Best Chemo Poems
Sitting in the backseat ~ yackety
she drives like
crackers ~ wackedy
speeding to the movies?
we can’t be late?
Driver ahead asleep at the
light
panic stop she makes ~ 5 seatbelts lock
But the
backlash! ........... flying wig
plops smack in my lap . . . .
Screaming fits of laughter all around.
Late to the movies after all,
not nearly as good.
Dedicated to my friend, Kate.
Breast cancer survivor.
You live in terror
Of an enemy
That you feel you can’t hide from
And that you cannot see
You live in fear
Of a murderous curse
Also known as cancer, a tumor
Or worse.
You believe in something
Called Chemotherapy
With a 2% chance
Of living happily
Have you heard of the things?
You could do to prevent
Such a terrible illness
Such a terrible event
Cancer isn’t a death threat
But a dangerous foe
One that must be dealt with
With precision and woe
Do your research
Before you begin
With chemicals and radiation
That you have no idea in
Try alternate methods
That can cause no harm
Except to the cancer
And they work like a charm
I urge you politely
Say no to the fee
Of Radiation and chemicals
To Chemotherapy
When lifting hair was not a crime
Tonto was ahead of his time
He saw a bald Ranger
Whose mask made him stranger
A real pandemic paradigm!
chemo waiting room
patients eat saltines
from a candy dish
Published in Bottle Rockets #42 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
no need after chemo
a pink lacy bra
After first injection, hair started to thin
Eyelash and eyebrows cut to the root
Nothing left but patches of bare skin
But personality was acute
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Abdominal pain and nausea this day
Thoughts run wild, gallbladder or
Stomach cancer~chemo
Sponsor: Amy Green
Contest: Let's Try A Little Kimo
Chemo War 2 (some months ago)
So many months of toxic love? and radiation,
meds, destroying disfigured foes
collaterial danage as useful cells die
and badly burnt in chemical
and radiant heat, I am drained and pale
my hair thinned, my skin red and raw
this is the final fight, the battles’ at an end,
the last scars formed, last viens pricked
tap tap tapping of the MRI with me alone
life seems now too heavy a chore
So the chemo got the cancer
though I have three more trips to the chair
but for this very moment there is no lump longer there
Its kinda a revelation with the battle going on
but this silly computer game producer
still manages to motor on
I miss the cowboy
He turned out to be a charleton.
But he used to make me laugh and keep me on track
kind of a funny thing
I am now doing pot gummies
just to battle nausea
because despite my best I was at unrest
and it was beginning to take a toll
This war with cancer, sucks I tell you so...
And I have no specific thing I can point to in my ways
that will prevent it from coming back again
So I am on a quest to lower the chances of that
and laying down best practices in my hat
I still have my hair, though the strands are coming out
And surviving I am, despite the fun and games
chemo is surreal, and kinda a big deal
but you can make it out again
Chemo and the side notes Artimus (C) Susan Manley 8:41AM 11/11/2023
On a Patio in Central Pennsylvania
Slowly patiently silently
a stink bug descends
toward my white-haired woman.
She is undeterred
by the imminent intrusion
of this small spot
of Nature’s alien creep.
From where?
Maybe Nature or the bug man
at the nearby college might know.
My wife knits on
Slowly patiently silently
making chemo caps
for women
seeking remission
from Nature’s alien creep.
From where?
Maybe a (loving?) god might know.
Titian tresses tumble
as do her tears
I’ll save on hairdressing costs
she says with a watery smile
BITE SIZE POEM no 29 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
12/10/21
My therapy is chemical,
I go for weekly sessions.
My artery is femoral.
The site of my injection.
The venom attacks
the mitosis of my splitting cell.
Dyspepsia takes over,
like a spinning carousel.
When you've lost your faith
on troubled days
and the world slaps you in the face-
it's just a phase.
When you're afraid and scared
at the universe-
remember those who care-
and those who love you will never disperse.
It's deep inside you
where the healing begins-
and though the outside
is more than just skin
Remember when the times get tough
and your skin is hard to touch
and your bones are aching
it's so frustrating-
but remember you're the fighter-
the author to your life-
things could seem a bit brighter
rather than your head consumed with strife
It's hard-
but it will make you stronger
it's tough
but it will give you wisdom
and when the going is too much
listen to your angels,
listen to wind, the trees and the city
Listen but don't pity-
You're stronger then this fight-
And for some reason you were given this battle
to conquer
Let your mind, soul and spirit take flight-
No matter what’s in front of you
Wanda Woman is behind you
Wanda Woman!
No matter what’s behind you
Butterflies gonna pull for you!
She’s a dancer, cancer
Can’t kill her soul
She’s a winner, and in her
Is a heart of gold
She’s a mother, lover
A grand-mom too
She’s a tougher, warrior
Than the “x” you know who.
No matter what’s in front of you
Wanda Woman is behind you
Wanda Woman!
No matter what’s behind you
Butterflies gonna pull for you!
Chemo won’t flow
like her in her stride
So cold, so broke
She feels when she cries
But then, she grins
As someone walks in
You see, she’s a queen
Stronger than an elephant.
Chemo, Puberty & the Fourth Watch
by Patrick Cornwall
Wake up—rush for the toilet, say my prayers.
Stomach races, chasing bowels,
anxious like horses shot from a gate.
Chemo, the man said. Takes time to get used to. And I’ll ring you.
I take a shower. Just trying to rinse the sick away.
Ready for the day.
The sun leads me out—
then gas explodes.
Liquid in my underwear.
Provocative, isn’t it?
Warmth down my leg,
staggering back up the stairs.
Another shower.
Like it’s raining.
Tears mix in—
but no one sees them but You, Lord.
Toilet bowl—heaving, vomit.
Wishing I wasn’t alone.
Wishing I wanted to live.
But I must be strong—
three months in,
and I’m still breathing.
Nose forward,
purpose steady.
Old faithful—couch again—
Boom Boom Boom
We love you
Toon Toon Toon
We care
Tears of sweat, sweat of tears
Boon a Toom—
I’ll be back as soon as I can.
I can handle it.
If it’s dark, I’ll candle it.
Lost my wallet? I’ll panhandle it.
Chemo’s my companion now—
anaphylaxis too.
Friends from the deep.
I greet them with my game face.
Pretend it’s a new hockey stick—
I’m young again.
We’re playing the Russians,
and I’m a Flyer.
We’re gonna pound them.
But I’m sixty now.
My lungs don’t want to play.
My legs betrayed me.
What happened to me?
Boom a Toon—
legends call me down.
Boon a Toom—
I go back to the ward.
I see old friends,
but they’re younger now.
My vision’s slipping.
Boom Boom Boom
We love you
Toon Toon Toon
We care
I’ll be back
Just as soon as I can.
I didn’t want to end up in the belly of the whale.
I’ve already been there—
addicted, lost, refusing the call.
So I started writing.
So don’t worry.
I’m not at the end.
I’m just creative-bugging along
with my puberty chemo oats—
awkward, uncomfortable, and oddly alive.