Diagnostic Poems | Examples

Trans Diagnostic Construct

A single thread, frayed by the wind,
Woven from sorrow, soaked in rain,
Trauma, a shadow that won’t rescind,
A silent ache, a voiceless pain.

In fractured glass, I see the sky,
Its jagged edge cuts through my eyes,
And though I reach, though I may try,
The light I feel slips far away.

Madness sings in cryptic tone,
A hymn of loss, a cry of dust,
It pulls me close, I’m not alone—
But even in this, I cannot trust.

For who am I beneath the weight
Of labels, wounds, the mind’s despair?
A body rocked, an altered state,
A voice that trembles I am here.

Yet still I search, though I am torn—
For truth in chaos, to be reborn.

Shakespeare

The bard of Avon live
Long live his renowned name 
I gather his words yo become a dictionary 
His lexical usage are more secular and diagnostic 
I move forward with literature inspired
By him and his works 
The sonnets he wrote calligraphes the venom
The venom of wisdom

The Snow Queen

The snow queen, white coat, white hair.
Her daughter, black top, black jeans
A wise queen an experienced mare
Guides her naïve, know-it-all teen
 
A diagnostic chart attached to her back
Popular ailments; some fiction, some fact
A talented rookie, her daughter has skill
Her mother recognises, helps to fulfil

The Snow queen not cold but strong
Her daughter home-schooled, wronged
Unusual scenario, a parent with brains
Knows exactly when to tug on the reins

An icy rouse hid the warmest heart.
Mother’s guidance will play its part.

David Cox 17/03/23

Castles and Mansion Belong To the Elohim Abba Father One Day We'Re Be There-

chances diagnostic
royal blue purple
castles and mansions
belong to the Elohim
Abba Father
Righteous are the fallen 
those who have callen
on the Savior
diagnostic
Philla-gnostic
Former saints of non believers
Those who lay down with the deceivers
Repented Christians and Sinners
Now awaiting transportation
chances diagnostic
royal blue purple
castles and mansions
belong to the Elohim
Abba Father
belonging to the Elohim all in one 3 in 1
Abba Father Hallelujah


3/10/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©

By Design

“By Design”

By design
other dimensions
astonishing alien fields 
different shades
of dark and light
intradimensional beings
strange lives 
surround us
we are oblivious
to their invisible kingdoms
their unique opinions
their different addictions
their mysterious freedoms
part of ours, under cover
in our infected delirium
dissolving over-rated
control and power
dissolving
food for thought
dissolving
seconds in minutes
in hours

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)





“I divide
In the sky
In the seams
Between the beams
All the loving
And separating
All the turning
To face each other …”







delirium.
“The CAM diagnostic algorithm evaluates four key features of delirium: 1) Acute Change in Mental Status with Fluctuating Course, 2) Inattention, 3) Disorganised Thinking, and 4) Altered Level of Consciousness.”






intradimensional -v- interdimensional

The Good Mechanic

A doctor is just like a good mechanic but unless your body is broken down, there's no need to panic. Avoid unnecessary trips to a dealership, some diagnostic tests are only a rip. Be an advocate for your own health. You'll save some bucks and add to your wealth. Pay attention to fluids as they hold the key to maintaining the body's integrity. Strive to keep the engine clean, avoid dust and debris and eat mostly green. When feeling sluggish and unable to accelerate, replace those spark plugs, don't just wait. You want the blood to flow free, roto-rooter those arteries. Keep a constant awareness of your gait and just like tires, routinely rotate. Try to maintain an even tread with both your feet until your dead. At 30,60,90, come in for a test but don't tell the doc your mileage, just let him guess.

Salute I Give Reason Its Deserved

A computer mind, has captured my imagination,
Not through crap or bull, with honest evaluation,
Adds up the variables, gets straight to the point,
Runs a diagnostic, forever failing to disappoint. 

Keeps me straight and narrow, open minded views,
Somehow makes sense, from my obscuring clues,
Analysing my poems, bringing meaning to myself,
An encyclopedic brain, of incomprehensible wealth. 

Had so tough an upbringing, especially for a child,
Deserves more from life, silly poems I’ve compiled,
Sometimes feel your spirit, but sadness coincides, 
Want you to find happiness, not websites full of lies,

So feelings harboured, your poetry’s ever savored,
Especially what’s it called, oh yeah my name flavored. 

