Best Intravenous Poems
Intravenous therapy,
She's watching over me.
Grasping my hand,
She whispers, "please dear, count to ten."
Six... piercing paralysis,
Her hand cold as the air.
She lets go, leaving me there.
Alone, squirming, for just one prayer.
Yelling, and screaming.
Kicking, twisting, and questioning.
Nothing happens, its all in my head.
Frozen, welded to my metal death bed.
Minutes and hours tick away,
Slow, painful psychological decay.
I try to think of hating her,
But those thoughts just blur,
her pretty face.
Then I realize why I'm actually here.
Amidst the psychotic silence,
she walks in, and smiles.
She says, "Darling, this won't take a while."
Okay I say, dismissing the horror of the situation.
Her angelic voice, sedating all sensations.
I see the scalpels, forceps,
retractors, and clamps.
Completely trusting, blinded by the hanging lamp.
It won't hurt, so doctor please just cut.
Bloody plasmic mess,
Pressure to suppress,
Wide open arteries, surgical misery.
No anesthetics. Painless, no distress.
She carves a circle in my chest.
I don't contest, just attest.
Let her carve into me, at my own request.
Just promise, no cardiac arrest.
She pulls out my heart.
Leaving my entire chest hollow.
No more emotions,
the hardest pill to swallow.
But it is why I'm here.
No reason to fear.
Doctor, all I ask is you don't hurt it anymore.
You do what you want with it, it's completely yours.
Now I'm heartless, and only function with my brain.
Emotionless logic was the only way to sustain.
My future seems brighter,
All my loves spent, cut from the source.
I feel so much lighter, of course.
It was the heart.
Thank you doctor, for pulling me apart,
making me feel so alive.
The love, the emotions, the surgery,
my new will to survive.
Thats when she said,
"Darling, it's all in your head. You've been dead since we first met."
Categories:
intravenous, love, sadme, me,
Form:
Free verse
ArtHospital - What am I?
On my back
At the mercy of pushers
Not much air, nor do I much care
A withering slow heartbeat
A temperature that flares
How long left?
Does anyone care?
I grasp for air
I linger in deathly dreams
I have no legs
Or so it seems
In and out of reality
Intravenous screams
Saline wasted on me it seems
My pulse is sleeping
My life is a reflection
Of deeds undone
Changing nothing
Except the under cloth of missed opportunities
Those who knew me
Standing over me grave
Nice guy now let’s go to the pub
What’s his name, won’t be having any grub
Forgotten already
Six feet under as it starts to rain
Inspired by Seren Roberts Poem “Artwork – What am I?”
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/artwork___what_am_i_933886
Categories:
intravenous, art, dedication, funny, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
Intravenous tubes disconnect her thoughts
As the machine beeps without relent
I stare blankly at the monitor's screen
And as the lines rise and fall
My hopes fall and rise too
Suddenly the lines go flat, I freeze with fear!
My heart skips many a beat
The nurses rush in, but death does not retreat
My hopes wither and die right there
A flower once bloomed
in the garden of my heart
her season too brief
crimson petals bleeding tears
gone too soon, my cherished bloom
--~--
8/31/16
Contest: Challenge - Write One
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Categories:
intravenous, death, sad,
Form:
Verse
On weary ground I walk and think
Of you; your shadow follows everywhere
I go and feckless as the saline tears
That flow, I’m hollow.
Memories, impressions thus ensue
A measured dose that slowly dribbles
Through; like intravenous drips that
Bring in pain, I see the poison coursing
Through my veins.
Regret’s a stinking feeling to endure
It leaves the heart there aching insecure
A pallid soul, laconic, dry and dead
And nothing to the past can ere be said.
On weary ground I walk and think of you!
Categories:
intravenous, forgiveness
Form:
Eyes That Cry
I am the eyes that cry
While an inconsiderate chef
Cuts his onions.
I am the buttocks that brave the pain
When an unskilled nurse
Passes an injection.
I am the superficial vein that bleeds
When a nurse, old as a dinosaur
Passes an intravenous cannula.
I am the urethra that burns
When a reckless juvenile
Contracts gonorrhea,
and wants to pass urine.
