Best Surgeon Poems


Premium Member The Surgeon Poet - Js

A fine poet and doctor is he

But my chats with him stopped suddenly.

He cut into me good.

It makes sense that he would

since his specialty is surgery!

Premium Member Second-Hand Something - With Apologies To the Surgeon General

Lord, it’s been a good chunk of time... 
Been such a long time. 
Time enough for me to know... 
To know it so well.
Been without it too long... 
Too long to take it. 
And baby I need it... 
And honey, you’ve got it. 
And I need to have it... 
So you need to share it.
Just send a little bit my way.

Lord, it’s been a mighty long time... 
Sentenced to hard time. 
Time to have to go without... 
To struggle without it.
My need is so strong... 
It’s stone-busting strong.
You know I crave it so bad... 
So bad it’s sinful.
And it hurts me so good... 
And you’ve got the goodies.
I just need to have it... 
You need to breath it.
Just blow it on along my way.

I need your second-hand smoke... 
Second-hand smoke.
I need thy kingdom to come... 
Not nicotine gum.
In through the nose,
Out through the mouth...
I need your second-hand smoke.

The Surgeon

We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.

Let's call on the rectal surgeon,
It's a calling we could crave;
Lift up your hands and join us,
Let's all do the finger wave.

When it comes to spreading joy,
There many a sweet techniques,
Some spread joy to all the world,
While others just spread cheeks.

Me thinks the cardiologist,
Needs be the patient’s friend;
But the colorectal surgeon,
Knows he'll get you in the end.

Why do you call a rectal surgeon,
It's one of those mysterious things;
Is it because in that profession,
There are always openings?

When I first met a rectal surgeon,
He didn't quite understand;
I said, "It's nice to meet you,
But do you mind if we don't shake hands.

A doctor he did want to be,
For golf he loved to play;
But this is not quite what he meant,
By eighteen holes a day.

We praise the colorectal surgeon,
Misunderstood and much maligned;
Slaving away in the heart of darkness,
Working where the sun don't shine.

Not mine


The Turkey Surgeon

I get this job every year
I have never been to medical school and I am just a lowly nurse
Yet it seems that every year my family hands me the electric scalpels and puts me to work
I surgically slice and dice ole Turkey Lurkey
Once he comes out of the oven he begins to get that nervous look upon his face

"I wonder how she will approach me this year?
Will it be the prone presentation or supine? 
One year we ordered Cornish hens and it was sublime!
No carving required!"

This year I have a new blade and it is revved up and rearing to go
First I delicately removed his thighs and cut perpendicular through his breast
His gizzards were harvested at the beginning of the surgery all neatly tucked away in a nice little baggy
After Turkey Lurkey’s flesh was neatly arranged on the tray 
I took the remaining juices and basted him one more time
Lean and tender and just on time
He arrived to the table straight from the O.R.
Happy Thanksgiving from my surgical suite to yours!

Sincerely,
The Turkey Surgeon,
Gwendolen Rix

This is my official Thanksgiving Day poem!
11-27-14

Ophelia Boobies

Ophelia had cancerous breasts
According to all of the tests
But old Doctor Kaiser
Was simply a miser
Who plundered the most treasured chests

Designer and Surgeon

Is it possible to ever attain
a truly objective evaluation?

     A beachwear fashion designer
     and a post-mortem surgeon,
     sitting as judges at a beauty
     pageant swimsuit competition,

     may share some convergences,
     depending on their imagination,
     but their views shall widely differ
     due to training and profession.

     One may gush over much money
     cascading from sales of lingeries,
     the other thinks about the health
     of intestines and throbbing arteries.

Objective evaluation, possible
in the oglers' rapt attention ?


Poetic Surgeon

Sometimes my pen cuts as a scalpel in the surgeons hands
It releases my thoughts, it creates my plans
I can build them up, I can tear them down
Will I make them happy or will I make them frown
My words are filled with passion, they have the power of life and death
I can give you hope or make you feel there's nothing left
People follow the stanzas to the end of every page
Some titles express joyfulness while others breathe rage
Will my words take you to the skies, will they bury you in the sand
This poet is more than words, I am a still hurting man
So with each poem complete a part of my soul is released
When you take the journey, will you awaken or tame the beast
Creating is what I do, turning my flows into light
I will take you on a trip with every thought I write
So in essence this poet is the surgeon, the scalpel is my pen
I can take what was birthed in sadness and make you feel alive in the end

A Surgeon and a Church Fight

Over square miles a unique surgeon
In the West African sub-region:
Clearly,the tower in their region;
Names of the other knives in dungeon...

"Daddy,will I ever be like John
Now and again in Germany's Bonn ?"
But surgeon is facing religion
And religion: "I'll defeat you, John:
For you,surely,coming with legion,
Which shall never fail to you bludgeon"
It's surgery for delivery 
To The Church's Christ's needless mockery.

