Best Convalescence Poems
Today was a good day
Today he walked on legs unbent
And erect spine of a man intent
On stilling the cacaphony of monotony
And smoothing the callouses of convalescence
For today, we both forgot
The wasting rate this cancer's wrought
Today, he teased and squeezed and poked
Fun at his trademark old school jokes
Laughter's remembered warmth evoked
Today he drove his rattling truck
His feet sure on the pedal's pump
And carried boxes of tradebooks and tools
With hands that know weighted control
Today, without a splint or cane
He tamed steps of receding pain
Today, through a briefly calm sea
He is the man he used to be
So today, I can foresee
The luxury
When days like these
Are ordinary.
1/23/21
I was a classic 1957 Chevrolet Bel-Air, in mint condition, admiral and white.
My owner had other beautiful, classic cars, like stars sparkling into twilight.
My owner loved his old cars, saying 'they don't make them like they used to;'
And I enjoyed getting out upon the open road, to show him what I could do.
My fellow cars and I saw lots of sunny days, in bliss freedom of the flowers,
Traveling the length and breadth of this land, in the clasp of jeweled hours.
Flighty friends and I recalled 'good old days,' in rosy sunset times of finally,
Laughing and talking our memories in darkness, as moon shone, indefinably.
Forever friends were like feeling family, in the floral days of fuchsia's reign;
When flitting, green butterflies fanned for long, and falcons flew like a train.
I lived in the house of pleasant shadows, which didn't have many windows;
For it was one huge room without a view, like a path without the primrose.
Sparkling summer sauntered in silently, creating such scenes on my street!
Silken clouds roamed, when Sam ran his errands. Traveling was ever a treat.
Neighbors made admiring noises about me, going off on rides in neon night.
We cars were the toast of the neighborhood, nice nostalgia, in a golden light!
Clown orchids had ceased performing, in gone days of purple, beard orchids.
Now their summer relative had the holy ghost, like bliss from many sources.
Mask flowers held beautiful mystery, in alluring hues of pink, cream and red;
Like sweet secrets of moonlit shadows, and violet dreams after going to bed.
Once, Sam and I were cruising Sunset Highway, for it was my turn that day;
While dear friends waited in the cool, quiet of home, for their chance to play.
I felt a sudden impact on my left, and I knew I was hurt! There was damage;
But if not for Sam's expert driving, we might not have been able to manage!
This had happened to me times before. Such is to be expected in a long life.
As ever, friend Sam was my Superman, my mechanic in times of cruel strife.
My convalescence didn't seem so long, as I laughed about old days with pals.
When streets were not very busy, and many listened to front porch musicales.
For we were darling, daring trailblazers, quaint old paving way for all modern,
Leaving lingering feelings of fond nostalgia, like lovely fall leaves which yearn!
Darkness beckons me with each new day
Remembrance of my desolation seems to persistently stay
Cataclysmic past still haunts my troubled mind
Convalescence becoming unwavering, Consummation I find
Anguish constantly overwhelms my aspirations to improve
Vanquish each memory, Condemnation is removed
Unpleasant occurrences that steadily came to pass
Unmanageable situations, My resolution transcends, at last
Ingenuity shall be my guide
In myself, alone, I shall confide
Unworthy existence became my heart's outlook
Reclaiming my resilience that disaster overtook
Self conviction speaks to my innermost being
Realization of reality redirects my life's meaning
Overcome these afflictions through solidarity
In myself, alone, shall I uncover my clarity
A Song for the Hopeless
By All That Remains
When stuck at home for convalescence
For prose or poem choose acquiescence
Scribble a thought about what is what
Soon you’ll be caught, and boredom forgot
I walked knowingly into the trap
as a boat sails over Charybdis.
Afraid of showing tell-tale marks
up and down my arms.
I gave in to the lesser evil,
went astray, searching indiscriminately for an escape.
My search lead me to a certain type of website.
Taking refuge in my libido,
I removed my clothes, alone.
My body laid bare, for the asking.
My hands requesting to obediently serve,
on anonymous screens, no compensation required.
A grave and pendulous weight dragging between my legs.
The cucumbersome weight of my cathartic defilement.
A diseased organ between my ears.
Caught in that black hole,
my soul’s spaghettification.
Time wore on, the unseen eyes multiplying.
Demands getting out of hand,
stretching even the limits of my self-destruction.
“It’s 1:30 pm, gimme some lunch.”
“It’s 7:30 pm, I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“It’s 11:30 pm, show me a story?”
“It’s 3:15 am, help me get some sleep?”
Even my pain drained away from me,
as my insides had, without count.
My soul, also ejecting away from me in fragments.
The catharsis transmuted into self-hate,
and so the coil twisted tighter,
I’d mistaken that numbness for catharsis.
Piece by piece becoming a useful, well used vessel.