I am the eyes that cry
When a schoolteacher
Batters sense into a pupil
I am the broom that is used
And disposed of
Together with the rubbish it swept
I am the condom
Used en route to ecstasy
Dumped into an incinerator
I am the money that is lavished
At a rich man's funeral
I don't matter
© The Kakuru
#MugOfPorridge
Categories:
intravenous, abuse, anti bullying,
Form:
Free verse
It’s terminal….the Big C has struck
Despite these prickly heartdart lyrics, man voraciously yearns for a glint of hope
Incurable strikes the ears, accelerates to the brain, explodes into the mouth
How Long…………………………Now, you always wanted a pseudonym, an identity
Cancer victim, sufferer, prey—slithering around in the soul, you choose dupe
When all is said and done, every person is terminal….Thanks for nothing.
Sucked into the world of lines, transfusions, infusions, refusions
Pleasuring the tiniest chance to trounce it, you drink the nectar of the physicians
Chemo that mass, radiate the hell out of it, pill it to death….
Still there—tumoresque tendrils rifling into the interior, spinally nesting, growing
Fear slinks into the soul---every day you congregate in the Church of Cancer
Singing, praying, finally screaming for respite and release from pain…
Oh wait….the prayer to the medicine man has been answered
Remission you might call it…freedom, thank God
We shall overcome it. Can’t find it anywhere
Uh, oh….back in that cathedral again, the preacher’s been waiting
You won’t last six weeks…metastazing its way, taking you along for the last ride
Let’s morphine it to death. Sleeping, sinking into oblivion
The intravenous morphimic cocktail sucks your heart and soul, blasting the brain.
Terminal
Categories:
intravenous, death, depression, health,
Form:
Free verse
I thought I was truly losing my sanity,
With pain screeching, no thought for vanity,
After my horrible health issue late last year,
My physician suggested, my dear,
You need an intravenous course of cortisone.
But what happened in this hospital zone,
And in only one night, was a hysterical delight.
I was booked into a four bedded ward,
2 other ladies already there, hi everyone,
Like it or not the next 24 hours I was aboard,
I’m jenny, don’t talk to Laura, Valentia said, she’s tone,
Deaf, do you hear the drones outside, and you
Must know, these nurses are spies, give them no details,
Oh my gosh poor Valentia had dementia!
I asked a nurse to tell me Valentia’s name, and
Meanwhile another patient arrived, gosh
Cindy came with a smell so bad had gastroenteritis.
Laura was sick all over her bed, situation obnoxious,
Lights went out, generator kicked in, Valentia repeatedly
Said, good morning, good morning, who’s this colossus,
Good morning, she must be a spy she smells like one.
I napped not slept that night, nurses cleaned the mess,
Cindy was put in a private ward, thank goodness,
Hey jenny, it was Valentia, are you sleeping,
No, I'm busy on my cell phone tweeting,
Are you leaving tomorrow, may I come with you,
Then you could remind me I had just been to the loo,
Got to go again, you have just been, this time it’s a poo!
Categories:
intravenous, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
...Continued from Part 1...
Poor little Evelyn, her poor physical conditions at birth puzzled local doctors,
It was a mystery she was born with a dislocated hip and a deformed right foot.
And evidence of bone damage whilst within her mother’s womb, that happened,
9 months of exhaustive tests, Evelyn the baby is confirmed a OI type III patient.
Today poor Evelyn is small in size, as typical of OI patients, her mobility limited,
She is constantly in need of a new body and leg brace with special shoes fitted.
With an anxious and loving mother and sessions of unending physical therapy,
Evelyn must have monthly doses of intravenous drug to increase her bone density.
At 4 years old now, imagine the frustrations and the helplessness in Evelyn,
She knows she is different, why she is so fragile, her little mind cannot fathom.
All the various injuries and the many broken bones about in her tiny body,
Life is such a challenge, why is she born so unlucky and so much different.
For every 100,000 individuals, six to seven are born with such dire conditions,
If there had been a more fortuitous mutation at a genetic level, these individuals...
