Long Ablation Poems

Long Ablation Poems. Below are the most popular long Ablation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ablation poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Living With My a Fib

I had better start at the beginning
When my heart started beating to fast.
When I collapsed at work one day
And I thought I had breathed my last.
We had booked to go on holiday,
On a cruise we was ready to go.
But two days before we was sailing,
The doctor said the holiday is a no.

He said I had to go into hospital,
In a ambulance, with blue lights so fast.
They gave me a chemical cardioversion,
Three times,but that didn't last.
They said I had to see specialist,
But it slowed down and I could go home.
All I could do when I got back,
Was to sit and wait by the phone.

Then my heart again went out of rhythm,
I was back laid out on the floor.
When the ambulance came to collect me
My pulse was three hundred or more.
So they gave me another cardioversion,
But the electric one instead.
I wasn't very long back in rhythm,
At least I'm still here and not dead.

This has been going on for two years or more,
A alternative they will have to explore.
They decided to do a catheter ablation,
Three tubes from my groin to my heart.
To burn away all of my problems,
I felt like I had got a new start.

Then one morning in September it happened,
I awoke at my usual time
My wife said I looked really vacant,
She said I didn't look fine.
Then I came round from my trance like state,
Then I went out the door.
Later that night,I didn't feel right,
So to hospital just like before.

It turned out, I'd had a stroke,
A bilateral cerebral infarction.
I knew it had to be something really bad,
But I didn't show any reaction.
At least my body doesn't show many signs,
And my mind seems to work as before.
The only problem I seem to have
Is my heart is out of rhythm once more.

Sometimes it's high, sometimes it's low,
My specialist says,
A pacemaker is the only way to go.
I will have to have medication,
To slow it when it's high,
The pacemaker will work if I go low,
So hopefully it won't let me die.

I bet there is a lot of people out there,
With symptoms just like me.
Putting it down on paper,helps with my anxiety.
This poem about my a fib, the scariest thing in my life.
So thanks to the doctor's, nurses and specialists,
And most of all my wife.
Without her help and quick thinking,
I don't think I would still have a life.

11/9/2020
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Spirit Walker:

I feel I must put this experience out there.
This took place about ten years ago in my room while meditating.

(Whilst in a trance-like state) I looked up facing the sunrise through a great trilithon, I was at Stonehenge. As I walked through the huge trilithon, I turned my head back to see a great Owl perched on top of the archway I just came through. Which I found quite odd, considering that I have no affiliation with them. Then turning back to the right of me I could see my spirit Wolf pacing nervously outside another great trilithon staring directly at me.

Turning now to the near centre, a hooded black cloaked figure appeared to emerge from a green fire in the centre. 

 All I could see of his face was his old grey chin. But what happened next astounded me. Telepathically, I spoke directly into his mind saying, "what do you want?" He laughed replying, (into my head) "is not the question what do you want?" Then I laughed saying, "I want to be the best Shaman I can be." With that, he drew up his right arm, palm down holding something. So I, in turn, placed out my right-hand palm up and he placed a little leather pouch in it. systematically, I raised my hand up to my heart and the bag went in. I thanked him and turned around and left. Never did catch his name or meet him again. But I now carry the Crane-Bag. 

Update: since this experience, I have recently developed AF, (atrial fibrillation) so make of that what you will. But I still maintain that my heart is good. 

Also, found out later that The green Flame is the Flame of balance and Truth. It leads to analysis and development of ideas, especially Divine ideas and impulses that have been conceived in the First Ray of the Blue Flame. Those ideas ultimately and inevitably produce wisdom and light.
 
Second update: funny, now after an ablation my heart is fine. 
Now I know for sure that he was looking out for me.
© White Wolf  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Narrative

Phantom Ashes

Cosmic Ashes

Being gone, as the light of the stars
A ghost illumination in the witching hours
I, abhorring the interstellar sex, wait
To expire from this ‘home’,
Through wind and rust.
In little specks of ash and dust,
Dissolving from my minion of mind
Out from the skin of imprisonment
The fading ripples of adoration,
Like everything of matter, drift to die
In an illimitable empty blackness,
Far beyond the conceivable cosmos



Astral Ashes

The astral mind scatters
Harmoniously,
With the falling meteors
As Eye enter this scorching Earth
Though wind’s oblivion.

Words die in ashes.
Feelings, crumble
Through woven smoke.
Ablation,
Lay me unearthed

And so the luminosity exists her
Inside the nebula of Eye
Binary illusions desist me
Apastron,
Suffer me to singularity

Her fantasies of Eye
Plague the sunken
Waters of her nostalgia
Timeless empress,
Birth her astray these shadows

When Eye filters through the clouds,
Recreated, stripped of dark matter
And I fall on her shoulder as rain,
Will she recognize my touch?