A brush with death saved my life.
Seizing my mind and body
in every sense I could illustrate.
A convalescence began, seeding love.
My once desolate heart, fallowed, now fertile.
Love now sustains me. Though I’m a vessel still,
but now for healing, knowing shame intimately, without terror.
I bring it into the light, letting compassion overflow.
Cycling forward to completeness once more, finally whole again.
I aspire for a flight of magnificence
though the words at times reek of innocence.
Yet striving to create a renaissance
in form which will not require penitence.
I boast of overcoming pestilence
in manipulating verbal reticence
to overcome loathing of quiescence,
which in a sense is the essence
of any poem of mental brilliance.
Aspiring to poems that soar in evanescence,
a luminescence of fluorescence in abundance.
The presence of acquiescence a deterrence
to obsolescence of obeisance in appearance.
The absence of pseudo credence and conformance
to the quintessence of acceptance of senescence,
in poetry, assures defiance of decadence,
and a deterrence of annoyance in articulence.
Yet the arrogance of old heads holds coalescence,
the decidence of some form’s discontinuance.
The annoyance and inconvenience of their defiance,
keeps their belligerence in convalescence.
Their exaserbescence akin to adolescence
in nature, they think obstinance is a virtuence.
© Sept 19 2010 Charles Henderson
4 th in John's Free verse contest
I am Twelve - My cynical composure is of my second nature - A constant, compatible
companion.
I am the Winter Solstice - Darkness is my Jesus, the losing light, my Judas.
I am Fourteen - Binded by the breaking basket to Brimstone, with heavy heart I instill my
identity in Lucifer's caress.
I am the mass of minions in your notorious night - Yet, as he watches warily, Lord Lucifer
intervenes my pathological perverted pretense.
I am Sixteen - And I watch those I call my kindred spirits as their earthly esteems are
crushed in a doomed dimension of distress.
I am a Gnostic Ghost - Regression, Repression, and wrong residence cloud my tiresome trail
to prolonged prudence.
I am Seventeen - Sweet success surmounted will send a tempest to those with hateful
hearts towards my continuous convalescence .
I'm a Courteous Comedian - And a sarcastic sermon of a writer's woe leaves simple
satisfaction, with my self in restless reminiscence.
I am an Ageless Apparition - And in this vexatious vessel, ,in this tainted temple, I long
for Lord Lucifer's law of survival of strongest, or a phantom's fall.
I am the Passive Pacifist - Dazzling the dawn, Dashing the dusk; negating the rest of
nightfall.
Light the lamp, Lord Lucifer, speak seductive sounds ... The Secret Salvation of My
Bedroom Walls.
This abysmal agony finally ebbing away from my mind
A grotesque phantasmagoria of spirits in the wind
The duel with death has eventually culminated
The disease that almost ripped me apart has dissipated
Now is my trial to convalesce after my battle
Now I finally find time to balance myself in the saddle
I reminisce the sights, plights and frights
I perspire because the disease almost raped me of my rights.
The sickness has left,presently,wondering
If it afflicts me again and leaves me stuttering
If it does,I can no longer stand the attrition
But be overwhelmed by the infectious apparition
A relapse, I will have to endure,if not death
But if I do die, I will no longer have the desire to loathe
Myself at my lack of strength to fight the parasite
As atrocious as it may sound, it is best to commit suicide!
Break into my life
Lock the cracked door
Slip off your shoes
Your creaking clothes
Sneak into my bed
Uncover my soul
Sweeten the sunrise
Caffeinated yet cold
Caress my regret
Callous naked me
Hold my heartbeat
Broken and in need
Whisper perfume
In ears of neglect
Call convalescence
In stale dusty vents
Wipe my eyes
Estranged with shame
Show me forgiveness
Your face again
The convalescence occasionally is crushing
When left and right kin struggles
Not just any people, but those dear to you,
You want to reach out
And pull them all into your arms
Only realising arms are too small and few,
And they are with too many
Can't alleviate, can't ameliorate.
Our voices only reach so far
Our ears and eyes fail
As do our helpless hands.
But in this mind, in these words
A world is opened, for you
And you
And you
This heart flies like a butterfly on faltering wings
Soft feathers brushing across the distance
The span of our vast world
To diminish pain
To lessen hurt
***
March 14, 2017
Copyright ©Darren White
lub dub, lub dub echoes of the heart
just one sound that will tear it apart
its reins will tighten and choke the air sacks
fuselage lines squeezed from the fortress of plaques
the alarm is out to all cells standing in harm’s way
its possible they may not make another day
it could be sudden like a viperous bite
that could send the body into a shocking flight
tunnels are barricaded, tissues starving for blood
chemical stations are straining to get thru the mud
the flashing alarm has tripped, all responders are rushing
anti coagulators gown up to intercede and begin crushing
sirens in the rescue bunker, corpuscles set out to quell
can they get there quickly or will life end up in the well
detour routes are now flagged to allow an alternate flow
when safety is signaled all lanes will open and be set to go.
