Best Bedpan Poems


Bones Lament - Collaboration With Darren White

The drip is connected to my right arm
It works, as they say, just like a charm
I'm delirious with joy, must be morphine
Here comes the best nurse you've ever seen

My knee was connected to my thigh, they say
My back once connected to my spine, but nay
No more, they're disjointed now, I feel good
My legs, if I have any, are sticks of wood

The bedpan gives chills up and down my skin
Turn my head , let loose, it feels like a sin
Reruns on TV, watch the news ten times
No peace in the world, nothing but crimes

My ankles are swollen, I got a new cast
When can I get out, I'm having a blast (not)
The food is amazing, the soup is split pee
I call the grim reaper, " come rescue me"

Pressing the button, does this even work
Singing loud to a chorus, I wish I could twirk
I'm so gonna sleep now, have the wildest dreams
'bout my skeleton dancing alone with  moonbeams

My stay on the fifth floor is finally done
Wheel me outside, I need to sit in the sun
Only one final thing is left here to say:
My much kneeded vacation, wasted away
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Tina and Miss Myrtle

Nurse Tina went to work one day, feeling pretty good.
Things usually didn’t work out, just as she thought they should.
Today she said would be different; I feel it in my bones.
She smiled at everyone she met, despite her college’s groans.
She floated in and out of rooms, gave lots of special care.
Her patients were all smiling, as if happy being there.

It was shortly after lunch time when Myrtle rang the nurse.
Tina came into the room, where the lady held her purse.
Where are you going Miss Myrtle? Asked Tina soft and sweet,
Then sat her down upon the bed as she tried standing on her feet.
Nurse Tina dear, I sadly fear that I must use the Lu,
And time is running out my love, now you have things to do.

Hold it, hold it, was all the nurse could say,
Then ran to find the wheelchair they’d used earlier that day.
Now Myrtles face was turning blue,
Waiting for that mobile Lu.
Not yet! Not yet! Exclaims Tina in her face,
I have to slip the bedpan safely in its place.

Ahhhhh, Myrtle she was happy now, her look was just sublime,
As she jumped into the wheelchair, I swear in record time.
STOP RIGHT NOW, STOP RIGHT NOW called Tina with a shout,
For in Myrtles rush to sit down, the pan went flying out.
Ohhhh the nurses day was shattered now, from the lady and the Lu,
But Miss Myrtles smile was that of bliss, As she finished going poo.

Brenda Meier-Hans
08.01.2014
5th

Premium Member Near-Death Experience

NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE

Imagine open heart surgery,
imagine no blood used.
Triple bypass, just beginning,
blood later … still refused.

Previous surgeries had several,
but this one was near death.
One day ok, then shocking news,
that took away … my breath.

Doctor, ok’d no blood surgery,
came through as Doc did plan.
Just out of intensive care, ask,
“Why, black grains … in bedpan?

Internal bleeding from ulcers,
wow, surprise must survive.
Six weeks rehab, then ambulance
called ... cause felt half alive!

Had pneumonia, multi blood clots,
not in one lung, but two!
As if this wasn’t enough, next
soon feel pain … never knew.

The most barbaric procedure,
knife stabbed side, tube inserted.
No time to numb, knife’s entry site,
stabbing … felt so perverted.

October entered hospital,
December, finally home.
Months recovering, through all this,
God never left me ... alone.

That year, flew to San Antonio 
for art classes, did pack.
At airport to return, had heart
and gall-bladder … attack.

Hospital was a no-blood site,
two surgeries all alone.
Survived near-death experiences,
now well … “quarantined at home!”

April 29, 2024 copyright
All rights reserved

Contest: NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke


Premium Member Old Age Revealed

Old Age Revealed 

In my youth, time was my friend.
With age, time has become the enemy.
I cannot say when you cross that line,
But it happens when you realize
The future is dimmed, and not as important
As it once was.

Reality sets in when you enter the room,
Of the old folks’ home, to see someone you love,
Confined to the deathbed, not a pleasant sight.
(The embarrassing bedpan within reach.)
In disgust, I watch the nurse
Spoon feed my friend.

I am at a loss for words and can only smile.
Senility eats away at the brain while the organs fail.
(I so want my presence to be positive.)
And the pain, never-ending.
We chatter away, our eyes revealing
Memories without meaning.

Blankets engulf the body as if mummified,
But it is still cold when our hands touch;
Because blood circulation
Doesn’t reach the extremities.
“Soon my friend.”—in deep thought I reflect,
“Will this too be my end?”

Wrong Bread For Fred

Wrong bread for Fred

here I am sick in bed
got the chills and aches in my head
called the pharmacy and spoke with Ned
was told of a remedy  of  oatmeal bread

thought that was new so I tried it  instead 
smeared some butter and jelly was spread
laid down with a book that  I hadn’t  read
Did not like the novel , the cover mislead.

still feeling the blahs  I was getting  worse
hoped that I make it without calling a hearse.
got the bible out and looked for a verse
thought it might help to relieve this curse.

