Best Hospital Poems
dadgum doctors, heads up their butts
poking, prodding, pricking skin
neurologist a psychopath
gets pleasure as electric volts pass through my body
family doctor showed little concern
made me paranoid about irregular heartbeat
EKG failed to determine cause
left me more in doubt than at ease
dentist like a character from Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man”
the more pain inflicted
the more he rejoiced
deep root cleaning caused severe infection
bloodwork done by Vampira clones
labs filled with tubes and needles
results not shared with me
yet I footed the bill
optometrist an Oriental who moved so fast
didn’t care if the prescribed glasses worked
boo on you, dang aristocrats
waving your credentials
nurses so slow to respond
MRI promised on CD, but couldn’t be obtained
just like the blood tests, needed a “report”
doctors driving me insane
each should share my mental hospital bills
*Based on ongoing health tests and written for PD’s contest. Assignment Free Verse, 25 lines, category slam, sad and educational, title: Mental Hospital Bills
FROM A HOSPITAL BED
Wordancer
Even if I’m dizzy with an aching head,
I must not disturb the others in the beds
In this hospital ward where not much is said
For fear of making a fuss.
It’s not much fun with nothing to do
Can’t even get up to go to the Loo
The doctors come, and ask, ‘How are you?’
It’s hard to tell them which is worse
Visiting hours and here’s Dad and Mum
Who immediately asks me why I’m so glum.
I tell them, ‘The others had ice-cream, but I got none,
And, if it was you Dad; you’d curse!’
Patting my hand, Mum says, ‘It’s all right,’
And Dad says, ‘You might get some tonight,
Cos you’re looking better, you’re not so white,
I’ll go over and ask that nurse.’
Back he comes grinning down the ward,
And sits back in the chair without a word,
To Mum he whispers so he can’t be heard
Then his eyes meet mine, his lips are pursed.
The doors swing open; a nurse comes through,
Carrying a tray and says, ‘This is for you,
You can have some now you are healing like new,
To Mum, Dad says, ‘We’ll cancel the hearse!’
I’ve broken no bones, the x-rays prove,
But there’ll be a scar and a slight groove
Left from the fencepost that failed to move
When I fell on it, off my horse
With an arm in a sling and one foot on the ground,
The other in plaster and my head bandaged round,
I’m going home soon, and my horse has been found
Across the river, but he’s none the worst.
It’s easy to laugh with no aching head
And it doesn’t disturb the others in beds
‘There is no need to fear,’ as everyone says,
‘Just ring the bell for the nurse!’
I sit with the wall against my back. The wall refuses to move despite endless requests.
The door opens and closes its mouth, it wishes to say something, but nothing comes of it, only its letterbox chatters ceaselessly and without any deep meaning to it, drops hints every now and then.
The wall is annoyed with the door, but I am fed up with the noise. I stand to try and look out the window, but...
This place hushed in shadow. If only I can remember where I went this night, they did throw me in, away from light.
I roll up the walls like a Persian rug, smother the clatter of the metallic letterbox that tries to say goodbye in a thousand words. I hear its muffled apologies. I see a hundred neatly white, folded paper sheets fall at my feet, covered in coloured sentences.
I throw shadows at the wall, words at the door, colours at the ceiling; demons increase my estrangement in the small room, then the walls suddenly turn soft and white, my arms are bound behind my back.
Fog dissolves in faithful whispers. Demons grow faces and white clothes. Mouths with broad smiles talk in tongues (heard, understood), carry syringes and multi-coloured pills.
And day begins.
***
May 1, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Hospitals are designed
(a) to make you appreciate your bed at home
(b) to prompt many unanswerable questions
(c) to facilitate smooth patient care
(d) to never complain about your wife’s cooking again
Referrals to a psychiatrist are made when
(a) you become catatonic after having no sleep for a week
(b) after complaining about a noisy roommate you start convulsing with frustration
(c) you ask the nurse for a sleeping aid and she brings
warm milk
(d) You are all set for discharge but the Dr is delayed in surgery all day
Reflecting on a hospital stay makes you
(a) wonder how you survived the long nights
(b) vow never to eat chicken broth again
(c) appreciate there are no drafts behind when you get up for a walk
(d) note how quiet the house really is
Don’t you remember, love, how we danced that first night;
beneath the sun’s rays, toes dipping in the cooling sand,
to the tune of our favorite song –
with me humming the best I could –
(I sounded terrible, but you told me I sounded divine, remember?)
while falling all over myself, and your delicate feet;
and you, trying so hard not to laugh as I made such a fool of myself!
Did you ever think we would go
from being love-sick teenagers dancing on the beach,
to a couple of old-timers reminiscing
about our best years – our long ago days together?
Honey?
Sweetheart, please…
If there is any part of that teenage girl
left within that beautiful head of yours…please;
please, just look in my eyes as you once did…
look at me, sweetheart…
Don’t you remember?
My love, do you hear?
They’re playing our favorite song…
*Inspired by Izzy Gumbo's Solfege Contest
I really hope I did this right! :)
I was working for John Arnold fitting out some shower screens.
"Make sure you're wearing armored pants" had me wonder what he means.
Then he handed me an order form; John Booth’s house was my trip.
‘Boothys’ bloody heeler dog snuck up behind and gave a nip.
I screamed out "You flamin’ mongrel!" My tools flew into the air.
‘Boothy’ stood at the door and grinned at my immediate despair.
I quickly lifted up my pants and blood was flowing everywhere.
"I'll ring the hospital” he said - “Now you get on over there".
