Ambulances Poems | Examples

Job Description Board of the Middle East

Job Description Board of the Middle East 

The Sniper - not Palestinian
The Bomber - not Palestinian
The Thief - not Palestinian
The Terrorist - not Palestinian
The Child Killer - not Palestinian
The Burner of Tents - not Palestinian
The Group that blows up Hospitals - not Palestinian
The Rapist - not Palestinian
The Blocker of Humanitarian Aid - not Palestinian
The Exploding Pager Man - not Palestinian
Plant Bombs in Toys Job - not Palestinian
Booby Trap food on the starving - not Palestinian
Deprive Water to the Starving Job - not Palestinian
Genocide Promoter - not Palestinian
Financier of Genocide - not Palestinian
Propagandist for defending burning Babies - not Palestinian
Killer of Journalists - not Palestinian
Using Ambulances to murder civilians - not Palestinian

However all these positions are open
apply in Israel
they need more persons with zero morals
death is their only currency

Character

The Sun rises
as it also sets
days become weeks
time passes
agony grows deep

insulting the oppressed
never forgivable
ambulances blown to bits
exploding people dance in the sky
how much hate
went into those bombs
or was it just indifference?
one can stand with a voice
or sit in silence and preach

I have no hate
nor patience for the those
who screech

In Autumn

In Autumn

In Autumn pumpkins hang out in 
hedge mazes, corn visits wreathes in
Finland, spices go to 
music festivals, photos of 
chestnuts do 
the splits, marsh mellows make 
prank calls, haunted houses tailgate 
tourist buses and 
fire trucks and 
ambulances, porcupines stop 
thinking, umbrellas talk 
24/7, squirrels read 
encyclopaedias, jam people pretend 
to be dead, candle people pretend 
to be deaf, scarves wear 
boots, maple syrup gurgle 
nursery rhymes, hens learn to 
play the 
banjo, chickens lay 
cell phones, cherries chase after 
bunnies, cupcakes plant 
trees, wallets take out 
the garbage, and
mittens dip themselves in 
cream cheese.

Seven Inches of Rain in One Hour

the ominous gray and black skies have moved away
three cars have crashed on this torrential rainy day
there is consternation and drama on this highway
ambulances are trying but semis are in the way

down by the creek an elderly lady is up to her neck in water
her red Lincoln is flooded, so she calls her oldest daughter
seven inches of rain in an hour has taken a toll
the grass is a swamp, survival is truly the goal

wet furry animals make way in the grass for a snake
I love this! He tells them, as they shiver and shake.
the rain has stopped, but the damage has been done.
This is an April Nebraska day when we will not see any sun.

The state of the fourth estate

No estate should be able to turn away health inspectors,
No estate should be able to turn away ambulances,
  while bleeding internally,
No estate should need to employ so many muckrakers,
  or bush lawyers. 

No estate should hold so many water rights,
  if they pour cold water over journalists,
  who want to investigate,
No estate should hold so many gun licenses,
  until shooting oneself in the foot is no longer endemic,
No estate should be given awards for mediocrity,
No estate should have license to print money,
  to pay for influence.
No estate should be bereft of microscopes, 
  or access to an eye specialist.

No estate should hold so many contracts out of state,
  to stifle competition,
No estate can survive without bread and butter
  or an understanding that no freedom is absolute.
No estate can survive when it no longer sees the need to spellcheck,
  and uses words covered in sauces past their use by date,
No society can survive when it has a fourth estate,
   that no longer pays heed to the edicts of,
   Walter Cronkite or his ilk.

Clonazepan

here in this city
at dawn the dogs rule
they run wild through the empty avenues
chase app taxis
public service ambulances
loaded with victims
of panic syndrome
yesterday the rain caused flooding
and at night the sewer overflowed
displacing its residents
rats, men and cockroaches
when in the morning the sun came up fantastic
he looked proud to show the dried mud
garbage and debris
taking its rightful place
and I think how good this is

I Hear the Ambulances

so often now
Boris the imbecilic
non party go
cry if you want too
you would cry too
if you happened to you
One kicking cat
one a rapist
i would vow never
to kick a ball again
The cheeks have turned
and i have cricked my neck
Andrew guilty but still they give him shelter
No wonder Harry got to
Fork my lines like a L
------------------------------I----  ------n
---------------------------------g-  ---t----i
-----------------------------------  -h--------n
-----------------------------------  --------------g strike
A Sim
a lea
similarly assimilate a simile
S------------------------e it can get worse
--m-----------------l
---------------i
well going by our history
i am ashamed there is a you and me
i hope the cats and dogs reign
shh there goes another squealing
songs of panic
too late
or just too soon

Clonazepan

here in this city
at dawn the dogs rule
they run wild through the empty avenues
chase app taxis
public service ambulances
loaded with victims
of panic syndrome
yesterday the rain caused flooding
and at night the sewer overflowed
displacing its residents
rats, men and cockroaches
when in the morning the sun came up fantastic
he looked proud to show the dried mud
garbage and debris
taking its rightful place

Changes

Things are not like before...
No one gathers to enjoy;
We converse through eyes
And hide our smiles...

