Best Gurney Poems
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
I wrote this non fiction poem
For Debra Jean..
(C)London F. BuSS. 2022
24 PROMISES
Waking up in the arms of fire.
Ashes all around, burning picture frame.
I see nothing, the night is dark as can be.
I look up and see my father crying over me.
At this moment, I'm confused.
"AM I DREAMING!"
"AM I!"
I feel and see the tears falling from his eyes.
Without hearing him talk,
I PANIC ~
~At this moment. I feel my whole world collide~
Trying to talk, he whispers words,
Saying, "It's your mother!"
He mutters, them words I don't want to hear.
"NO DAD DON'T TELL ME!"
"NO DAD DON'T TELL ME!"
My heart drops onto the floor.
One long drop, I can feel everything in me wake up.
My blood is rushing, my bones can't stand still.
These tears, falling from my dad are real.
*I'm not dreaming* ANYMORE!
Without caring to put my shoes on,
I rush into my car and make it to mother's house.
The hours began to drag.
I got to see her lifeless body on the floor,
The paramedics setting her onto a gurney.
I jump on the ambulance,
Yelling at my mother to wake up.
"WAKE UP!"
"WAKE UP!"
She can't hear me,, cause I'm crying.
At this moment, every minute felt like an hour.
**I actually felt eternity, just by holding her hand.**
Arriving at the hospital.
I try to pull myself together.
Now her body is attached to life support.
I'm thinking she will pull through.
She always pulls through.
I closed my eyes, and told God,
I know I don't believe in miracles, nor will I ask for one,
Don't take her today or in that way.
Let her go on her own.
My eyes were close so tight,
God allowed a vision in my mind.
"My mother waiting for me on the other side"
I refused to let them remove her off LIFE SUPPORT.
Leaning over her lifeless body.
I whispered one thing into her ear,
I told her, my son's birthday near.
I told her you never were there for me,
Stay for his birthday, then set yourself free.
Hours, and hours past, she made it the first day.
Another 24 hours past, she stuck around another day.
Another 24 hours past, now it's my son's birthday.
Not another hour past, she decided to go her way.
She left without saying Goodbye...
I cried,
Ever since that day, something inside died.
by;p.d.
MEMORY OF NOTHING
Listen:
Drag branches comeback
Across the forest floor:
Knowledge of the rough¡
At water’s edge
I gather some things up:
“Happy Ending Story”.
We’ve the time to give the Babel Tower
A close reading.
Awful good, Tú
As Roy A. Rappaport’s
Ritual... as Communication and as State.
Our preferences might be
Toward more emphasis
On species places:
Smooth textures of dead wood
Knowledge of our hands on arms
The body-art of ********
Drinking cocoa
And tend to the faith
With a Vampire’s short stick
That smells of infinite urine
As Madonna.
History reveals itself to us
In this way:
Poetry, Tales, Essays are pamphlets
Of impossible interest
Multiplying voices-human, voices-animal
Voices-plant
Voice-life of Earth
As Dan O’Neill’s
Holiday for Cynics.
Look, little one
Courtney Love
We live this close to disaster
There is no turning back
From the tops of the trees
Which are so dense
Almost no sky is visible
Only the odor dilates the nostril
And quickens the heart
On a marijuana tortilla.
The buddhists have been tellig us
That the Self (Ego)
As we conceive of it
Is an illusion.
A good tip
Thinking about Gurney Norman’s
Jack and His Ego.
Is it?
It is that we are of a Time-Sexual
Wherein all species has been joined
To the Wo/Man
Of *****Sapiens
And Life is a single exercise of Cannibals
In constantly elevating towers
Of Bureaucracy.
Nothing in Somethingg
Something in our Nothingness.
Child like Journey
On a gurney.
It’s not funny.
For the money.
Its not phony.
Room for Bunny.
Not be naughty
Must go to potty.
No much folly.
Fell into gully.
Must be worldly.
Were is mommy?
Feel so cuddy.