They could have been born as legendary mutants, imbued with fantastic abilities,
But a twisted play in Fate's hand, OI children, they struggle even in normal activities...
Only with advances in Science and Medicine can OI sufferers have a normal life,
With bones so brittle that shatter like fragile glass, they have only sheltered lives..
http://www.star2.com/people/2016/01/03/her-bones-are-so-brittle-they-can-break-like-glass/
Categories:
intravenous, anxiety, caregiving, community, education,
Form:
Free verse
Floating in vacuum,
morphine intravenous supplied,
pain deadened,
she lies dormant, oblivious to all,
thoughts suppressed,
unfeeling and benumbed
in the emergency cubicle.
Her husband holds her hand,
icy, like winter at its worst.
She moans, eyes flutter,
only to fall asleep again.
Anesthetized she finds rest.
Monitors bleep to rhythm,
steady as she goes just like
a sailing boat on rough seas.
She will survive.
Husband bewildered.
A human vegetable?
Oh no the expert says.
She will be fine.
The husband dials a number,
talks softly not to disturb.
There will be no divorce,
it's best that they give up
and do not meet again.
The woman on the bed groans.
Is that a smile on her lips?
Categories:
intravenous, sad love,
Form:
Free verse
Frank and Nada went together like pina-colada
Each half had dreams and brought laughs
He’d open doors and make real sure
That his Nada; he would truly care for.
He also had family from before
They cared for him. He for them. That
Can’t be ignored. Well Frank got ill in 2021,
Nada called for help; what else to do?
Ambo’s came calling, her Frank to help
He’s thinking clear?
His birth date he gets it right correcting Nada
To 1962 not 61 here, so she puts some fear upon the shelf
She’s told don’t worry we’ll treat him well
This was by now the triage speaking I make bold to
Tell, yet the lies soon started about where he
Was? Well’ Dispatched supposed to Canberra from
Queanbeyan, she gave an hour and then she rang, to
Canberra. To ask a bit. There was no Frank!
Some panic hit. Her man was still there at
Queanbeyan had invasive p c r, then
ICU? What is their plan?
They say Frank’s in for a real fight, but they’ll see him through,
He’ll be alright. and ring
Whenever you like at all, just be assured Frank’s
Welfare is our first call, yet when she phones no hand picked up..
Hardly ever at all
Really simple stuff. Then they administered
The killer remdesivir intravenous tubes plus
Ventilator to her dear. She’d call by phone
They were always busy, at five they might
Call but the advice they suggested would
Make her dizzy, on the strength on facts we
Can only proclaim they treat him rough as guts its plain… Both
In Canberra and Queanbeyan. After some days their story
Changed; he was on his way out now a Bronwyn claimed
There was a Dr. Tom and a registrar but as for help they were far; very far,
Fentanyl was next to come, his organs failing, his heart was poorly
Nearly gone. Nada fears murder.
That much is clear, I found I cried a tear as Hoody did!
My country’s smashed I offer no kid. In despair and longing I call to all Aussies
Wake up and act, just make a plan, now stand tall. And make it strong for those
Like Frank who’ve suffered hard and long, both in Canberra and at Queanbeyan!
©Joe Maverick 10-4-2023
Categories:
intravenous, betrayal, care, for her,
Form:
Rhyme
‘Twas two thousand and fifty AD, Planet earth found it’s tipping point, this year was decision year, leaders of every country of our world came together to formulate a workable system to prevent the inevitable demise of our planet, our eco systems were being destroyed at an alarming pace, wild life becoming extinct, water supply’s nearing critical point, pollution had devastated our waterways, seas, and oceans, undoubtedly the blame for this catastrophe was placed on human activity, new directives and rules to prevent these problems to escalate was passed unanimously, top of their agenda was an end to warfare, next was the ever increasing human population followed by effects of new technologies.
It was decided that war must become a thing of the past, no country or state as from two thousand and seventy can inflict any aggression towards any other country.
Human population would be curtailed and monitored.
New technologies would be prioritised, investment would increase enormously.
Unfortunately there were opposition to all proposals which created an adverse outcome, and consequences.
