Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
august autumn
baby bangla
baptism baseball
basketball beach
beautiful beauty
bereavement best friend
betrayal bible
bio bird
birth birthday
black african american blessing
blue boat
body books
boyfriend break up
bridal shower brother
bullying business
butterfly cancer
candy car
care career
caregiving cat
celebration celebrity
change chanukah
character cheer up
chicago child
child abuse childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinderella city
class clothes
color community
computer conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad dance
dark daughter
day death
death of a friend december
dedication deep
depression desire
destiny devotion
discrimination divorce
dog dream
drink earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion father
father daughter father son
fathers day fear
february feelings
film fire
firework first love
fish fishing
flower flying
food football
for children for her
for him for kids
forgiveness freedom
french friend
friendship fruit
fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
good morning good night
goodbye gospel
gothic graduate
graduation grandchild
granddaughter grandfather
grandmother grandparents
grandson grave
green grief
growing up growth
guitar hair
halloween happiness
happy happy birthday
hate health
heart heartbreak
heartbroken heaven
hello hero
high school hilarious
hindi hip hop
history hockey
holiday holocaust
home homework
hope horror
horse house
how i feel howl
humanity humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i am i love you
i miss you identity
image imagery
imagination immigration
innocence insect
inspiration inspirational
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
july june
kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
longing loss
lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mentor metaphor
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day mountains
moving on mum
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
pets philosophy
places planet
poems poetess
poetry poets
political pollution
poverty power
prayer preschool
pride princess
prison psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher teachers day
technology teen
teenage thank you
thanks thanksgiving
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
uplifting urban
urdu usa
vacation valentines day
vanity veterans day
violence visionary
vogon voice
volleyball voyage
war water
weather wedding
wife wind
wine winter
wisdom woman
women word play
words work
world world war i
world war ii write
writing yellow

Long Sick Poems | Long Sick Poetry

Long Sick Poems. Below are the most popular long Sick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sick poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Laura Breidenthal | Details |

Light On the Devil's Chord - The Challenge

My hair bristled in the crisp breeze
Excitement spreading throughout my body
Even the sudden cold amused my fingertips,
Tingles spreading through my hands and up my arms
Soon I would be there too. . .
In the murky shadows of mysterious malice
To see the claws and talons of humanity’s greatest foe
The Prince of Darkness—the Saint of Woe

The great seal remained closed as I stood before it
Not a peep was heard from inside

“Knock, and it will be opened to you . . . “

Lightly, my fist clunked three times upon the great seal,
And a horrendous echo resounded like muffled shrieks of suffering
Black ooze leaked out of the seal as I lifted my fist
A great closed pot of tender meat and chow boiling over,
The spicy hot substance steaming the long grass surrounding the well-like prison

Then a voice, like Queen Bee birth resounded,
Stinging me fiercely, body and soul, having me sway…
To a familiar song
I had listened to long ago:

“Iiiii… ain’t got no-booooooody…. 
And no-body cares…foooor meeee…”

The song continued as the seal opened fully,
As I began descending into the restless night of his voice
Both lulled and perturbed
The sumptuous layers of shrieks, his background band
Gurgles of thundering bass,
And strums of laughter from throats long wailing… 

“Aaaaaaaand.. I’m sad and loooooooonely… 
Won’t some-body…come takah chance with meeee..

In what seemed like an eternal moment,
I had landed in the very bottom of the boiling ooze
The music ceased, and the great seal slipped over,
Blocking the view of the stars. . .
Yes, above. . .now only darkness
As if heaven, to Satan, was hell. . .

He turned to me slowly, knowingly
A smile creeping on his filthy face, from ear to ear
A charming set of teeth, freshly sung mouth
Arrogant brow rising in mock surprise. . .
A gruff laugh escaped his lips as my heart beat faster
And I thought to myself,

“What have I gotten myself into?”
. . .
The words popped out of my mouth before my mind could object,
And he exploded in a fit of charming guffaws
I heard a sea of laughter follow his own
Even Death, in the far corner of prison, winked. . .amused

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years, 
Dearest Daughter of Eve. . .  I’m impressed . . . really, I am. . .”

“You are?”

His smile faded and his expression grew grim and cold
“Well . . . are you?”

