Best Pneumonia Poems
The cottage reeks with
fluid tides of hope,
incessantly commanding.
My baby’s here.
I’ve still no word
coming down the line from Dover.
Winter’s gone...
Spring rains have come
and with it comes the tears all over.
I weep again, my child it seems,
will never know her father.
Today down by the spring
I prayed the prayer so often said,
sorrow turned desperation.
I found a ring left in the cup, since
yesterday laying there, scribed “M”
upon a jeweled stone.
My heart leaped in
expectation.
I heard his voice inside my head,
where also his face I saw.
I turned and looked...
no one was there...
please God give me
this one discretion.
There must be peace somewhere to find.
I look but must be led
by your grace and mercy.
Again at chores, the babe
asleep, the knock came loudly.
A letter from Michael O’brian maam,
please sign here for delivery.
I hurriedly skimmed,
he was dead,
two days before,
of pneumonia.
Our little Rose, still in my care,
to receive his name
if she so chose
and all else he owned in Dover.
A ring for me
it seems was gone,
a large garnet with the letter M
on the stone, had disappeared
completely.
EPILOGUE:
A seed was planted in winter,
planted in sweetness of youth.
It was a gift from Michael.
He left me alone in the spring---yet,
his flower grew in my garden.
Our error was human.
First feeling trapped, then love,
from this Rose in my life.
Forgiveness is divine.
Love is eternal.
11 Jan 2011 Charles Henderson
Categories:
pneumonia, me,
Form:
Narrative
"Doctor!
Doctor!
How is he?"
"Quite terrible, Miss.
He will not survive the night,
Probably not even the hour."
"What does he have?
Terminal cancer?
Pneumonia?
Cardiac Arrest?"
"No.
It is worse then all of those.
Even combined."
"Oh no!
Can I see him?
"I imagine you can, Miss.
But that's the problem.
I'm afraid I can't treat him
Since I can't--"
"Doctor! Please tell me.
I love him.
He's my boyfriend.
We have no secrets."
"Then you may wanna sit down.
Miss, I am sorry to inform you,
Your boyfriend is ailed with
A severe case of nonexistence."
Categories:
pneumonia, boyfriend, funny love, girlfriend,
Form:
Light Verse
Whose face stares back at me
from this strangely shaped mirror?
Where could I be? I do not have a mirror
that looks like this. Am I that lady in the mirror?
I touch my eyes. The woman in the mirror touches hers.
I blink my eyes. The lady in the mirror is blinking her eyes too.
It must be me, but my hair is so white! What happened to my lovely hair?
My locks of gold brown, warm as a summer day. Why is my hair so thin now?
Why am I here at this strange mirror? Where am I? This isn't my house, is it?
Our mirror looks much different. It's in the tiny bathroom of my large family.
We all live in a small grey house. Eight children. Yes, there are eight of us!
My mom is so pretty with her long red hair. How I miss her. Is she here?
I cry "Mom"; a woman in white comes to the door . She’s not my mom!
She is a nurse! Oh, no. Am I sick in a hospital with pneumonia again?
I touch my eyes. The lady in the mirror touches hers. how is this me?
The nurse, near a strange sink, wets a wash cloth. She's now softly
dabbing at my mouth. She says my daughter is coming. What does
she mean? I’m a young girl. I’m not this lady in the mirror. How
can I have a daughter? My sisters and I are still young. None
of us are married. I miss them so much. Is Mom at work?
Mom is a nurse, but not this nurse standing next to me.
Now a pretty lady stands by the door "Hi, Mom," she
says, "I'm Angela, your daughter." How can this be?
I’m not married. I shake my head no and the lady
in the mirror does too. Niether of us knows this
sweet lady whose eyes now fill with tears!
Written November 20, 2017
Categories:
pneumonia, age,
Form:
Shape
A fleeting moment in time,
Is all I need for this rhyme,
Perhaps 10 minutes, no more
Sit in your armchair, close your eyes,
And to your utmost surprise,
Your life flashes past like an express train,
Happy moments with unimaginable joy,
Horribly sad ones, like the day
I lost my baby boy.
Where does each year go, life is greedy,
And definitely always needy,
Progress demands youth takes over the reins,
What will become of us,
Next week you or I are forty,
And in a decade we will be fifty,
Birthday cards sent to us,
Inappropriately witty,
You’re on the downhill now sis or bro,
You have to settle for second best,
Along with all of the rest.
You work you slog, but at sixty five
You are retired, what to do with each day,
Such a drag, but we all love poetry,
So we will never be solitary.
