Metaphor Health Poems | Metaphor Poems About Health

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Details | Rhyme |

Not another day

Impulsive or compulsive

Either way it's not conducive

Living with this disorder

Can't be good for my liver

Obsessions, when do they stop?

Compulsions, when do I stop?

Let me illustrate and reiterate

My demons make me infuriated

To the point, man, I really want to escape this

Live everyday like your last?

These hours go by fast

Trying to obliterate every ounce of the past

Always with the imagery and self coping insanity

That broke me and continues to break me.

Another day, no not another day

I just got out, please let me stay away.

Copyright © Stefan Cote | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

For Darren

Some people you meet ...

Creep their way into your being
Like a kitten chasing shadows and dust
The pounce FAR more important than the prey
Little bits of things ephemeral

Intangible emotions and markers
That mean little in-and-of themselves
But all-in-all have a life, recombinant
And a spirit abiding ... gracious.

Quietly, gently, step-by-step
They climb the spiral to your heart's keep
No hurry, for the sake of surety
And without pretense

So you'll know JUST who they are
And not mistake the glint of their character and care.
'Tis a steady and pure ascent
For they are of integral station and sincerity

Honoring kindness and truth and love
And attending candor as the treasure YOU do.
Oh, a special place awaits them at the top of the stair
A soft, deep seat in the sun

Where a person can warm their heart with conversation
And where two friends can talk all things poetic
In the quiet corners of the day.
You are locked away in that roundtower, my friend

And whatever this life may bring
I shall wait patiently for that chat
Rain or sun, the tea shall be hot
And the words will find themselves ...

In good company.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |


He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
All results of

Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |

StepSister Princess

No! Cut this piece here!
No! Not there!
Why didn't you cut it right?

says Princess StepSister's
hyper-ventilated syndrome,
jonesing for her next pork chop.

I would have finished
but you bellowed me away
in your Ugly StepSister voice
demanding from open refrigerator door
that collard greens must stop evaporating
behind your eyes.

Ugly StepSister?
Did you just call me a StepSister?

I'm just saying
you think you're a Whatever Princess
but you don't act like one
because, as you know,
princesses are always kind
and say please and thank you
and not whatever,
and seldom if ever bark and bite 
at the hands created to lovingly feed them
for the next several years;

while Ugly StepSisters
act like whatever bullies,
talk like ballistic assault weapons.

Which is why
Cinderellas are selected to dance
with Prince Charmings,
and thereby become kind Princesses,
rather than stuck in Ugly StepSister roles and rules,
harping at Prince Charming Dads
to cut their pork chops faster,
and better,
and now,
if not yesterday.

Would you cut my pork please, in smaller pieces,
and not take your usual gimpy time, thank you?

Why of course my Princess,
I love to live your Prince Clumsy.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears

Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed

The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.

Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

The Boy Who Smiles at the Sky

There he sits neither brazen nor too shy
The boy who sits and smiles at the sky
He is not moved as those who pass him by
He sits and smiles his head up to the sky

There seems to be some peace to it
Something for us that doesn’t fit
But nature is subdued admit
Admit you couldn’t, wouldn’t thus smile and sit.

Mindless sightless people passing by
Dare not notice it smiling at the sky
Just move on faster doesn’t matter why
There is nothing to smile at in the sky

Pray what is it he’s smiling at
I wonder is It smiling back
He seems to hold something we lack
We lack yet couldn’t, wouldn’t live like that

Some things taught should really make you cry
Not like the one who smiles at the sky
Who lives in reasoning like you nor I 
Is there something in smiling at the sky

What do his eyes now truly see
Is his mind completely free
Does he recall you and me
And me we couldn’t, wouldn’t friends still be

What meaning to time gently passing by
I’d just be that boy who smiles at the sky
As all my treasured memories sweetly die
I turn my hopes and smiling toward the sky

Copyright © Martin Kloess | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

The Man With No Face

Hark!  It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.

No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.

The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!

His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.

It is but he!
No! Tireless;
designed to be.
It is but he!

Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
a perfection, 
designed to be. 
Shrug the abyss.

Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.

Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.

Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.

It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.

Copyright © Adam Lefaivre | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quintain (English) |

Death, Wealth, Health

Deaths cunning mind
  for Health’s projects
  and its systematic touches
  on Wealth’s health, makes
Wealth, death's health.

