Best Diagnosing Poems
Thoughts melt and distil under a green/blue flame,
Swirling down, separated out and mixed.
If you’ve seen it, it’s broken;
If you’ve heard it, it’s shredded;
If you’ve read it, it’s rewritten.
It's really quite unlikely to be fixed.
You’re cutting up holiday snaps
and pasting them onto card.
And you’re scrambling madly
to hide the mess on the floor
As your mum yells for cleanliness
From behind your bedroom door.
3001 puzzle pieces and you’re jamming them together,
No wonder your imagination is at the end of its tether.
You’ve got two pieces that are sun-kissed clouds
“What comes… what comes next?”
You’ve got two roots in the soil
“What comes… what comes next?”
Your mother is sitting in the hall
With a scarf tied round her neck,
Her back pressed up against the wall
As she deals the jigsaw deck.
3001 pieces in her hands,
Mixed with childhood drawings
And grains of sand.
She lays out seven in a line,
Which you place between the two and two.
“Oh, but that and that won’t rhyme!”
“Don’t you think that this one will just do?”
And your father’s disapproving in the kitchen,
“You don’t need no occult nonsense,
Or a system to order out your brain”
He just stands there “focussed”
Over a pot on a blue/green flame,
Subconsciously mumbling while stooped,
“Look here Son, look, I’m making poa-tery soup.”
But you would never tell him that,
Just like you’ll never be finished, ever.
No-one ever is
Even if they know they’re doing it or not.
My grandfather died last week,
The sourest stuck-in-a-rut-of-a-man
That you’re ever going to meet.
The diagnosing doctors were in for a treat.
They said that there was something wrong there,
Something wrong with his brain,
That there was something strange there
Fundamentally, main.
They said that he died - after scans - in a cubicle stall,
When his brain haemorrhaged and cracked open,
And jigsaw pieces piled up against the wall.
Categories:
diagnosing, allegory, childhood, imagination, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
I did not know then what gods there were
And was never concerned or thought about
But I do know for certain now
He can come to us to any form.
I had been attacked by the dragon “cancer”
Threatening to take away *my talent to speak.
I heard his voice, “Come unto me and rest”
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down thy
Head upon my lap, don’t be sad or downcast”.
I did not see him positively in any of his form
But I did feel him in a divine way never felt before.
He came to me as a doctor diagnosing earlier
Giving many years to live and roam the world over
To see and to play with my grand children
As if that’s not all, shortly with great grand children.
That was the day He gave me the perfect health
And relief from suffering, turmoil and labor.
*• Cancer of the Vocal Chords ( in 1994)
+++
January 30, 2015
Second Place win
Contest: This is the day the Lord gave
Categories:
diagnosing, god, inspiration, thanksgiving,
Form:
Free verse
I've met doctors who have played the know it all role,
Who thought they knew all there was to know,
To listen to their hearts seemed a waste of their time,
Diagnosing a persons heart without even really hearing their cries,
This behavior disturbed me to no end,
Not wanting to share because of this attitude, can you really blame them,
They've already been labeled so why even try,
To take the time to look into their eyes,
To get to know them and be their friend,
Was not a part of their job description,
I would NEVER want that prestigious degree,
Thanks,,but NO THANKS, I'll wash dishes gratefully,
All the money in the world can't buy,
The love that I saw in their eyes,
When I look back to when I wanted to go back to college,
To get paid for my passion, I don't think I would want it!
Categories:
diagnosing, absence, education, graduate, love,
Form:
Light Verse
Mind games with my shrink.
Only giving me seconds to think.
His or my sanity on the brink.
Telling him what he wants to hear.
So these psychotic thoughts don't interfere.
I love a profession where all you do is ask questions.
I see your obsession.
Diagnosing patients.
With the power of suggestion.
Mocking once again.
Your profession.
So continue with your notes and antidotes.
On how to fix a fairy tale gone wrong.