I remained silent, and took a deep breath
What shall I say to the Devil himself?
Am I clever enough? Brave enough?

“Impressed, I mean. . .well?
Are you? 
I know you will not lie to me,
You wouldn’t dream of it. . .
You wouldn’t dream nasty dreams like times in your past days. . .
Or. . .would you. . .Daughter of Eve.
Would you dare. . .dream of me. . .”

I felt a claw hit me on the back of my neck
I remained still, my breathing cradled by the silence. . .
I moved closer to him, never blinking,
As his coal eyes burned deeply into mine

Suddenly, he was furious
“You dare give me silence, woman!?
After my years of devastating . . . tormenting my own, 
Just to see and hear them screech and tremble. . .
Of no aim but to crush this criminal quiet,
You…a woman of no power…or little to show, 
Come down to me, ME. . .whom you know hates you all. . .
You come down to me, The Almighty Devil of Hatred,
With your dull . . . infuriating . . . pathetic, disgusting. . .

I sighed. . .
“I. . .I don’t know why I am here. . .with you. . .perhaps it is a test. . .a lesson. . .
But I do know what I want. . .”

His claw dug deeper into my skin. . .
“Oh, that’s a new one. . .
But you. . .hm, hard to play with. . .? I doubt it. 
Easy to trick. . .surely. . .
If there was a point. . .”

Deeper the claw dug into my skin, but my flesh refused to break

I smiled at him softly, and this seemed to disturb him completely
He looked at me numbly, an impassive stare
 Devoid of feeling and emotion

And I said to him,
“I want you to sing and play us a song you have never sung before,
Prince of Darkness. . .”

His grimy skin rippled at the opportune challenge. . .
His eyes drew out all confidence and pride swirling in the shadows
His smile, big again, fresh, and repugnant
He smelled of all things dead, and all things putrid

“Plug in the bass, Death.
I am going to dissolve this fluttery woman right where she stands.”

I stopped him, possessed with an idea
I bit my lip and removed his claw from my neck
Taking his hand for a moment, and pushing it to him

“One more thing, Devil.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course. . .what is it?”

“. . .I’m singing with you.”

The demons roared in hilarity, as Death, 
Silent as always kept his composure

Satan tilted his head at me as the laughter died
He no longer contained his surprise
“You. . .want to. . .make music. . .with me?”

“I’ve got 40 days and 40 nights. . .don’t you be a killjoy.”

He smiled at me, fury and lust in his eyes
“Angel charms will not work down here, babe. . .
I rarely play fair. . . .but I never turn down a challenge.”

My strange purpose had surfaced at last
“Quit your stalling then, and turn up the music.”


Song reference: “I Have Nobody” specifically sung by Leon Redbone
**Please tell me what you thing guys! If you haven’t read the other parts, it might explain things a bit. This is going to be a major work, and I’d loved all the advice I can get. I am aware that collaborating with The Devil is a tricky feat, and I’d really love some input. Thanks for reading. Lots of love! –Oh, and also, I am thinking of changing the title of the work as well. Not sure what yet!

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

A Hospital Stay - Part V


                                                        The In-Between

     There, in the In-Between,
     No trumpets sound
     No beings clad in gold celestial fire
     Arrive as guides to the heart's desire,
          Only silence falls
     Throughout the velvet deep profound.
     At the In-Between,
          No Savior calls
     For there is naught but nothingness;
     An emptiness entire.

Strangely, I sensed myself suspended
In a nevertime of not-quite-being.

Such was the In-Between, where now I wandered.

As though it had always been,
I felt myself afloat, adrift
Upon some frigid river full of ice
Which had no source and knew no end,
That traveled 'round and 'round and back again upon itself
Rising and falling over distant hills and bearing me with it
- Or rather, what was left of me -
Along in its meaningless, endless circuit.

Nor dark nor light intruded.
Vision compassed only what might be envisioned,
Images forming and fading
Within the little cavern of my skull.

Voices without discernable words.
Murmmerings within the waters.

Something like a sword
Was lodged down my throat.
I gagged upon it, over and over;
Unseen hands would withdraw it, then shove it down again.