Soon we will be 3 score year and ten,
Our lifetime over, says The Book of Psalms
Psalm 90 verse 10, this is an older translation.
Today’s verse 10, has been adapted
Into many a version.
We wonder, how did we become so vulnerable,
We reach eighty,
And then ninety,
We could have dementia, our minds quite muddled
The way forward, every day a sad venture,
Or we could be arthritic or have Parkinson’s,
Chronic pneumonia, had an accident and
Broke our back,
At this age the cards stack,
Against us.
One day we can’t breath, rushed to hospital,
The family, children and grandchildren abound
No regrets, life has been profound,
We heave an accepting sigh,
As a tear rolls down from our eye,
Have we any regrets, is this that
Moment in time, you, means all of us,
And we and us, means as it does,
So you, us and we,
Means also my and me.
My husband, also sick, whispers, let go
My love, I’ll see you soon.
He lies next to me,
I feel cold, the clock strikes three,
It is mid afternoon,
Finally, my spirit leaves my spent body,
Hovering above my bed,
I wish I could tell them hey, stop crying,
Life is a journey,
And so is dying.
Categories:
pneumonia, age,
Form:
Free verse
FEVER PITCH
Demons of faith,
God speed,
Ageless tears,
A dweller lost in the perfect Odyssey.
Bricks of memories, barricade my way out.
Growing gray within the ageless centuries.
Steady rivers, at the pitch of one response.
Times out, by the heat, and beauty.
Tragedy is never a fear to announce.
The drug that takes to cure, the world,
~ lost in a torn humanity.
Harmless, results and tears
~ struck in every way, in the same day.
Sneaky thoughts up my sleeve.
I will leave, the envious of me, this you best believe,
There is no way in...
YET!!
I found the perfect way out...
Destroying demons,
That get in my way..
Waking up in a dusty road.
Unleashing every load.
Today's a different day, still I wake up the same way.
But, today life is reversed.
I find myself with an endless thirst.
Tossing me into a 700 degree level,
I shine away from the path of the dust devil.
Swirling all around, forbidden to enter my bound.
Your pitch at me,
a fever I want no more.
Now I can see, the emptiness of the things inside of me.
Now I can feel, my soul reaching out to heal.
Breaking every cold sweat,
Shivers, pneumonia a life of regrets.
Withdrawals left behind.
Symptoms, showing the fever is gone.
God Speed*
Into my life*
by;p.d.
Categories:
pneumonia, lost, life, lost, drug,
Form:
Free verse
Hearing the words "touch and go,"
I sink into a quagmire of despair
Slipping and sliding on tears of fear
In a swamp of memories
I've but one brother, one sister
Artie's Covid battle unleashed ills
Pandora's Box opened to pneumonia
COPD and emphysema
Now the reaper knocks upon his door
I pray he does not answer
Separated by a thousand miles
I long to see his smile again
To hear his laugh just one more time
I'd follow hope's long road anywhere
Wrap him in the comfort of prayer
Use my shield of love to protect him
His chances tenuous at best
Anxiety chases dreams away
Lord, let me embrace him once more
Before You carry him home
Categories:
pneumonia, brother, sick,
Form:
Free verse
Starving a fever,
stuffing a cold I'm following
happily that old
advice: pumpkin pie,
coconut cake, excellent
for easing any ache.
O Chochona!, it's pneumonia,
so much chicken soup
from friends in the coop,
dark and white, breast
and leg have me almost
ready to lay an egg.
Categories:
pneumonia, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
Hi dear friends, I’m back after a bad shingles attack and straight after that bronchitis verging on pneumonia.
Little Robin red breast bobbing up and down,
Would take away with glee, anybody’s frown
And friendly buzzing Mr Bumble bee delights,
Us one and all, he does not sting, it’s not his thing.
He visits flowers , red, yellow purple , pink and blue,
Which attract him, loves their pollen and alluring hue.
One day bumble bee and little robin decided to be human,
So prepared for tea and pancakes, without the gluten,
They saw Katy the caterpillar crawling on the lawn,
And invited her to join them, the following morn at dawn,
They all met for this fun occasion by the nearby river,
But an uninvited visitor arrived with shiny wings, such a diva.
A Hadeda elegant and loud of call thought she was an opera
Singer, had one thing on her mind, which was Katy Caterpillar,
She slowly walked on her stalk like legs towards this prickly
Little insect, wanting to swallow Katy who was so wiggly,
Down her gullet, but Robin red breast said no no, no,
And Bumble bee agreed and said, I think you ‘d better go
So with his wide spread wings the Hadeda flew away,
Leaving Bumble bee and little Robin to enjoy their day,
How wonderful was their idea for pancakes and tea.
