIL IS A LIAR 
THE LESSON HERE, THE DEVIL 
GOES TO CHURCH AS MUCH AS YOU DO 
DELIGHTING IN DESTRUCTION OF THE FLOCK 
AND SHOULD YOU FIND YOURSELF A TARGET 
OF HIS DEADLY PURPOSE 
REMEMBER, ALWAYS...JESUS, IS YOUR ROCK! 

AMEN! 


Details | Narrative |

The Willows

Tomorrow’s times are in these eyes of mine.
Away and far my world shall part.
The Seas shall rise from their depths of deep.
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will weep.
The Sun will rise as my days still come,
The glory, the power, it is the rains with Sun.
Tomorrow’s times are in these days of mine.
Far and gone my world shall bond.
The Mountains will fall from their heights they climb.
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will shine.
Tomorrow’s times are in these thoughts of mine.
Gone and here my world shall fear.
The Lands will separate the world by Sea,
And in the glow of the shadows the willows will be.
Tomorrow’s times I know are mine.
Here it is that I fear I’m near.
My Land, my Seas, my Mountains of plain sight,
And in the glow of the shadows the willows shall shed their light.

®Registered: Ann Rich 1998


Details | Narrative |

Me, Myself, and I - (Part 1)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 2 to complete the poem and leave your comments on the Part 2 submission. Thank 
you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain diminished 


Me, Myself, and I...


“There are things that concern us,”
		Consensed my “Selves” in earnest
““We” fear that “I” have succumbed to delusion”

“And after careful deliberation
		It is with much hesitation
That we choose to delineate upon this confusion”


“Fact is your intuition
		Is riddled with superstition
And your judgment leaves much to be desired”

“So you leave us no recourse
		Don’t push us to use force”
It is then that the “I” was summarily fired


I exclaimed “By whose authority?” Response, “Rule of majority”
“The “Myself” and the “Me,” (forthwith the “We”), are experts in our field”

“And with much technique and time
		And some forays into the sublime
The nature of your malady will be revealed”


“So to keep yourself from having a fit
		Step back and just calm down a bit”
“We,” they said, “certainly have this under control”

“We swear this won’t hurt at all”
		Then I felt my inhibitions fall
Still I said a prayer to God that He keep my soul


You know, fact is I do feel off axis
		As evidenced by such parapraxis
As this prose that I, (or is it “Us”), seek to pen

And with my mind feeling numb
		I finally chose to succumb
And allow the “Me” and the “Myself” to begin


And then came questions in a flurry
		Answer, answer and please do hurry
Not one moment of respite did they give

They pushed and they prodded
		With every “T” crossed and “I” dotted
My mind felt like it had gone through a sieve


And all this psycho-analysis
		Is causing my mind paralysis
The questions, can you stop with the questions please

“Yes, oh yes indeed
		I do believe we have what we need
To make an attempt to identify your unknown neuroses”


Details | Narrative |

Me, Myself, and I - (Part 2)

Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by 
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and 
read Part 1 first so as to get the true gist of the poem and leave your comments here on the 
Part 2 submission. Thank you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain 
diminished.


Me, Myself, and I... (continued)


“Your, (Or “Our”), symptoms seem to intermit
		And the fact that “You’re,” (“We’re”), a hypocrite
Tis no wonder we’re having such problems with diagnosis”

Then “I” had an idea so grand
		To dispense with this at my own hand
A self-inflicted coup de grace would be my prognosis


So while the “Me” and the “Myself” squabbled
		With courage newly cobbled
“I” spotted the dresser drawer and made my run

With fingers fiercely fumbling
		Whilst they continued grumbling
“I” produced from the depths of the drawer a shiny gun


And now my life, though ill-fated
		Was soon to be vindicated
This would affect us all equally the same

Would be no myself or me
		No you, him, us, or we
But an inclusive all would be to blame


It took me a moment to figure
		Out the safety on the trigger
Then “I,” (or “Us”), prepared to do the dirty deed

Then the barrel found my temple
		And as it settled into the dimple
A still small voice did my “selves” choose to heed


Hence a moment of clarity 
		Harkened me to posterity
And I thought what a legacy to leave behind

“Can’t we all find a way
		To save this miserable day
And avoid a broken body for someone to find”


And then deep within my soul
		I felt and heard a simple drum roll
And the differing sides of me just subsided

And with my mind now as one
		I worked to get this all undone
The whole business of this stuff I derided


And tis now true of fact
		That I survived this ordeal intact
And lived to raise my face unto the sky
 
And here now as it ends
		I find I’ve made good friends
With the “Me”, the “Myself,” and the “I”


Thank you for taking the time to share in my poetry. Please feel free to leave your thoughts 
or comments here on this page. 

J. Scott Burns...


Details | Narrative |

Losing Someone to Cancer

I did speak with them, seemed very confused.

Apparently from what I have been told,
the cancer has gotten worse, and has 
began invading the rest of the body…

The hospice nurse doesn’t,
think they will be with us much longer…

They don’t know where they are living, can't 
remember me seeing them recently, can't 
remember me talking with them yesterday...

I know that this is very depressing news,
and if it weren't for friends and family,
I would be going crazy…

For it is hard to lose a loved one,
whether it be family or friend…

Since we don't know, when that fateful day
will happen, we can only take it one day at a time,
I only hope and pray that they won't suffer, I would
 rather see them be in a coma, and not have 
the pain and suffering…

I know that sounds harsh, however,
I don't want them to suffer, I want them
 to go in there sleep….

By Sandra L. Hoban
©2007


Details | Narrative |

Not posting for a while

Due to health of Dad, I will not be posting new poems for a while.
Things are going downhill fast....
I will still read other poets when time permits.

Quality time spent with him is more important at this time. 
 
I do appreciate all of you for your support
on my scribbles and for the warm welcome 
that has been given me.

If you pray, I will ask for prayers for all involved.

Thank you ahead of time.


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