The main thought flickering in my head
As I lay in this place
Was of how I seemed to have become some frail remnant
Of whatever I once was.
No longer did I have that sense of flesh
Containing the shape of me,
Nor the feel of muscle, nor the bone beneath.
I felt I had somehow been rendered
Some modern scientific wonder,
A creature flayed alive yet living
In some embryonic form, possessed of such shape as it could claim
By virtue of a remaining mass of nervous tissue;
A minimalist miracle
Preserved in a nutrient bath by the power and will
Of a conclave of white smocked High Priests of medicine.

Strangest of all, perhaps
Was that this perception of my fate
Occasioned in me not horror, 
But rather a regretful sadness.
"What will they tell my wife?" I sighed in my mind.

     Yet, by slow degrees the feel of the outward world
     Stole in upon my little hell of shapelessness.
     The throbbing thing I seemed to have become
     Refleshed itself somehow,
     Though the sword in its throat remained.

Distant voices resolved into speech again,
And as they did I felt myself begin moving again
'Round and 'round as before, still on circuit
But no longer floating on ice.
Now, instead, I seemed lain on some unseen track
Circling through a low-roofed sandstone cavern.

When I passed the band of light 
That marked the faroff entrance of this cave,
I would hear the voice of that Boy Who Would Be Our King
Exhorting the Disunited Nations
To join his crusade to punish his chosen scapegoat
For an evil he had helped loose upon the world.
The long silences that followed his harangues
Revealed the skepticism of his audience.

     I could sense that a long roll call of the dead
     Would soon be scrolling past the world's collective eyes,
     Be his call accepted or no;
     This was for show, decisions had already been made.

I regained perception of how dangerous things were becoming out there,
Out there where I'd lost my way, to stumble into this place,
How long ago I could no longer recall.

I knew this to be its nature, though
And as well that this was where I belonged, Out There
Where the only source of peace or peace of mind
Was the hope we wove between ourselves
With threads of unstoppable possibilities
The human way spins for itself.

I knew where I belonged, and reached out for it.

     I came back to be within
     The folds of all I love
     To seek the mystic shine of life
     Expressed in friends, relations, wife
     Awaiting my return.
     I began to climb Above
     Back to where all hopes begin
     To where desires brightly burn
     Until their ash shines whiter than
     The purer feathers of the dove.

Copyright © William Masonis

Long poem by hell born | Details |

the sins ive committed whist brother went missin

there were always 3 if not more,
but always 3 together we were.

one of them

never much around 

but when present 
and in the house 
the air got colder 
and you seemed to drown .
deep dark emotions brought forth 
like a locomotive an unstoppable force, 
that you duely noted ,for 1 of the 3 
you would not want  tangle with , undying darkness
that would surely break you quick,
deep dark depression floods over you 
causeing you to at randomly ,sporadically 
and oh so maliciously, cause pain and suffering
i see you in the corner talking to yourself 
so intuitively, that even i believe the entity sleeps with me,
sooner than later i start to believe 
in the demons she says i talk to in 
my sleep.
     i believe in demons,
trust me i have more than a few 
guess i never thought of  diffrent species darkness,
but it has to be true..  especially the ones inside of me,
 mine are murderous homicidal and socialpathic.
hers are manipultive , lieing tricksters with bad habits
when mine invoked a explosive rage happens instantly 
methodically devastating all living creatures around me.
i usually come to with cops running up to site 
where unknowing i have shot beating or stabbed someone with a knife,blood on my hands i dont remember where ive been ,what has happen or how ive sinned ,

           im lucky i guess ,ive only been locked away 5 times ,
some of which were 18 to life sentances but somehow i would slide 
no finger prints or evidence i dispose of that shit quick ,
but this last time they snagged me i wasnt so quick 
they found a pistol that they say is mine
an empty box of hollow points 
and from where im from keep in mind 
cop killers are frowned apon 
actully completly illegal i wont lie.,

they were so shock to find a whole empty box no rounds in sight
a full clip in the pistol hollow points so fine
and fully cocked and ready to erase a snitches mind,
$3000 dollars rolled up in a sock .A 1/2 oz of crystal and tar in a box.
 it made the news paper in the rain city ,where a needle points high in the center of the city .they say they had an hard time taking me in 
and shocked at the weaponry and the items within 
and knowing who my family is, and who and what we all are 
so cautiously and polietly they put me the car , 
one OF  them jump in and said hey arent you related to bob k? 
i said yes hes my uncle , but no longer his today
he died last month,..and selfishly i missed his funeral 
ive so much death that  its nothing to me now, more than i can count on my fingers or even in one breath i take from my mouth,
 the size of the body count the horrors ive seen.

