Best Convalescent Poems
Life has gifted me with tragedy,
broken images, forever haunting,
excruciating my suffering; blood
upon the pulse of my serenity.
Crystal lines are etched over this glaciered heart,
and my tears wash blotches of thoughts
that leaves me blank again daily.
Stolen by death, I am left mourning the assassins kill,
soul sliced open, like the parted sea.
Chained and bound I evade flirtatious eyes,
to inhibit forbidden thoughts;
for love fled upon your precious wings,
survived only by my silent memories.
I stood alone in the midst of nightmares,
just searching for you amongst a midnight dream.
Alas, although the stars filled my eyes,
the sky gathered clouds and the Moon reigned misery,
no peace to be found;
yet today the heavens opened and allowed me to breathe;
I saw your face again, arms out-stretched,
and you said: ”Love come to me,
but mere steps into the convalescent sea."
Summer’s almost over - that convalescent state
where successive modes of pleasure
were the order of the day.
Now fall commands awakening -
drive simplicity away! The hounds
of hell are yelping that it’s time to banish play.
They cry “forget unscheduled hours
that owned no share of care - the virtual halls
are scheduled and we’ll soon see you there.”
No apotropaic magic can delay my slated fate -
to pixelated halls of learning I must soon acclimate.
The stars quickly dim,
taking their place behind stretching clouds,
as the allure of night fades
and the lamp of the world switches on.
Morning's scent steals grace from sleeps convalescent ether,
rousing hearts and minds from delusional dreams,
to don their disguise of a million lies,
reassembling, to suffer again daily.
And each tick of the clock, mimics the hum of my pulse,
as I sit with head in hands, holding on to my shattering sanity.
For in the light of day, truth is easily seen
in this house, that is not a home;
where the silence unfolds to surround me,
like solitary prison walls.
So aimlessly, I walk throughout the day,
heart wrapped in strands of tender; frayed,
always one beat away from surrender;
anxiously timid, awaiting yet another shoe to fall,
keeping to this intimate isolation,
for this world has proved incapable of trust.
But oh when the night comes, and the blind moon rises,
taking its rightful place in the sky,
I lovingly stand within her sliver rain, and the
subliminal foreplay emanating from stars.
Inside the darkness, shadows span to fill the emptiness
and my consciousness gives way to blurry visions,
staining these eyes with the presence of you.
And its moments like this, I have come to cherish;
when this sensory state of existence,
exonerates me from misery’s melody,
deafening its sound in the hours of midnight suede.
the Medicare, an undeserved fund the patients spend,
which seems extremely excrescent,
must be crushed immediately without any mend.
No coverage serves them right! Be they gravely ill or convalescent.
In his favor, all the rules the Capitol shall bend,
prosecution immunity, business chance----each prerogative coming on end.
His flagrance in abuse of power, plus republicans' acquiescence, plunges to a state perversely putrescent,
in consequence, honest individuals wizened while tower of liar and mar-a-lago mire tumescent.
High as the staff's passions hit, perfectly as their patiences fit, more than half at last have to quit.
What has ground away every panjandrum's wit and grit?
His inopportune blah-blah and twitter tantrum bit after bit,
the latter a globe-mocked target and also, often a globe-shocking tool kit.
Atmosphere of allies only too calm and bland,
against them, with his single hand,
he stirs up trade wars amid the entire world's guffaws.
Prostrate shall be the security of homeland,
prostrate shall be the competence of diplomatic corps,
bolt upright frontier walls shall stand----
but stand only in his brain, which constantly bolts out lunatic lore.
Pants on fire, collars on fire, hard and fast is this refractory liar.
Really a refractory and prolific liar, really a refractory and lifetime liar,
boasting his lying score higher than the steepest steeple's spire,
never plans to retire, until one day he has to expire.
Nonsense the globalization trend, nonsense what the majority attend,
abandoning all oversea interests and renouncing all international duties are the cause he shall defend.
And the itinerary of isolationism, his pilgrimage route.
Endorsed by none, would he be alone? A point nothing moot.
Epiphanic from Roman catacombs, arms open, ecstatic and naked----an epiphany non-faked----
Nero comes up to embrace him grinnily, like a kindred spirit in long pursuit eventually slaked
acting as his soul mate cum his sole friend
and escorting him all along to his final end.
His final end, Nero's end, that's who could brazen out the mass hoot.
