Best Lymph Poems
"I am feeling it." He said.
He meant his age. As I watched
I saw a vision…
Out from the cuttlefish bones of his breast
grime coughed up and dribbled.
I saw his heart stutter, the vapid flutter,
watched his lungs belch and utter
like a broken bladder.
A horseman on a creaking steed
raised its hoary head
and pointed an ancient ladle
speaking thus -
"Stir me belly lad," it said,
"spoon me sticky sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
Me grease is dumpy and lumpy.
Me hip-bones crunch
while me dingle wilts and dangles.
Me ears is gummy lad,
I've gone to the bad.”
The specter faded.
The old guy smiles, rubs his thin hair.
"I also see it sometimes," he says,
"that liver-spotted ghost
that chains me to an even older vision
of you."
There's nothing we can do, the doctor said!
It was December, nineteen-seventy.
At once, those words exploded in my head
and pierced my heart- which broke in agony.
How could this be- she's much too young to die
at fifty-four, and I, just thirty-two?
Convulsed in tears, I begged the question, why-
please, doctor, tell me, please- this is not true!
To lymph nodes, bones- the killer-cancer crept-
too late for surgery or chemo now.
The doctor's sad, dark eyes said, please accept
this news I give- which we can't disavow.
She passed away late summer, the next year;
those long nine months- such painful reveries.
Though, forty-nine years now- I still hold dear
my loved, missed Mom- in dusty memories.
July 31, 2020
Contest: Dusty Old Memories
Sponsor: Constance La France
In Nursing School
In nursing school they have us learn all the proper medical words,
Because in Greek and Latin we defecate, but we never make turds,
And what's worse than learning about all these dreadful diseases
Is forgetting my English to replace it with obfuscating medicaleses,
Lest we forget that great chemical known as adenosine triphosphate
Which is the powerhouse of the cells, or did she say an exudate?
And though I've been to India and seen the river Ganges,
I never knew my fingers were really called phalanges,
And we must learn about colitis, encephalitis and diverticulitis,
But I hope these germs don't decide to get up and bite us.
You can't find out a lot about someone by palpating the patella,
Not even if the patient is female, or if he is a fella.
And we must distinguish anemia, diarrhea and gonorrhea
From the almost identical condition known as leukemia.
Sex is one thing, I think, not one of us has time for,
For after school it's off to work until you're blind or
Wishing you had never heard of cellular necrosis,
Not to mention the hundred kinds of psychoses and neuroses.
And then there's that other major hurdle called getting adequate funding,
And if you can't get a loan or a grant they'll have you do the plumbing.
It seems the clinical locations are never really near ya,
In fact most of them are deep inside Siberia,
And if out in the Sun recall that your skin can get tumorous,
For the study of medicine is serous – very, and hardly ever humerus.
Your medical books will have you believe you've every disease known
From autophobia to an ecchymosis to cerumen on the bone.
But at least there are no bullies insisting we are all big wimps,
For studying things like urine, saliva, bile, blood and lymph;
And if there's one more part with the outlandish name of buccinator,
I think I'll lose it all and become a hallucinator.
I remember how I cried
The day my father died.
The doctor laid the blame
When he said that cancer came:
Lymph nodes, lungs,
Philosophy of Carl Jung,
Words of explanation
For everything, no blame,
Too late for shame.
The final service was long.
I tried to be strong.
But the stench of red carnations
Can still fill my imagination,
People’s faces,
Words of the Lord’s graces.
Planted in a peaceful lawn,
For the shell of this world is gone,
Yoked into heavenly bliss.
But, when I think of him
There's so much we missed.
I remember how I’ve sighed,
Thinking of my dad with pride.
I’d sit on his knee
My ear to his chest,listening to him hum,
And he’d give me his pennies for free.
He would mow, I’d sweep,
Then we’d have a snow cone treat.
Poles, bait bucket, tackle box,
Days we spent fishing from piers and docks.
Hair black like Elvis’,
Ears and features like Clark Gable’s,
Loud animated stories
Of his oil company job,
At the dinner table.
Fedora, big pleated trousers,
A pocket watch on a chain,
When I close my eyes
I can see him again.
I look in the mirror and can see his eyes,
Staring back at me in an eternal guise.
He didn’t live on to see me grown,
Missed out conversation on the problems I’ve known.
But his gifts of life,
And his gifts of earthly love
Still ground me on earth,
Angelically guarding and guiding
Like the finest made glove
Existing throughout our human family's
Journey of love.
