Best Operating Room Poems
You lied there that night,
the pain you felt was so hard for me,
but a brave face was all you made
I was there, useless as always.
Your hand in mine, I felt so helpless.
I could feel your fear as the time wore on,
the doctor not helping at all.
Hours passed and the pain grew
but I was with you, not knowing what to do.
I could see you questioning yourself.
As if you felt unworthy.
I knew better, you were so strong,
but I wasn't.
Fifteen hours later
I could take no more
as the fear in you grew
and the doctor reached for you.
Can't you see somethings wrong!
They made me leave and took you.
I was so scared but you never knew.
I sat waiting for an eternity,
then out of the blue,
I heard a voice speaking to me.
The doctor came from the operating room.
He had something in his hand
as he walked slowly toward me
with concern on his face
I stood, numb, and looked in the dish he held.
He said the cord was rapped around her shoulder
and this, as he glanced at the dish,
is what caused the pain, but you were OK.
I felt weak as I listened to what he had to say.
but, you were OK was all I heard.
The nurse soon came, "It's a girl," she said
as I looked through the plastic case.
So, perfect and beautiful
she lay there calm serene,
perfect purple fingers and bright red hair.
She was you and my eyes filled as I looked at her,
at you, my beautiful
Babe.
12/23/15
Categories:
operating room, baby, love,
Form:
Free verse
Emotion has no place in the operating room, emotion cost lives.
Every time emotion comes into play, patients needlessly die.
In the operating room I am an emotionless machine.
I have a success rate that no neurosurgeon has ever seen,
and when I return home, I continue to be,
this total void of emotion human being.
I am a functioning psychopath,
pushed by my environment towards a direction of a positive path.
Categories:
operating room, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
The surgeon generals
are scalpel meeting once again
Fear doktors of war
are planning to raise another mar
on Earth’s topographical skin
Pigmented epidermal cells
are being prosperity lullabied put to sleep
under the celestial lights
Souls with eyes and minds closed —
their ears tingle lustily,
hearing cash pillow talk on poverty sheets
But, the gorgeous planetary patient
has no operating room human rights
Oh, such an awful terrestrial plight!
Yet, the view from the firmament heights
show another picture
of love from above
No stitches are seen
on the sky blue-eye, brown skin beauty
Regal global queen,
daughter of the Lunar tides,
your disfigurement is a cosmic shame
Moon princess,
Snow White seasonal changeling,
the galloping Four Horsemen are coming
upon the dispossessing gale wind
to trample upon
your perfect facial contours again
Hazel spring eyes,
with a cerulean crown
over her cloud-colored wedding veil
She wears such a Polar aurora adorable,
pristine mountainous gown
But the Jekyll dogs of war
are viciously on the shadow Hyde, waiting
to gnash another canine needle
into your verdant cheek vale fertility
Upon an evergreen face
does not one strand of virgin
forest hair
stand out of winter place
Until the anaesthesia bombs needle drop
to pockmark your oasis skin ...
and the monstrous dissection begins
Bloody butchers bullet love
slaughterhouse flaying
Stitching border sutures ... raised-flag lines
that are ever changing
As the summer fruits of world peace
are no longer autumn falling
Cris-cross scissor map marks
have so money land-lust sullied your timeless beauty
A planetary Bride of Frankenstein
is now your geo-political, laboratory scarred destiny
And I’m afraid to experimentally speak:
more stitches are soon forthcoming
Yet, from high above,
tho’ I hear
the negotiating table scalpel scrapes ...
I see no ugly stitches
on your indigo beautiful oceanic face
Categories:
operating room, allusion, truth, wisdom, world,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck.
I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation.
“You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion.
I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before.
Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike.
Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.”
OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could kill, he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie.
By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed.
In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.”
I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
Categories:
operating room, fear, mom, motivation, prayer,
Form:
Free verse
If I should breathe the last breath would you come and choke me to death? If I should climb to the top of the tree would you come and rescue me? My bones and muscles are speaking to me and courage is resting on my knees and I can feel the other side crying out for me.
Whispers of hope are flying around and benevolence is nowhere to be found but with determination I am onward bound; a sudden enlightenment breaks out in the middle of the sky so I know that it is not yet time for me to die. I have cleaned up the entire street and dismantle the garbage heap and all the birds have migrated and a new administration is coming to town and the Grizzly bears are dancing around.
Somewhere in the village below, I can hear them calling out for help; while the bells are tolling and anxiety is growing and the smell of incense perfumed the atmosphere, something peculiar is drawing near and the feeling of death floods the street rumbling my heart .People start running around looking for a staff and a crown.
