Best Appointment Poems
Dear Lord, I’d love to meet you. I’ll just check my diary now
To see when it’s convenient, so I can squeeze you in somehow.
Oh dear, it seems on Monday night I won’t be free.
I’ve made a new acquaintance, who has invited me for tea.
On Tuesday, I’ll be at the hairdressers fixing a new style.
So I’m afraid that day won’t do, ‘cause my hair might take a while.
I can pencil you in on Wednesday between twelve and one.
But I’m conscious that my meeting may go on and on and on.
Ah, Thursday might be better, but it’s very, very tight.
I’ll be preparing a meal for friends coming over that night.
Friday is not looking good; I’ve a report that needs completing
And after that, I apologise, I’ve booked another meeting.
Saturday is family day; and we have so many things planned.
You know how family is important; I’m sure you’ll understand.
Since I’m going to church on Sunday, I’m sure I’ll meet you there.
I guess we can catch up between the worship and the prayer.
But right now Lord, I’ve got to dash, I have no time to speak.
So hopefully we’ll rearrange and attempt to meet next week!
©E.E.Ogbeta
I turned to my wife
With desire in my eyes
And my loins a little disjointed
Forestalling sin,
She asked with no grin,
¨Kind sir, do you have an appointment?¨
You'll need to make an appointment
If you wanna have a shot at love
I was having a chat
With a sweet bureaucrat
Whose curves nature had appointed
The moment seemed right
When up came the red light
And a billboard reading, ¨Make your appointment¨
In the future, you'll need an appointment
For love, for kindness, for care
Some justice of the peace
Will preside your release
Or decide on your fate of despair
In time we'll be damned
To a hostile land
Ruled by gods we ourselves anointed
Hey, you get what you give
So don't ---- where you live --
Or at least not without an appointment.
Beads of sweat
On my head
Sodden and sore
In my sick bed
The last battle lost
Can’t fight anymore
As I lay dying on the 44th floor
The elevator makes
A slow ascent
Something inside
With just one intent
Air cools I am chilled
Right to the core
As I lay dying on the 44th floor
No more to do,
much too late
To argue with
My destined fate
Skeletal fingers
Tap, tap at my door
As I lay dying on the 44th floor
Soulless eye sockets
Like two bottomless pits
On the end of my bed
The reaper there sits
Whispering “Oh what a treat
For you is in store”
As I lay dying on the 44th floor
The fire in the hearth
Gave death a strange glow
Throat parched and dry,
Tried to yell "no"
The glimpse of a scythe,
The last thing I saw
As I lay dead on the 44th floor
Jack came to the strangest conclusion,
which was: Time's an illusion.
He turned up very late
to each appointment and date
till the day of his very own funeral.
so much precious existence
found me rooted with mouth ajar
as sigh asper the dentin-cementum
so mud dear reader (with dem perfect
enameled pearly whites), aye har bar
envy for those with a complete set
of eight incisors, four cuspids (i.e. canines),
eight bicuspids, and twelve molars
(including four wisdom teeth) tabulating
many hours in the car (engendering
saddle sore bony tuckus)
plus regarding chunk whereat,
pernicious cementum funk
viz distraught psyche, when muss self as a lil monk
key decades after being examined
by family dentist Doctor Marcus (NOT WELBY),
excellent practitioner (button irate pulp pill
people ' especially children) eater – the grump,
whose private practice located
in Levittown, Pennsylvania,
and when prepubescent underwent
pertinent more explicit focused
intense noninvasive procedures
asper subsequent cause of speech impediment
determined why air didst jump
thru nostrils, (speech therapist at Henry Kline Boyer),
neither thin nor plump
informed parents
of Lancaster Cleft Palate Clinic –
fifty plus miles one direction),
where chief prosthodontist
Doctor Mohammad N. Mazaheri, DDS, an Iranian
whose expert reputation, sans strict manner didst trump
his aura, karma evincing clipped commands
forceful as a vocal whump
before launching into meat and potatoes
of crux comprising real aim
constituting modus operandi
(and cresting away from details indirectly tide
into main intent, nobody aye blame)
for thine dental debacle quandary
(managed by gumshun,
whereby eons hyperbolically toted beyond google),
and despite the optimistic stance
wool worth anesthetized numb skull claim
nascent malocclusion faintly affecting,
hinting, pointing toward Periodontitis
(despite diligence attending to oral hygiene frame)
the manifestation of major looming crisis compromising,
forgoing, instigating, et cetera loss of teeth,
this (after agony in league with separate occasions
twice wearing braces, concomitant Extractions
of wisdom and removal of crowdsourcing –
closeup toward the front of mouth teeth - game
As days go, this one has started out as a bummer
Missed a doctor's appointment with Kim, she's a hummer
Not a good day for sure
My mood is quite poor
Maybe my P-Soup friends will change the colour
© Jack Ellison 2015
Divine Appointment
Sometimes you meet,
someone that you are supposed to meet.
Walking on a path in a strange city.
A divine appointment.
Someone who needs to bare their soul,
Who needs to share a prayer!
A friend you haven’t met is waiting there for you.
Looking for answers
That only you can give.
The Master has set it all up.
The timing like an orchestra,
waiting for the maestro
to begin the first note.
The angels gather round
Ready to lend a hand.
Moments on a path,
Brings you to this divine appointment.
To sit and reflect on beauty all around,
Of glorious wildflowers and lake views sublime,
Geese all in a row with fuzzy down of new feathers,
Marvellously swimming behind their mothers,
In an orderly fashion.
How do they know how to do that?
A greeting spoken kindly to one,
whose smile shows deep beauty within,
Revealing a life of pain and suffering,
And misunderstanding…
Revealed within the lines around her eyes.
