Best Infirmary Poems
Here lies a silver silence, hopelessly violent
embroidered in the corners of my lips,
Steady and stern standing on a steel of stillness,
Then, in a sudden sweep the soil begins its shift,
Why do you keep scaring off the sanctity of gravity?
The very pavement to my soles,
Why do the sounds of our thoughts enhance our virility?
Cause chaotic curiosities,
Why, in the mists of your eyes I feel the undiscovered dreams,
The opaque definition of what a silhouette of the sunsets mean
while a cluster of clouds swim amongst its rays,
Cruel conscience creeping through unopened spaces,
Revealing reasons why must these walls stand,
When they have begun to feel like the simple sands
softly dancing to the swirling sequence of the sea.
Show me the depths of the ocean,
Let the grimness of my heart wade through the gills of all your monsters,
Like a jellyfish in a pile of predators.
Pierce , pin , push or perhaps pull,
Have all and more verbs take their motions onto me,
kindly construct a hidden infirmary for the velocity of what may progress,
Set an anchor through my ribs and sail away to the divine infinite firmament.
I'll be happy to be a leprechaun
That silly green hat will be worn.
If ye share yer pot of gold with me
A leprechaun I'll be happy to be.
I'll buy ye a pint of the black stuff
More if that's not enough
If ye give me a gold coin or three
A pint of the black stuff I'll buy ye.
I'll swear an oath on me shamrock
Put all I own in hock
If only ye will give me a share
On me shamrock an oath I'll swear.
I am Irish and from the emerald isle
That's a guarantee to make ye smile
Leprechaun grant me this one wish
From the emerald isle and I am Irish.
I'll drive you to Dublin's fair city
Where the girls are so pretty
You can have colcannon and stew
To Dublin's fair city i'll drive you.
Come home with me and vent yer spleen
Upon me very sweet Colleen
Then i'll escort ye to the infirmary
Vent yer spleen and come home with me.
Swap quantrains. Lets see what you've got.
Contest of Andrea Dietrich .
Listed as quantrain form.
This past week it was raining cats and dogs,
prayed about it to not get so annoyed,
one car totaled other in infirmary,
husband tomorrow having triple bypass surgery,
Meow, Arf, Splat go land some more in the bog.
The moment I am out of the box
Foxes and hyenas surround me
Needy greedy aggressive seekers
Those who even a second before
Lay hidden in hibernation
In the tightly closed boxes of steel
On the verge of elimination
Thanks to the cultural policing
Now pouncing for dark and dense satisfaction
In a paleolithic plunder
Quenching reddening hunger
In the black and brown forest
Of unchained unrest
In pursuance of almost unconquerable
And incorruptible pleasure principle
Of animal happiness
Night and day
Sense buds making hay
Out of the aesthetic box
Wreaking senseless havoc
Our rose and rhododendrons in decay
Our seagulls
In infirmary and hospitals
Out of the box
The Spanish bull and ox
Flummox our poems
Into the imagery of
Ingrained instancy
For our tumultuous ascendancy
On the pinnacle
Of crimson churning
And the giant jingling
Tapering off to
The momentary Nirvana
Of the
Intense distraction
That arose out of the box
A moment later
In an inertia again
Of the restless vein
For the overwhelming rain
Into deep brain
Teeming with craving lanes and bye lanes
In the dim light delight
Out of box
The red fox
No mailbox
No riverine knocks
The box is very important
For our civilization
Into the flowers
Of sunny sublimation
_______________________________________________
18/01/2017
For the contest, How Long Can A Poetry Go,
Sponsor, Jamie Pan
Note: As the metaphors in the poem is too obvious to need explanation, no writer’s
Statement is added here, as asked for by the sponsor except saying that it deals with the psychological process of the dominance of pleasure principles at the cost of reality principles as elucidated by Sigmund Freud.
My bike was transportation; Mom didn’t drive
But sometimes I sped off on an adventure
To Telegraph Hill the miles were only five
Big sis and I made the ride a joint venture
What she didn’t know was the trek was uphill
Although one could coast nearly all the way back
The journey before us sis tried to fulfill
Red faced, she screamed, “I’m having a heart attack!”
“Keep pedaling,” I said, “we’ve two miles to go.”
It was then we made the ice cream sundae bet
The last one home would have to shell out the dough
By determination my sis was beset
At the top of the hill I took a brief rest
I looked down the long road; sis was not in sight
I was just eleven and filled with such zest
The exhilarating ride gave me delight
Far down the road, sis was attempting to ride
Her pace was slow; on her face was a scowl
I called to her, “Hey, just put the bet aside!”