So incarcerate me to the nearest psych ward.
At least with the nuts I won't be bored.
Your heart is in the right place but your dealing with a head case.
Categories:
diagnosing, funny, me,
Form:
Lyric
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:
diagnosing, books, internet, sick,
Form:
Free verse
Stress fractures
nerves worried faces
diagnosing ourselves
News bad good and bad flow from each
room
tears joy anxiety glee
Surgeons nurses physicians assistants
in out Xray MRI electro cardiogram
mumbles groans laughs
pains worries
anti-inflammatory analgesic ablation
bedside manner compassion
stoic silence brave exterior
resilient fragile young old
tired of hurting hurting tired
sterile antiseptic
STAT
replacement rehab rejuvenate rectify
Why me
biohazard no trash
bad magazines charts
forms forms forms
Hipa compliance
Hip replacement
shoulder pain
smolders
code blue code black
co-pay
Categories:
diagnosing, angst, confusion, health
Form:
Free verse
Just a small but nagging pain
that wouldn’t go away,
but ‘she’ll be right’- so I thought,
until my judgment day.
My judgment day was not the end;
no not eternal life,
it was the day I’m diagnosed
to mention I’m in strife.
Beneath the surface questions rise.
Could I be dying? Will I live?
As I consider what may be,
and all is negative.
And negative I’m told is bad,
but how else can I feel!
I’m diagnosed - but deep inside,
I don’t believe it’s real.
And yet the folk I run beside
who know my feeling well,
forever talk the positive …
dismissing what is hell.
And as each day is passing by
since diagnosing took my breath.
The best advice I have so far -
is diagnosis isn’t death!
Categories:
diagnosing, fear, health,
Form:
Rhyme
Tight spaced enclosure
Swelling of my own inner expense
A feeling as if it is over it is over
What else is there to give?
Living as though incapuslated
Fearful of the future for that has gone cold
Never thought of usefulness until my day of old
Memories and recollection of a deep
Meaning of expression and pure being
Wrapped inside consumed by my mind
Outlet I find you my outlet I chose to write
Sanctuary for temporary relief to a proper state
Mindset and value a capsule never can replace
Balance improperly diagnosing the levels measuring up
Downward a spiral of nothing works ship has sunk
Try again another new instead of believing the strength he bestowed upon you
Faithfully finding and guided me back
To a place where my capsule may be a healthy outlet
I repeat what this is to me
A special way I am comfortable to outwardly release
Trauma pain and loss of what once was
My confidence and security of safety from them
Those whom are more large than I
More than just by size by ever building lies
This place they have boxed the design into lines
A captured beauty essence that has gone frail to wither and die
I try to water mine every morning
In the belljar where my heart is kept in my chest saved from all the rest
Protected shell aware and walled up existence a hell when bottled up
Tending to the watery grave at the center of that spot
A dark place a hole never fills or goes
No matter how much I attempt to hide this truth
My heart capsule has more missing less to lose
Which is why I try to tend and to care
For myself for me I chose this method to share
Categories:
diagnosing, abuse, health, heart, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
Before diagnosing yourself with low self esteem
or maybe possibly with depression,
first make sure that you're not surrounded by assholes.
They can cause you to display the very same symptoms.
Categories:
diagnosing, people,
Form:
Rhyme
I am in awe of my sisters
nieces
writers, poets, songwriters, musicians
physicians
so creative every way
sewing cooking writing publishing, diagnosing curing
moving the world in a better way
unafraid of a sewing machind or a rejection letter
they move on
medical school in her 30's
two pubished novels
designs stationary
designs baby clothes
writes, travels, performs her own songs
completely unafraid
throwing themselves
into their lives.
Categories:
diagnosing,
Form:
Smoothly Be Coasting
If your imagination I was to go beyond,
Would of my poems you still be fond
Even though feeble found myself being
Your made my poem well worth reading.