Sitting in outpatients waiting for a doctor to be free,
a nurse said I could be an hour. That really didn't suit me.
I wandered past the wards and said g'day to those upon their own,
then started yarning with an old bloke who also was alone.
He told me of his troubles, and all the pills he had to take;
on how he had trouble eating. How he yearned for a steak,
'cause now he's old and toothless; only soft foods tasting great,
then uttered "Eat these roasted almonds on this plate."
I gorged on them; they're beautiful, and they had that smoky taste.
He said "Go on and eat the lot, they'll only go to waste"
And so I did; fifty or more, then thanked him and said good-bye.
Walked back to the outpatients where the nurse came to my side.
"Where have you been?" she’s asking me, "The doc’s been calling you.
We thought you must have got impatient and decided to shoot through."
"Oh no" I said, "I’ve been yarning with an old bloke while I wait,
and I ate all his roasted almonds that he offered on a plate."
The nurse looked at me; her face went pale; like in a state of shock.
"You didn't eat them did you?" I said to her "Of course - why not?"
"His 'rellies' bring them weekly; they think he loves their little treat.
The chocolate ‘round them yes he does - those almonds he can't eat."
I'm going to the hospital again.
I'll see some new and old friends.
The doctor must like me for he likes to see me,
At least once a year to attend,
To matters concerning my throat.
Seems it slowly constricts and I choke.
Food sticks in my throat, I strangle and choke,
It's a chore just to eat that's no joke.
But it's only day surgery you see.
By noon they will soon set me free.
We'll go out to eat, my family and me,
I can order whatever I please.
There'll be no soup du jour for I've had the cure.
I can eat whatever I see.
For one year it's just great, I can fill up my plate.
Till it happens again I'll feel free.
Hey Tom, you look well cared for and well fed,
Sure you longed to sleep in your own bed,
You must've had pain, hope they spoiled you,
More medication, preferred a whiskey or two,
Which nurse did you like best, which one a dread.
Dusk was growing into the night.
She moaned in pain and boredom.
She looked upwards towards the window.
Seemed dirty, she thought.
Headstrong, she turned on her side.
In a sitting position, she clutched the rod
Which supplied her with some drip.
Nausea gripped her, like seasickness.
She rested for a while but soon
She gripped the rod and stood up.
She felt tired but was as always headstrong.
Slowly she plodded towards the window.
How beautiful were the stars shining afar!
Still, dizziness took hold of her
Till she fell unconscious on the floor
Though she smiled in happiness.
Two nurses realised something was wrong
And came into the hospital room.
They lifted her up onto the bed
Covered with thick blankets.
Doctor’s care was immediate
Finally, she recovered touch and go.
Yet they were all surprised as she still looked
Smiling at the window displaying stars.
In the avalanche, I lost track of my guiding light.
I fled my fireside. I had to evacuate my homestead.
Driven far astray by frenetic frozen fright,
I was just a cowardly racing rescuing airhead.
The wounded wooden face of my brother
lugged away by paramedics in a wheelchair.
My tomb of sleep was my 3 am druthers.
But I called 911, puzzling at my sibling’s stare.
Living and dying from underworld to mountaintop,
the EMTs raised him off the floor like a bag of potatoes.
Everything was breathing pollen and allergen nonstop.
All my raw instincts lacked right or wrong thought flows.
It’s true; I lost poetry. I abandoned my paintings, my pottery,
as though the subverting season of AI sophistry reigned supreme,
as though all creativity was randomized in a human lottery,
as though all consciousness is reduced to a particle beam.
Vacant, these weary eyes roll up in my head.
Vacant, how much long-term despondency to endure?
My brother lives and dies each day in his bed,
defenseless, like a never healing wound with no cure.
My days are distractions, a mad confusing deflection.
I vacated my poetic home, my fireside muse.
I raft the unfamiliar caregiver currents without reflection.
I can’t live forever homeless, maintaining the caregiver ruse.
Sleep now, my brother, knowing life offers you another aim.
Tap resilience from your broken body. This will clear your mind.
My pallet for tending, nourishing, and wiping deserves no acclaim.
Nobody asks for these duties. No one can ever put them behind.
Reminders we are not finite
Lest we should forget
Time tends to stop and hover
Undetectable
In a slow motion whirl
Caught in an endless loop
Like a 45 record that skips
It’s a typical phenomena
In all hospital waiting rooms
A soupy silence so very palpable
Contemplating the meaning of life
And what is left of it
Prisoner caught in a time warp
While life goes on outside this window
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
On the dock upon the hill
there your stance is very still
you seem as dazed if taking pills
you tilt your head and there you spill
dive in the water your thoughts no will
luckily no breakage for there is sill
you are shivering but you have no chill
your body is heavy but you float like a quill
it's nice to not notice your own mind is ill
they're rolling him away
in a wheelchair
down the hospital hall
out of my reach
cutting the cord
promising to bring him back
they're rolling him away
his future in their hands
leaving me in silence
alone with my fears
wallowing as i wait
with nothing but hope
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Dressed in an ill-fitting, hardly covering green garb
Surrounded by wan white-washed walls
Pricked and prodded like a pin-cushion
Wired to a beep-beeping machine
Drowsy in a drugged dreamland
Maddened by mind-whelming medications
Pressed by pain, feeling drained
Languishing on a hard hospital bed
Waiting for this prolonged ordeal to be over...
Waiting room
Anticipation
White coats
Processing plant
Sharp needles
Good and bad
The ticking
Of the clock
Resounding
Through
And through
Calling names
One at a time
The long walk
Down the hall
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.3~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2022