Best Diagnoses Poems


My Little Soldier Boy

Gary, you are my little soldier boy,
who died on Veteran's Day. ('83)
My sunny, golden-haired soldier boy,
that I still miss in every way.

You had just turned 13,
getting interested in girls.
When CF took you from me,
my heart, like a flag, unfurled.

You fought CF with every breath.
For 13 years you tried.
And four lung collapses later,
after each one, I said, 
"Son, you will survive."
Oh, how I lied!

Now, no more hugs and kisses,
No more birthday wishes,
I watched you go
and please God know,
Heaven, receive my treasure.


Author Note:  This poem was written in memory of my son, Gary,
who died of Cystic Fibrosis at 13, in 1983.  I honor my soldier who so valiantly
fought his fight on the battlefield of a life threatening lung disease, which fills the lungs with sticky mucus and makes it difficult to breathe. With all CF children, 
they struggle with every breath they take just to breathe! My son eventually 
started to have lung collapses. He had four before the last one took his young life  on Veteran's Day weekend in 1983..(Read my poem "A rainbow Glitters") 

I wouldn't be a poet today, if not for my son. He was diagnoses at age three.
As I sat by his hospital bed crying, I reached into my purse for a tissue, but 
instead, I pulled out a pen. I thought to myself, "Ok, God, I get the message.
You want me to write and not cry." So I wrote my first poem that night, "Not 
MY Son!"  Which eventually got published in Elizabeth Kubler Ross' Book "On Children and Death." Later, I wrote humorous poems to entertain my son, who
was often to sick to go to school.  And I'm still writing my poems today.
Categories: diagnoses, child, death, remember, boy,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Nurse Acrostic

N	Naturally caring.
U	Understanding and Kind.
R	Realistically diagnoses
S	Sees things others miss
E	Enthusiastic about helping people
Categories: diagnoses, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Acrostic

Her Name Is Poverty

She tells me, 
Of the belt of hunger that clings to her waist, 
Of how it's only ever loosened by rampaging and rummaging through waste.

She tells me,
How her journey through payments, predicaments and pavements make her tire,
How her cracked feet and wracked heart are passed by Tyre after Tyre.

She tells me, 
About the intricate diagnoses and prognoses that riddle her every fiber, vessel and vein, 
About the cardboard pleas and pleads that have all been in vain.

She tells me,
That this is the existence her weeping womb has bred,
That her hope for her successors is that they may succeed her in the fight for bread.

She tells me,
Her name is poverty.
Do you remember her?
Categories: diagnoses, loss, social, sympathy, riddle,
Form: Alliteration

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member 'excellence' That's Mediocrity

We all pay for dumbing down
  educational standards all around
from thriving metropolis to sleepy small town

Incompetency reigns throughout customer service
  Doctors' inaccurate diagnoses make patients nervous
Corporation mission statements, worthless lip service

It starts in the classroom, where teachers won't demand
  if you want to say something, first raise your hand
Then later on, when rampant cheating's ignored
  which leads to society's ox getting gored

So, let's stand up to teacher union's bureaucracy
  Their idea of excellence - in truth, mediocrity
Insist on high standards, from grade one through university
  and say No! to preference based on 'diversity'
Categories: diagnoses, america, betrayal, education,
Form: Rhyme

Ballad of Web Md

Here is the ballad of Web MD,
Self-diagnosing terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

Let's do our own diagnosis,
Teach yourself self-hypnosis,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

Let's sing our ballad of Web MD,
Sure we've got terminal maladies,
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond.

That was the ballad of Web MD,
What are today's self-diagnoses?
My fatal afflictions linger on,
I'm buying more medical texts from Fishpond!
Categories: diagnoses, books, internet, sick,
Form: Free verse

Belly Boobs

I have new boobs, AKA ' belly boobs 'if you will
Diseased ones whacked off, belly fat fill the void
Would really rather have had hemorrhoids
But that wasn't my reality, no triviality
for sure
Got a great deal though
Two for one, cancer gone and tummy tuck
Found the best plastic surgeon by luck 
actually he found me
Post op, proud surgeon praised his work
They look amazing, I did a great job
You could wear a bikini with that tummy so tiny
Ahh---no
You would think if you had a belly ache it would be in your boobs
but it's not
You could get stabbed with a pencil or get drawn on with stencils
But at least something is there to give some shape
An absolute TEN I would rate
They're kinda lumpy and bumpy
but help me not look too frumpy or dumpy
in my clothes
No more ultrasounds or thoughts abound
of careless cells placing one in peril 
Or biopsies or missed diagnoses
Leading to destruction then autopsy
Disease free--YIPPEE !!
Categories: diagnoses, cancer, emotions,
Form: Rhyme


Suicide Survives

Fictitious families
Dysfunctional means
Compromised children
Capricious teens

Serrated self-loathing
Culling scarred skin
Dapper diagnoses
Dulling depression’s din

Psychotropic pulses
Sedentary screams 
Subjugated subjects
Catharsis of dreams

Dusk dawning
In convenience’s vanity
Vociferous voices
Pilfering sedated sanity

Slurred smiles
Lithium lies
Hanging from vestiges
Suicide survives
Categories: diagnoses, childhood, death, family, health,
Form: Quatrain

Insane

There is an electricity in the air tonight
Storm clouds hover above
A wicked calmness lurks around
Something evil from the spawn of hell to come

The quietness is crazy
Like nothing ever heard
It deafens your eardrums
Without making one sound

The hair on your arms
And the back of your neck
Stands up straight from
Something cold and unseen

Pins and needles
Scratches and bites
Take over your flesh
You can't see why there's no light

