Best Coma Poems
I smile at you
From deep within the folds of consciousness
Where, they say, no recognition does exist
I feel your hands and hear your voice
And smile at you
I see you
While drip drips to moist my burning eyes
There is no vision, nothing to recognize they say
I see your face, observe the glance of sadness
And see you
I hear you
From deep within whirling clouds of mist
Where no sound penetrates they say
I feel your familiar voice resonate in me
And hear you
I am here
Whatever they say is not true, I am here
Do not give up on me and watch me wake
For one day I will look at you and hold your hand
And be here
***
Edited and reposted poem
(c) Copyright Darren White
December 12, 2017
want to lie here forever
in this place where you never leave
hidden here for so long
fate made you breathe
made me find you all over again
to wake is to hurt
unconscious is comfort
where i never have to let you go
forever is not long enough
i will hold you till time can no longer be measured
till we both forget that this isn't reality
till I no longer have to wake from sleep
drowning in this coma
water composed of you
won't fight the waves
won't hold my breath
just let go into you
so i never have to let you go again
J.Hart 12/08/09
In the avalanche, I lost track of my guiding light.
I fled my fireside. I had to evacuate my homestead.
Driven far astray by frenetic frozen fright,
I was just a cowardly racing rescuing airhead.
The wounded wooden face of my brother
lugged away by paramedics in a wheelchair.
My tomb of sleep was my 3 am druthers.
But I called 911, puzzling at my sibling’s stare.
Living and dying from underworld to mountaintop,
the EMTs raised him off the floor like a bag of potatoes.
Everything was breathing pollen and allergen nonstop.
All my raw instincts lacked right or wrong thought flows.
It’s true; I lost poetry. I abandoned my paintings, my pottery,
as though the subverting season of AI sophistry reigned supreme,
as though all creativity was randomized in a human lottery,
as though all consciousness is reduced to a particle beam.
Vacant, these weary eyes roll up in my head.
Vacant, how much long-term despondency to endure?
My brother lives and dies each day in his bed,
defenseless, like a never healing wound with no cure.
My days are distractions, a mad confusing deflection.
I vacated my poetic home, my fireside muse.
I raft the unfamiliar caregiver currents without reflection.
I can’t live forever homeless, maintaining the caregiver ruse.
Sleep now, my brother, knowing life offers you another aim.
Tap resilience from your broken body. This will clear your mind.
My pallet for tending, nourishing, and wiping deserves no acclaim.
Nobody asks for these duties. No one can ever put them behind.
I smile at you
From deep within the folds of consciousness
Where, they say, no recognition does exist
I feel your hands and hear your voice
And smile at you
I see you
While drip drips to moist my burning eyes
There is no vision, nothing to recognize they say
I see your face, observe the glance of sadness
And see you
I hear you
From deep within whirling clouds of mist
Where no sound penetrates they say
I feel your familiar voice resonate in me
And hear you
I am here
Whatever they say is not true, I am here
Do not give up on me and watch me wake
For one day I will look at you and hold your hand
And be here
***
March 3, 2017
© Darren White
She was lava lamp pliable
Easily moved and positioned
Flippy floppy appendages
Ridiculously compliant
Rare signs of life
Loud breathing
Danger of falling
Bed sore bound
Six year coma
Life has cruel ways of muting emotions
Over time in how we treat each other
Manifest and shameful self promotion
At the expense of loved one’s own druthers
Forgetting the passion igniting fire
With the excuse we’re busy and stressed
Denies quite natural human desire
Honesty and fidelity to test
Love backs up our romantic interest
Keeping us engaged emotionally
Denying love creates awkward distance
Lonely nights and lonely days equally
Prioritize now and do not delay
For we are never given tomorrow
Promote passion today, too busy at bay
Jump start romance and save yourself sorrow
Life and death on a video game
their punching buttons not responsive
to hospital gadgets and electromagnetic technologies.
Consciousness is pinned to extinctions wall
and disappearance in court
advocating for a permanent roommate.