Another visitor arrives, so famous, known to you and me,
Can you guess who.
He wears a top hat, mutters crazy sayings,
And carry’s a full tea pot , ‘do you want a cup of tea,
Oh dear, oh dear, my or me, he or she or maybe you.
He takes his watch out of his waist coat pocket and says,
‘I’m late, I’m late for a a very important date, no time to
Say hello goodbye I’m late I’m late I’m late’
‘It’s time for me to go,
Au revoir from your dizzy beau.’
It was the Mad Hatter, of course,
An Alice in Wonderland source.
What happened to Katy caterpillar, well fearing
For her life, Katy crawled under a nearby bush,
Did not intend to be a snack, or mealtime mush.
NB – THE WORDS UTTERED BY THE MAD HATTER – are both from the book Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and some of my own.
HADEDA IBIS - referred to in South Africa as only Hadeda.
Categories:
pneumonia, life,
Form:
Rhyme
I was pulled from a swimming pool when I was 7 years old
gasping, frightened, cold
must learn to be water safe before I go in over my head
I was struck by a car when I was 9
bruised, shaken, embarrassed, but very much alive
must learn to look both ways
I was told my pneumonia was touch and go when I was 14
I'd never seen a doctor look so worried before
must learn to rest
I took a corner too fast on my bike when I was 17
cut, bleeding, startled
must learn to ride more slowly around corners
I was rescued by a lifeguard at the beach when I was 22
frightened by the immense power of the ocean currents
must learn to respect the rip tide
I was thankful for the seatbelt in a collision when I was 28
rattled by the poor judgement of the drunk driver
must learn to drive defensively and never presume safety
I emerged unscratched after spinning 360 on a wet freeway at 47
protected by a guardian angel from a potential fatality
must learn to check my tire treads and drive slowly
Not knowing the preciousness of life
until it was nearly snatched away
dear life, I love you so!
written 3 Aug 2020
Categories:
pneumonia, life,
Form:
Free verse
He was tired of pneumonia, wanted to get out there and play in the snow. In an hour his pals would be trudging up the sledding hill with their sleds. He had been sick too many days; he was tired of Jell-o, and his mother's voice being too empathetic, and apologetic. He played with the frost on the window. Wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped outside? It would not take him long to get to the top of the hill. Unfortunately, the snow was virginal. If Mom saw the tracks from their house, he would be in big trouble. He noticed for the first time that the tree shadows in the snow were blue. Fascinated, he pushed his nose next to the window, reveling in the icy cold feel of it.
frosted window pane
blue tree shadows on white snow
my nose is ice cold
Categories:
pneumonia, sick, snow,
Form:
Haibun
Just a poetic (souper) side note courtesy chief
wordsmith brother unaware ye experienced grief
diagnosed as walking pneumonia please bull lief
yours me, he doth care and breathes sigh of relief.
Gratis the miracle of modern medicine wife
of Richard McGeehan, he offered succor
during serious bout when ye suffered strife
lovingly tendering lifelong counterpart
spelling finis regarding any galavanting nightlife
nurturing mother of their grown son (Brendan),
who immersed her whole self as housewife.
How aware ill luck of the draw
found thee inexplicably stricken
with serious malady against the law
nearly necessitating travois
(maneuvered by Kit Carson)
to transport thee to medical center.
The above stanza unbeknownst to you
analogous to current reading material
myopic eyes of mine view
historical fiction titled
"A Most Desperate Situation"
authored by Walter Cooper,
I just might maintain as keepsake
among various and sundry other books
lined up like soldiers upon shelved queue.
Courtesy perusing selective material
not so much to become boastful
self pedagogical ace,
but merely to expand knowledge base,
whereby latest erudition
preoccupies mindscape with displace
called realm of imagination
allowing, enabling, and providing me
to travel into hyperspace
only welcoming family members
like thee dear sister into myspace
a beloved sibling
thirteen plus months older
glad ye got begat December 1st, 1959
whereby ye got fifty two plus weeks headstart
to join (chance throw of genetic dice)
entrance into human race.
Though Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan born
more than three score and three years ago
if series of unfortunate events would befall thee,
this sole brother would certainly mourn
and with futility emasculate and scorn
himself until... his own plaque
designating his buried cremains
in lieu of tombstone worn.