And in a little house not far square the little lying in her crib waiting on death, and wonders aimlessly what life would be like if she was given another chance to live and she hums a little hymn and ask God to forgive her of her sins and all of a sudden something touches the sky and the universe replies.
If I give you a piece of my heart would we live like heart to heart? If I give you a piece of my heart, would you be loyal from the start? I know that a piece of you is inside me, I breathe when you breathe and I sing when you sing and that is how I know that you are living.
I have given a piece of my heart to the little girl that plays the harp, I want her to live and sing and fill the globe with modern hymn; the petri dish is in the operating room and she lies still on the bed while the heavens watches over her head.
And the surgeon moves his hand up and down while destiny moves quietly around. When she opens her eye I could see a thankful smile and I could feel a piece of her beating inside me and the room suddenly burst in flame with surgeon, doctors and nurses giving praise and calling out her name.
Take a piece of my heart and live.
Categories:
operating room, age, america, appreciation, body,
Form:
Prose Poetry
If I was in an operating room
It would be fair to say
Somebody would tell me
Have faith in God and pray.
But why rely on an invisible friend
To help and save my life
When it’s a surgeon standing over me
Holding the ruddy knife?
Categories:
operating room, faith, life, satire,
Form:
Verse
Today I saw my life pass me by
I saw my first steps
My first kiss, he was much cuter when we where little kids
I saw my first day of Kindergarten, Junior and High school, I cant believe I used to
wear that
I saw me going on my first date
And then going to prom with him
Then breaking up because he wanted to just be friends,
And how I cried for days
Graduation soon came and how I missed my friends over the years
Then college where I meet my true love, after many misses
I Gaduated then was soon married the following December
We had twin girls then fell in love and adopted a little boy and soon came another
boy
I remember seeing them all take there first steps and seeing my two little girls go
to kindergarten
But that’s where my life ends,
Someone took one to many drinks,
“I was only buzzed though.” I heard him say as they walked him passed me,
while I and my youngest son lay under white sheets
I said good-bye to my girls and husband while they where in the operating room
My son Nathan cried when I told he couldn’t stay in Heaven with James, Jesus
and I
Three lives lost today two without a memory to remember
Categories:
operating room, death, family, life, loss,
Form:
HOSPITAL
A new energy-incarnates
rips, knocking head first
hoarse cry …
oh dim light knife in the pupil !
oh metallic ice bath on the bloody skin !
oh great fall into void ! ...
night - endless night -
roof-quasar fleeing fast
How can a mother in anesthesia vapor
touch the lonely cry of the child…?
How can the useless little hands
swim back towards the warm amniotic ocean?
Oh separating body!!
An own spirit has been given to each body
Each hermit has received his load
The hospital doors are wide open
two shaking wanderers re-learn to walk
and welcome the new light full of painful noise
Hospital, you have injected energy into living matter !
In the middle of the road
a tumor seeds chaotic entropy
a stressed body has lost its order
the immune system army runs scattered …
the patient
is a silent moan between two worlds
is a collapse dragged through naked corridors
In the operating room
energy spreads its huge wings
and dances on a tightrope
Perhaps the traveler
will cry through his salty blisters
the sea will bathe him, returning him to the first cell
the sun will toast two bodies
in total loving embrace
with ultraviolet caress and infrared
Categories:
operating room, philosophylight, body, cry, light,
Form:
Free verse
I spent almost month in a hospital room
This ever worst sick was so much and doom.
Chilling so bad in a mild quiet night,
Freezing to death like I was losing my sight.
Lying on a white bed and feeling this pain.
Too excruciating and made me insane.
Medical tests were examined crucially,
Days were softly killing me physically.
Delivered my body in the operating room,
Wanted to extend this life and make it well bloom.
Hours of terror tortured me so ruthless
Felt heavy stitches which made me so breathless.
Years passed and I’m all too well.
Survived this disease given from hell.
I’m a cancer survivor! Fighting for life!
Saving myself for loved ones in life.
Categories:
operating room, success, sympathy, time,
Form:
Narrative
I'm a doctor who murdered a man in the OR.
I lost my medical license and I'm behind bars.
The bastard took a life with his gun.
The person who he killed was my son.
He fooled the jury into believing that he was innocent.
I was so angry and I made sure that Hell was where he was sent.
When he killed my son, I was blinded by rage and devastation.
When I had that animal in the OR, I botched the operation.
I ask myself if others would do what I did and I believe they would.
When I saw that heartless monster flatline, it felt so damn good!
I was convicted of first degree murder and now I'm on death row.
If you're wondering if I'm sorry for what I did, the answer is no.
(This is a fictional poem.)