Every stepping win shows the direction
to which this soul is destined.
Existence is in a pitiful mood
with just its left hand held.
The firmness of such hold, serving as a marker
to its needed victory or unfortunate loss.
One move and another, death leads
but the big win finally comes
and the abstract world of the spirits
hit itself and weep in anguish
as the soul marries the body
to activate a living being once again.
death did not enter the room
death built the room I was in
a saga worth being exhumed
death did not enter the room
seeds of guile indeed did bloom
slow, malignant, and close to sin
death did not enter the room
death built the room I was in
Will i tend to forget
The innermost part
Of my memory
Interfere with my plans
Doubt the existence
Of this translucent layer
Will the signs of my weak
Body disappear
...
Epileptic thoughts
Anonymous crashes
Hallucinating phases
An eternal vexation
A dizzy maze
A painful exhalation
...
Will i tend to lose my sanity
When i wake up,
Will the truth be blurted
Shall i take off the mask
And take back my knife
Sleep has become my savior
Dreams now my manifest destiny
Construing the world for me
Calming the chaos of my waking mind
My conscious plays little games
To create a sense of order
Then some sort of Messiah rescues me
And gives me blissful shelter
Why wouldn't I want to sleep forever?
COMMA COMA
The difference between a cat and a comma, as you know,
Is that one has claws at the end of its paws,
While the other has a pause at the end of a clause,
But let the comma not be confused with a coma,
Sometimes induced in my wife from my socks’ aroma,
And never confuse a comma with an apostrophe,
For in this competition it would be a catastrophe,
And, as we all know, a comma sits on the line,
But an apostrophe floats up in the air just fine.
When you reach twelve commas, it’s time to go.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .
Written by Sydney Peck
Entered in Russell Sivey’s Contest Tons of comma fun!
vocation to bloom
puzzled buds in dizziness ...
spring smiles soothingly
20 February 2022
Oh! I miss your spontaneous laughter,
the mischievous, bright glint in your eyes;
everything around you is quiet
just like my heart which silently cries.
I wish you could acknowledge my words
and respond when I gently touch you.
No-one now bothers to kiss away
my tears as they unrelenting flow;
for I fear that you will never wake
and that I would be alone again
in the dark and the frightening nights -
alone with my sorrow and pain.
There is a whisper within my mind that haunts my heart with shame,
Its grows a stem within my heart and sets my life to blame
I cannot bare my soul to you, for it as run its course,
but if you see to where I go then you will find the scource.
I bend to break but cannot hope that it would end my fate,
I simply beg my destiny, to set it a quicker date.
A thought would come and so I yield to this my dismal line,
it surely came when I drew breath, but never was it mine.
I wish I lived inside a coma to meet my final dream,
to live a dream with emptiness, is better than it seems.
To live a life with nothing and only prayer to keep,
what stops my hand at wanting, to send my mind to sleep?
Its such a pretty sentiment to give this lonely man,
a wife and child that have no home, is this his master plan?
Laughter is so bitter sweet without a melody,
its simply just an echo, filled with melancholy.
I wish I was a coma, to escape material lands,
but as I cannot choose it, I'll stick with empty hands.
So now I call to you, a robot of mankind,
if I cannot have my dreams, then leave me please my mind.
Mr. Robinson’s going into a coma
Slowly… gradually…
All his family’s seeing him
But nothing to do anything
Mr. Robinson’s going into a coma
What a deep sleep it’s!
How much long a death is it?
Little by little Mr. Robinson’s
going to be unconscious…
The sun will rise in the east
The sun will set in the west
Moons…
New moon
Half moon
Full moon-
How many silver moons as glittering coin of 5 Taka*
Will come and down in the night- sky?
Mr. Robinson will sleep for how many days
And his family will stand beside his bed
Being anxious family members
Will stare at him for how so long…?
His body’s going to be frozen
Sense’s going to an unknown world
Heart beat’s being slower
Mr. Robinson’s going into a coma
Slowly… gradually…
*Taka= Bangladeshi money