She was closer now; I thought I heard her growl
Eleven years older, she’d something to prove
Heading back I soared past her down the steep hill
When my sis reached the top, she could barely move
More than a ride, this was a test of her will
About an hour after I arrived at home
I washed up and changed for my big ice cream treat
She came into view; in her mouth I saw foam
Sis was walking her bike, her trip incomplete
At age twenty-two, she collapsed in the yard
Mumbling something about sibling rivalry
She’d never dreamed a ten-mile trip would be hard
Mom tried to take her to the infirmary
The sundae? It was yummy, but sweeter still
Was beating my over-confident sister
My big sis had failed in this arduous drill
Her aches told me this ride would not reoccur
*Entry for Gwen’s “My Bicycle” contest. (True Story)
Vast hollow hall, ambient glow entering slow on tiptoe
calls out “Hello! is anyone here?”
Door hinge swing--by sight unseen
peripheral movement from the rear--none appear
One soft nudge connects, then more come next
and next, and next
Voice excited, nervous, bland--man, and man all man
device bubbles hover-crafted,
image profiles for docking drafted
Luminous sheen…silver, blue, brown, green
Round around lithe and lean
Forms and faces--handsome, homely, in between
Monologue spheres minus sound
Controlled levitation scores touch down
one-way communique becomes dialogue
isolated, insulated inundated
predated, postdated updated …overrated
Masculinity unbridled pride but
unbeknownst, fast forward stride
disarming photogenic grin
brandishing… a safety pin.
…paused parade, orbs suspended
cyber applet cart upended
deflated, flattened, air expended
Men-a-Tumble undefended
“What the F***?!”
“Who the Hell?!”
--ejected from protective shell.
Calamity! Cacophony!
torso tangled infirmary
nothing as supposed to be!
Coughs and curses, creaks and groans
puzzle pieces – parts unknown
Muddled mental block unlocked
composed and groomed they preen serene
reboot, reset, reload, login
with no attention to the clock….begin
Overload. Meltdown. Servers Out.
Suddenly in this vast white hall
Stilted social structures fall
Coeds coalesce about
him, her, he, she…
mixed commingled symmetry!
Reality reunion, rivalry replaced
lovers, friends, new crushes too-- meeting, greeting
Face Book faces Faced
hugs and handshakes, smiles and laughter
anonymous anomaly
uncommon ground forever after?
Dedicated to Mississippi John Hurt
...whose melodies were as sweet as bird song
Oh how I long
For that sweet bird song
Sweet Lord bye & bye
Prop my chair
'Neath that old window bare
Sweet Lord bye & bye
This cold air done bought me
Tears of infirmary
Sweet Lord bye & bye
And when I die
My soul gonna fly
Sweet Lord bye & bye
Held fast to the wings
Of angels I'll sing
Sweet Lord bye & bye
Sweet Lord
bye & bye
12/22/22
Federal infirmary
Cuckoos counting the clock
Helicopter choppers
And interstate police
My baby was thin skinned
Brain drained and paranoid
The cops came to the place
Knocking like street busters
I was sitting cosey like ghostbusters
Door frame, and the letter of the law
This game no more
Dont need to provoke or prove a point
Leave me be
This tribe has had its time
I'm moving off
Where the sunset goes
A summoning I’m trying to forget. There’s too much left between the ashes
Life lingers far except with me
My screams don’t seem to reach you
The warmth it surged right through my essence
Mine is not the same as yours
I want to feel me, can’t you see me?
It’s never like it was before.
Your voice echoes through me
As I go through life this way
I hope you’re not watching me
Fight this hopeless crusade.
Smoke is drifting It reminds me of the fog
Debris is lifting
It reminds me that you’re gone.
I remember the infirmary
Giving their apologies
I’m crying from the outside
I’m locked in from the inside
I can’t break free You’re not coming back to me
Your life is missing
And now I’m alone
I’m reminiscing
My heart beats like a stone.
These clouds just never seem to part
There’s not enough time to shield my soul
It hurts just knowing your touch is gone
Why can’t it be just like before?
Agonizing Christmas days in the infirmary
There I was, vanquishing ailment-inflicted misery
Beseeching the Lord for miraculous victory*
While soberly pondering Emmanuel’s birth story
…marvelously wondrous in human history.
On his intensive care unit’s bed, ailing
Dad groaned in pain, health grievously failing
Afflicted since affected, I hated my own wailing
While beholding my dear human fortress grueling
…struggling, for the Saviour’s mercy, calling.