Written between 2000-2003 
Just the young thoughts of the young mind

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

The Anatomy of Disgust

A stoma and a scar 
like the Grand Canyon
form a conspiracy 
against my body. 
The stoma--raw and 
fleshy--looks like a red 
and beefy barnacle on 
my side that constantly 
oozes and drains feces 
and waste like an 
overflowing, backyard 
cesspool. It sickens me.

Near the red and moist 
stoma lies a huge, 
crooked scar on my 
stomach and abdomen. 
It is like the Grand 
Canyon of Arizona--an 
immense displacement 
of the local landscape, 
only instead of earth 
and rock and soil it is 
my skin and muscle 
and tissue that has been 
gouged away. Like my
stoma, it sickens me as
well. Because of them
both, my body now
feels to me like the 
raw anatomy of 
what's disgusting.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dramatic Verse |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet |

The Line Between

O God, the pangs are crushing body, soul
And spirit—working deaths where sunlight fades— 
My arms are trunks of pain and taking toll, 
While tortures, stings, and sickness hauntly raids
To close the Gates of Hell to shut me in,
And heaven bows to greet while Hades seeks
To send The Reaper with his failing grin.
And illness ruins lives while havoc wreaks
The squalored throes of daily living on—
While body wastes away and breath remains
To sing your dirge while I still carry on…
Like trampling cattle trodding broken frame,
I live between the sunshine and the grave—
Like flowers cut and dying in the vase

Copyright © J.R. Dawson | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Port of Call

Port of Call

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,

and dips.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.

Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |

Awake at Midnight

Awake at Midnight

sleep retreats
into tunnels of dewy thoughts

teasing the worn mind

awake at midnight
dreams recede

into caverns of mist
to brew their hazy potions

awake at midnight
weariness seduces the being

seeking to slip away
thirsting for solace in
the numbness of slumber
awake at midnight


Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Political Verse |

EcoPolitics of DNA-ReProductivity

Imagine with me that A regenerates Adenine,
B reproduces  ConVex-Yang Uracil or Thymine,
depending on whether you are a plant or a person,
C bilaterally represents EchoConCave-Yin(Yin) Cytosine,
and D is for full-interelational fractal-view Guanine,
which acts strangely Dopamine Prime (0) TaoRelational.

Now let's take a bilateral Edward de Bono,
Vertical EgoSupremacist LeftBrain and Horizontal BothAnd EcoConscious RightBrain,
ride through George Lakoff's bicameral Moral EcoPolitical Mind.

"Morality is about right [and wrong] behavior,
behavior that leads to well-being
[and too Left or Right ego/eco-political pathology]."

"The metaphors for [positive/negative] morality
are grounded in a wide variety of [ecological/anti-ecological] experiences
of well-being [dopamine v pathology].
Each such [ego/ecological bilateral] metaphor
[appositionally] characterizes one idea
of what right [regenerative OVER degenerative, health OVER pathloogy] behavior is about;..."

"A brain is a physical [ego-Convex/eco-Concave] system.
It works by least-energy principles,
like any other [ecological-natural-organic] physical system.
Given two [or more] possibilities in a given [hypothetically-framed] situation,
it will take the least-energy [dissonant LeftWin-RightLose] path in that context.
That is called the 'best-fit' [Yang-ego/Yin-eco optimized resonance]property
of neural [Left/Right mirror bicameral-ecopolitical] systems."

"Suppose neuron A [Adenine WinWin function, +,+] 
is connected to neurons B [Uracil EgoConvex LeftDominant]
and C [Cytosine EcoConcave Yin-Right BothAnd Recessive].
B and C are mutually [appositionally] inhibitory;
the firing of one tends to inhibit the other to some extent,
depending on the strength of the [synaptic mirror-bilateral] firing."

"The large number of receptors at [Ego-Uracil-LeftDominant] B's synapse
will pick up more chemical [climate, landscape, bilateral-frame] input
(from neuro[-scripted-encultured-deep-learning]transmitters)
than the small number of [economic/political fertile-relational] receptors
at [EcoConscious Cytosine-ConCave-BiLateral] C's synapse."

"Now suppose that neuron C also takes input from neuron D 
[Divine Guanine-Dopamine, FullFractal holonic reproduction/regeneration],
and that the synapse on C [EcoConscious RightBrain Cytosine network-function],
where C links to D, has a lot of [ecological DNA/RNA-resonant] receptors....
Then [RightBrain Cytosine] C's probability of firing
and its strength of firing in that context
may be [appositionally] greater than [Ego LeftBrain Dominant] B's.
In that case
C will tend to fire and inhibit the [overshoot too-YangDominant Ego] firing of B.
[EgoCentric LeftBrain] Context [bicameral A through fractal D] matters [reproductively(+)/also decompositionally(-,-)appositional double-bind]."