Categories:
operating room, dark, death, father, murder,
Form:
Rhyme
"Each experience is locked within my heart
and I hold the key"...Constance La France
The doctor came from the operating room
Blood splattered scrubs, blood on glasses and said
"We've given her four pints of blood"_clouds loom
The doctor came from the operating room
A heavy mist covered my heart with gloom
Pondering gravity of red blood that bled
The doctor came from operating room
Blood splattered scrubs, blood on glasses, and said
Contest:Fragment Of Life
Sponsor: Constance La France
Penned by Sara Kendrick
This twenty-second day of
August, 2011
*Note _Click on about this poem
Categories:
operating room, daughter, health, introspection, life,
Form:
Triolet
my out of body experience
has'nt happened yet
i'm still waiting for the moment
when my soul will leave this flesh
i don't want it in an operating room
where for a space my heart will stop beatin
i just want to go to a place
where life stops repeaten
i don't need an experience
of my soul goin to hell
Jesus is my savior
and i know this very well
but if God should need a prophet
someone His truth to tell
then take my soul to that place
and return it to it's shell
Categories:
operating room, adventure,
Form:
Quatrain
Military Mind
Military Mind
Sexless uniformed surfaces not needing a life inside. Worthless devils fighting
all the time and hurting all others against the flag or under orders or authorized
this is the military mind just recently there was news a man held off his mind with
love the conscientious objector was recognized.
When eye was alive it was harder inside a man could have chosen the medical
core or just died in the combat. The colors on those flimsy operating room suits
were all wrong eye wore khaki may GOD please forgive me eye thought it was
better to die than to live with my military mind. Nixon stopped the troops
movements to the then Viet Nam. Nixon signed my discharge under the peace
movement then. My foot was swollen from a drinking binge could have been gout
my foot swollen up the doctor told me to toughen up when everyone else was at
bayonet practice eye walked on the sidelines not worthy to fight just trying to get
my foot to work to move my military mind. Since then as a civilian again eye have
almost ruined that foot again its lame on one side.
Now that eye older and lame became a fight would be welcome again to my
military mind. God please give me your strength to then die. To lose a life taken
is to gain it in Heaven eye object to my military mind.
Categories:
operating room, natural disasters, parody, people,
Form:
Free verse
The clothes she wore were twenty years old
Tattered and torn not much protection from the cold
The rusty cart she pushed with wheels well worn
The hair on her head needed to be shorn
Slowly into the emergency room she did enter
Just in time for her heart was tender
As she sat down in the chair
Her lungs no longer filling with air
Passed out onto the floor
Someone coming in through the door
Yelled code blue alert
Then the staff turned with a jerk
Everyone moved in hight speed motion
Some people wondered what's the commotion
Just like lighting to the operating room
Jane Doe was whizzed which was none too soon
After days of tender loving care
Still unidentified she slipped away from there
Meeting her husband beside the road
Speeding away in their car they drove
She was no bag lady
But America's elderly poor
Who needed heart surgery
But couldn't afford the cure
(This is copied righted on LuLu's Poetry.com as are most of my work, some of which is
supposed to be published in their anology series. Sara)
Categories:
operating room, allegory, death, education, family,
Form:
Rhyme
With razor sharp deception,
you seduced my trust and intersected my protection.
Ripping open my ribcage,
you mastered the art of unfaithfulness
and slaughtered my love with your unyielding rage.
With your surgeon gloves on;
you took the beat away from my cardiovascular,
and left me with joint and muscular pains
around the circumference of blood vessel that felt awfully peculiar.
No words could explain
the moment I fell to the ground; clutching my chest,
realising my princess was more of a pest who had left
behind our whole relationship in a mess.
While laying on the ground;
misguided feelings were all I could think about,
as the sympathetic voices rang out
to overload my mathematical ability to count.
Still, it was paramount
I gathered all my broken pieces to dissect the events,
that lead up to my intense state of suspense
over comments that had left my love truly incensed.
You said you cared for me like no man before,
but instead of investigating her statement to make sure;
I was foolishly assured, my security was secure.
Processing looks that could kill, you grabbed your utensils and cut me deep
in the space you called your operating room,
with broken promises and neglect in hand; my sadness loomed
while you unravelled your bitter cocoon as the clock struck half past noon.
Rushed to hospital in an act that was not an accident but more an emergency,
all I could see was the colour burgundy
as my soul tried valiantly to see past the bruise of dishonesty.
As the nurses tried to disperse the curse of bitterness
and coerce me into feeling a sense of relief,
I was resigned to suffer disbelief at the thought of my utter grief,
recalling the brief time it took you
to come into my life and steal away my kindness like a thief.
To be continued...
For more poetry goodness visit www.checkmyflow.co.uk
Categories:
operating room, angst, lost love, recovery
Form:
Rhyme