Best Tuberculosis Poems
Metallic city howls like a wounded animal
scraped by nocturnal vigils
of grandchildren and elders
emaciated like tuberculosis lungs
gasping from chug-chugs of tobacco soot...
and the face of a night is hammered by
ripped moans like plucked strings in motel rooms;
pagan women opening limbs for a meal in silent fury.
This is the other side of town, so real...
beggars peddling hope; factory shoulders
ranting over shuffled cards and fired gin
as wives’ blistered fingers
clean rented pots, gibbering same monotone of hymn,
“give us daily bread, daily bread”.
Outside, the pier coughs off
the commercial honks of weighed cargo
reeked with labor’s perspiration,
where pawnshops buzz with greed's snicker...
the evening owl attempts winks
under the grime of bloodied moon…
it spits the larynx of tenants’ raged hoots
wishing morsels of fresh sunset
would pour some grace of life’s salve. I weep
before the shrill of red sets in... again.
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Truth Contest sponsored by Anthony Slausin
Re-post 5/28/2019
With her first words she mesmerized his soul,
Of rose water and lavender was her aroma,
Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic,
A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note,
Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding
To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual
Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball.
He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance,
She accepted and gracefully took his hand,
He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced,
Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and
So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes
Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him
Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance
Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and
Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention.
Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York
From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed,
Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation
Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in
Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance
And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them.
Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic,
Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her
Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning.
He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become
Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage,
Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last
Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after
An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights
And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered
Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly
And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally
Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral.
What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three
Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes in childhood.
being curious, asked her once…
I didn’t notice anyone playing the flute!
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
Hers was the saddest smile when she told me about her brother,
who played the flute when she sang,
passing away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the implacable separation from her most loved one..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
When my mother passed away,
she asked me to bring the flute,
couldn’t believe my eyes ..how much comfort it brought to her,
touching and caressing that musical instrument with her fragile fingers…
and her last sigh was peaceful!
September 5, 2021
"This Or That - Vol. 6 " Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Mother Teresa
She is the mother of every poor people, injured people, ordinary people...
Always we remember the great news
'Mother Teresa will get the Nobel Peace Prize.'
It was one of the best moment in our life...
She lived in our city Kolkata (Calcutta) .
She ate our Bengali foods.
She loved us so much...
One day, I was twelve years old
I met her at Mother House along with my parents.
I looked at her heavenly eyes.
I touched her sacred feet and hands.
I heard her divine speeches.
I love her innocent smile.
I told her only the sentences,
'You are the mother of the world,
Mother of my parents.
So you are my grandmother.'
My father hesitated. My mother was silent.
Mother Teresa said to me with smile,
'GOD BLESS YOU MY SON'
Today my eyes are full of tears
Mother, I miss you.
I love you so much....
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
(Mother Teresa founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Roman Catholic religious congregation, which in 2012 consisted of over 4,500 sisters and is active in 133 countries. They run hospices and homes for people with HIV/AIDS, leprosy and tuberculosis; soup kitchens; dispensaries and mobile clinics; children's and family counselling programmes; orphanages; and schools. Members of the institute must adhere to the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, and the fourth vow, to give "wholehearted free service to the poorest of the poor".
Mother Teresa was the recipient of numerous honours including the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2003, she was beatified as "Blessed Teresa of Calcutta". A second miracle credited to her intercession is required before she can be recognised as a saint by the Catholic Church.)
Dismal tale of men and women in the dirty rail compartment
No conception of the charm being knitted by the movement
Of the necklace of gentle light in the pants shirts and blouses
All is too occupied in their struggle to notice the kind crescent
As they are returning home from their respective workplaces
Piteous story of apathy and woe all of them are absorbed in
An old lady chewing parched rice taking it from a rusted tin
In a dark corner is seated a youth with shirt all bloodstained
Suffering from tuberculosis and looking very fragile and thin
A worthless life of empty existence still wretchedly retained
Though no threshold he will come across leading him to a
Plate of rice and curry as at least one square meal a day
A hawker of playthings approaches them in a smiling face
A second vendor selling some human figures made of clay
A gloomy motion picture of life running in an unfair race
10/07/2017
Rhyme Time with 5 Poetry Contest sponsored by Laura Loo
Using the five words viz Piteous Bloodstained Threshold
Conception and Dismal
Rosy lips,
And rosy cheeks,
Plump face,
A person with a grace!