Winter dark...solstice etches itself
on texture of bleak silhouette
ebon in fervor...cycle’s lymph
grips the inked winds halving the cleft
between old eve and fresh sunset
as morn falls on dry ice...asleep,
yet kismet unlocks ...creatures reap
harvest of new moon’s oath...to keep.
We call to you oh Mother Night
through dances bold... in purity,
a circle cast in pearled delight
from dusks impressed by sanctity
our candles burn for life’s bounty
lyrics ole trill...magic-soft
elements fuse...an alchemy
of holly sheen to ride aloft.
Freyja, one with Mary...bewitch
within the dark of darkest night
we dance the fire with trimmings rich,
your blessed radiance... stars ignite
as womb brings forth...a child of light
one tender spirit filled with worth
a promise of new Yuletide bright
the gift of word...made flesh...son’s birth!
....... ... ........
Happy Holidays of Debbie Guzzi
by nette onclaud
Modranith:Freyja ( Norse Goddess
associated with Mothers' Night)
* end /near rhymes intended
I just made it in time for Mary's funeral, it had been raining
heavily all day but the sun came out through the clouds.
And as I watched her coffin being lowered into the ground,
I was filled with emotions pouring out of my soul.
I recall that typical day four years ago that my co-worker
and friend told me she had discovered a lump in her breast.
No pain, she said, probably nothing at all but we all told her
to go have it checked.
The pathology report came quickly, Stage IV, invasive
massive cancer tumors; in lymph nodes, in her breast,
metastasized. I recall thinking how is this possible? Mary
was hopeful, saying, I will beat this. She joined groups,
did walks with others with breast cancer. And she wore
pink. At work we all wore pink ribbons.
Both breasts were removed within weeks and the nodes,
and maybe more; then she started chemotherapy treatment,
and radiation and hormone therapy. I think sometimes, why
did she go through all that when the end was obvious to all.
Cancer victims must have exceptional inner courage.
Mary called me to say she was losing her hair, next she
lost her eyebrows and eyelashes, her finger nails and her
toenails were frail and discolored. We painted them pink.
She lost so much weight, oh she was so thin. When I visited
I had to hold back tears, only after leaving did I cry.
When I saw her, Mary wore a pink turban or hat and put
on makeup and big earrings. Actually she looked quite
beautiful to me. But she showed me her horrible scars and
would weep. She talked about breast cancer awareness
and the need for research. So much inner strength.
There was a hospital bed in her living room. Husband slept
on the couch, cat in her bed. How she loved that cat, they
had put a pink ribbon around its neck. Family and friends
came, in hushed tones they kissed her goodbye. She just
smiled and one evening alone with her husband and her
cat, she died. He said it was peaceful.
Please support cancer research and awareness always and,
remember, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month,
so wear PINK!
______________________
September 8, 2015
Narrative
For the contest, Pinktober #2, sponsor, Poet Destroyer
10th Place
We cannot do without water,
But it could do without us
If we choose!
Bodies of living things are made up
of mostly water, squashy plants,
Blood and Lymph included too.
Without Hydration, the skin as well as
Internal organs would become very dry.
Dry organs cannot function and
Would definitely malfunction!
Even tears and saliva would be
diminished,
Forming crusts instead of lubricating!
Drink lots of fluids, for fluid loss
is a continuous thing-
As we breathe, sweat, in kidney-
filtering,
Water is indeed a Requisite for life
and living;
Mucus dilution during the Common
Cold.
Normal electrolytes depend upon it.
Potassium, Sodium, Magnesium
when dry, crystalizes and heart and
Brain problems we do get.
Water is also seen in Crystallization,
In the form of ice, snow,or on cold
surfaces.
It crystalizes on those unfortunately
frost-bitten ones,
In the frozen, hard unrelenting cold
caregivers take care of!
It Precipitates in Seas, Oceans, Rivers,
Lakes and Streams;
Where "hot air rises" as a mist to the
clouds,
Making them heavy to "fall" as rain.
Animals, Humans and Vegetation welcome it.
Water is a great "body-guard" for being
Impermeable,
Oil and water never mix and fat is separated too.
Water helps form blood and lymph after we eat,
Flowing to flush out our accumulated mess.
We are Invigorated with life, as cells hydrate
Durig a long trek on a path at camp.
Water invigorates the life-source due to
exhaustion,
Even the Lord cried out "I thrist."
