Best Long Illness Poems
FNB Stadium, Johannesburg, on Tuesday, December 10
A tear silently crawled down my cheek
As eulogies fall and despair rise to the peak.
I see the crowd, the leaders, the well-wishers
Here they are gathered like never before-
Dark clouds have gathered in the East-
Old mounds overturn by the leash.
Dusty bones stir in their pale graves
While the bells hoarsely knell-
Told have been the tales
Gone have been the sales
of rights and freedoms
Through the fight of that man
twenty-seven lunar days
had his face been hidden pale
For the whip's caress
And the whiteman's address.
The troubles of the world
The weeps of the people-
The tears that baked their cheeks
He stood brave, conquered and freed
the newspapers, the radio:
"Hero dies aged 95, after a long illness."
the remarks of the people:
"Was he made for death? Our Mandela!"
Dark clouds gathered in the East-
Old mounds overturned by the leash.
Dusty bones stirred in their pale graves
While the bells hoarsely knelled-
He freed a humanity
He took his brother's strokes
Bled for his brother's locks
And aged in his selflessness and empathy.
Dark clouds gather in the East-
Marking that little patch of the Earth
Where has disappeared
Earth's greatest child, Mandela.
He was seized with an obsession,
it wasn't like balsam to his hurt feelings,
and his body has been waisted by the long illness.
The streets were bedecked with flags,
and the soldier declared himself innocent.
It was only then that they realized the gravity of the situation.
The people.
A constitutional government,it's bad policy to beat him.
There was a munition shortage and wet weather gets me down.
That gloomy old house is dying as the dove of peace patronize,
the soldier.
The piney slopes were covered with snow and red spots,
as the light fell on her face,before wolves torn it to pieces.
The hope.
The soldier showed signs of distress,i was astonished at the news.
By midday he had sold out and left for his village.
Bury the hatchet,soldier !! The place is Godforsaken.
I had a sudden pain in the stomach.
Change of speed.
When a writer meets another writer
It's like meeting self
In a different form, time, language
It's like meeting a twin
Born on same days, with experiences alike
With a blended expertise, with same eyes, nose, ears, mind set, skills
When a writer meets another writer
It's like coming home, home sweet home
After a long journey, maybe after being exiled
Like Miriam makeba
Maybe after being detained
Like Nelson Mandela
maybe after a long illness
The smell of home, the sounds, the beauty, the truth, is like meeting another writer
When a writer meets another writer
It's like meeting a best friend or a best companion
All you want to do is stay up late listening to each other
Sharing life tales, crying together, laughing together,
Being there for each other, the only ones that understand each other
It's like meeting Beatrice in Dante's Divine Comedy, and reaching destiny together.
ON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF FRIENDS
whether close or far
if one is long accustomed
shock! sudden but mild
“oh he/she had long illness”
or “I was surprised by the news”
close friends help a bit
one’s mind may be diverted
sight instead of depth
and always the heroics
“he/she was a good person”
everything weighed in balance
the real blow though is
self-identification
one’s putrid body
one can almost smell the death
(oh god I’m only human!)
Unaffected by the external, you ask?
But no, that is impossible. However,
our insides can be lubricated with the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit brings consolation, peace and joy.
Holy water, brimming with fire, light us up from the inside,
warm and tender. When we know
from whence our hope comes from —
from the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ —
we surrender. Joy bubbles up, composing our exterior,
not without the existence of tears but alongside them.
How do I know? I witness the life of faith.
She mourns with harp and prayers,
her ear inclined to the needy, praying for them
as they pray for her.
He smiles, yells out car window,
“Praise the Lord!”
Later I see him in church —
one of my friend’s legs is gone.
Her countenance glowed,
unafraid and steady
through her husband’s long illness.
Three examples. Many more.
May we be the tears that light up the souls
of those looking on, standing
in the shadow of the Lord, whose blood,
sweat and tears were shed on Calvary.
Our Lord’s joy as he spoke It is finished.
Imagine a pageant of pregnant grapes
brimming with juice — joyful and fruity.
The score of heaven in
thankfulness and Hallelujah!
2/11/2021
Contest: Joy Continuum
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
20th Century
Planet Earth
New York City
Television Reporter
at JFK to random
traveler: "Excuse me, sir---sir, are you afraid of flying?
Random
traveler: "No. CRASHING."
***********************************
It's not the thought of being dead
that keeps me sleepless in my bed,
it's the method in which I go,
be it fast or be it slow.
It might be too confusing
to pass while simply snoozing,
and the nursing home nightmare
is a thought too hard to bear.
No long illness to make me simper,
I'll go with a bang, not a whimper.
HEAR THE TRUTH WITHIN THIS ODE:
DNR--Do Not Code.
************************************
21st Century
Planet Earth
New Orleans, LA
Television Reporter
shortly after
hurricane Katrina,
interviewing a
random
New Orleans
resident: "What are you guys going to do, now that all
your churches have been destroyed?"
New Orleans
resident,
scowling: "We goes to Popeye's."
**************************************
GOD BLESS THE IGNORANT, FOR THEY SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH.
**************************************
©Danielle White
I am XXXXXXX
Caring, intelligent, creative, true friend
Sister of Dan and Bob, sister-in-law of Sharon, Helena, and Dorothy
Lover of good books, fine food, and family
Who feels fortunate, loved, in the right place at the right time
Who fears little except long illness, incapacity, being a burden
Who would like to see peace, harmony and unity in the world
Now resident of Omaha, Nebraska, formerly of Martha’s Vineyard
My last name is XXXXXXX
I, sadly, had a vision about this... My neighbour's husband passed away, after a very long illness. He is free from pain and suffering. Rest in peace; and my condolences to his wife. They were married for over 40 years.
Free to fly
By Michelle Morris
29/11/2022
The shackles on your soul
Have been released
You are free from pain
Free from suffering
Free to fly with the angels
Up to Heaven above
Free to experience peace
Comfort, joy and love
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Today was the day my partner would go,
Through the tunnel of light and her pain was no more,
My pain begins the end I don't know,
Today is no different the pain seems to grow,
I had the misery to watch her decline,
A tumour malignant but why not benign,
To witness my partner suffer like this,
Her last days she slept,
For me it was bliss,
Throughout her long illness we had to many scares,
From moments of collapsing or soiling her wears,
Problems with treatments,
Bad news from her scans,
Cathata keep blocking on the leg where it hangs,
Eight hours in chemo,
No fun on your own,
We were in a pandemic,
I'm forced to stay home,
Then to return after such a long day,
Hoping the treatment kept cancer at bay,
My partner stayed strong,
She put up a good fight,
To be free of the cancer ,
She must head for the light.