     he said sorry i was there at the funeral, its a shame we have to meet like this your uncle was a powerful and great  man what do you think he would say about this . i said he  would make me feel it one way or another, thru pain, manipulation, violence or other, 
and he  would care about me killing or the dealing ive made having ,cooking dope for the most sinister in the trade , it only would be because i got caught up ,bringing heat to family and risking so much ,
now im away from home and i can't really ever go back home,,
 the bitch ass detectives ran fingerprints and started up there drones , ballistics on the pistol that was empty in fact , and on a hunt they went to find the 26 missing shell casing's they couldnt  find and log so i moved along moving hastily, on of state were i hate to be .
where  know but a select few will ever know me , and missing my family and true friends i had is killing ,
me slowing ,so lonely i am, but for now im hide from the sinns i committed in what seems to be a far away land,  the hell bound chemist

Copyright © hell born

Long poem by Eve Roper | Details |

Cotton Field

                               Each summer my parents would take us to
                               my grandfather’s ranch in Southern Texas
                                 to help with different  jobs. It might be
                             branding cattle,  digging fence post holes, or
                                picking cotton! My parents had told us
                                   stories about the cotton fields as I
                                  grew up. I wasn't old enough yet to
                                      partake in this miserable job.

                              One fine morning my brothers and I were
                            awakened before daylight dressed, fed, and
                               taken a mile down to the cotton fields!

                               We were handed heavy cotton ducking
                               sacks, they were over twice as long as I
                                       was. We all started diligently
                                        filling our sacks with cotton.
                            Under the hot summer day sun, which was
                                beating down. The field was elegantly
                 plowed with neat rows, lined with brown dried plants, with
                                beautiful fluffy white soft cotton and
                               seeds in bolls. A protective vessel that
                         does its job with sharp burrs that make picking
                              cotton by hand quite painful, and bloody.

                               I walked up and down the cotton rows
                              dragging my heavy sack. With blistering
                                   sun overheating my body, I had
                              began to ache, getting weaker, the sack
                                 got heavier every minute My hands
                            had swollen up with cuts that were bleeding
                                 from removing the cotton out of the
                                  bolls. After a while I started feeling
                                faint,running a fever, heaving, then I
                            collapsing to the soft plowed black soil. My
                                   family  run over wondering what
                          had gone wrong. I had developed Heat Stroke!

                               Never again was I brought back to the
                             cotton fields to perform that dreaded and
                                                   hated job!

                                  I just can’t imagine anyone  that
                               would want to put up with the misery
                            and suffering of doing that for a life time

©By: Eve Roper 12/8/2014

Copyright © Eve Roper

Long poem by Cat Way | Details |


Illusion is Reality and reality is illusion.
What if everything you once knew was all a lie.
Every flower, every smile a simple spot in your vision.
The lies swim around in your brain like dead fish.
You accept it and never question it.
Never question anything.

The illusion of a soldier in the muddy, rat infested trenches seeps into view.
He lays on his deathbed with his bloody hands on his face and he begins to laugh.
His smile as big as the cheshire cat’s.
Laughing becomes uncontrollable.
Laughing because now he knows everything he once stood for was nothing but a mirage.
He laughs because he knows his end is near but is it really?
He knows God damned him the moment he took his first breath of this polluted air.

Asleep, children lay in their beds and look like small angels sent from the gods,
But really in this time and space they are monsters undercover.
They are, We are todays Future and tomorrows death.
Who knows what horrid plots a tiny brain holds.
We will all be sent underground, hiding for the rest of our days.
Hiding from what?