His final end, Hell's end, that's where he takes root.
after the sky drops.
The walking corpses come out
the veil of night masks
the decay
the rot
of humanity
Plague of the earth.
Found from the ashes
My phoenix we bled
Has she ever
thought love between
us, inside
her, filled up an empty bed.
No longer bereft,
somnolence
and love drowns my head.
Convalescent
Bemire emotion
I wash and rinse
what is left,
asking what we are
if no longer
dead?
Gold from lead.
The lifting sky
Our connubial affair.
The truths, I face,
we share,
She Said.
"when will it die?"
closing empty space
A diffident devotion
Within her embrace
a softly recited
poem unread
berceuse
tantric lullaby
healing the blighted
fading destiny to refuse
to claim or to lose.
An onus I malinger..
to choose.
Execration
of an inner fatalist
hopeless abuse.
Quantum entanglement
schismatic resentment
prepossessed
inspiring muse
of the alchemists
A bibulous creation
intimate turpitude.
sovereignty
asunder this hell
her orbit with abaddon.
Dissolution
her need to dispel
incertitude.
Inordinate.
Gravity well
collapsing in on itself
eternal
infinite
end
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I also enjoy simple lists of words, descriptors of an abstract reaction
describe the feelings or ideas my poem invoked or left in feeling or thought.
Even on word. is better than none. Thank you
The
War was
won and life
was getting back
to normal once more.
To the convalescent
War hero in hospital
the sight and taste of a fresh ripe
banana was better medicine
than any pill he had been made to take.
As worshippers in Australia lift holy hands to Heaven
I recall promises to pray for the ill, the aged, the convalescent
Praise-worthy voices dance exquisitely, inside a church called Hillsong
You and I must intercede for friends, foes,for those who don't belong
A for America, for a Holy-Spirit led Revival, a new Great Awakening
And for Adam and Andy, Allison and Abby; Al, AJ, and all of our sin
B for Botswana and for Burma's minorities; we pray for Bob, Barb, and Becky;
Bible-believing churches anywhere who balance Truth and Grace faithfully ...
C for Canada, a great neighbor, and for Brother Carmelo, after surgery
Healing in every way ... for Chaz, Candace and Cathy; for the Canerdy family
D for D.R.C. and all Danes, Daniellas, Debs and families such as Dogherty
E for Egypt, the English, and Ethiopia. Add Esau, Eve, Evan and Evangeline
F for France and the Finns, all those called Fran, Fred, Fatima and Fanny
G for Germany (all leaders, too); Greg and Grace and Grandparents ...
As so many cope with Alzheimers, may men and women find the remedy
H is for Hungary, both the country and all who go hungry
Hearts be healed, in His grace. Include Hannah and Hope, Hank and Harry.
I is for India, and anyone persecuted there, or anywhere; Isaac and Ishmael -
Reminds me to pray for Israel, for Shanthi, Selma and Salam, for Jerusalem
Jesus begins with J, and so do names South of the US border, and Jess's needs
K for both Koreas! For peace, security, forgiveness, prosperity (Until the AM)
Echoes of the woman's tea-leaf warnings
bounce in my head...
I stare at the spilled apple sauce
all over my bed...
I watch the flickering TV in the convalescent home...
My pharmacy number is in my phone...
I dream in German but can't utter a word...
My memories blurred... My speech slurred...
Remember when we were blissful and unwed?
Why did you leave? Was it something I said?
My mind is not what it used to be...
I'm a rotting shell of stupidity...