I called back to the pharmacy asking for Ned
was told he didn’t work here, it’s a bakery instead
I had dialed the wrong number to get the med
they thought I was ill from not being fed.

 that’s why they told me  to get some bread 
I went to the bakery and told them I was Fred
Ned was there and told me he had misread
‘ ginger bread would have been better instead”

bought some gingerbread and some whipped cream
thought this was unusual and kind of extreme
perhaps a remedy, am hoping  not a scheme
I’m sick enough to just wash downstream.

 the gingerbread went into the oven to bake
ate most if it but then my stomach began to ache
felt dizzy enough but not like floating in a lake
what could be wrong with me, it was only a cake.

was admitted to the hospital, had an abdominal scan
they asked me if I had eaten cereal with bran
told them I made a cake in a non stick pan
added some prunes that I had in a can.

was put in bed dressed with just a flimsy gown
wasn’t enough material to go all the way around
where’s the rest of the sleeper I asked with a frown
‘there is none, you’ll be spotted in case you skip into town”

I need to find a way to slip out the door
where’s my bag with clothes that I wore
the bed has an alarm sensor if you try to soar
using a bedpan will be quite the chore.


wrapped myself up in sheets, hiding my buns
ran down the back stairway before morning comes
Security frantically searching  and yelling  to everyone 
“gingerbread man is on the loose with the runs”!

Detox

Alone. Screaming in agony
Out loud and also in my brain
Turn it off. Phase it out
GIve me something for the pain

Writhing under the sweat stained sheets
Trembling, shaking out of control
Can’t get up. Can’t make sense
How did this destroy my soul?

A slight lifeless turn to the right
The empty bedpan is filled once more
With the vitriol I’ve spewed
The disgusting mouth of a thought whore

Big H and smack are one in the same
You become a user and you get used
The tables turn quickly and when they do
The accuser becomes the accused.
© Rob Pool  Create an image from this poem.


Out of Hand

7/7/21

Just a sample of who I am
Experienced hardship firsthand
Not a sham
They say never bite the hand
That feeds
Yet there is continual greed
Across the land
It's gotten out of hand

Never went according to what was planned
Feeling damned
And stuck in quicksand

Occasionally in wonderland
And unable to understand
This is not just another fad
It all goes full circle like a rubber band

Took a stand
Opposition was not a fan
And they wanted to kill a man

Doing bad
Going mad
Heartbroken and sad

Gave it a stab
Threw a jab
And took a dab

Spent a tad
Of time at the pad
It all really wasn't that rad

As a man
And easy-going lad
Never been part of any clan

Used to ride the tram
Always lived below a dam
Occasionally sprayed a dish with PAM
And ate lamb
Or yam
Rarely ever was it SPAM
Or toast with jam

Was in the front, middle or back of the caravan
Did or didn't use the pineal gland
As I stood still or ran

F*** you and your scams
You'd best scram
Or you'll need a bedpan
If you're not already a dead man

Going ham
Burning through dabs and grams
Then hitting grand slams
Like a madman
Or else it all goes down the trash can

Obsolescence

Dearly beloved  those gone but not forgotten  masqueraded in blood and  gore  wrists slit themselves in protest they were being optimistic. In a peculiar protest took one for the team, fully dressed in a full bathtub desensitized  by dying words "eat sh$%  and die" written on the the mirrors tired of feeling like counterfeit bills in a trasngendered strippers G string. The motions in a blender pulverized emotion, wonder if heaven is as lonely as the say? am I really in gods will? I the Epitome of modern disappointment and self-hatred? Can be forgiven; the moodswings lasted forever. My pulse descends and slips Half way like my half-empty bedpan. 
 I expect the unhappiest of
 endings ;do you want to feel my scars? Can I show you on the puppet were life hurt me? I can't feel my legs, I can't feel any pain, can't hold my piss. the lord giveth and the lord taketh away you can't escape consequences, I have tried. I have never felt so sorry.  The motion  passed away I learned  to love myself indefinitely i am liberated . Happily everafter

I wanted to be free
I wanted to be good in bed
I wanted to win
I wanted to kiss you,or to at least hold you>
I wanted you to want me
I wanted an answer 
I wanted to go home
© Jace Evans  Create an image from this poem.

Hospital Note

The surgeon had successfully removed his libido,
then had fed it to the hospital cat.  Afterward,
a series of stuttering expeditions through mind-tunnels
condensed days into moments.
 
Corridors became tubes,
empty except for a memory of a pretty nurse, 
a few demented ghosts---their white bottoms;
beluga whales, peering through the slits
of ice-coated gowns.
 
She stood by an incinerator watching him,
flames licked at its open iron door. 
The woman undressed, 
threw her uniform into the fire,
then jumped naked into the flames.
 
