Best Metastasized Poems
O-Outward she seemed fine and healthy
R-Really it was a dagger in the heart to hear!
P-Penetrated through the ovaries was a cancer cyst.
H-Happened that it was the size of a grapefruit before we knew
A-And it had metastasized so that numbered her days.
N-Now both of my parents have passed on, and I at the age of 43 am orphaned.
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
November 13th 2017
Happy 83rd birthday to thy cremated mom
Harriet Harris fought tooth and nail
Mother succumbed
to terminal illness without fail
Ovarian/ Uterine Cancer to no avail
hosted by death feasted fancy
at Oyster Bay metastasized inducing this male
the sol son to grapple as psyche didst ail.
*************************************
Major organs compromized grim reaper and
carried corpse into dead zone as a keeper brand
donned as one Canarsie flashy dame grand
ball room dancer didst skittered in right hand
side o' me noggin, the idea flit ta left land
of gray matter thru me mined task didst ex panned
foregoing bidding on e-bay, ruminate how trite
online shenanagins, never asking nor knowing spite
most likely raged within yar being,
which lack of filial duty haint right
to be near where psyche flails quite
understandably, but no matter matthew scott
never did ask, how emotions most clear aflame
with anger writhing asper your terminal plight
vis a vis injustice to snatch desire with shroud of night
arising each morning to brilliant light
ye, thy lover of life becoming ashen gray
with recurring incomplete bucket list that may
already, a dozen plus years ago - neigh
aye methinks, so much deprived of grandchildren ply
their oars thru the time stream, how whiz sigh
to partake whence thee drew final breath thy
avoid seeing thee stiffen with rigor mortis, why...
did unlucky dice throw of fate
rob and steal unattained goals ye strove with grate
fully before out bidden by dead souls, who hate
mortals to complete, thus truncate a lifelong mate
to papa, whom recouped severe loss, though his pate
undoubtedly flits with remembrance
of thee one he did highly rate
despite occasions, where spats hood did vitiate
this son feels he did not booster morale at all
Suddenly without bedmate and counterpart
one month shy of fifty years, no deity could answer
razor sharp emotional pain cut to the quick
recollecting ballroom dancer
himself as a handsome youth so graceful and suave,
fast as Bill Haley, or comet
and lightly afoot in seventh heaven as a prancer
oh..and ever the debonair, humorous, and loving romancer
where pixie dust sprinkled via an invisible en trancer.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Uterine/ovarian Cancer metastasized
dealing deathblow, and took more than mother away
her rigor mortis terminated love labor lost,
whence second love sans father,
his hands no longer did oh bay,
whose once passion to ply his creative handiwork
heartfelt interest hardened as sun baked clay
where formerly, he spent energy and time
drafting designs and building ornate creations
most every night and day,
which lifelong penchant to draw
(deepseated and etched within his genes)
until profound grief did flay
dealt mortal kombat towards,
whence toiling at basement workbench
colored his world blackish gray
nor would he respond, and only tearful sorrow
exuded upon losing the special maiden, whom he lay
down and begot thyself and two sisters,
during living years sans lightness of being an a may
fly expert designer, creator and builder –
during me chilhood objects like play
house and Flintsone car
(with license plate to boot), beaming with ray
dee ants at products of imagination got wrought,
until grim reaper did slay
purposefulness and will power to remain alive
pronounced sadness witness loss of appetite
and considerable diminishing beefiness obvious
without him getting atop scale for a weigh
but fate smiled upon accursed widowerhood,
and now for quite some time,
a gal took hull hiking to history
and the restaurant at the end
of the galaxy they went – yay!
Oh, Babe
Pitched for the price of infamy’s name
Springtime sold
For the tempest of a bambino’s bane
Oh, Babe
Stadium-made gregarious grin
Pinstripe promises
Playing for shoddy orphaned kids
Oh, Babe
Squeezing pine tar calloused veins
Slugging sunshine
Into brokenhearted pennant panes
Oh, Babe
Champagne on championship ice
Swinging splendor
Diamond dames batting bullpen eyes
Oh, Babe
Sultan of summer-simmering swat
Brawny blasts
Feasting on Yankee dugout brauts
Oh, Babe
Slumped over metastasized mic
Scratchy soliloquy
Imbued on replayed records of life
Oh, Babe
Pointing to ostentatious October sky
Homerun heaven
Where George Herman Ruth resides
We can never forget 9/11
We will forever remember such a date
A date that will live in infamy
A date that has everything in it:
Sadness, fire, death, destruction and bravery
Heroism, sickness and resilience, except happiness
9/11/2001 is a memorable and a daring date
That changed the world. Things are not seen like
The day before. We have a different perspective
About life and everything under the sun
We learn new ways of mourning, sighing
Fighting, of course new ways of being absolutely resilient
No, we will never forget this fateful day where terrorism
Became a new word. Everybody is talking about the death
Of so many brave first responders: firefighters, policemen
And many others who wear proudly their uniforms
We shall never forget 9/11. We will never forget 9/11
The sacrifices made by the brave civilians who had lost their lives
Are priceless. The eternal flame in our heart cannot be extinguished
We know that everyone in NYC and elsewhere will always
Remember how the world got shocked, stunned by these egregious
And deadly actions perpetrated by a bunch of sick cowards
9/11/2001 is a monument engrained in our brain which will live there
For a very long time. The memories of the braves are metastasized
In our psychic, no one can suppress them without killing us cold
"911" is no longer three numbers but a historic symbol like Pearl Harbor
9/11/2001 is now 18 years old.18 years of tears, fear, pain and suffering
We shall never forget 9/11. We will remember. We can never forget 9/11.