The old codger hobbling upon his cane Rich in years, a quick impression, on the accessory The shell game played, by the young shill, Asking for the time, sticking to the plan Distracting the feeble old man, this the trick While the confident grifter swoops in, Barely noticed coming to steal, all that he has The black throne’s hurrah the stick is a blur The shill shuffles with gladness, thinking The old man had missed his mark The loaded stick hits the con-artist, where it hurts The rich man quickly switches hands, As the shill receives the wrong end of the stick Sending two on a humbling convalescent With a drop of the water of life from an olden tin The old codger walks confidently on Lilting upon his shillelagh
Matthew O' Harris Ease A "FAKE" Irishman
Juiced tin he nuff tame afore
thee Saint Patrick's Day,
(hens this faux written accent
donned to sail hub berate won big todo
fur those peep pull o' Eire rush deuce cent)
aye pretend, and thence make oop
duff fallow wing vary minor event
harkening back e'er sins this generic gent,
hooped tubby imp poet hint wannabe,
(who hapt tubby absent
without leave from Brogue kin home
since a lil whippersnapper, and accident
boot tappin), when me note holler than
garden variety leprechaun, advertisement
tuff hind miss elf, no major ailment -
good red ants tomb ma late mum,
which fair re: creatures, no argument
booth us, iz moar rare than
finding far leaf clover,
and eek will coz fur astonishment
eef hoodlum (caw zing
bedlam) sought atonement
Yukon bull heave or no,
how life on the lamb
as a Dublin street urchin met belligerent
scruffy geezers old looking and bent
till kind ole soul named C. Clement
took yaws truly as apprenticed
Baron without complaint,
though kept ma lidded concealment
secret til search abandoned confident
gnome hissing pipsqueak,
would be sorely missed
giving fresh start with help to coinvent
patois, and be comb real estate magnet
ne'er no wing want oof
basic needs - yea content
in due time making pile
moan hee tall as Taj Mahal
kicking back during Lent
gerrymandering convalescent
old age spinning yarns
for modest copayment
total tubular tales with
nary a Harris Boss Tweed stitch of truth!
If it pleases you to hurt
Then, you hurt others too
Your loved ones, your family
And even your neighbors too
Don't be fooled
Hurting yourself is like a magnetic shock wave
You're only hurting yourself?
Not entirely, but you hurt people around
Though life seems so hard
Though enemy seems to increase
Though you grow weary and marred
How about looking unto Jesus
The author and finisher of our faith
According to His greatness and mercies
We shall overcome trials and are blessed
Let's keep the faith, holding fast
Problems you may have?
O. look onto one another near by
They have it too, don't believe me?
Go to a convalescent hospital
Maybe you'll hurt too!
But...
If it pleases you to hurt
Then, you hurt others too
Remember all that time we spent on the back deck
At your parents house.
So very comfortable in that serene kind a way.
On that beautiful day
Late one may
Ill never forget
that sense of togetherness I felt.
My heart melted.
I knew I always wanted to stay,
right here
with you.
A comfort
altogether new
Just as beautiful
at It’s inside point of view.
They seen us and knew!
We where,
the best of friends.
Partners in a way that complements
with such grace.
Beatific, such as this spring breeze,
We cheer the coming of the warm months.
With a bottle of wine or two.
Those conversations I hold so dear.
Crazy
Intellectuals,
all together classy.
I still benefit from the knowledge past to me.
It’s been really hard
Being torn away from this
Knowing it was at the hand of my own demise.
I still love them,
With my convalescent mind.
I heard a haunting ghostly voice
as I lay in my ill sweat soaked convalescent bed say
come walk with me into the corn and into the light
it's now your time to walk with me do not fear
here take my arm I mean you no harm
I cannot reveal what you will see
you must put your trust in me
come walk with me into the corn and into the light
let your field of dreams be realized
discard your fears I will dry your tears
from your long and lonely years
you don't belong here any more
now hold your head up high
sholders back stand up tall
I invite you to walk with me into the corn and into the light
to your destiny a field of dreams
and all your dreams will come true
I promise you
Dennis Davis
As you
go about
your journey
on this planet
you come
across things
you think
are permanent,
will last forever
But nothing does!
Everything fades away,
disintegrates into
the convalescent
extremities of the
duration of survival.
Great empires
are gone.
Life is short.
That's just
the way
it goes.
Hook:
Want that Oscar Myer wiener.
Not a pretender, a winner.
Far from a beginner.
Pure beef, put that ass to sleep.
They say the way to a man
Is his stomach
and he loves to eat.
Daddy loves to eat.
I wanna bring you the world
like the sky brings the rain.
Fire brings flame.
Love brings pain.
Life brings experience.
Listen close so you could hear this.
So you could hear this.
Check it out Daddy.
Like a house that became complete.
With a picket fence.
Like memories of the past.
Cause us to reminisce.
Like adulthood,
comes from adolescence.
Like growing from a youth
into a convalescent.
Like the opposite of sadness
Is fantastic.
Our love is a mystery
like Houdini's magic.
Like most new cars
come from the classics.
Like these words
from my heart
for you to receive this message.
for you to receive this message.