We do not hug anymore; 
our love has been reshaped...
We stand apart keeping a distance,
a piece of cloth covers our visages...

It’s been over a year trapped at home,
seeing the perilous disease spreading...
The deafening sounds of the ambulances
make me shiver, never like before...

The lanes are busy with crowds of corpses
people mourning for their beloveds...
The trucks carrying numerous cadavers,
pile them up in crematoriums...

The pandemic has altered this world;
happiness has faded away long ago...
Nobody says to be positive nowadays,
positive ones are kept isolated...

Quiet, Too Quiet

The tenements were quiet, too quiet
small eyes peered through
cracked curtains, catching a glimpse
of the chaos below.   How could 
that many people be so quiet?
The wind moved the wet bras 
hanging on the line like dead
octopus tentacles, blocking
the view for a brief moment,
a long moment, a lifetime.  Who
is that there?  Who fell?
Why was the balcony door open?
To hang laundry?  So sad.
Wailing police cars and
ambulances rush up, but noone
is around, noone peers out the
curtains anymore, she died, alone.

Sky High Silence

I hear no ambulances at night
            Secure sleep brings wishes accepted
            When the sirens are whinging
            Sanity slightly, briefly unhinging
            Silence bulges with restful respite
            Rural city living, sanctity protected


            Chatter, coo, call of bird community 
            Bud eardrum with broken two way tune
            Tickle of pigeon scale evocative
            Constant chirps mosaic cooperative
            Chime in with flight twit sweet carefree
            Siren counterpart halts song, confuses


             I hear no ambulances at night
             Tells me that little city sleeps as one
             Metropolis echoes layered havoc
             Rising pitch navigates dense traffic
             Granted nestled peace, place polite
             Midnight rest farewells sirens sung


             Comfort gained without the wonder
             Will the police chase end in tragedy? 
             Whinging sore implore of sirens
             Gradual damagable sanity expiring
             Are you able to roughly number 
             Amount of sirens you heard today?

Thinking Or Suffering

Thinking is seaman's chore
in calm oceans, not the seagul's noise.
You need the right condition to
avoid sublimation--  a house burned down
by a mob needs practicing generosity. 
Thinking of suffering in pandemic is itself
an act of suffering, needing resuscitation.  Start with masks on the dead without coffins, truck-loads of bodies, with no where to go, ghosts of doctors exiting to cheering crowd, ambulances screeching to a halt,  melting urban hot zones and infectious rural alarms.
You need the right condition to survive thinking of suffering, the wailing in hospital hallways, the hungry and the food banks, the mothers and bored infants, poorly-clad nurses teeming with pride.  Pandemic has foisted new thinking on future survival, not trips to Niagra Falls. Thinking is luxury of living, not mortgaged by the dead, and suffering in thinking is legacy of the dead. Before the pandemic thinking was an easy kill by TV and internet, now pegged to a killer surge.  
Ask for the roots of suffering and you never get it right, xenophobia's order of the day and thinking in despair.  I think therefore I am – infected with fear and dread. I suffer, therefore I am.

New York the Damned Island

Fabled Streets into spaces of loneliness,
field hospital in central park
and the wailing of ambulances, their serpentine allure
claiming its wild certitude amid
full tides of sacrifice in
ERs as trenches beaming with resistance and pride safe from
evil's dissidence, garments with no
self-glory intent, saving lives, saving grace.
Paradox is city's nick-name, and the virus
the killer of its narcissism.
New York lives like a Shakespearean tragedy
bending its ear to earth's resonnance.

Corona Virus Covid-19

Dear Covid-19, 
Life was a rainbow till you came and replaced the chirping of happy birds, the laughter with our families and friends with the wailings of the ambulances’ siren 

The swing on our playgrounds is swung only by the winds and storms 
And death has unmasked himself, knocking bodly on every door 
We are fed with fears whilst our thirst is quenched by our own tears in which we are drowned

You are chanted in the daily lamentations of the widow, the dirge of the orphan, and the screams and griefs of the widower. 

So,
I sit in my house, kneeling and praying that you become a past tense
Lost in the history of time, defeated by humankind 
As we relight our rainbows 
Dancing  again to the happy chirping that announced every dawn. 

From a concern human

Jingle-Jangle Bells

Jingle-jangle bells
   Sing-song syncopation
Ambulances hurtle down streets
   of post-war Europe

Eerie bells; haunting bells
   ghosts of round-ups, of Auschwitz 
of Buchenwald, and Bergen-Belsen
   sounds of death and doom

Shades drawn suddenly
   blinds sealed tight
Breath held; pin-drop silence
   'Till the peril passes

Bells tear at tortured souls
   Dragnet's tentacles probing
Reaching for fresh corpses to feed
   Insatiable crematoria ovens  

Decades later, survivors flinch
   hearing jingle-jangle bells
So, too, sons and daughters
   living victims of inherited terror


          June 02, 2019
 Entry in 'What Makes You Flinch' contest
   Sponsor: Julie Leigh Rodeheaver

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