Water "minds its own business:
Quenching the thirst of animals,
Irrigating lands as it passes by,
Filling reservoirs for domestic use.
Choose to make use of it daily!
Poetry Contest:
Poetry Title: Elements Part 3: WATER
Instructions:
YOUR POEM TO BE SUBMITTED WITH ALL 6 OF THESE WORDS:
1) HYDRATION (2) REQUISITE (3) PRECIPITATION (4) IMPERMEABLE (5) INVIGORATE (6) CRYSTALLIZATION.
Poetry Contest Deadline: Friday, April 29, 2016
Sponsored by: Brian Davey
The Malay Pantun: The Non-Party Communal Triumvirate
Ursidae carnivora hug and hibernate
Hypolais polyglottes trill without triumph
Alliance Party* wins and vituperate
Opposition parties coagulate without lymph
• The ruling Malaysian communal triumvirate –
since Independence in 1957.
© T. Wignesan, Paris - 2013
There’s unbearable beauty in crimson…
There are many crimson colored things in this world. How about blades of leaflets during Autumn or the beauty of a McIntosh apple? The most unbearable beauty I know is the color of crimson that poured from your lilies. When you were alive they flourished in your garden by your gazebo. Every year bulbs were planted and nourished by your tender loving hands. Fresh-cut flowers bring the most soothing scent into a home. Now that you are gone, no one is there to tend to them, and they have withered and decayed into the heated summer breeze.
shades of crimson lives
deep inside your memory-
your Tiger Lily
There are many shades of crimson colored things in this world. How about the beginning of a rainbow or the Merlot wine you used to drink? But the most unbearable beauty I know is the crimson colored lipstick you used to wear. To me lipstick represents the want to look beautiful and feel like a true woman. But to you, wearing lipstick meant you were trying to hide the effects of your chemotherapy and radiation treatments. It took a toll physically on your body, especially your face. Your need to cover up your dry cracked lips was necessary in your head. I still have that Revlon lipstick tucked gently away in my purse and I carry it wherever I go.
crimson colored lips
trying to hide your disease-
beauty comes within
There are many crimson colored things in this world. How about the cupid’s arrow on Valentine’s Day or the sweet little lady bug that crawls up your arm in the summer? The most unbearable beauty I know is the deep shades of crimson we carry in our blood. The blood that pumped through your veins, also pumps through mine. I know giving birth to me wasn’t easy but you were strong back then. Maybe too strong making it that much harder for you to try to survive lymphoma. The blood surrounding your marrow was full of disease and your ailment became your enemy. Blood is supposed to keep us alive, but the blood flowing through your lymph nodes took you away from me.
mother and daughter
sharing the same ancestry-
your crimson cancer
Unbearable Beauty In Crimson
Frank Hererra
October 21, 2016
I was working out back, while under the palms
I've a tendon-cy to stand under the limbs
to focus my eyes, and digest the surrounding glands cape
Plantar-d there on the ground was a carpenter ant
that caught my attention, and that is a fact!
Disarming he was, determined as well
making his way through tall blades of green grass
As hungry as a calf, he had shinnyed himself
He knuckled up under with all of his nerve
Hopped on an iris, like a tropical bird
and began eating his way through small fingers of lumbar
that was stacked against the rear of the old cellar door
Diget know? .. It was humerus to watch, how he testes his food!
Consuming the wood from the bottom to top
He tendon to stop, to take a deep thigh,
then back to devour, while munching his lunch.
Lashing away, until his jaws became sore
He must have consumed a whole foot, of lumbar or more!
Prostated he was, till he lymphed to the floor
Tomarrow I'll have only sawdust to store !
Ureter about fables, and stories of ants
They are truly able to eat a whole fence!
Their orbital cavitiy is bladder and bigger
than one might imagine…They've the gall to be pigs !!
____________________________________________________
9/10/16
For Contest: Body of Work
Sponsor Viv
Words of body parts used:
back
palms
tendon
limbs
eyes
digest
gland
plantar
digit
arm
blade
calf
shin
knuckle
nerve
iris
fingers
lumbar
ear
cell
humerus
testes
bottom
thigh
lash
jaws
foot
prostate
lymph
marrow
ureter
orbital cavitiy
bladder
gall
Dance with the stray chance
Change comes crashing cheer
Dream drowsy dizzy daze
Feel fleeting funny face
Laughter looming lasting lymph
Trite troubles toss twisting
Leave lazy loitering lust
Blooms brightly booming bust
Jumpy jester jerks joy
Meek mushy moments move
Lift lousy limping looks
Bearing beyond bright books
Leon Enriquez
20 March 2016
Singapore
She battles fatigue
by road climbing and painting
bolder palettes splash
on flamed wigs, on glossed canvas…
with punk, outracing mad cells
Monster tissues grow
yet lust for life soothes barbed pain
caroling to stars
and praying 'neath hopeful moon...