Earthen Ashes

I.

The smoked breath sways
In the astronomical wind,
Through burning words
Exhaling to reconcile
This broken amity

Eye opens up my head
With suffocating fingertips
And lets out all of my sighs.
Oxygen flows in and fills,
But without my brother
My fingers are gloved still,
Holding on to a cigarette,
That’s been ashed to the filter

II.

I swim through my father’s ocean
Exhausting through the same waves
The inherent spawn of a drowner
Boards the seeking vessel of being

A birth of a beautiful creation
Earth, love her nativity,
Be gentle in her growth
May her self never be sought
and waters shallow on her heart
When she knows who Eye is,
From creator to created,
Let the wind carry these ashes softly away

Premium Member Gratification

A Scot had once been quite handsomely built

Now with corona did not fit his kilt 

Ate all he could find

With more on his mind

Became rotund and his manhood did wilt


Isolation made the fridge his best mate

Yet now he wanted an illicit date

Could not find his willy 

Rubbed on some chilly

No growth so he needed to loose some weight


But cakes and pastry were hard to resist

When he tried his knickers got in a twist

Spermatic retention

Or penile extension

For not to miss out on an overdue tryst


The doctor himself was a well endowed man

‘I must help this limp fellow if I can’

Grafted a bone-r

For the new owner

To cool it implanted a vacuum fan


Balls on fire complete with bagpipe and trumpet

He seeks out his most delicate strumpet

But before he can dip it in with pleasure

She takes from her bra a hooker’s tape measure

‘Size does measure but this I won’t lump it’


The surgeon was not a continental medic

Had stuck to feet and inches for the prosthetic

A small mis-understanding

Results fully pending

Outcome detachment on a scale rather epic


The patient was of course not very amused

And not just his Ego was blatantly bruised

A centaur with no application

‘Now I need an ablation’

But the healer threw a wobbly and refused


If I incise once more I have to cut at the root

Give you a mammoplasty you’d look rather cute

Without bothersome ********

No impotency detection

This is a soft solution you cannot refute


At least now flaccidity will focus your hunger

Voluptuous and curvy you’ll look like a stunner

Indulge in cream tart

And if you fart

There’s no one around to make a scared runner


29th April 2020
Form: Limerick

Clash of Mind and Heart

I have been struggling with a faded thought
until my mind's become confused and tangled.
At a crossroad, this battle is being fought
between my stubborn brain and wounded heart.
I've great fear one of them will be strangled.

I thought I knew what my life was all about,
but perhaps my heart has been deceived.
I'm suffering a sense of loss; filled with doubt
hoping I haven't taken a misguided route.
I'm finding that life is not as I had perceived.

Their controversy is deeply rooted down,
encompassing what is far beyond my vision.
I search my memory, but it makes me frown,
and my grieving heart will not backdown.
I'm left wrestling in the wallows of indecision.

I won't deny that what troubles me the most
is my attempt at arbitration has gone unheeded.
I'd just as soon try reasoning with a bedpost,
than a brain and heart that are nearly sclerosed.
Neither wants to be the one who has conceded.

I'm fervently trying to make them understand
that if there's to be any hope of our salvation,
they must stop their outrageous grandstand
before I'm forced to give a harsher reprimand.
They suggested I give the other a total ablation!

Surgically remove my brain? I gave it thought,
but it was something that I would have to keep.
We'd all expire if I agreed to dispose of my heart.
That certainly would not be clever on my part!
My anatomy is cursed with two black sheep!

I'm stuck in the middle and I've made a decision,
to threaten them to make peace or they're out.
If they don't come to terms, I'll have to audition
for a new mind and heart who'll be in submission.
I felt a bit cruel, but enjoyed watching them pout!
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Just Love Remains

I fear I'm losing patience in the midst of your neglect,
          It keeps hounding me like stations of the cross ...
               And a cardiac ablation holds more pleasure, I suspect,
     Though the very same dear organ feels the loss.

Six decades have now passed without a sign of amity,
          All your focus on my failures and mistakes ...
               For eyes like yours are monochrome, incapable to see
     What a lifelong search for purpose sometimes takes.

For you success is money, it's how your life is skewed,
          But I'll never see this spinning world the same ...
               For me there is a balance, heeding all that is imbued,
     With much that can't be seen or given name.

I hoped that in our later years we might yet reconcile,
          And find a peaceful shore where we'd connect ...
               But you now specialize in squeezing grimaces from smiles,
     Thus, our waters churn with mutual disrespect.