And if my kind soul you shall sustain
Each and all of my poems will remain
Deep in your adorable heart and one day
Come out to be read they will find a way.
Through my poems continue to plow through
And eventually now knowing how great you
Are at reading my poems and diagnosing
Down hill writing poems will smoothly be coasting.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
PS. For my new readers whose comments
I love so much.
Categories:
diagnosing, encouraging,
Form:
Couplet
If you had one year of love,
and then you had to say adios,
should you be glad or morose?
Sure, if it ends, it’s not what I’d hoped,
we just weren’t destined to be betrothed.
We had fun, we were close and jocose,
we snogged until we practically choked,
and we did ALL the fun things that were gross,
but our forte was that we felt safe, I suppose.
Now, I’m not saying it’s over, but I tend to diagnose things
and while I wouldn’t say that we love overdosed,
I would guess that we’ve shared more love than most.
Categories:
diagnosing, addiction, boyfriend, friendship, funny
Form:
Rhyme
She wants words?
Romantic words to squeeze out a smile from her heart,
And diagnose the functioning of her left ventricle?
How about we nail her to her own cross?
Ropes secured,tight and stronger than her teeth;
We'll tie round her limbs like a frog made ready for an experiment;
We will need a blindfold to send her into a dark moment,
Where,her mind can skip a bit to worlds unknown and afar;
A burning bush without smoke she will see-
A replay of the Exodus Moses' scene;
But then,the drumming within those flames and the chanting and rejoicing;
And the cry of cows and goats under slaughter,
More like that of her mother while Olliver's head got stuck in between her legs;
And finally,the smell of blood! Fresh,human blood dripping from her head,
Like a drill had been made into her skull like a water pump;
The shower with blood,a dressing for sacrifice!
And the taste of fresh human blood,
Disgusting that the same flows within her!
Still trapped in the worlds unknown and afar,
She screams and screams,
Mummy,mummy,mummy!
But her mother did not travel with her;
Her chest gets stuffed up like a congested nose in a cold;
And the pounding of her heart alerts the universe she's in danger
For it shakes the ground like an earthquake,
And before we sink into the earth with her in our hands,
Loose like untethered goats,we set her free from the terrific prank!
To go out and testify,
That romance isn't the only marker for diagnosing heart failure,
But also four letters used to make one word,
FEAR,
The theme around which nightmares form,
The major weakness of man, devil's tool!
Categories:
diagnosing, anxiety, fear,
Form:
Free verse
Do you think we’re the sort of girls to sit around on a Sunday night?
EAH (loud buzzer sound) you’d be wrong!!
What’s the opposite of seasonal depression - seasonal euphoria?
I’m self-diagnosing here, but I think I’ve got it.
I have all the symptoms:
Excessive happiness: a level of joy statistically improbable.
Compulsive smiling: grinning under the most mundane circumstances.
Irrational optimism: the feeling everything will turn out all right.
Compulsive socializing: relentlessly engaging in parties and outings.
Impulsive behavior: capricious decisions that lead to.. stuff.
Difficulty focusing: trouble concentrating on ‘serious subjects.’
Increased appetites: A craving for.. everything fun.
I have to call it. The symptoms are limpid, my diagnosis is:
Summer, seasonal euphoria, and it feels pretty good.
.
.
Songs for this:
Rooftop by Kelly Jones
The Game of Love by Katrina & the Waves
DeadBeat Club by The B-52s
Categories:
diagnosing, friendship, fun, happy, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Obviously it is apparent he said.
Vitally clear.
Plain to see.
What is? I asked him.
That child is emotionally disturbed, he announced.
I was shocked, walking away quickly.
I am not qualified to diagnose
And yet he is?
And with confidence.
Who? You ask.
Bag boy at the grocery store.
Sixteen knows everything though.
I had almost forgotten that.
I smiled, remembering, turned and waved.
But he was in the throes of diagnosing another child.
Categories:
diagnosing, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Narrative