“I bless unforgiving C. ”
Past stage 1, she jousts;
vicious fibers lose the chase
her zest, not anger
conquers lymph nodes' erosion…
scaling roads, painting fresh scenes!
---------
For dear friend Eena who is in remission;
may you live fully!
Contest of PD: PINKOCTOBER
Military Industrial Complex out to enslave the masses/
Save your asses from these genocidal, dangerous facists/
They’re releasing gaseous anthrax to take breath outta me/
Our Social Security Numbers are used for their death lottery/
The Bermuda Triangle is a training zone used to sink your ships/
Satellites equipped with death rays at the illumanti’s fingertips/
Mandatory brainwashing techniques used to baffle vets/
Coded messages with the withheld thirty letters of the alphabet/
Biparty electoral system to disguise true dictatorship/
Hitler alive and well and in charge of ‘Project Paperclip’/
Freemasons blast at the ozone layer with fatal contaminants/
Preparing the atmosphere for the coming of alien inhabitants/
Race of supermen nourished by Roswell’s special consumption/
Induction to secret society through extraterrestrial abduction/
Production of mass destruction is at the heart of industry/
Tracking devices in our teeth through the art of dentistry/
Nano technological implants inserted in our lymph nodes/
Knowing our position through twenty dollar bar strip codes/
Satan’s army convenes in a pentagram shaped Aryan facility/
West Nile used to test mosquitoes’ disease carrying ability/
Medical teams with tainted vaccines swirl death over a nation/
This elite squad of assassins is the World Health Organization/
Testing AIDS and Ebola viruses on unwitting third world subjects/
With unheard success, perfect murders with no unfurled suspects/
Don’t look at me like that! I’m not paranoid! Take heed I say!/
One out of ten emcees on this board really work for the C.I.A/
They’re all around us and their true intention’s malevolent/
Inspecting the internet searching for the dissenting element/
Video games aren’t irrelevant. Here evil is really resident/
Look how fast they silence me if I say ‘Kill the Pres..
Our story takes place in the mid sixteen hundreds,
Filled with (not so) fresh corpses and newly beloveds.
The stench of Black Death had choked all of London,
Moulding its streets into plague ridden dungeons.
As parents and children lay weeping and rotting,
Behind closed doors the perverts were plotting.
A young married man named Edward C. Brock
Felt his dear wife wasn't enough for his
Cocksure and creepy and lacking real wealth,
He'd also just recently suffered ill health.
On one sordid night he was in bed with a maid,
She was unconscious and blotchy - been struck with the plague.
Then in burst his wife upset and aggrieved,
'You wretched little man - this time I shall leave!'
'But, darling!', he cried 'There's no need to be laconic!'
'Her relationship with me is purely bubonic!'
She screamed and stormed out, slamming the door,
'Good riddance to you and your riddled young *****!'
Edward turned to the maid and stared into her eyes,
smirking and twitching as he fondled her thighs...
'How come you're so wet yet so steady and calm?
Oh wait, I know - its burst boils on my palm'
Nevertheless he wiped the foam from her lips,
Ran a hand up her top and wrestled his zip.
'What the dickens!?', he spluttered, 'I'm sorry my nymph,
It seems all this commotion has made me go lymph.'
But a short while later,
Both were quite stiff.
For a bed with no action
There was one hell of a niff.
The bells won’t be ringing for their wedding of glitz,
They’ll be signalling to them that love is the pits.
One day you won't hear me singing at the very
hour, place and perfect time where the world turns
dead nature.
Make some holes to the bucket full of
feelings I gave you while I was stealing the
lymph of life.
My silence kicks the pulsing waiting
spirit but gray is a no land color born
by an incest
You had me but couldn't see , you saw me and couldn't have
sad as the fate of pain that roams through the
human memory.
It will be cold, my Life, more sour
the pain of the leaving silhouette
until...
A kitten snores on the soft couch telling
the cats' history because you'll still breathe
anyway...
I'd find a happy ending for you, if only
I didn't know you had it through your fingers
already...