His ‘good’ (?) health,
Behoves his wealth,
Eats well,
Looks well!
But becomes easily breathless,
Often gets night-sweats,
His health is virtual,
And not real!
This ‘big’ boss,
Can not have “Koch’s!”
Some one may challenge,
Beware! A strange cozenage!!
Form:
Cough,
O this endless cough
Don't know what is this
Asthma or tuberculosis
Allergy or real disease
Cough in the morning
Cough in the evening
Where to find the cure?
I consult to the doctor
But still,
No cure.
She looked like an angel
Sitting there in her bed
Everybody loved her
She had a great sense of humor
They say I am like her
I am very honored.
She was my dear mother.
She was a very sick lady.
She had tuberculosis and stomach cancer
She left me and this old world at the age of forty-five
I was age five
Mom I love you and I miss you.
black snakeroot, yew, cocklebur, poison (ivy, oak, parsnip, sumac, ryegrass, hemlock), blister bushes, daffodil, mayapple, lilium, jerusalem cherry, indian licorice, deadly nightshade, christmas rose, bleeding heart, asparagus berries, wolfsbane, tomato leaves, doll’s eyes, the suicide tree, young larkspur, blue-green algae, stinkweed, dumbcane, european spindle, blind-your-eye mangrove, manchineel, laburnum, mother of millions, elderberry root, bacterial pathogens, exotoxins, mycotoxins, grayanotoxins, rhinovirus, chicken pox, sleeping sickness, cholera, yellow fever, typhoid, rotavirus, river blindness, measles, japanese encephalitis, hepatitis (a,b & c), cryptosporidiosis, shigella infection, pneumonia, meningitis, tuberculosis, schistosomiasis, malaria, influenza, herpes (1 & 2), crab louse, scabies, chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, chancroid, trichomoniasis, hpv, hiv/aids, ebola virus, marburg virus, mad cow disease, mudslides, avalanches, blizzards, storms, cyclones, hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, fires, supervolcanic eruptions: evidence of absence.
Mama Africa is sick and getting sicker!
Millions suffer from cancer!
Millions have heart attacks!
Millions considered HIV positive!
Millions have tuberculosis!
Millions are affected with diabetes!
Malaria is the first leading cause of death!
And cases of epidemics are reported every year!
Mama Africa, is your behaviour malpractice?
Mama Africa,have you forgotten how you lived
before 1800?
Mama Africa,have you forgotten the healing skills
you possessed?
Mama Africa,have you delibarately avoided your
healing skills?
Europe learnt about you with admiration and awe!
chipepo lwele
PS;Hats off to the chinese!!!They have completed their
hat trick in traditional medicine.But, alas,here in Africa
,it would be associated with witchcraft and mysticism!
A CRY FROM DEEP DOWN MY HEART!
grandfather
died in the forgotten plague
of the last century*
I sit musing under the cherry
startled by a white possum
*tuberculosis
for George
"You always said you had little invisible friends,"
He wrote in a Christmas card one year, and Yes,
funny he would remember that. I called them Shovel,
Hoe, and BicaBacaBoca, all of indeterminate gender,
like Arial in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," beautiful
like that, and mysterious. Like the Bard, I now
consign them to the page. Reborn again.
My Navy hero, he sent us letters in brown V-
Mail folders, wartime paper and postage efficient,
and in one for our pianist stepmom, the lyrics
and music to "Lili Marlene." As for pin-ups,
he never owned up to Betty Grable's fabled legs,
her teasing over-the-shoulder glance, aimed toward
GI's everywhere, though there was the obligatory
tattoo he could never erase after sailor days, bluing
like Popeye's down the inside of his right arm.