Words of encouragement,
desperately needed!
Loneliness on hold for another day!
This day is chosen from above,
To join two hearts as one!
For a moment in time,
To share experience in common,
far from judgement, seasoned with love,
Remember THIS day…
That you too could be
Sent to a divine appointment!
You’ll be on time, there is no doubt!
In the right place at the right time!
Grace Daub June 21, 2022
Sitting in the car park, full of dismay
looking at signs that says pay and display
another long journey to hospital
good news we hope, essential so vital,
Visitors, patients looking for relief
some with hope in their heart, some full of grief,
nurses, doctors starting, finishing shifts
people possessing very special gifts,
signs indicating there is no smoking
yet people smoking vapes, thought provoking,
appointments for a certain time of day
disappointment there's a four hour delay,
I'm so pleased on one hand, just her chauffeur
though having to wait so long feeling bitter,
car park charges adding the more we wait
then, could you come back tomorrow? they state,
inconvenient but they do try their best
agreed with forced smile like all of the rest,
another appointment with overworked, underpaid
staff, perhaps another long wait I'm afraid.
He has an appointment,
In the Big Smoke,The Great Wen
and if successful I will of course provide indubitable support, keep in touch, on occasion visit.
He reveals "It's with an artist."
"Wow, anyone I know". "What's the job?"
"Unlikely Dad, but he's massively respected in his field....tattooing. It's not an interview. I'll be back tomorrow after he's finished."
Following realisation all I can muster is "Cool" a poor attempt at acceptance.
We go through the expected. Surety. Who? What? Where?
It was always going to happen.
A music production degree without body art is, I believe an auto fail.
And deep down I wished it was me, confident, carefree, au courant,
Once I possibly was, so I'll tell him it looks sensational, cool.
The day is coming very soon
We will see each other
Probably around noon.
I wake up one day
Flesh and soul intertwine
For I will be there to stay.
This writing shall be put to life
Everything we hope and dream
Fill the white pages ever and the afterlife.
Aspiration is my strong suit to be free
Scars shall be my wings
Underneath is a shell of what used to be me.
Are snowdrops in April gone
Or salted sun in Winter still
None of these matters, see you anon.
(C)2017 Maricris Cabrera
Note: Inspired by Michael Buble's, Home. It has been and always be my favorite. Thank you.
I can’t avoid the dentist
Though I really wish I could
‘Cause once I’m in that chair I know
He’s up to nothing good.
Of course, it’s for my benefit
But man, it’s so unpleasant
That being told I didn’t have to go
Would be a present.
The poking and the prodding,
The drill with all its noise
Add up to what I’m sure that
Really nobody enjoys.
I even hate that object
Placed to suck up all the drool.
He calls it “Mr. Thirsty”
But that doesn’t make it cool.
The only plus that I can see
Is, when my visit’s done,
At least 6 months will pass before
There’ll be another one.
some agents provocateur didst maim
self-acceptance, and (found thyself
as a boyish twenty something
weathering onset of gum recession,
maxillofacial surgery, impressions,
xrays galore, scaling)
necessitated (score years later) urgent intervention
i.e. treatment plan under auspices
re storied name
University of Pennsylvania
Dental School to mitigate malady
entailed every last tooth plucked with ease
since no other recourse could tame
accompanying jaw bone loss,
which destabilized rootless choppers,
and despite the state of the mind turning to pulp
(this haint no “fiction, nor FAKE)
thus I acknowledge sincere gratitude thru poetic aire
for the entire fleet of dental students,
and staff that didst care,
who assuaged distress, exceeding the best expertise flair
which eventually warranted being fitted for dentures here
bringing an exemplary end result
encompassing yours truly writing in his lair
after about a dozen years encompassing
so many wing (bitten) angels far and near
across webbed wide world to help repair
chronic distress minimized now, cuz there
prevailed the most blessed delight
when Medicare picked up the tab
now smile more willingly with artificial dental wear.
a day like
any other
day but X
on the monthly
photos of Mount
Fuji calender says
different
as circus
clowns with
painted smiles
juggle the day's
events for this yes
undecidedly different
day of days
finding myself
driving in non gps
directions but calmly
listening to piano waltz
variations on this very one
can only say variant day of
days
then not
a sign of the
apocalypse but
careful doors open
by themselves leaves
me thinking lazier and less
needing to be
but ocd
counts moments
from being here and when
i can enter the automated world
of a building that feels and even
smells of potential insanity yet feels
welcome
now i find
i'm face to
face with the
person who has
created me to be
the functioning socially
one i am
he asks
about what
since last time
fine fine fine walking
life's tightrope line above
an abyss that is all but three
inches below
he says
seemingly
knowing that i'm
fine fine fine showing
a graph of where i was
then and where i'm happily at
smiling
saying
see you
next time
but this time
make it four months
you're still crazy i assure
you have a good day
Had to get some blood work
As my doctor did demand
So I walked up to the lab
With my appointment in my hand.
A few were there before me
As we checked in one by one.
They would text when they were ready;
I could wait out in the sun.
My cell phone beeped; I went inside
Where others sat in chairs.
“Appointment lady!” I was called,
Eliciting some stares.
I guess most folks were walk-ins;
My appointment really paid.
With some clicks on the computer,
They, too, might have made the grade.
Women at the beauty parlor wear tin foil on their heads.
It makes them look like aliens from the TV shows of the 50’s
In a contest for space woman of the day
They wear fleece pajama pants too,
And their faces are pierced.
None care what they look like.
Few can keep a confidence either.
Nothing is sacred or secret.
Every confidence is shared, in a witty,
Upbeat, happy “you have to hear this” kind of way.
I sit there for hours sometimes,
Not making an appointment or keeping one,
Slyly accessing their stories.