Best Shingles Poems
My pain level is an eight on a scale of one to ten.
Poor you, someone says. Someone who has no idea
That I have been running on pain levels of ten for three weeks.
An eight is terrific; great, something to strive for tomorrow.
Shingles has taken me hostage, inside my own house.
My body is her host, my mind wondering what I have done
in this lifetime or any other that was so bad that I deserve
a punishment like this.
I finally figured out today if I am sitting on a cold pack,
my pain level goes down to an eight. It took me two E.R.
visits, four days in a hospital and trying everything I could
fathom I could stand before I stumbled upon this wondrous idea today.
My skin is so hyper-sensitive that a horse fly landed on my
arm today and it felt like a honeybee digging a stinger into me.
The morphine pain pills did not cut it, so I got something else.
I hate to tell you, but they are not as effective as the morphine pills.
I have never in my life felt this level of pain.
I know there is a reason but I have no idea what it is.
I hope that I have suffered enough for all of my family and
All of my friends because I have suffered enough for every one of you.
If plastic surgery was free
And painless
And available
And fast
What would I have done?
Can they do eyes? Mine have floaters.
Can they create teeth? Many of mine are missing.
Can they do left hips?
Mine has shingles.
Can they operate on you when you have oozing open sores?
Can I make an appointment please?
For a new hip?
It has been almost four weeks.
Surely they are not contagious any more.....
Shingles
Shingles, if you have not had it do not wish it
On your worst enemy. Two nights of agony I rang
My doctor, he lives nearby, arranged to see him
(Cheaper that way).... It is good to live in a place
where everybody knows your name and I had just met
him a few weeks ago at a funeral, made him promise
to come to mine. He had laughed and said; even that
you have been ill a lot this year you will shake it off and
go on living, the way you carry on you can come to mine.
I looked at him we had both survived cancer, and he
looked in fine health and I thought to survive your
doctor is bad manners; people may think he was not
up to the job.
viral symptoms sprout
white pus seeps from spiny tips
envy masks gangrene
Dandelions are in short supply the news station warned us.
If you have not had your immunizations it might be too late.
There is a limited supply since people started to eliminate
dandelions from their yards.
A wise group of millennials figured out that dandelion oil
is a fast cure for some cancers, shingles, and ALS.
The doctors vaccinated the sports stars first.
The movie stars were next.
How soon do you think the vaccine will get to us?
Cousin Heb asked me.
Not sure, I replied, but we have dandelions in our yard.
Maybe it would help speed things up if I donated them.
I called the dandelion dream team and told them about my yard.
They were there in a day and a half, grabbing up dandelions
The way eight-year-olds grab up colored Easter eggs.
Here is a receipt for 6, 132 dandelions, the driver told me.
A check will be mailed shortly.
I do not want a check, I want the vaccine, I told him.
Sure, sure, he said, nodding his head, pretending to agree.
I have called their headquarters eight times this week.
I guess the answer is that commoners are not getting the vaccine.
I am broken glass
waiting to pierce your feet
To bloody you up and see your pain
For I am in so much
I want to spread it around
I am on fire, my teeth are sad.
My gums hurt, and I want to share this
with thousands of others
Wailing is what I am doing now
for shingles has consumed my body
My ankles are thick, my throat sore
Food comes back up,
in an untasty way.
I am broken, I have been stepped on.
Kicked to the curb, I lie in wait,
for you
But dare you come?
I would not if I had a choice
God did not deem that for me.
Choosing for me.
Which causes me anguish
Comes out as wheezing
The wind comes through, trying to sooth
but my mind is set against all hope
I am broken glass, waiting to pierce your feet.
There's a tv commercial with a metaphor,
that some of us may have heard before,
"shingles doesn't care".
If one rolls the virus dice rsv and covid
aren't very nice but "shingles doesn't care."
Competitive bugs that are honing in on you,
like pneumococcal pneumonia too, but
"shingles doesn't care."
In between any tv show that's on the air
these pharmaceutical commercials loudly blare,
our brains on auto pilot, we blankly stare,
cause "shingles doesn't care." Do you?