Gives me plenty.
Full of jelly.
Knows my belly.
It’s not silly.
Brother a Bully.
My noise runny.
My feet muddy.
My friend Holly.
I remember honey.
Makes me jolly.
Like toy trolley.
It wants hilly.
About my tummy.
It’s so bloody.
Feel so weakly.
I am Sleepy.
Were my buddy.
Would be lovely…
E_ emotinal outburst
M_ mentally decompensated
E_ emtionally driven
R_ room 21
G_ gurney
E_ enter the white coat
N_ nurse with pills
C_ Cody already passed out asleep
Y_ youthful love gone bad
R_ restraint bed
O_ open door _guards
O_ opportunity for change
M_ mental health gone bad~tragic
(Spent the day at the emergency
room with Cody..They sent him
to a crisis center...Here we go
again with mental health visits
and pills..)
With their last goodbyes, they walked away
Disappearing in the early morning light
Glaring, the pedantic clock leads the way
Warm, wrapped in a gauzy cocoon, tight
Blissfully euphoric, sedated, waning sight
Whizzing on a gurney, through silent halls
Wide-eyed doors open to a curious fishbowl of faces
Swimming in a sea of floating green tiled walls
My consciousness, serenely traveling into nameless spaces
Buoyantly riding in a tunnel of luminous cloudy embraces
Peace and tranquility arrested the restless soul in me
Immersed in the warmth and gift from above
In a blinding light, he stepped forward, so I could see …
My time had not yet come; these words, He spoke with love
Returning me on the wings of a mourning dove
Faded voices, I could hear
The haunting cries of babies born today
My eyes filled with regretful tears
Life on Earth I must live, vowing not to stray
Until my work is done and He calls me home to stay.
Date: April 29, 2022
For: Near Death Experience Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 6th in contest
READY? GO!
Ready?
GO!
Round the ramp and up we go
Hold it, wall, stop! Slow!
This is not fair, you have
A motor in there
I have to use my hands!
Watch out, where that gurney stands?
Don’s crash into it, ouch, it lands
On top of me, poor skinny guy
You shut up, lift me, try!
Man, some race this is, don’t laugh,
Sitting here against the wall
You go and call a nurse, be quick
I think I’m going to be sick.
No more racing? To my room?
Ohhh, the doom and gloom!
That's it for today, my friend
Don’t you snicker, it’s not the end!
I’ll get you, some day
Not today, but certainly not far away!
exposed - opened my eyes to the same old-same old,
cold, peaceful gurney
The family all gathered to consort
as the doctors turned off all life supports.
They moistened her lips with a lollipop.
Shortly after her breathing stopped.
She looked at peace, her eyes fixed far away,
not a trace of pain on her face that day..
She lingered for a farewell kiss,
was so well loved, would be sorely missed.
Hovering above her vessel so worn, aware
of their wails as they deeply mourned.
The room now empty, absolutely stark,
her lifeless body alone in the dark..
She sensed a bright light and embraced
her journey as the hospital staff
placed her body on the gurney..
Enjoy being young, the downward
rush of seeming omnipotence; too
soon the flow, inevitably will slow,
and then, the upstream paddle –
enjoy being moist and juiced...
before the creak and the rattle –
although youth may seem an
unfair battle at times, with challenges
insurmountable, often one pleading
for a divine arbiter, old-age reveals
the true tensile of character – and
the worth of a trying journey before the
welcoming gurney –
I sent my verse into a flying hearse,
waved goodbye, with scented roses; forgot
her entirely; there was no doc or nurse
that could resurrect; she died a mugshot.
She was vile, beyond approach, not worthy.
Her cruel nuances and fingernail drag
across chalkboard, appalling; her gurney
rolled into the dusk; wearing a toe tag.
Hearse accompanied by buzzards, fat ones.
Hissing-lightning tires screeched on bleakest clouds.
Procession of words, joyful sunshine shuns.
Shovelfuls of primordial ooze, shrouds.