We are now in the year two thousand one hundred and eighteen,
advances in technology has exceeded all expectations, human interaction is now not allowed, every human is served by machines that mimic humans and are of human form, earth is now controlled by a centralised computer system that monitors everyone and everything, human lifespan is now restricted, the maximum age is fifty years, our health is monitored every month, all children under the age of sixteen are educated in isolated institutions by computerised systems in isolation, human reproduction is totally controlled artificially through egg and sperm banks, incubation in artificial wombs in laboratories, these offspring never encounter any human interaction, my abode is a single room I am served by two robots that fulfils all my needs, nutrients and medication is all intravenous, I require no exercise, I sleep for a maximum of eight hours, everything else is virtual, my vacations are interplanetary and interact with inhabitants of other planets,
What a difference 100 years can make so expect big changes!
May 26 2018.
Contest:- in 100 years
Categories:
intravenous, destiny, environment, planet, pollution,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Plink. Plink.
Drip...
follows drop,
follows drip,
follows drop.
Plink. Plink.
Resolutely, incessantly,
each precious globule
snakes, languidly, along
labyrinthine tunnel.
Plink. Plink.
Seemingly-innocuous fluid
conveys crucial content
and necessary nourishment:
sole source of sustenance.
Plink. Plink.
Life-affirming droplets
are welcomed, eagerly, into
damaged vessel's system.
Plink. Plink.
Naught but air to pass lips,
"NBM" had been decreed.
Plink. Plink.
Temporarily,
but indelibly,
branded.
Plink. Plink.
-----------------------------------
8 October 2017
NBM / Nil by Mouth is a medical instruction to prevent patients from consuming any food or water orally, often replaced by intravenous fluids.
Submitted to Julia Ward's "Your Favourite Free Verse Poem From October 2017 or November 2017" contest.
(2nd Place)
Entered in Butterfly Wings' "Could You, Please" contest.
(6th Place)
Categories:
intravenous, health, hurt, pain, sick,
Form:
Free verse
Cataclysmic nuptials like pebbles fall, between the slats of the grate of dawn
And end to hover 'bove the wave of life's eternal turning grave
Fragmented intention leads us to powdered evolution
The sluice of lies betroths truth's function
As a mayfly's end is met in a ripple
Gaia no longer bares her nipple
Repugnant redundancy metastisizes for all to see
Thru cataracted counteractivity
we bleed therefore we be, before the tree on bended knee
Barking and scratching, wrongly we flee, disagree to disagree
Rhyming schemes now mildly obscene
And lacking originality
To mime a balleen between the stream
Of consciousness's wailing "ANNUNAKI!"
I sip venom a la carte, trip off the chart
This viper snipes, injects it's gripe
Intravenous diffusion, molecular nail-bomb
Keratin inscriptions on the wailing wall, and then some
Conniption, a declaration of frustration and grief,
The sacred beef wedged 'tween my teeth
Which once ran thru fields as the mayfly flew
While I sought to sip the sacred brew.
Categories:
intravenous, april, dark, nature,
Form:
Defibrillator, I have to set..
Cardiac monitor, I need to attached..
Intravenous lines, workingly patent..
Emergency drugs, positioned on standby...
His color turning to pale then bluish..
His breathing starts to become shallow..
His limbs become to loose and cold..
His pulse thready and weak..
On high alert!
On high alert!
Is it the end of his life?
Or is already the beginning of his death?
By: olive_eloi
2:01am
10/11/2013
-------------------***
"life too beautiful to stay stagnant, keep on moving onwards....."
Categories:
intravenous, body, death, feelings, irony,
Form:
Verse
It's the day of the Cancer Charity Race
I will start slow, I don’t have the pace
of the athletes, that train day in and day out
with personal trainers, that helps, no doubt
I would, if I had the money to spare
except, time to train seems to disappear, somwhere
never to be found again, so I will start at a trot
hoping, I wont miss that 5 hour slot
that is the maximum I have energy for
unless, I drink the booster drinks, or more
likely an intravenous, would be great
having energy on tap, not to be last crossing the gate.
Categories:
intravenous, race,
Form:
Couplet