You will ask yourself is this a dream? No my good sir this is a nightmare.
Dreams mean something, this is your subconscious telling you to flee.
Telling you the secrets of the world, this is what I am doing.
Do you understand, do you want to understand? I don't, but I do.
It's blinding isnt it? To look into another state of mind, see things for what it is.
The hungry madness is knocking on our door, your door, their door.
My door..
What’s a door?
What is madness? What is sanity, is there such a thing?
It strikes like a cobra, quicker than your glazed eyes can follow.
It will consume you whole and you will burn in it's stomach along with everything you thought you knew.
Everyone you loved will be waiting there for you with open arms.
Answer the door, madness is waiting for you.
I’m waiting. Don’t make me knock again.
Welcome to the devil’s circus my fellow follower.

Everything you know is wrong,
Every thought is someone else’s and that thought was planted into their mind by something else.
Then it was yours.
Now it’s someone else’s.
It's not your thought, it's mine.
See the curve in everything you once looked at with such certainty of what it was.
Everything is warped and disfigured.
Your mind bends to society like warm clay,
It's strangling itself to mold to my words
But it's bending over backwards for nothing because you can decipher these lines.
It's sick and twisted.
It's all an illusion, a scene of reality.

The screams you hear are roaring cries for help, for guidance, for hope.
Pleas for sanctuary, for security, for life itself.
It's like music to my ears these screams, they are my lullaby to sleep.
This is not a dream, this is not reality, it is not a illusion.
It is nothing.
This is the world, I'm handing it to you on this paper.
It is nothing.
It's sick and twisted.

Copyright © Cat Way

Long poem by Eileen Manassian | Details |

For Mama and Kayla- Falling into His Arms

I have several poems up about my Mama, Angel Manassian. Mama died on March 19, 2000 at the age of 74. She battled with MS for most of her life. She had me at 41...a surprise!

Turns out, Mama had MS even before she and dad got married, and she didn't know it. My childhood in Iran was the best. We lived in a big compound and had lots of fruit trees, a pool, and wonderful weather to enjoy it all. In winter it snowed. My brothers would jump down from the roof of the house into the snow. In summer, we'd swim all day. Mama taught language at the school Dad was principal of. Ignorance IS bliss. I didn't know Mama was sick. She burned herself once. Really badly. Needed skin grafts....I still didn't know. We moved to Lebanon. 

During my early teen years, I had to come to grips with the fact that Mama was sick....Mama would fall, Mama would get stitches...Mama would burn her face. It scared me. It scared me because I saw Mama getting worse....She'd need help walking, then there was the walker, then there was the wheelchair. Oh...I can't go too much into this...the bruises, the choking fits, the catheters, the slurred speech, the crooked smiles....It broke me. Through it all, Mama tried to give us a semblance of normalcy. She'd smile after every fall...She'd smile to hide the pain; I'd cry to relieve the pain.

My Mama was a brave, caring, kind woman. She was well loved by her students, and she instilled in me a love for words, for singing, and a belief in my abilities. I watched a video on youtube today that reminded me of her and made me cry...again...for the woman who is no longer with me.  This video is so powerful.....It's about a young girl's battle with MS. She is an accomplished runner, but after every race...something incredible happens.

This one is for my Mama and in honor of Kayla.  Watch if you have a spare minute..... Mama finished her race. She had a firm belief in the goodness of God and in the saving power of Jesus. She was an ideal pastor's wife and a fervent prayer warrior. She could say with Paul, " I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."
(2 Timothy 4: 7 & 8) I believe with all my heart that one day my Mama will be whole...body and spirit. You make of that what you want, but I believe she will be awarded eternal life one day. 

Here is the story of Kayla: 

It had me in tears....I hope she finds the inner strength to keep running for as long as she can....Bless God for people in whose arms we can fall....

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Long poem by Eve Roper | Details |

What's up with Santa

                                             What’s up with Santa
                                            He's acting like a child.
                        Santa Claus is upstairs in his big red sleigh bed, 
                           warm and cozy in his red flannel comforter, 
                           wearing his red dropseat pajamas, and hat
                                               sick with the flu, 
                                       constantly ring that darn bell. 

                                          Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                                             There it goes again 
                             Yessss… Dearrrr… I know you don’t feel good,
                           your throat hurts and is sore when you swallow 
                  your body is in pain, like a herd of reindeer has run over it 
                 A warm cup of hot cider and a cinnamon stick to give it flavor
                                               will ease the pain.