Anticipation it rises 
Much to your surprise
You just want to leave this place
You just want to run

Your body it's frozen
You can't move an inch
Your heart you can hear it
BEAT BEAT BEAT BEAT

Now comes the sweating
Your muscles they shake
Trembling uncontrollably
You feel you could faint

Your vision it's tunneling
You start to see little stars
Suddenly it's lights out
You've just hit the floor

You wake up in a strange place
All strapped to the bed
The doctors they come in
They've brought you your meds

Insane is the diagnoses
They say you need rest
But sleeping is when your most valnerable
To your demons within
Categories: diagnoses, allusion, conflict, crazy, dark,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Hyperchondria

somethin' ain't right
somethin' ain't cool
my head's poundin' hot
need ta see somebody who'll

be able to give me a diagnoses,
to tell me my likely prognosis
'cause I jus' don't know what to do, 
I think I got the subliminal flu

below the threshold of perception
I'm chilled hot an' shakin' over
I think I've contracted self-deception
moreover, I'm sure I've got overexposure

I can't sleep, I obviously can't dream
my palms are sweatin' wet 'n' sticky
ain't nothin' like what it really seems
my mind, my brain, my god! I'm sickly!!

my chest is palpitatin'
my eyelids are justa flutterin'
the whole damn thing's so aggravatin'
I wish I could jus' stop this sufferin'

you think "it's all in my head"
and I hope that you'd be right
'cause if it moves into my heart
I'll be dead before midnight

"breathe" I tell myself, "jus' breathe"
it'll be alright if ya just chill it
just fall in bed or jus' crawl underneath
better thrown for a loop than thrown for a fit

Ahhhh, now -- inhale -- breathe again
that's better, s l o w e r...ok now
- sometimes bein' me is just a bane
but thanks, I'm better, recoupin' somehow

I'm gettin' back from this virile attack

© Goode Guy 2013-01-22

yeah I know it's spell'd "hypochondria"...
© Goode Guy  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: diagnoses, angst, health, me, me,
Form: Rhyme

Emergency

The meaning of “emergency”
Should not require discussion.
Ignoring one, you’d think, would have
An instant repercussion.

Today, though, some “emergencies”
Are not what we once thought.
A hospital ER is filled
With those where scrips are sought…

Or diagnoses which, before,
The office of a doc
Would be the place where patients
With a flu would likely flock.

The government “emergency”
Appears to me the same,
A non-dire situation
Called such merely to inflame.

A punishment is possible
For dialing 9-1-1
Reporting an “emergency”
When clearly, there is none.

The time has come for pols to act
With conscience as their guide,
Before a true emergency
The people will provide.
Categories: diagnoses, words,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Maladies

I don't even think about my Arthritis,
Since it was eclipsed by the pain of Bursitis;
And even that barely rates a mention,
Since my neuralgia over rides it's retention.

My fallen arches I barely notice,
Since the varicose veins in my legs diagnoses,
The reason I reach for a sleeping pill,
When I get off my feet and my legs won't be still.

Whenever I find a new pain it's a blessing,
Takes my mind off the other things I've been addressing.
Seems the stiffness and pains of old age are upon me.
I'm just not the spritely young thing that I used to be.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: diagnoses, old, pain,
Form: Quatrain

Anxiety

For my free thought anxiety,
I do like reading Web MD,
For medical catastrophes, 
But what to do, in reality,
Send them off to a good G.P.,
For accurate diagnoses,
Then stop reading Web MD!
Categories: diagnoses, anxiety, fun, humor,
Form: Free verse

Brown Dog

He’s a brown dog conditioned
in chains.
He lives with a castrated desire. 

His urges are groomed. To be
gentle, he
must be docile. His fangs sink

into the flesh in a red China 
plate. He
sucks on a daydream. Fetters

are unfastened in the dark.
Yet he 
can’t chase that street . 

There’s an ID tag attached to 
his neck.
Sincerity is a strain. Even a 

Norway rat scratches his sleep. 
He can 
lunge, snarl, yap, and is proud

of his vigour. But all are transient
illusions. His
hind legs swell horribly. A vet 

diagnoses an incurable fate.
Heart-worms of 
despair spread in rapidly.

Master shuts gate on his face,
not paying
any gratuity. Wisdom eyes 

open in his sultry brain. 
Whining is 
in vain before iron bars. 

He deciphers nonsensical 
side of  
barking. Dropping past litter  

in the doghouse,  he limps
away through 
experience like an ascetic. 

First printed in The Literary Hatchet
Categories: diagnoses, dog,
Form: Free verse

The Pair' a Docs

these well schooled
and vastly trained minds
do confuse me so, somehow...
with their duel diagnoses,
I finally had to vow

to take their conclusions,
with several grains of salt
some seem so ludicrous
 not worth to put in my mind's vault

one said I'd be dead soon,
one said that I would last,
he gave me five-to ten years
to him, so simply my life was cast

I could not but help to smile,
these nerdy brains of high grade steel...
so casual and flippant their style
did they think how I might feel?

so I asked for a lolly-pop
a staple for children 
in my younger day
not that I wanted to lick it
well, this is hard to say....
I had plans for where to stick it,
so it'd never see the light of day.
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: diagnoses, caregiving, confusion, death, funny,
Form: Burlesque

It Doth Not Yet Appear

Problems, pressures, pains, hidden hurts and annoyances arise...
Good indicators of abnormalities in normal bodies...
Diseases discovered by the doctor's diagnoses...
Categories: diagnoses, angst, confusion, health, life,
Form: Sijo
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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