Shingles is something I live with daily
Chosen for me by whom?
I have no idea.
I doubt it is my choice, as it is painful.
My skin is tender; shingles is red, raw, sore, and rough.
This disease is something I try to forget about every day.
I can push it back into the farthest corners of my brain.
If I am deeply engaged in painting, cartooning, or writing.
But then BAM it comes back in full force, unbidden, unwelcome.
This malady is something I have lived with for over two years.
My doctor has told me it might be until the end of my life.
I remember staring at a bottle of morphine and codeine one time.
The doctor had warned me if I took them both, I would die.
I was in enough pain at that moment to almost do it.
I have no idea why I didn’t.
I threw the morphine pills away,
so I cannot ever be tempted with that again.
In case the pain gets worse.
shingles
hitting someone hard
in sheer pain
needing relief and respite
gruesome reality
lacking strength
energy annihilated
sorrowful amount of pain
The scratching wakes me up
Ridiculously unsatisfying
Yet notoriously put there by shingles
Or excruciatingly painful allergen.
A scream for help
Time is in my way
Sorry I sid not sneak my Excedrin pm into hospital
Morphine is not cutting it.
Each time more insistent
On a more potent drug
Serpigo, roseola, German measles, flu.
Shingles, chicken pox, pandemic Corona boo hoo.
Chilling fever, chest pains, aches all the way through.
Muscle fatigue, slap cheek, and mumps poking you.
I feel pretty great today. How about you?
Savage
Hurtful
Igneous
Nefarious
Grevous
Languishing
Enveloping
Sores
Seven medications and I can spell none of them.
I have thrown sleeping pills and pain reliever into the fray.
For the morphine was not cutting it.
I was in dire pain. Then I took a baking soda bath.
Pure heaven, that bath. Instant relief.
Joe ran out and bought all the baking soda the store had.
He had to rent a truck to bring it in. He is crazy like that
When a loved one like me is as sick as I am.
The truck broke down on the way down the driveway,
But I revved up our magic conveyor belt and we had that baking soda inside
lickety split. It is filling up the kitchen, the hallway, and most of the bathroom.
I have enough room to squeeze into the tub, so all is good.
THAN WHY MUST WE SING
AND BELEIVE AS YOU WISH ME TOO
THAT YOU SPEAK OF SALVATION
BUT SUCH IS SPOKEN ONLY THROUGH YOU
THAT YOUR VANITY IS SEEN
AND YOUR WORDS ARE SAID
IT HELPS ME NEITHER
IT'S ONLY STORIES READ
THAT YOU IN YOUR NEWNESS
IS BETTER AND LESS BELEIVED
BECAUSE THOSE I PRAY TO BE WITH
YOU DISTORT AND CAUSES TEASE
THAT IT IS EASIER TO DIVIDE
AND SUBTRACT THOSE WHO LIKE THEIR WAY
TO SING AND DANCE IN THE NAME OF
THE DIFFERANCE
TO A NEW GOD YOU WISH US TO PRAY
THE GOD OF LONELINESS
WHO WISHES OUR NUMBERS LESS
THAT WE ARE STRONG IN COUPLING
AND ONCE COUPLES WE ARE BETTER AND BLESSED
YET TO STRANGE TO DIVIDE
AND HAVE US TO BELEIVE YOUR WAY
YOU TEACH US HOW TO LISTEN
AND TELL US WHAT TO SAY
THEN THOSE WHO ANWSER
SPEAK ME AS ILL AND GROSS
A PRODUCT OF UNRAVELING
TO BE TREATED AS SUCH
I SPEAK HIM AS GOD
AND YOU SAY I BROTHER YOU
YET SUCH IS UNBROTHERED
THAT THE GOD I PRAY RENEW'S
Poems are coming slowfully.
For I am most woefully
And truly most woefully
In the hospital doe-fully
Itching my skin until bleeding
More potent pills I am pleading
Poems are decidedly misleading
Me out of this stupor I’ll be needing