"What is important is that such a situation can have political ramifications.
Suppose A, B, C, and D are not single neurons,
but rather complex [DNA/RNA-regenerative as notnot degenerative, WinWin as notnot LoseLose] circuits [bilateral networks] within conceptual [ecopolitical-ego-Left/eco-Elder-Rightlogical-normative] systems.
Suppose [EgoLeftConvex]B and [EcoRightConcave]C
characterize strict [LeftBrain Deductive-Conserving] and nurturant [RightBrain Inductive-Integrity] morality [as healthy v toxic, reproductive v dissonantly destructive] respectively--
the moral worldviews of general [Uracil B] conservatism
and general [Cytosine C] progressivism--
within the [double-bind, binary, binomial, bilateral, bicameral] brain
of a [bilateral, Edward de Bono] biconceptual,
someone who has both general [bicameral, Julian Jaynes] models structured
so that one [appositionally dipolar] inhibits the [overshoot of balancing fractal-feedback looping] other." (pp. 103-104, The Political Mind)

Suppose that your conservative health and safety survivalist mind and body consciousness
feels that Trump is to Hurricane EcoPolitical ClimateDisaster Earth
as Bush was to Hurricane Katrina;
saying he is listening to those abused and neglected
and acting like he is too comfortable with both.
In fact,
torture could be useful
for those who disagree too militantly.
And by useful
he means fertile
and regenerative
and reproducing true facts,
with which he is only tangentially acquainted,
RightBrain polypathic nutritional-potential repressed,
thereby transubstantiating the White House
into an EgoCentric-AnthroCentric Supremacist Asylum
from Earth's ReProductive Rights and DeComposing Wrongs.

Note to monochromatically challenged:
B = Red-Yang
C = Green/Blue-YinYin
A = UltraViolet DoubleBind Transparency Convex/Concave-Bilateral (0)rigin
D = Black/Brown FullOctave yet DualDark FractalFusion SpiralSource

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |

A Pound's A Pound

There are mornings that I wake
Within the confines of my bed,
With a stabbing and excruciating
Pain inside my head ...

I'm told it's called a "migraine",
Hemiplegic, more exact,
And I've had them now, as I recall,
As far as I go back.

It's really very rare, it seems,
For men, I've beat great odds,
So I guess I should feel privileged -
I'm the pet of headache gods!

I used to get them through the day,
There were drugs that I could take,
But now they're festering while I dream,
Fully-blown when I awake ...

My eyes, I can't keep open,
ANY light is far too much,
The smallest sound is agony,
As is the slightest touch ...

If there's something in my stomach,
Well, the nausea brings it forth,
And if there's NOT, then dry-heaves
Are the "fun" replacement course.

I often feel I've had a stroke,
With weakness in one sphere,
And my face will droop to just one side,
Frozen numb below my ear.

I can't describe the pain
Because the words do not exist,
To fully capture with a phrase
That quite conveys the gist.

With me it starts behind the eye,
And often spreads from there,
To encompass my entire skull,
And throb from-ear-to-ear.

It feels like every part of me
Has traveled to that spot,
And every neuron's being pierced
With steel that burns white-hot.

They used to be quite harmless,
Just nature's painful joke,
But now they can, potentially,
Result in death or stroke.

There's nothing else quite like them,
And with that I understate,
So let's just say it's not much fun,
And doesn't feel real great.

I've had them for a lifetime now,
And most likely for the rest,
But I know that there's a reason -
That they're really just a test.

One more of life's reminders
That things can be much worse,
I could be fighting for my life,
Or laid out in a hearse ...

So, every time I have one now,
I say a little prayer ...
And count them as a blessing,
And a way to stay aware ...

That pain, to us, is crucial
In keeping us alive,
And giving us direction
In all the ways we strive.

It helps us to appreciate
The times we're feeling good,
A guide to keep us cautious -
Know our limits as we should.

Migraines can be horrible,
And I don't enjoy the pain,
But you can't have any sunshine
Without welcoming the rain.

I've learned to see them this way,
Instead of as a curse,
And know each time I have one
That things could be MUCH worse.

