Best Diabetic Poems
Some fudge
Begrudge
Covet
You bet
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest:Footles
1
On St Patrick’s day my score was nine point two.
Maybe I am about to get the regular flu.
In spite of all the tablets I take.
The magic number Six I cannot make.
2
Every night the Insulin counts to twenty six.
Resembling a drug addict going for a fix.
I am told it goes into the cell.
What good it does I cannot really tell.
3
The Pancreas has gone away to sleep.
The reward of all the chocolate now I reap.
A perpetual hostage to tablets and syringe.
Doctor says that nature takes revenge.
4
Every morning at eight the score I keep.
And when it’s high I want to sit and weep.
Would I be better off in not knowing.
And let sugar keep on flowing.
5
It seems to me I am the master of my fate.
At least for diabetes at any rate.
I will still have to measure, measure,measure.
And build in exercise for my leisure.
6
I know a diabetic man who is eighty one.
He still treasures life and has his fun.
In spite of limitations we can go on.
Live,love life and hum our song.
A monkey fell sick of diabetes
To a doctor he went for medical aid
Doctor told him passionately;
“To avoid dying soon, never eat ripe bananas”
Monkey vowed never to eat bananas
On the way he saw ripe bananas and thought;
Doctor told me not to eat bananas- but not to see
and he moved near to see properly.. but…;
Doctor told me not to eat- but not to touch
and he moved near and touched.. but..;
Doctor told me not to eat- but not to smell
and he took the banana and smelt… but…
Doctor told me not to eat- but not to peel
and he peeled off the cover…but…
Doctor told me not to eat -but not to bite
and he opened his mouth and bit…but…!!!?
She found out she was diabetic
And almost died from it
We got her to the hospital
Which we thought it wasn't possible
Shes wearing that gown
And feels a little down
She'll have to change the way she eats
And still needs to get her sleep
A new life in a way
Which we all will have to learn to say
She's seventy two
And she still is trying to shine through
Worried about her medical bill
Which will get paid still
Thankful she's here
To be with us dear
We love you mom
As a new day is dawn
He was
sick of her.
He was
bored
and
restless.
The tramps
at work
stimulated
his thirst
for new
conquests.
He thought
to himself:
This diabetic
is taking up
so much of
my time.
I'm sick of
her whining.
And the needles
she's poking.
God must
be joking.
So he
thought deeply.
About
ridding himself
of someone
so sweetly.
I must
formulate a plan.
It's my
time to shine.
My needs
must be met.
I don't
have time
for this
sickness.
But I
must operate
ever
so sneakily.
Those
vials
in the frig.
Keep
this sicko
alive.
I must
get free.
I have
better prospects.
And better
games to play.
Then an Aha
moment came.
What if I
replace
her insulin
with
salt water
instead.
She'll go into
a coma
with no
one the wiser
And I can play
The greiving
boyfried
at work
and get
sympathy
sex
from the
vulerable
and down
trodden
then when
I catch one
I can
play this
sick game
all over
again
It's a win
win for me
all over
again
What a
plan
I'll impliment
it tomorrow
and I'll
be free
to be
ME
Psychopathic
AND
Unholy
(This is fiction)
YOU ARE RIGHT TO WRITE
I keep all of your letters in one neat pile
They stay on my desk in favor of a file
I keep them like that to remind me of your style
And don’t allow anyone ever to defile your smile
I envision that grin I love which graces your face
As I recall the comfort of your embryonic embrace
A great deal of people say “good things never last”
But please, girl, don’t ever become a part of my past
I am never alone because of the letters you send
And relaxation becomes mine when I read what you’ve penned
Then if missing you begins to hurt too much
I gaze at a photo of you that blesses my hutch
Magically looking at that pile makes me feel better
As I grow more in love with your every letter
The love I feel for you leaves me aghast
So please girl, never become a part of my past
© 2011.…..Poefree (SHE TREATENED TO DENY ME SOMETHING PLEASURABLE IF I DIDN'T
POST THIS POEM)
Soon. My Birthday Candles
This last autumn is constantly milky white or drawn gray hanging down between the trees without an intent to reveal any blue of a sky exists so making ever higher a reach to heaven re-routing confusing
even angels
this last autumn of the present decade of my life when I celebrate longevity along with God my ABBA who carried me here beyond all forecasts for that era when futures for child-diabetics were inevitably
stricken short
but I with my family made an art of survival turning trials into challenges for feats of every fibre questing on the full-sail voyage together more
we made an art of effort of optimism of caring
of aspirations...
none would have believed blowing out these candles marking
six-decades aging after all my beloved had sat around grandma’s
kitchen table with small sweetened-laughs saying “oh Sally...you wil
outlive us all” blowing out candles
with such wishes and exclamations as “...and many more..”
filling the air rejoicing how their delicate child wedged
between life and death went forth with blessed broad smiles
and love-seeded pathways of purpose...