                                  I should have never given him that bell  
                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                       Yessss… Dearrrr… I know your frequently, coughing 
                       is making your rib cage feels like it’s going to break
                          I will get some milk and chocolate chip cookies  
                                  so you don’t have to get out of bed

                    I wish Santa would quit constantly ringing that darn bell.
                          If he hadn’t shoveled the snow off the sidewalk 
                  and let the elves do their jobs, he wouldn’t be sick right now

                                            Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                     Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… I’m sorry your head is stuffed up, 
                              nose is red, hurts, and won’t quit running
                                 Reading the Naughty or Nice List 
                      will help you not think about what you're going through

                                 What came over me to let him have a bell

                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… You’re running a fever, freezing, and shivering
                               I will go inform the elves not to dawdle
                            keep making the toys in Santa’s workshop 
                           and make sure they take care of the reindeer

                 Oh! My! I hope Santa gets well before Christmas gets here, 
                                 so he’ll get better and out of my hair
                                or I am going to hide that dumb bell

By Eve Roper

Copyright © Eve Roper

Long poem by William Masonis | Details |

A Hospital Stay - Part VI


                                                   Miracles and Miseries

The world resolved itself back into focus
As I lay amid the swarm of monitors
Still gulping the sword that brought me breath.

The worst now past
Many small miseries remained,
Chief among them the continuing mystery
Of my flooded, struggling lungs.

Finally I breathe well enough for the sword to be removed,
But the tests go on and on
The birth of each day bearing forth
Its own fresh indignity.

They give up guessing and haul me down again
To be opened anew and read for signs.

On the day this is done
The invisible agents of death outside
Decide to mock their pursuers
By leaving a tarot card at that day's shooting site.

They chose the Death card, of course
Revealing how little those 
Who choose to play God games really know
About the mystical.

Dreaming of omnipotence through dealing death
The unseen assassins miss their own meaning;
For this card signals change, the ending of present things.
They have unwittingly declared their game will soon be over,
Predicting their own demise.

Meanwhile the doctors make their own spread of me
And come up blank again.

     Once more I return to I.C.U.,
     Held together with staples.

     Once more the little agonies ensue:
     The sitting, the turning, the testing.

By night they come for my blood.
By day they come for  tests.
Always, in the background, the quiet moanings
Of we, the damned, condemned to medical Limbo
Roll on with the blind passage of hours and days.

     The English nurse comes, all brightness and bubble
     To heave my fragile self about;
     She's a welcome break in the monotony
     As my sustainers come and go.

Again the busy bedside conferences
And again the final admission
That all their probings have led down blind alleys.

A last-ditch effort is finally proposed:
Direct drainage of the drowning lungs.
To them this seems as a grasping at straws,
But to me it seems the one sensible solution,
And I look forward to it eagerly.
My inner mantra of "This too shall pass"
Is wearing thin.

Like a Christian martyr of old,
They pierce my back with their lance,
And the sea within that is drowning me
Finds its way out.

As the noxious waters within rush out,
Air surges into my grateful lungs.
From this moment, recovery becomes the new reality.

As I recover,
Indiscretion leads to capture 
Of the unseen terrormakers.

To the astonishment of all, 
They prove to be a dignified looking black man
And his enthralled protege' -
No prior convictions, no history of trouble 
Attached to them at all.

This is how our modern Destroyers come calling.
Well dressed, well spoken models of propriety.

Copyright © William Masonis

Long poem by Louise Phipps | Details |

Fight The Demons Diet

It was that time again to empty once more,
I was on my Knees on the bathroom floor.
Putting tissue down the Loo making sure nothing stayed afloat,
Then I slid my fingers down deep inside my sore throat.

Trying not to make a sound, Making sure no sick hit the ground,
And even though the taste was so vile I needed to empty till there was no more bile.
I had to be quick but the release felt great,
No-one understood me but I believed this was my fate.

Staring at my reflection, tears would roll down my cheek,
I'd hear the torments in my mind saying how I was such a freak.
The Demons they would say "Look at the state of you, 
You are disgusting ,You are a mess, No-one could ever love you".

When looking in a mirror at my body I would cringe,
Then turning desperately to the fridge I'd begin again to Binge.
I would eat so much till I was about to pop,
One more trip to the Loo then I promised myself I would stop.