Copyright © 9/11/2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Crucible
Peer into an unpredictable universe
Of ambivalent depths
A calyx cul-de-sac tipped up
Into a crucible of the unexplainable
Where curiosity strides into pure moments of mystique
Fields of glory in bluebells
Rusted milestones
Hail ravaged wheat.
Echoes of the prophetic tongue
Swirl in chanted brews and prayers
Mists, parted by potions,
Bleed new horizons rising like cities lost
In hundred year mists
Brewed in a grail uncovered from eon’s smothering dusts
Tasting ego and humility
That knows its need for divinity.
Mercy metastasized in every grieving limb
And through the organ of the soul
Led through foreshadow’s chalice
Into unfathomable days yet to be born.
5-1-23
Contest: Up to 20 Lines
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Twenty lines.
toward thee spunky gal,
whose impregnation and debut appearance
way to brief a tale for Aesop
cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted),
out the birth canal aye did bop
analogously compared
to a mealy mouthed measly crop
a spindly tangle of arms and legs
radiated (starfish like)
dangled and would uselessly drop
like a raggedy ann male counterpart
(raggedy andy - how original)
with limbs that didst flop
and tis no small wonder, thyself as one
newborn baby body electric
easily confused with bony glop,
which skimpy weight
leant convenience as sigh grew older
to alternate jumping
(ala pogo stick mode) and hop
from one skinny spindle shank leg to another,
and manifold orbitz whip
sawing round the sun
bore witness to puny laughable specimen
of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight)
grew long straggly hair,
which NO ONE (except me) could touch,
nor most definitely NOT lop
off (this fetish) compensation
for very slight physique
in dewed time begot
pencil necked geek milksop,
now at an age prowl lix sing viz
dragging, crawling, battling...
slight abdominal bulge
unlike widower octogenarian biological pop
whose once strapping superman
like build atrophying (sad sight)
since grim reaper put objectionable stop
upon head of harriet harris,
whereat two and a half score years
her longevity did top.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
now, comb may tooth how zen,
sans eight plus ten
'twill be thirteen yars
when me late mum agonizingly relinquished
an indomitable loo ving life,
which strong fighting spirit
(spittle and vinegar) yen
reached a juncture,
(sans metastasized ovarian cancer)
forewent heroic measures, which ken
not avail bottled anger within this sole son
telling thee, he didst love ye
never communicating NOR often!
Is just Love an oasis in ‘desert of self’
Where my talents seem fossilized bones with no life?
I bless remnants of forebears (expired, long past prime)
That caress life, the breeze that cools brow, whose moist breath,
Does suggest some direction, moves me off the shelf
Of indifference! All I invent is my wife
Or mirage that just silently glistens and I’m
Fool’s gold’s victim who wrestles a vacuous death?
Yes, the “Little Prince” spoke ‘Truth,’ the desert that hides
An oasis is beautiful. Poetry’s less
Than the stardust metastasized facets of gems
That form crystalline structures, though contents of thoughts
Bring a smile to God’s lips or cause angel’s insides
To do cartwheels! Can rhythm or rhyme then possess,
Is it hatred or Love of this life that condemns
Grace that God gives to Jason and all Argonauts?
Let us all take a break from what some might call sin,
From the ones we trust Love us, for whom we feign Love!
Just remember God’s rain falls on ALL life! That’s ‘Kind!’
But does life that adapts thrive on Nature that’s here,
Or is all evolution ‘designed’ chance to win?
Do we profit by judging when push comes to shove,
Or gain more from God’s judgment when pride’s left behind?
Do you think truth’s a virtue to crowds that swill beer?
More than Love’s in the wheelhouse of life if I’m right,
For it’s stocked with provisions that lighten our loads.
There is Reason, there’s Math, and now Science as well,
And if Faith’s not an answer, it’s Faith that floats ‘Ark
Of All Wisdom’ that’s human, that’s ether for ‘Light
Waves’ that bend and refract as dark matter’s mass goads.
Can Man’s models of Nature, Sums, Logic then tell
Us how waves of light form? Faith’s God’s watermark’s ‘quark?’
