Best Waiting Room Poems
Some waiting rooms are large
Some are very small
It could be anywherei
In any building
People bring books to read
Doing this to pass the theaime
Others start to chat or read
If lucky listen to some music
Sometimes it could be so quiet
A person can hear his thoughts
Or solve a problem of some sort
If lucky write a poem into a book
Pantheon of obtuse glorifications
Hallways confetti bile stymied soldiers smile
'Incomiiiiiiiiing!!!!'
Waves and waves of the nation's slaves
Wave your flag
The few
The proud
The crippled and the dead
Scared old men
sit at attention
wait for doctor
Surgery waiting room clocks move very slowly.
Pages in the books people brought with them are read over and over again without the reader ever knowing what it is they read. Magazines are picked up and put down again without being opened. Windows are looked out of without the view outside ever being seen.
And, the clock hardly moves.
If fish could be described as pacing back and forth, that is what the angelfish in the oversized aquarium appear to be doing. People sit in one chair, get up, walk around and sit in another chair, as if that one will bring them better results. Bathrooms are entered and exited and the faces reflected in the mirrors within look more worried than the person looking at the reflection had hoped to see.
And, the clock has barely moved.
Hands that are seldom held are being held by friends and family. Hugs that are seldom shared are being freely distributed. Vending machines are being stared at for minutes at a time, but items are seldom purchased.
And, the clock remains the same.
Each new person that enters the room attracts every eyeball wondering if that person’s loved one is in better or worse shape than the one they are waiting on. Then, the eyes return to the page that has been read fifty times; the magazine that remains unopened; or the window that looks out to an unseen scene. Cell phones ring. Strangers learn the story of other strangers through one sided phone conversations.
And, the clock appears to have stalled.
As surgeons enter the room, everyone listens for their name to be called. You watch other families converse with the doctor, gather their belongings and relocate to other rooms with slow moving clocks.
Once you hear your name, your anxiety heightens and you learn the status of your loved one. You gather your belongings to sit vigil by your patient’s side to be there when they awake. Upon leaving the room, you glance one last time at the waiting room clock and notice it has skipped ahead seven hours.
You leave the few remaining anxious strangers behind and hope to never have to see that surgery waiting room clock ever again.
Herein the empty vessels
cavort, frenzied motion capture,
compass cracked, fly blown
dervishes robbed of direction.
Mumbling lips aflutter
with poetry deranged;
dry dock for the ancients,
amnesiac retrograde.
Inconsolable and incurable,
imaginary tasks, furniture removal,
trailing human waste
they are the cause of.
Beneath a frozen clock,
metal frames and walking sticks
lean in derelict repose,
surreal, Daliesque in structure.
The intimate stink of
bowel and bladder hangs
a cloud of doomsday,
peeling humanity's very integrity.
All the while waiting,
injury and bonus time
arthritic in progress, waiting
to be touched by the hand of God.
I wonder why...
I must sit still and wait
for the Doctor to come in
when I got here so late.
If I'd been on time,
would I have see him at once,
Or would he have just gone out to lunch?
Early or late- on time or slow,
It really doesn't matter what time I go
to the doctor's office I wait...
In the hospital waiting room
you like to be in good time
there you are feel little nervous
up tightness within out of rhyme
No matter serious or minor
your ailment in pain or not
you’re never sure how it’ll go
makes your mind always in doubt
When your time comes to see Dr
always reassuring if he gives a smile
this makes you feel more at ease
since last appointment been a while
Good to get out that surgery door
with absolutely nothing at all wrong
even a prescription is not too bad
as your inner self’s quite strong!
(some thoughts on mine and others experiences at the hospital waiting room!)
The Waiting Room
The April weather shifted high to low,
Exposing those early clout casters
To the concluding bite of winter;
Footsteps full of foreboding
Trudge their last legs up the inclined driveway
To the Doctor’s old house.
A hotchpotch of chairs and wooden benches
Cling to the borders of the waiting room
A ballroom of romance for the sick.
In varying degrees of ill-health
A gamut of the townspeople
Chorus a cacophony of coughs
Sniffling and wheezing feverishly,
While the readers’ digest stale stories
From the well-thumbed publications.
Eyes darting around the room
Surveying the afflicted to kill the time
Conjecture at the probable cause and severity;
Childlike comparisons to ones’ own condition.
A new mother fails to stifle a yawn
Spreading contagion to the assembled
Her flushed snoozing baby
Unaware of her blaming chatter.
Life-weary pensioner invited to the inner sanctum
Chilled to the bone, sciatica stricken,
Accepts the decree of the medic
Without question or comment.
His framed degree, long faded,
Enough to stifle her to silence
His stethoscope, as a Priests garb
To her, underpinning his status.
Two codgers still await their summons
More regularly neighbours at the bar
Boisterously chatting across the room
For the oblivious benefit of the throng;
Socialising symptoms best supressed
Public bravado before their private hearing,
Selective honesty, the order of the day.
Quiet couple with obviously hidden issue
Whisper conspiratorially in the half lit room
Embracing the background murmur
And the dimness, aid to their privacy.
Vice-Captain of the junior team,
Fit, and embarrassed at his minor disorder
Conjures up exaggerated “near death” vocabulary
For future reportage to the team
His shame cajoled into the ether
By his twisting of the physicians’ imagined words.
And all the while the waiting room remains
Constant, a silent witness to all ills.
I arrived early for the appointment I had made many months ago,
And began the interminable wait to consult with the medico!
When I checked in, it was already half-past noon.
Nursey said, "Take a seat and we'll be with you soon!"
The room was filled with people in every kind of condition!
I mused, "Lord, have mercy! Deliver me from this perdition!