Stepping out of the oven, 
the nurse, in moments, returned.
Her body now reduced to molten silver.
She gleamed fluidly
He wanted to flow through her,
to mingle his pale carcass
with her pristine silver rivering.
 
Suddenly he understood...
"You're my libido!" He said.
She smiled acknowledgement.
"Do I need to enter the fire?"
"No, you need to find the cat." She replied.
He had forgotten. "Yes that damn cat!”
"Meanwhile" she continued,
 "poop into this bedpan."

Prayers of Gratitude Are Not All the Same

Thank you for your still laboring pains.
Thanks for the amnesia of suffering
the bedpan and the bible,
the sunny window
that ran with a watery blood
wherever the flying ducks
rushed toward your gun.

Fingertips tingle, the daily callus is softening,
becoming bearable
the way a fox forgets its trap shattered paw.

Thanks for the moonlight dispensed
in cloud-covered dreams.
The applauding grateful
must have partaken of your loaves and fishes
where hooked worms still dangle
bereft of hungry lips.

We are the tenderest of prey again,
the catch we have all been looking for.
What more can be said when gratitude runs away
with its desires still wriggling
and fleshy.

Thank you;
for your mastering love
hath consumed the apple in our mouths
and we are served up
in wide-eyed wonder once more.

To Be Or Not To Be The End

When Mr Darcy brought my hand to his lips
Drenched in sweet longing before the scale tips
I, fraught with naivety and desire
Held trust cast into the furnace of mire

Dear friend, two offspring, a dog and a cat
In our fineries we waltzed to 'Take That'
Unbeknown to me, alas we were three
Lipstick etched upon my fine filigree

Teeth gnashing, I challenged indiscretion
He dismissed my genteel inquisition
Contact made with a bedpan appliance
Hence, now divorced in act of defiance

Dear reader, this ends with no tale of woe
On the dating app, I curtsey and go
© W J Clarke  Create an image from this poem.

Hospital Notes

The surgeon had successfully removed his libido,
then had fed it to the hospital cat. Afterward,
a series of stuttering expeditions through mind-tunnels
condensed days into moments.

Corridors became tubes,
empty except for a memory of a pretty nurse,
hospital gowns and white bottoms
exposed like beluga whales.

She stood by an incinerator watching him,
flames licked at its open iron door.
The woman undressed
threw her uniform into the fire
then jumped naked into the flames.

Stepping out of the oven,
the nurse returned.
Her body now reduced to molten silver.
She gleamed fluidly.
He wanted to flow through her,
to mingle his pale carcass
with her pristine silver rivering.

Suddenly he understood.
"You're my libido!" He said.
She smiled acknowledgement.

"Do I need to enter the fire?"
"No, you need to find the cat." she replied.

He had forgotten. "Yes that damn cat!”
"Meanwhile" she continued,

"s**t into this bedpan."

Josh Moore Colorado

Hail nails the skin.
Wind stabs the spine,
the mountain stretches,
breath freezes the tongue,
Snow visible on the summits

High-altitude crumbling 
cracked hands claw at dry stone,
Paper thin air
sharp, jagged edges.
Bald Eagles circle overhead

Alpine sky, dry and broken—
no more Earth Day vegetation 
Cherry Creek scrapes the sand
She lifts the bedpan 
Chapped gloss superstar lips
Cocoa fur, stained by cigarette smoke
and the wind carries all,
The Zephyr rolls in 
Grand Central Station
Peaks in background

Joshua Moore Colorado

Hail needles the skin.
Wind cracks the spine.
The mountain holds,
breath seizes on the tongue.
Snow knives the summits.

Cracked hands fumble dry stone,
paper-thin air slices,
bald eagles tilt in the blast.

Alpine skiers parched,
no more Earth Day banners.
Cherry Creek scrapes its bed.

Feces in  the bedpan,
chapped gloss smeared,
cocoa hair salted and smoked.

The Zephyr rattles east,
carrying the mountains backward—
Grand Central dissolves

Premium Member Evolution of Baby Names

in 1923 girl babies were named Nancy, Susan and Ann
boy babies were christened John, Michael, and Joe
then the flappers came along and changed everything
Now girls could be Lois, Louise, and Edna
Boys were approved for names like Samuel and Zeb

During the depression years babies were suffering
They were named for grandparents
Jim, Stuart, Johnathan, Eunice, Maude, Bessie

During the fifties, it was vogue to name your children with the same letter
A family could have Dirk, Deke, Deanna, Dillion and Dwayne
Maurice, Marlene, and Margo lived across the street.

In the sixties names were borrowed from Presidents
Back to the Johns and Samuels, I am not sure about girl names

Seventies arrived; now okay to name your children Freedom and Rainbow
After that, it has been everything and anything goes
Shanty, River, Drake, Tulip, Apple, Bedpan
Baby books cannot keep up with the flow

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