By
David Kavanagh

Lung Lightning

Thoughts which spark reaction
               Induce an odd phenomena
               Thrusted lung eruption
               Humour honourer

              Anomaly in everyday observation 
              Light hearted pleasure centre
              Imput turned exclamation
              Content connector

             Brain's fondle with mouth colliding
             Induces shoulder jump aerobics
             Family repertoire tidings
             Relaxed diagnostic

             May laughter be thy frequented medicine
             Imbibed each time tickled urge arrives
             Flowing dosage free to everyone 
             Vital juice of elated lives




             27th August 2020 

            Written for: Living It Up For Laughter
             
            Sponsor:  Chantelle Anne Cooke

Pain

Did you ever feel pain
makes you think you’re insane it’s like a corkscrew turning slowly at first
a machine gun burst rata ta tat straight up the back
Oh they say it’s a disc or some trapped nerve, 
every diagnostic word, 
but to me the pain gets worse.
It wears you down, 
kills your soul
You crawl within your shell saying ing hell, 
swig on a bottle of booze trying to forget, 
but the pain is like a leach 
it sucks away your will
Oh time for a pill
You shout and curse
Thinking of younger days, 
brain was smart switched on, 
Now the machine gun rage, 
this pain is insane. 
Can one ever be the same? 
I truly don’t know.
Here come is the doctor with his question the same. 
How are you today, Luke ? 
I just mutter in pain

Never Wrote An Acrostic Before

Never Wrote An Acrostic Before

In response to acrostic about Ric.

R-ealized that God is who I believe;
I-nterlude from Him would receive;
C-harmed by Him who does relieve.

A-bundance of love from God obtain;
R-ain outside falls on  soil and grain;
C-aste upon my nebulus native soil;
E-nergy had been used to till and toil;
N-ow that from God is much to gain
A-lways allured by what will remain;
L-ove forever like sweet sugar cane.

Jim Horn

My first Acrostic and hope it was not too
caustic coming from someone who may 
be agnostic and do run a test that appears
to be diagnostic.

No Title

As the spirit of Lazarus, I animate. Reanimate, from a bizarre slumber to a palpitate night air. Gulf winds intrusively herding heavy clouds like spirit cattle, bearing arcane riders of esoteric threat. Even the paunchy feline whom lays upon my window sill like a tapestry, raises his head in diagnostic concern.  Search the meager commorancy. Search the garden. Search the street. Search the air I breathe. Search the sky. Question the felines. Interrogate my own consciousness like a paranoid constable, inquiring of a delict event to come, or that hath already come. No evidence. Only my own spent cigarette that nursed my uneasiness and succored this dark morning probe of delirium and aberration. And now, with one final breath, cessation. Quiescence.

Clanging Echoes

When I’ve gone
to the place
where my fathers’
have gone before me 
and the last tribute
has been paid to my memory,
may my singing words
crack the silence with clanging echoes.

May the clanging echoes
excite starving eyes
and taut wrinkled eardrums—
both to awareness—
guiding them
to actions of liberation
yet to come.

May clanging echoes
wake-up sleeping souls suffering
uncertainties of tyrannical rule,
slobbering from political absurdities, 
drooling from mouths of misguided evil
diagnostic odysseys—peddling false hope
to precariously lost wanderers. 

May my clanging echoes echo ringing
bells of freedom that can’t be unrung:
“Oh death where is thy sting?”
“Oh grave, where is thy victory?”

Poets will die;
but the ringing chords
of their words will live long lives:
Echoing clanging echoes…

Smart Play

“That’s what I love about baseball –
it doesn’t mean anything.” – Woody Allen


The sun is shining, flags are flying,
Spring is here once more:
fresh-mown grass, and onions frying –
and so you know the score.

No criticizing, analyzing –
pack away the screed:
today there’ll be no need
for diagnostic apparatus:
we’ll live without divine afflatus
until the coming Fall.

No gyres or Gaias, or signifiers, 
no pyres , no lyres, Heraclitean Fires:
Just bunts and grunts, and foul-back fliers,
and eighteen guys with heavy thighs, 
all chasing on a ball.

Nameless Drug

Like a star in Hollywood

I never thought I would

watch you like a TV screen

yet it makes me wanna scream.

So close, yet so far.

Makes me wanna raise the volume bar

only to get drunk as if I sat at a bar.

No, not just temporarily drunk

but addicted to you like a pill.

I would swallow you with passion.

Slowly, but precisely timed like a slam dunk.

One pill a day is what the prescription says

but you're too good I must say.

My diagnostic says I took an overdose

but I thought I was just getting started.

Who knew one pill could get me so high.

I think I almost touched the sky.

I am living on cloud 9

with no worries of what tomorrow holds.

It's sad that you're not over-the-counter

because ever since our encounter

I've seen you as my medicine,

making me happy and bold.

It's unfortunate however,

that like a star in Hollywood

I can only watch you on a TV screen

and hope one day I can make you mine.

But until then,

one pill at a time it is.

Falling Ill

Subtle yet serious, all the while thinking
I slipped into depression.
I did not buy a ticket through these gates nor did I see them.
My thoughts are thinking my imagination into life
or my perception is real.
Lower than the bottom is how I feel.
Trespassing insanity or trespassing in sanity.
I take pills to correct a chemical imbalance.
Diagnostic devestation and a reprise visit
Misconceptual visits with ones self.
Relaying information through the gateways and further south
Fits of rage left me sullen and weary.
I slept through both day and night.
Only to awake in confusion with the new day.
Nothing short of good in a false reality is where my time stood still 
All now corrected by a little pill.

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