I sent my verse into a flying hearse,
waved goodbye, with scented roses; forgot
§ her entirely §
E nter the waiting chamber
M oments seem like hours
E veryone stays away
R est on the gurney
G host of those that died here
E nter and brush the curtains
N ow here then gone
C ause that is all that one sees
Y earning to get answers
R emove to x-ray
O perative answers will come
O pen to options
M aybe
(I wrote this awhile back
nothing new has happened.)
Death Penalty
Sonny Johnson’s home was on the street
Sharing space with rats who nibbled at his feet
Until he moved his blanket to the county jail
‘Cause someone said he stabbed a white female
He faced the court without a scrap of money
So no lawyer of renown defended Sonny
A jury found him guilty in two hours
And no one wondered if the fault was his or ours
No delays or stays of execution
How sweet they are, revenge and retribution
A pork chop and beans sat cooling in a bowl
While a portly priest sanctified Sonny’s soul
They strapped him to a gurney hard and fast
Two witnesses looked away, eyes downcast
Beads of sweat on Sonny’s forehead glistened
“Ain’t done the deed; how come y’all don’t listen?”
Sonny shuddered once before his heart stopped beating
Nary a soul mourned his tragic life so fleeting
With other poor men, they put him in the ground
And no stone marker graced his burial mound
Sonny’s fate isn’t hard to justify
The Holy Book supports an eye for an eye
Does anyone care how many men are taken
With the chilling chance that we may be mistaken?
The mountain, it was steep.
The snow was very deep.
Caused involuntary “ahs”
from anyone who saw.
To get up to the top
was not some little hop.
It took tram, chair and poma
to tackle that big momma.
To start from the summit,
a near vertical plummet,
took the heart of a lion,
and left most people cryin’.
He checks skis, boots and poles,
but really he just knows,
he’s putting off the trauma,
the approaching descent drama.
It’s really exhilarating.
His heart is fibrillating.
He sucks up, screams and GOES,
and attacks the chest-deep snow.
It’s man against the mountain.
On his wits he is a countin’,
for to miss one little turn,
means a faceload full of burn.
He turns, he slips, he sails.
It seems he never fails,
to again make it down,
to that quaint little town.
With heart so pure and strong,
it doesn’t take too long.
He’ll never give up the fight
to conquer fields of white.
He goes again, again
The battle he does win
between the fields of snow
and our mighty hero.
The day comes to an end.
Misfortunes do portend.
Our hero’s not come in –
Good god, what’s happenin’?
A cry goes through the town.
Our hero has gone down.
The patrolman are a scurryin’.
The crowds they are a worryin’.
My gosh, good god, oh my
catch a glimpse as he goes by.
Our hero’s on a gurney.
Why’s he on this journey?
Is he hurt – did he crash?
His head a tree did bash?
Please say it isn’t so
Come on, we gotta know.
Speculation runs a flutter.
The crowds they stand and mutter,
with faces stained by tear,
they say “Please help us here”.
The data is a mess.
His friends they won’t confess.
So people stand and stare
at their seeming lack of care.
On his buds there is no frown -
just big smiles all around.
They don’t understand the cries -
he merely thrashed his thighs.
Late at night
They were all alone
Getting in their car
Ready to go home
One rifle, two cries
One dead, one hospitalized
Little girl on a gurney, trembling knees
Prays to God, begging please
"I love my mom don't take her, no!"
"If you take her, with her please let me go."
Angel girl lost her wings
Through her troubled years
Beautiful kid, lost her soul
Where did that sweet little girl go?
Boys and drugs corrupted her heart
What was bright and innocent, now turned dark
Many attempts in her short time
Still wishing that shot had took her life
Drunk and unsteady
Angel girl was all alone
She got in her car
Heading for "home"
Faster and faster
High from any dreams
When she crashed, late that night
No one heard her screams
Welcoming arms embraced her
She finally made it back to her home
God gave back the wings to his little girl
The one he's loved and always known