For each migraine that I have
There's someone ELSE who's nearing death,
So, I'm thankful for the pounding,
And the gift of every breath.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric |

Sailing Alone

Sailing away from shores all alone
Angst, can't she be wrong 
The Moon lit the waves as the boat disappeared 
Into the black of night

Winds of change; tides of the moon
Causing a way, where non
Making the storms: subside to commands
Providing safety from harm

Sailing away from shores all alone
Angst, can't she be wrong 
The Moon lit the waves as the boat disappeared 
Into the black of night

©2016 Bonnie Bonnie Jennings K??
All Rights Reserved
Art by Bonnie

Copyright © Bonnie Jennings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Political Verse |

Speed of Enlightenment

Routine rituals of everyday sacred Sabbaths,
beginning in hibernating Advent
of dawn's diurnal enlightenment Season,
becoming diastatic climax rhythms of interdependence
through Summer's noonday fertile heat,
drawing to autumnal dusk decomposing
preparation for further harvest extending families
of co-empathic nutritional digestion,
composting as praying together
within ultra-violet Winter's nondual co-arising
bright-octaved enlightenment
of deep ecological learning night.

Dreaming of and for tomorrow's continuing Sabbath
rituals of routine cooperative enlightenment
overcoming dualdark cognitive-affective dissonance
from DNA's,
like RNA's,
fractal seasonal octaves of enlightening resonance.

Virginal empty Winter winners
pondering on all these inter-relation evolving things,
blending death of embryonic moon-light dreams
into rebirth channels of ecopolitical opportunity
for yet another regeneratively fertile day
and Tao YangSummer-Nature/YinWinter-IntegrativeHolonicSpirit,
sacred liturgy RightBrain synergetic spirit of light
and secular routine LeftBrain deductive nature
of double-binding right-now eternal speed of light
Common (0)-squared
routine DNA-scripted climate health,
biosystemic EgoLeft
with ecosystemic EarthFlow Right
WinWin Balancing
toward further enlightening routine
(0)-soul multicultural-nomial
of further moving along this co-enlightenment journey
Golden Ruling cooperatively and inclusively together,
expecting WinWin enlightening outcomes
routinely speeding sacred light.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Too Close

"Don't get too close"

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

We are taught from day one
Not to get involved ...
"Don't get too close to your patients,
Or the emotions will get the better of you"
Don't get too close ...
Don't get too close ...
Don't get too ...

But here I am ...
My arm in a child's chest,
My hand around her little heart,
Squeezing, massaging, praying ...
Hoping my muscles don't fatigue
Before I get someone to spell me ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

Her little brother is a curious child,
And found a gun in their parents'
Room while looking for a toy ...
He didn't find his toy, but he
Shared the gun with his little sister,
Now her life is literally in the
Hands of a stranger ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

Thanks to the trauma to
Her heart and lungs,
Clots and excess blood in her
Pericardium, we had to do
An anterolateral thoracotomy
To open up her chest ...

(Squeeze, squeeze ...)

Don't get too close ...
Where IS my colleague?!?
The surplus of blood and the clots
In her pericardium have to be
Removed if we hope to restore
Normal stroke and hemodynamic status,
But I have no one here as yet that
Is qualified to do the procedure,
So I squeeze on ... and pray ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

I pray for strength, for assistance,
For hope in saving this child's life ...
"Don't get too close, Don't get too close ..."
How do you NOT get too close?
For the rest of BOTH of our lives
This child and I are joined by this,
It is simply impossible to NOT get
Involved when you're massaging a
Child's cardiac muscles in your palm,
- When you have cracked her body
Open and invaded her vital organs,

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

- When you would trade everything
For someone to tell you that it's
All going to be OK, that this child
Will indeed live a long, full life,
- When you keep picturing her face
With a smile on it, her eyes wide
Open and bright with life
- When you keep hearing in your head
The sound of her giggle and laughter,
- When you keep imagining ALL
That she could someday become,

(Squeeze, squeeze ...)

All that she could experience in the
Years ahead, all the joy and sorrow
And love that she could one day
Feel in this little heart, if ONLY ...
Come ON! Please ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

"Don't get too close, don't get too close ..."
How can I NOT get too close,
For god's sake?!? I am a PART of her -
A living extension of her heart -
The extended part of HER that
Is keeping her alive!
"Don't get too close, Don't get too close ..."
Don't bring your work home with you,
Leave it at the hospital, leave it at the ER,
Don't get too close, don't bring it home ...

(Squeeze, squeeze ...)