***********. *************. ***********
(c) sally Young eslinger 12/1/2020
Thanks be to God
Diabetic Frozen Things
I eat sugar popsicles in the snow;
I drink sugar hot chocolate with ice on the go;
And sugar now it's cold;
Kool aid with sugar, please;
I don't want no diabetes;
So I lick my sugar spoon;
And run out the sugar room;
Got a tooth ache need to see the sweet dentist soon;
Swish sugar I'm going alone;
Frozen sugar lines on the telephone;
Icicles and sugar in my coffee;
Every one loves stubborn donkeys;
And when my sugar ice cream melted
Café la-de-da
I just suffering from Diabetic Frozen Things
11/01/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Strolling along the tooth-track,
I lose my vibrant way in the *Black Forest.
Jackfruit flesh is tempting.
But there’s a hell beyond the heaven.
I fall into the ravine of fatigue
from the crest of *Mysore Pak.
Kidneys and their cousins wilt.
Drugs devastate my inland.
Sugary desires die before my mouth.
Yet how long do I have to wait,
watching the interplanetary mission
and wondering at the Big Bang?
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
*Black Forest – a chocolate cake
Mysore Pak – an Indian sweet
We knew Trump was purely pathetic;
Also leaping, lewd and lascivious skeptic;
Bizarre;
Should see scar;
He had been overweight and a diabetic.
Jim Horn
A diabetic to his steward
On the table is your sack letter,
Beside my unfinished tea, no better;
Four photocopies of it in my file,
Their original to be collected by you;
Sure evidence that your stewardship was all rubbish
And that, henceforth, I would to you be snobbish.
Your offence was the many sugar cubes in my tea,
For which I had painfully continued to pee;
A bizarre blood sugar level from the lab!
Pictures of my grave finished off with a slab!
Yours was a clever murder move,
My ceaseless tremors there to this prove.
You‘d tried to my door unbolt to an undertaker
And my journey begin back to my maker.
You may now go to my sitting room
For your last wage
But don’t fail to storm my bedroom
For your luggage.
And, please, do forget my clothes in the Laundry,
For even now, they badly sense my quandary.
For me the past six months
has changed me so very much
I've reached what I had dreamed
pounds of weight now I can touch
For me, 12 stone 2 pounds seemed so far
as in years past I ventured to reach
too many chocs were my downfall
now it's only the odd square I breach
That date at the doc to test my blood
way back in winter time was not very sweet
my sugar was way too high for my good
so now must be strict about what I eat
Then I weighed in at 13 stone 6 and a half
so low sugar diet was now truly due
it's amazing how the pounds have shed
so astounding it all becomes true
So now having achieved this mountain
look back with so much wonder
looking to overcome diabetic type 2
knocking it down like mighty thunder
(This is written about when in the past six months since I was diagnosed with diabetes type 2 and Dr put me on a low-sugar diet, showing how good things come from bad things, and now feeling the healthiest I've been in many years.)
We knew Trump was purely pathetic;
Also leaping, lewd and lascivious skeptic;
Bizarre;
Should see scar;
He had been overweight and a diabetic.
Jim Horn
if you have no fath
your soul is free to tack
when you are sick and you just want it to end
look for a good friend
that will help you through thick and thin
you just have to tack it step by step
if you let your self suffer
you'll never get better
when things get tougher
thay can only get better
things happen for a reason
if this dint happen to me where would i be
i refuse to let my self pitty ruined me
i will learn to ignore my disease
but until then i will just be me
When first invited
to The Land of Milk and Honey
where stars at night shone bright
and days there were always sunny
he demurred to go
Abraham was of a mind to politely decline
as wouldn't you know
he was lactose intolerant
and diabetic too so
the alleged Promised Land
would only guarantee
even more misery
but when he repented and relented
as his story unravels
more than 2,200 miles
by ox-cart he then travels
and tho' it's unsure if he found a cure
or the fire of his desire
to fulfill the dream which kept him alive
lo he lived to be an old soul of
one hundred and seventy five