all commuter service has been put on red alert
predators do not interfere, let the squads tend to the hurt
second alarm sounded as there are many causalities
the impact is enormous, there may be reduced mentalities
life lines installed to improve the balance of nutriments
also to flush out the exorbitant level of ill condiments
recovery is expected although time is of the essence
mortality levels can rise post arterial strikes, during convalescence.
all teams called to aid in the tragic head on collision
will undergo precautionary measures for structural revision
efforts were made with fortunate outcome without a fatality
all inhabitants within the vascular circuit now have stable vitality.
this highway thru hell episode will be published in medical journals
to exemplify what occurs to inbound route and to those externals
echoes of the heart rely upon safety of all users of the track
drivers will have annual inspections for hazardous cargo like plaque.
this has been an inside look at actual effects of a heart attack.
and cast have been commentated for their heroic tributes.
the events has been edited for visualization but are true to life
It's late or early, I can't tell which one
We're not on some secret island with a picturesque sun
The palm tree buildings; strolling holding your arm on these concrete beaches
Freedom building and living as far as the philosophy to be me reaches
I still remember it was those golden eyes I got lost in
Smokey sewers on those December frozen cold nights in Boston
Hand in hand with no plan but body warmth on dark streets
Time fades from my mind why did you decide to split me apart at Park Street
Our shadows like shallow words hollow; is time to blame for all of our sorrows?
And if Apollo brings tomorrow I vow never let anyone else to pill my heart and
swallow
From downtown to Lansdowne the evanescence of your essence
You presence once luminescent grew into the only thing that impeded my
convalescence
The acquiescence of your gentle lips set my soul on fire artist/arsonist
In the midst of happiness your betrayal a catharsis in the darkened mist
See the vitality in my veins? The hurt you left me with brought me clarity
And in reality I'll never be the same; this do or die mentality haunts me with
sincerity
In deepest of moments where I don't know where I'm going
I'm traveling unworn paths in the city that's never slowing
I think back not wanting escape despite the price I paid for elegant negligence
I don't feel the same heartbreak my heart used to partake and your face has lost
its relevance
We both know mishaps happen the knife in my back was like somebody slapped
me
I was angry for a while but life's to short to hold back; I just want you to be happy
She fades in the past; you shine now as mine through and through
Was it fate that brought me to you? Every time I talk to you we share something
new
With you every minute I'm so in it, this golden woven knit of your love and trust
shines infinite
In a bit we'll have fallen deeper intimate; you're holding my stolen past so
innocent
Like city converges with the sea your arms emerge freely right in front of me
Finally free, it seems we all just need that hurt to make us again breath and
believe
Convalescence empathy
removes the grit of wear
my thoughts are now encompassing
before ~ were just aware!
Oh, bide my time in effigy
thee once were all I shared,
now look away in emptiness
with sullen eyes that stare!
That saying Faith brings sympathy
aloneness brings compare,
religious truth seems apathy
and nurtures with impair!
The grace to ride this seamy sea
abridgment rules as care
were not the cost of everything
love lost in virtues bear!
There must be time, repairing, free
that wholeness can entail,
the grudge, and fate, and angers flee
took us beyond avail!
No longer was I meant for you
no longer you for me,
forgiveness was not our affair
all else was enmity!
There must be time of reckoning
just ours ~ just meant to be,
that in this grave, unsettled world
our future holds esprit!
The morning comes ~ the evening's nigh
restoring its' degree,
still in our heart, we stay apart ~
. . . . . . . . . . . a separationing!
Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A woodland walk, a quest for river-grapes, a mocking thrush, a wild rose or rock-living columbine, salve my worst wounds.”
SUFFERING SEASON
broken…
the sediment — a deposition seed,
of what meaning, this scrawl?
splinters splayed, suffering season
comforted by a columbine.
pressed into the carnivorous cranny
of melancholic chords, phantom phenom
appears from sunless shadows,
felicitous with numb heartstrings.
pretense of petals pierced,
potent poison’d creative mind.
woman in white, welded to hatchery,
sings wisdom and solitude —
shy flower cranes its head to listen.
rebirth croons in crannied space,
cramps of convalescence released.
a lonely boy. . . the florid dove lands
on two fingers, he’s mesmerized —
the apparition strokes his hair.
2/21/2020
Flower in the Crannied Wall Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Convalescence is possible with the renewal of faith.
Each resuscitation may be found in the power of healing.
I have found rehabilitation from a disease of the mind,
a malady that only existed because of my childhood abuse.
Good counsel and love can restore a wounded spirit.
Rehabilitation Contest
Julia Ward
May 31, 2018