Yuletide 2018 scenes remained vivid in my heart
Now being relived as caroling does start
Still I’m stricken by gripping sorrow-dart
While hospital memories I could not outsmart
…linger, hearing Dad’s voice singing his baritone part.
Today, I pray for God’s gracious cheers so bright
In celebrating Christmas with bouncing-up might
Gathering not to mourn, but to enjoy reunion delight
While thanking the Lord for His goodness-height
…commemorating Dad’s first death anniversary aright.
*1Corinthians 15:57 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
December 17, 2019
2nd place, "Second Chance" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux; judged on 2/17/2020.
If things keep goin’ my way, I don’t know what I’ll do
Maybe I’ll go be a priest in the Church of Déjà vu
Maybe I’ll court a woman and go to Harvard for a degree
Maybe they’ll cast my carcass out from the infirmary
I remember what they always called me –
Good Luck Charlie
All advice stops here –
Good luck, Charlie
Yes and maybe we’re all just handfuls of what came before
And maybe the point of this game is not to caught
Inside the revolving door
I remember what they always called me –
Good Luck Charlie
All advice stops here –
Good luck, Charlie
Witness to every notable trip
highlighting life and death travelogue strip
I can recount incidents bringing heart-rip
surpassing accidents of fatal engine oil drip
yet expressing to God thankfulness* midst blissful serenity-grip!
Once I served as an ambulance
to the infirmary I lost my balance
propelling mute patients utter remarkable parlance
calling the attention of road monitors’ nonchalance
despite concealing valance!
Unforgettable was my wedding ceremony route
as an entourage automobile, devoid of destination-doubt
maneuvering here and there midst distressed bride’s pout
just to get out from grievous traffic jam’s clout…
How we made it to the altar date was a miracle without a doubt!
Now as a vintage vehicle, I’m nostalgic of my great transport adventure:
new-born babies intensified my passenger seat’s caring gesture
restless special kids afflicted my steering wheel with toy torture
policemen grabbed me for hot pursuits’ venture…
All these showcase my significant roles of functionality-posture!
*1Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.
July 23, 2019
Honorable Mention, "STRAND CHOICE 4,any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/24/2020.
Maybe if I shoved
my fingers
down
my throat,
starved myself into the ship's infirmary,
photoshopped my face to a matt effect,
associated with CGI creatures,
wore spandex suits with silver occular vision implants
and died my hair that
oh-so-desired blonde,
came back to you from light years away.
Maybe then
I would be that alien object
that you desire
in testosterone topped grunting conventions.
Maybe.
*The title is based on a character from star trek: Seven of Nine, as is the poem
Taking a lovely morning walk along the Ness
while spending a few days at Inverness
this walk has many grand features on its way
get the winter clothing on, no need to fashion dress
We pass firstly 3 statutes - faith, hope, and charity
at a small garden near the church at Ness bank
then further along a memorial for Elizabeth Caveth
a WW1 nurse who saved lives then, many gave thanks
Many of nature's highlights may be seen nearby
having some trees with a fountain at the side
along with red squirrels, otters, herons, and bats
on this Ness island such delights on your ride
The river glides past the island on either side
it can be dangerous as its fast flows so deep
this is in middle between a couple of suspension bridges
these were built in 1828 still standing strong to keep
Walking over onto the island you'll find 'Nessie'
the wooden version that's motionless and still
then there's a small amphitheater so grand
where in the 50s summer dancing was the drill
Coming back to the city on the west bank
passing the RNI* chapel and Eden Court theatre
which is a lovely mixture of old and new
St Andrews Cathedral then highlights the highest rank
In coming back along to the city look up high
your eyes feast on the castle along the skyline
well, a lovely way to spend a January morning
strolling along the River Ness, a joy so very fine
(*Royal Northern Infirmary (hospital).
(I have written this piece having spent a few days in the city of Inverness last month, the unofficial capital of the Scottish Highlands.)
At last came the long Lockdown
It is so agonizing for doubtful countdown
I feel we are living in a darkened cage
With the gaze on calendar for counting days.
Like a storm,Corona virus swept the lands
All advised not to shake hands
Shop shut,bank shut,school shut
Do I use mask for virus or mouthshut?
Groceries, All deny to lend
With my kids I find time to spend
Trying to cook smart and yummy
Covid-19 alerts to keep starving tummy
Alas ,The only concern now is the pandemic fear
Thinking what is far and what is near
It is hurting to watch infirmary scene
May we soon come out of this scarry quarantine.