I'd wish people would leave me be, They just didn't get that....
I had eaten too many calories and I was sick of being Fat!
So I had taken control of my diet, Obsessed with weight and measure,
Punishing myself after every treat, Desserts were no longer a Pleasure.

Over time people started talking about how I had become so thin,
So I pulled the curtains closed and I locked myself in.
Hiding myself away from neighbouring abuse,
I stopped all contact, I became a recluse.

Then a visit from my mother my Angel, who Id avoided for awhile,
Came knocking at my door, Arms open,
Oh I had missed her warming smile.  

I looked into my mothers eyes as she turned to me and sighed
"Oh sweetheart what has happened to you,
Your hair is falling out and your bones are showing through".
She placed her arms around me feeling my frail torso".
Then whispered to me gently " Please let your Demons go",
"Everything you are doing is damaging your health",
"You're deteriorating into of me, You're slowly killing yourself".

Turning away she began to cry,
Wiping away the tears falling from her eyes.
She told me how she lost her best friend to the very deadly disease.
I wrapped my arms around her, Comforting her as she grieves.

Seeing the hurt upon my mothers face,
The heartache I was causing her, The shame and the disgrace.
"Mum" I said "I will fight my Demons and make myself strong",
"I realise now what Ive been doing Is dangerous and wrong".
"Getting back to full health will take a long long time,
But with you and my family and friends I know Im gonna be just fine".

So Here I am Today at this Time and on this Date.
I am Making my Illness History and re-creating my fate.
Big Thankyou to my family and friends for all of your support.
I know now time is too precious to waste and our life on Earth is short.x

Copyright © Louise Phipps

Long poem by Michael Ellis | Details |

Hopscotch in Harlem 1948

EXCERPT (Approximately 30% of Poem)
                                  From Summertimes and Monday Mournings

Hopscotch in Harlem
Children play ten square
Jump Jump all stare

Bahhh Bahhh Black sheep
Have you any cares?
Yes Sir Yes sir
More than my share
I’ve added all my Blues up
And I have some to spare.

Hopscotch in Harlem
Feels like a HOLIDAY
Don’t touch the Hi-Fi
Cause BESSIE wants to play.

A BIRD in the band
Is worth two in the bush
Heaven’s big enough for everybody
But still folks just push

Hopscotch in Harlem
The war is almost over
Daddy lost his leg
At least he has a head on his shoulder

The Bomber won in the last round
With a swift uppercut jab
Harlem’s too far from heaven
So it’s best you take a CAB

And if you want to be on time
I guess that TRANE will work out fine
I guess that TRANE will work out fine.
                                       TENEMENT 103

“Mama why we got to live like this?
I’m sick of eatin’ beans an’ hominy grits.
Mama I’m sick of this sh-----“

“Shhhh watch yo’ mouth boy
You aint ol’ enough to fuss
I’m the only one in this house
Got a right to fuss.”

“Aint the Good Lo’d give you eyes boy
To see that yo Mama is busy?
Stop spinnin’ yo brother  around
You gonna make him DIZZIE

Harlem Sunsets
Children dreaming
Voiceless vignettes
       Harlems last gleaming
Broad stripes
And dim stars
Tears constantly streaming

The long hours of despair
Dreams dissolving in air
Gave proof through the night
That our Blues were still there

After all that dying
Those Blues were still there.

                                   HOPSCOTCH IN HARLEM

One two
Yo’ Daddy loves you
Three Four 
Mama loves you more

Five six
How’d you get in this fix
Even the Good Lord
Can’t clean up yo sh*%$
And when you’re behind
Is a good time to quit

Square number seven
Just getting started
Yo Mama went to heaven
Sad and broken hearted

Cussin’ an fussin’
Glad that she departed

Jump jump
Advance to number eight
Yo Daddy knockin’ on heaven’s gates
They wont let him in
Because he got there late
"I tol you they do ‘scriminate."

Yo’ Mama died from drinkin’ whiskey and wine
Go back two squares cause you stepped on the line

If you make it to square number nine
Than you’re really doing good

Jump Jump

God bless those who make it to ten
So lucky are them
This is how THEY play
Hopscotch in Harlem

                                                    M Ellis    Pulitzer Eyes

Copyright © Michael Ellis

Long Poems