Brian Johnston
2nd of October in 2019
We can never forget 9/11
We will forever remember such a date
A date that will live in infamy
A date that has everything in it:
Sadness, fire, death, destruction and bravery
Heroism, sickness and resilience, except happiness
9/11/2001 is a memorable and a daring date
That changed the world. Things are not seen like
The day before. We have a different perspective
About life and everything under the sun
We learn new ways of mourning, sighing
Fighting, of course new ways of being absolutely resilient
No, we will never forget this fateful day where terrorism
Became a new word. Everybody is talking about the death
Of so many brave first responders: firefighters, policemen
And many others who wear proudly their uniforms
We shall never forget 9/11. We will never forget 9/11
The sacrifices made by the brave civilians who had lost their lives
Are priceless. The eternal flame in our heart cannot be extinguished
We know that everyone in NYC and elsewhere will always
Remember how the world got shocked, stunned by these egregious
And deadly actions perpetrated by a bunch of sick cowards
9/11/2001 is a monument engrained in our brain which will live there
For a very long time. The memories of the braves are metastasized
In our psychic, no one can suppress them without killing us cold
"911" is no longer three numbers but a historic symbol like Pearl Harbor
9/11/2001 is now 18 years old.18 years of tears, fear, pain and suffering
We shall never forget 9/11. We will remember. We can never forget 9/11.
Copyright © 9/11/2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Mesmerized by phantasmagorical flames
brandishing cerise, fuchsia
and crimson-colored
tongues of fire;
I marvel at the beauty of the beast.
I see the chard smoldering underbelly
of the flames, cloaked
in bellowing blankets of thick smoke;
its flames lapping at the coating of hope
someone had amply applied to their dream home.
I hear the glass windows
screaming as the broken panes
shatter the illusion of a quiet death;
and the house, no longer a home, crumbles.
I witness irreplaceable memories
melt like plastic soldiers
stationed at the gates of hell;
with little chance of rescue or survival.
I smell the acrid stench of fear
clinging to the hopelessness
of a devastated family;
like an inoperable cancer
that has metastasized.
I grasp the stark reality that confronts me;
and a tear trickles down my cheek.
The last students you've loved slip out of the room
Their chairs ghostly, enshrouded, urns overturned
Your eyes survey the wreckage, the whisper-less ruins
Vultures and jackals lips lick, poised for their turns
This sinking treasure, deserted way-station
Empty hull, barren deck -- unrepentant ablation
Once-inspired platform and forum, so grand
Pitilessly metastasized to crumbs of sand
While the gay voices of those
Who've abandoned ship with such glee
Ring out to shores distant, eternal, carefree
My heart waits for you so that our dreams can come true .
My heart aches for you, so remove the guard so that I can be with you
Days have passed and I kept working like a horse, cleaning the barn
Emptying garbage bins and meddling in the dirt oh what a terrible sin
I did not go to school to become a Janitor, but I became one over night
I also spend hours working my brain working with my intuitive mind and the spiritual oracle that originates from the divine.
My heart aches for you when no one is there to watch my back, my heart aches for you when no one is there to buy me a new frock.
Sometimes the days turn cold and I can feel you wrapped up into my soul with just a tiny touch of heat to warm your cold feet. It’s the kind of courage that we share that kept us floating in the air and when the weather is fine, I usually get what is mine.
The road is extremely long and the curves and turns are singing a wonderful song, the guitars strings are strumming and the people are marching on. The work is not yet done so I have to continue this journey until the battle is won.
I have to change directions, angle, and dimension and make the circumference bold and the dividing line whole; you must multiply the radius by two to get the diameter that is true, and then multiply the result by three point one four for a good estimate before you walk through the door.
I have to work with some new people and a new set to obtain some physical and spiritual depth. The location is metastasized with anger, hate and greed and the bald eagle is strangling the sisters and they cannot breathe .
I have to change location to get variety and a better proportion; I have to close in on the inner world with a linear distance and the radius pulling from the center or the sphere intersecting on something that is dear to complete the formula.
My heart is waiting for you to share the story of an unseen glory and ride with the wind in the south and break the wings of the North without a doubt.
My heart waits for you to complete this battle, and when it is done we will publish it and stand on the mountain top and shout with all that we have got
The birds will come raining in the sky for every direction and my heart will be pleased. I will hold your hands and embrace with thee. My heart aches for you.
When Phyllis canned her peaches
just two months before she died,
She did it for her family,
she'd done it since a bride.
She canned the summer sun for them
and sealed it in a jar.
Next winter when they shared her gift,
she wouldn't seem so far.
She always did her canning when
the fruit had reached its peak,
But this year cancer sapped her strength,
and chemo left her weak.
Despite the many mutant cells
which had metastasized,
She did what she had always done,
she peeled and sterilized.
She left behind this last fine gift,
and one more memory
Of Phyllis canning peaches
out of love for family.
CANCER
It began as a swelling
Localized swelling
Painless at first
Then painful
Then came a period of recession
Oh!
What a sweet relief
Wellness reigns again
Then again the swelling
Only bigger now
Persistent
Bigger
And bigger
They say its cancer
And it has come to stay
No cure, they say
The cancer has metastasized
Through lymphatic vessels
To distant regions
Where it eventually
Commits apoptosis.
The conqueror
Has conquered itself
Relief for the conquered
Succour has come
Finally.