Stalker Night Surgeon

It's only the dark don't be scared
yes cause when they come ill be prepared
they won't get me not tonight

as a child i was scared of much
spiders, sharks, fishmen, blankets i clutch
wears my torch much keep bright

but these things are real
call me mad maybe surreal
tonight no way, i will fight

grey skin, round black eyes
aliens fly down from the skies
on good please not, not tonight

they move through wall, paralyzed with fear
cut me open, stealing sperm, thats why they're here
...

the eye the eye oh god the eye
i look up they're here, i cry
i give up take me away to the sky

send me back, usual so much pain
tubes and knives. suck my veins
must find some rope they won't hurt me again

Heart Surgeon

Threw the good and bad times we stood strong
No matter what was trying to tare us apart
You've shown me this is a battle worth being fought
Here's a penny for your thoughts baby,
I'm convinced there's not a woman on this earth that could take your place, we've came a very long way
to get where we are today, look at what we been threw yesterday and how far we came on this day. Trying times and crossed lines seemed to have tried to separate us, but love like this is like Heavenly treasures, man can't rob us of this and it won't mold & rust. There's not enough words in the English language to describe how I feel about us. We overcame obstacles, beaten the odds, you're the one who gave me hope when I thought that me getting a chance with you was lost. You're the reason I wake up with a smile on my face, it took time but it was perfected and you were worth the chase. Sometimes you gotta slow down so you can pace it, I got the woman, family, and life I prayed for, so it's only right that I give her all of me whether richer or poor. I'm more than blessed to find the one I was meant to make a covenant with, the one who entrusted me with her heart after it was all bruised and stitched.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Surgeon of Truth

Truth is an elusive beast.
Veiled by the cloak of deceit.
Truth is a laser light.
Only found by those who seek.
Truth can cut one to the quick,
When square in the face it hits.
Truth a precision scalpel,
Surgeon tool that does the trick.
Severs bonds of hypocrisy.
Removes the blinders of hate.
Truth never arrives uninvited,
Thus, dull darkness of deception,
Eases into every ideology.
Feasting in minds of educated arrogant.
Flowing out from intellectual ignorant.
Excreting greed, graft, hate, and hypocrisy.
Truth never resides in the middle.
For it is always right of left,
Occasionally appears left of right.
Truth by its nature must choose sides.
For when it comes to wrong or right,
Truth in the middle cannot abide.
Light of truth the great surgeon.
Seek the surgeon he will set you free.

Premium Member Call Me Mrs Surgeon

None of my friends have performed breast surgery on themselves.
Once upon a time, I had a little cyst.
In my left breast.
It was benign.

Two doctors refused to take it out.
GET IT OUT! a voice in my head said.
I got a paring knife and made a little slit.
The cyst popped out. It was ugly and red.

I did not know there is a sac.
You have to get the sac out too apparently.
Two years later another cyst grew inside the sac.
I told the nurse about my self-surgery.

For an hour every nurse in that clinic made an excuse
To come in and take a peek at me.
I guess I am famous there or something.
The doctor said “You’d never do that again, right?”

The nurse said “A paring knife isn’t even sharp!”
I said, “Tell me about it.”

The Surgeon Kicked the Cat

Operating room. From under the table- "Meow!"
The surgeon kicked the cat- with a gently stroke.
The cat start begging much  more loud.
The surgeon said- "Well. Take it. Choke!"
He cut off something and threw it on the ground,
The cat gobbled it and pleased, at once went out.

A Surgeon Who Committed Murder

When a surgeon had to operate on a man, she was pissed.
She botched the operation because the patient was sexist.
She learned he was sexist and botched the operation so that he would die.
She bragged about it to her friends, it was something that she did not deny.
But she didn't expect one of her friends to turn her in.
Now she's rotting in prison, she's no longer a surgeon.
She doesn't even realize she did wrong, she thought she had the right to kill.
A surgeon is never supposed to take a life, it's a surgeon's duty to try to heal.
She thinks her patient was scum but he was a better person than her.
At least he didn't kill another human being, he was not a murderer.

Premium Member My Lucky Twin Sister Carolyn

To say my twin sister Carolyn is lucky is an understatement.
She had a broken C-2 that had to be fixed.
Dr. Kawakaki from Iowa City put rods in her neck.
She had a physical occupational appointment yesterday.
Doctor read fifty-two pages on her before she arrived.
Doctor said “I know this might be morbid, but I have to tell you…
The only people I have met with a broken C-2 were either
On a ventilator, paralyzed, or dead.”
My sister was astounded.
She is walking, driving, making a quilt, and hosting Christmas.
The doctor asked “How long were you in the hospital?”
My sister was in recovery at 9:30 p.m. on a Wednesday.
She was in the car ready to go home by noon on Thursday.
My sister said “I am glad I had such a great surgeon.”
I said “And tens of thousands of people were praying for you too."

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