Pacific time brought reward, some misfortune:
a bout with tuberculosis in Bizarte, Tunisia:
a year of recovery in a Naval hospital at home,
painting by the numbers, waiting out the time.
But, there was a hero's commendation from his
commanding officer for "aid in evacuation
of the wounded, and bringing the vessel into
port after torpedoing."
The ship, LST-3, earned two battle stars
for World War II service. Decommissioned
and struck from the Naval Register, it was sold
for scrapping, 10 September, 1947 - the year
I graduated from high school.
He was not sold for scrap metal, nor sustained
any. He came home to his sweetheart, and his kid
sister -- you know the one. That's her in a middle
row of the Ritz movie house, the one crying
while "Anchors Aweigh" plays after the War Bonds
trailer to the image of a warship, plunging
valiantly on a faraway sea
my mother had two tokens she never parted with -
a book containing music notations,
and a flute, made of brass.
her favourite book had her name handwritten on the cover,
and the unadorned flute had a name engraved on it.
she lost her brother when he was in his twenties,
to tuberculosis,
it was he who wrote her name on the cover,
with calligraphic dexterity.
he played music on the flute...
mesmerizing audience with cadence of the melody
while she sang
and danced like a captivating fairy,
until the disease took over,
and one fateful day, he was gone.
the flute remained with her....
the day she passed away.
she asked me to open a sandalwood box,
and there it was! The Flute!
she touched it, caressed the name with her frail fingers,
and closed her tired eyes.
April 1, 2021
Inspired by " Last Token" Premiere Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Placed Third
You are like a sickness
And I am a dog unto its own vomit
I keep coming back to you
again and again...
You are like Tuberculosis
Or cancer
The reason that I am vulnerable...
Is because 1 kernal of love
Is left in my heart for you
I need the most powerful drugs
Known to mankind
To kill what I feel for you
And what I feel is unhealthy
You are like the Cancer
You grow inside of me
Crowding out what is good for me
You are like a Leech
You suck and devoure
My life essence...
You feed until
I have nothing left inside of me
You get what you need from me
But while you do that
I am slowly dying inside
I need love...
But you can't give me that
And your fake, mirage, fools gold
Grows inside of me
Choking off my heart
To where
I can hardly breathe... anymore.
It hurts so much to love you
That I swear
I am having a heart attack...
All because you invaded my heart
My life space
And squeezed shut
My beating heart
Form:
The bleeding of my eyes cannot
be over emphasis as the a weakness of my heart.
i have been brave thousand times to stop the
black sky from darken my heart, yet my
braveness was sold in penny days ago in public.
Your father has sold his soul to the bar
where his father refused to accept defeat thousand times.
My son, mother is weeping as my pen is bleeding.
the Debts has accumulated in a very high rate
And your sisters have returned from school with their back
on the back of the house weeping like weepers
Yet, all the burdens and the cross of this home
are rested upon my shoulder to bear in pains.
Things has fallen apart and mother aren't happy.
the tuberculosis has began his romance on your father
After the last taste of palm wine he had last time
And i don't relish the prospect of getting him treated
All the time he would go back again with drinking.
I am not writing to ask you of money as you may think
But for you to come home to murder the madness
Created by his mad attitude in the midst of madness of the day.
Son, remembering where we started before the dark cloud
Where mankind eyes divided our dreams of perfections.
I saw the show and reflection of our difference in you
Knowing in your presence my hunger for love would
Be banished and my murdered tomorrow received love
in the eyes of those who laughed at me.
Mbajiakuwas here yesterday with a clapping lips.
Clocking the tress in the compound with his words
But i told him of your fathers madness and he hurt me .
Son, they made me a monster of loneliness
The day i and your father became strangers.
Your father is no longer receiving treatment because all
That i have saved is gone.
My life, a divided of two by two
without a resounding adjective to qualify the nouns.
Son, i am broken in pieces !
Mother is dying in silence as if she has no one
to console her in this dark side .
come home son before your sisters are sold to get
Your father treated as planned by your uncles.
I will be waiting under the tree where you grew up to welcome you.
YOur mother.