While waiting I'll surely contract a dreadful disease, I fear
And be so much worse off than when I arrived in here!"
I thumbed through dog-eared magazines dating from 1953,
And stared with glazed eyes at unctuous soap operas on TV.
Swallowed stale coffee by the liter from a Styrofoam cup,
Waiting impatiently for my name to be called up!
I tried to snooze but that soon became a sad delusion,,
With bawling kids and inane babble - just too much confusion!
The little old lady next to me told of her every pain and ache,
As I lent a compassionate ear, striving to stay awake!
I was tempted to order a scrumptious Papa John's pizza pie,
Since my stomach was growling and supper time was drawing nigh!
At last Hildebrun, the nurse, in all her puffery before me did loom,
And finally ushered me into the harried doctor's examining room!
Robert L. Hinshaw CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
I am in the Doctors Waiting Room
Waiting for my name to appear on the screen
I’ve been here for twenty minutes
Oh how much longer before I am seen
It’s embarrassing enough for me
Without the whole waiting room learning
That every time I use the loo
My pee has started burning
I sense the receptionist is highly amused
Though she tries to hide the fact
Then proclaims at the top of her voice
“Sounds like an infection in your urinary tract”
I can see all eyes upon me
As I go to take a seat
So I make my way towards it
While looking down at my feet
The TV on the wall blares out
An advert about a man called Giles
Informing you what measures to take
If you’re diagnosed with piles
There is an air of misery
And impending doom
Everyone thinking of all the flu viruses
Floating around the room
The lady sitting next to me
Stands up and shouts “outrageous!
If I have to wait much longer
I’ll catch something contagious”
A small boy is building with plastic bricks
Sat cross-legged on his own
While mum totally ignores him
Too busy on her mobile phone
I point out to her
A large poster on the wall
‘No mobile phones ever'!
She says “I’m talking to my boyfriend Paul”
There’s a sudden buzz of excitement
As a name appears on the screen
It’s of someone who'd got tired of waiting
They went home at two fifteen
There is the distinct harmonic sound
Of sniffing, coughing and wheezing
With an equal measure
Of moaning, groaning and sneezing
A sudden smell of disinfectant
Makes me catch my breath
My mother always said the waiting room
Had a distinct smell of death
My nose begins to run
And I really must take issue
With the man who stole my seat
When I got up to grab a tissue
My bladder's feeling full
I should have gone before i came
I daren't go to the loo
Because knowing my luck, they'll call my name
I really need to go
And decide to take the plunge
So I start upon my trip
Towards the toilet door I lunge
Safe inside the toilet
I am suddenly appalled
When I hear the tannoy whistle
And my name is being called
I pull myself together
And venture from the loo
It appears I’ve missed my turn
Someone took my place, I don’t know who
I approach the receptionist
And say “I really had to pee”
She says “Come back tomorrow,
Your appointment is ten past three”.
These chairs are uncomfortable
probably designed for that one purpose.
Those around me make no attempt
to acknowledge my existence
as if I am the product of their illness.
These chairs are uncomfortable
I wonder if they feel the same.
The wait is long
two hours past
my appointment time.
I would be angry
except all my emotion
is focused on this chair.
I watch as those around me
come and go
I am still ignored
this chair now unbearable.
Finally
I am called
I stand
I feel instant relief
I am happy to be out
of that uncomfortable chair.
I enter the office
my mood elevated
ecstatic to be seen
my greeting
no anger or despair
simply
"Good afternoon, Doctor."
Into my test
that one
I put off for so long
that dreaded Prostate Exam
my mind reverts
so not to feel any pain
I think of that damn chair
probably designed
for that one purpose.
Have an appointment
Waiting, waiting, long
Too many waiting
To see the doctor
All waiting their turns
One child very young
Screaming loudly
She can not settle
It is neve racking
Waiting, waiting, wait
Waiting, waiting, calm
Waiting, waiting, calm
For my turn to come
So I sit and wait
Creating this poem
In our great little retirement community
They're dropping like flies around me
Need to break free, must get out this place
It's Heaven's Waiting Room you see
Don't matter if you're healthy as all get out
The grim reaper knows where you live
He's as anxious as hell to whisk you away
And you really have just one life to give
So ignore the guy that's waiting at the door
Do all the things you've always wanted
Relentlessly time keeps marching forward
It's progress remains undaunted
Keep ahead of the game, of that final day
Laugh at that guy with the sickle
Tell him you'll call when your good and ready
This existence can be oh so fickle
© Jack Ellison 2013
Stress fractures
nerves worried faces
diagnosing ourselves
News bad good and bad flow from each
room
tears joy anxiety glee
Surgeons nurses physicians assistants
in out Xray MRI electro cardiogram
mumbles groans laughs
pains worries
anti-inflammatory analgesic ablation
bedside manner compassion
stoic silence brave exterior
resilient fragile young old
tired of hurting hurting tired
sterile antiseptic
STAT
replacement rehab rejuvenate rectify
Why me
biohazard no trash
bad magazines charts
forms forms forms
Hipa compliance
Hip replacement
shoulder pain
smolders
code blue code black
co-pay
Marvellous elliptic magic Moon
Tears of honey served on silver spoon
Morning cold enough to crack a stone
My love will be here soon
Jupiter ascending to his throne
Indifferent, untouchable, alone
Deis Pater, Lord of light and sky
The bird of love has flown
And it will be a long while till we lie,
Limbs entangled under gravid sky
The Spheres conduct a melancholy air
Lament for she and I
The weight of light impossible to bear
Ice and fire refracted in the air
Our souls entwined like vines about the moon
We sing her silver tune