Categories:
pneumonia, angst, blessing, brother, december,
Form:
Rhyme
In her layette, she looked fair.
‘Nimisha’, the parents called her.
When aged five, the polio plucked
the strings that her legs moved.
As a stringless violin, her legs rest.
In the wheelchair, she grows up
along with her mother’s tension,
and father’s anxiety.
The rustic children wish her
but nobody takes her
to the festival
in a shrine rural.
She wears new dress
but as the butterflies in her frock,
she also cannot flit
to the shrine yard.
Cough waves, today also,
shake her lungs so.
The distant drumbeats and the holy music
move her fingers in the wind rhythmic.
The clarion does resonate and ripple
the divine thoughts in her ears.
She never knew
pneumonia packing her soul.
Serenity of the twilight collapses
as, again, the drum storm develops.
Few knew Nimisha swooned.
Later, the people intoned,
“Being holy,
an apt day it is.”
In emptiness infinite,
her parents knew her truly.
Categories:
pneumonia, death, loss, parents,
Form:
Free verse
The following immunizations
Recommended for kids
10 to 12 years old
Help protect from dangerous diseases
Parents check
Immunization records
If missing
These important shots
Tdap (tetanus diphtheria, pertussis)
Protects against 3 dangerous diseases
Required before 7th grade
Kids need 1 shot between ages 10-12 years
HPV (Human papilloma virus)
Requires 3 shots for full protection
First shot required between ages 9 or 12
A booster at age 16
Menningoccal
Protects against infections
Can cause brain and kidney damage
Preteens need 1 shot at age 11 or 12
Flu
Much serious than the common cold
Everyone needs to get the flu vaccine every year
Even young healthy kids
Chickenpox
More than just an itchy rash
Can cause Pneumonia or serious infections
Kids needs 2 shots
Talk to your doctor
About getting these vaccines
Be healthy
Protect yourself against these serious diseases
4132013
Categories:
pneumonia, child, dad, family, children,
Form:
List
From the year of Eighteen ninety,
survives a sad birthday tale.
As told by Private John Burnett,
eighty years old when it was told.
Of needless deaths of Cherokee,
inflicted by relocation.
In Eighteen hundred thirty eight,
President Jackson did decree,
all the Cherokee must move west,
and give up their lands to white men.
Even though he, Junaluska,
had saved Jackson’s life in battle.
On chill morning of October,
six hundred forty five wagons,
took the twelve thousand Indians.
Chief John Ross led all in prayer.
They were literate, Christians all,
with written language, newspaper,
and Constitution like our form.
Morning, November seventeen,
terrible storm of sleet and snow.
No fire to warm the ground below.
Dying of pneumonia from the cold,
a trail of death, four thousand souls.
Heart wrenching grief for those alive.
Eighteen ninety, still near the deed.
Too near for young people to know,
the enormity of the crime.
“Murder is murder however,
or whomever perpetrated.
By the villain skulking at night,
or to martial music by day.”
“Murder is murder and who answers.
Who must explain the streams of blood,
flowing through Indian country.
Who will mourn the four thousand graves,
which silently are trail markers.
I wish I could forget it all.
Thus ends my birthday story here.”
Based on a true record of John Burnett’s story of his life with
the Cherokee and his accompaniment on “The Trail of Tears”.
© May 14 2010 For Deborah’s” theme of western movement” contest
Categories:
pneumonia, historybirthday, life, murder, ,
Form:
Epic
Elenor Quine
Elenor Quine was her name, but they just called her Nellie. My late mother said.
She was born in 1909.She was always apparently the last one up to bed
She was one of my Mothers sisters, who died when she was just twelve years old.
Because she got soaking wet then caught a cold
It then turned to Pneumonia. The year was 1921.
There was not a lot that could be done
My Mother was just ten, at that time. Her other sister was Winnie, Her brothers Bill and Tom.
But they are all now long since gone.
She did have another sister born years after Nellie died.
She was called Bunty When she arrived everyone cried.
She too has long since gone. Throughout the whole of her life my late mother kept a little white dish with two handles on it.
Because it used to be Nellies, I can’t bear to bin it.
This afternoon I just got it down to dust. Then all the memories of what I have been told
Came flooding back to me,. So much history it has. It is so old.
Now it is going back on the top shelf again.
A little dish that holds a story of pain.
So although Nellie I never knew you.
I just wanted to write a little verse about you.
Categories:
pneumonia, family, history, mother, sister,
Form:
Rhyme