THAT is impossible ... this child is mine now,
In a way that no other human
Being will ever understand,
This child and I are joined in trauma,
Joined in struggle, joined in HORROR -
The horror of this experience ...
And by all that is sacred I will NEVER
Deny that, I will ALWAYS carry her with me,

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

And I WILL see her play again,
I WILL hear her laugh, I WILL be a
Doctor who "got too close",
And I WILL take her spirit home
With me every day, just like I carry a
Piece of EVERYONE I've ever
Seen in this bloody place ...
THAT is the ONLY thing that makes
It bearable each day - those people,
Those faces, those limbs and bones
And organs that we struggle to put
Back together each and every day -

(Squeeze, squeeze ...)

There is a piece of each one of
Those people that stays with me
For all time, and it is the treasure
That I covet with all that I am ...
It is the medal I have earned ...
Their spirits are the invisible
Tokens that we tuck away ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

Their lives are the truly precious
Wealth that we value above
All else, or we wouldn't come
Back each day for more ...
This little one WILL laugh again,
And I will tease her about
Holding her heart ...

(Squeeze, squeeze ...)

As I SHALL ALWAYS hold her heart,
(Whatever happens)
And we'll laugh about
How silly that sounds ...
And her smile will help to
Warm this weary world ...
For years to come ...
I KNOW it will ...
If only ...

If ONLY ...

(Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze ...)

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |

Raised Shore

Deep breath in slowly let it out
Don’t forget the ten count
Nausea begins to rise
From some depth unrecognized

Churning into anger 
Blatantly right before my eyes
This deceit has no problem being spied
No longer can I hide

Seeping out of control
Is the mind I use to own
Tepidly tells the lie
Truly have I been so blind

Realization is so forlorn
As the reborn tail tells the map
To leave behind such an after math
Of the less fortunate triggered decisions

Oh so trapped 
Snapped, Cracked
Lacking the ability to freeze frame

What is not mine in shame
Just mine to blame
Competing for

Raised Shore

Copyright © Christy Burns | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

A Recipe for Roots

Take a bit of Canadian family Add a pinch of American descent Sprinkle in a bit of Jordanian roots And mix in a bit of Judaism With a hint of Christianity Mix in a bit of pure genes With some nice features just to make a hint Add a bit of love and care to the mix And pop it into the oven Bake at the perfect temperature Until perfectly done Take out of the oven and add the secret ingredient FAMILY There you have it A recipe for roots!

Copyright © Belle Greenberg | Year Posted 2017

Details | Ballad |

Vital Man-Jesus Vitamin JESUS

there are two many vitamins, out there yah!
Enriching supplements;
Some of them are even good for you and natural;
You need vitamin A E C D and U;
A-for the eyes and human body growth
E- for sight increase mortality
C-is an antioxidant and a fight against scurvy;
D- for  the bones and dental health
now what could be left

Now there's a vitamin, a vital man;
I said
there's a vitamin, a vital man;
and we need help
for are spiritual being. . .
Not a supplement, but he's heaven sent;
good for the body
good for the soul
not made from unnatural things;
He's is the purest of all
You and I need 
Yes, you and I need
what we need is the vital man
this vital man,, the vital man JESUS
for with Him you'll be blessed
I must confess I need more not less;
of His glory;
He's the only one you'll need;
all you need do is just kneel;
repent, be sincere, He'll give you the strength you need;
and we need help
for are spiritual being;
we need pureness and not, just a supplement
we need something/someone heaven sent;
not made from unnatural things
He's the purest of all, all things;
and I need more of Him;
vitamin Jesus
Vital man
vitamin Jesus
Vitamin   J  for Jesus trust and believe in us cause...
vitamin   E  He's my all and everything, Lord and savior redeemer of our souls;
Vitamin   S No need, no need for anything, anything else no more supplements He keeps me well and I'm blessed;
Vitamin   U  because He wanted to pled before the Father jour God overall for everything
vitamin   S  He said all I have to do is received His blessedness;
repent and be sincere and He will be the cure;
He'll forgive your sins
Now there's a vitamin, a vital man;
whose more than just a mere man;
Not a supplement, but heaven sent;
good for the whole, body mind and soul;
You and I need vitamin J E S U S
for with Him you'll be cured and abundantly blessed;
he's the only medicine you need;
To help cure you from sin;
won't you just try Him;
Vital man
Vitamin J E S U S

written by James Edward Lee Sr.(C)2012
Sept 25 2012
from anthology  "There's Praise in Song"

Copyright © James Edward Lee Sr. | Year Posted 2017