Oh, I will always love you, as you tried your best to be
          A provider who could work and scold and boast ...
               But most kids want a daddy who can care and touch and see
     That love is what their children need the most ...

And when it's come to such ... you've been a ghost.




* Dementia pulls a number of extraordinary things from everyone, including the patient, and you discover some rather odd emotions throughout the process, one of which can be caring for someone who has never cared for YOU ... love becomes very basic, and keeps all in the proper perspective. *
Form: Rhyme

Onerous Anus Complex Number One

Pain in the ass devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.

Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication

among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...

in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,

cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition

chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...

I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... tushy

regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption

personally legislating 
getting behind abrogation
replacing said bum fanny
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in uterus, U.S.A, tuckus,
Form: Imagism

Trenchant Recalcitrant Poet Welcomes Animadversion

(alternately titled: aery diction galloped jocosely)

Abbreviation asper "FAKE"
abdication (wishful thinking),
an aberration Trump accepted
abjuration (or alternative) i.e.
ablation, thee apprenticed

president, would never forsake
abnegation (sooner his cold,
dead paws pried loose Putin
on the Ritz Carlton), this
abomination, his indiscriminate

abrogation appears (underwent)
acceleration autocratic accentuation
Americans aver acceptation,
acclamation, acclimation,
accommodation "FAKE"

accreditation, averse Hispanic
refugee acculturation, he blithely
asseverates, viz faux (trumped up)
accumulation unfairly fingering
accusation (baseless bigotry)

scapegoating fifty plus shades
brown illegal aliens despite
provable residency status
conveniently citing himself
perforce repetition validates

accustomation touts "FAKE"
non hardy laurels spilt, spelt,
and smelt acetification reign
ruination unleashing acetylation
promoting political acidulation

SCOTUS acrimonious activation
authoritarian smug egoistic
actualization nepotism, jingoism,
despotism actuation atavistic,
apathetic, allergic adaptation

acquiescent, arrant, abhorrent
adjudication Machiavellian aggressive
adjuration acrimonious atrocious
administration alarming, appalling,
arresting admiration abysmal,

artificial, asymmetrical adoration
awful adulation, ambivalent
apathetic adulteration avast
averse adumbration adulteration
affair advocation barren aeration
puffed hirsute aerosolization.

Homecoming

The being stared with compound eyes
up into the starry skies
A being nothing like a man
but still part of evolution's plan

Across the black and starry night
shot a flashing burning light
This ancient world had air so thin
it did not burn up coming in

Losing heat by radiation
and by its heat shield's slow ablation
The object hit the ground at last
and lit the night sky with its blast

The being ran back to its home
A burrow with an earthen dome
And down that tunnel it did dive
into a vast, world spanning hive

Then with others of its kind
the fallen star it hoped to find
Although, like man, these beings were not
Like man, intelligence they'd got

Many miles and hours later
they found the object in a crater
A mangled pile of metal there
Showing signs of ancient wear

The object had some strange designs
Maybe writing, perhaps just lines
There was a disc of golden hue
What it was they had no clue

The disc was dull and much corroded
By time and particles eroded
But still were seen upon its face
images from a long gone race

Three times the galaxy had turned
since the probe's jets had last burned
The people of its home at last
lost in mists of ancient past

Designed by man and sent away
in hopes of finding life one day
A message sent from all mankind
encased in gold for them to find

The cosmos, circumnavigated
It's now returned, though much belated
No more through deep space would it roam
'Voyager 2' at last came home
© Rob Biden  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Transmutation


In human form I was born. In human frame I will stay,
but for some other species, life doesn't transpire that way.
A wiggly caterpillar transmutes into a wondrous creature
when it emerges with beautiful wings as its best feature.

I can't begin to imagine myself in an altered physical form
and have my atoms rearranged, deviated from the norm.
I wonder... if I entered another realm, in the spiritual sense,
would I cast shadows or auras of light in bright effulgence?

For the transfigured mind of my heart to be in mutual accord, 
first it must surrender the resident ego to receive its reward. 
Once I perceived answers to the bounty of questions asked,
could I be transmuted again, or would my future be masked?

Is it likely that my state of 'being' will be something to resist
and query in what physiological sentience could I feasibly exist?
I seek clarification about what happens in life as a transmutation.
Is it even something I could fathom, given a plausible explanation?

I don't wish to become a frog from tadpole, and egg hatched,
because to my human body, I have become rather attached.
First, I'd inquire if there is a reversion process after mutation
that would rescind metamorphosis through a surgical ablation.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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