Long Blood transfusion Poems

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


Premium Member A Changed Heart

There was a man named Carlton, who came 
from a rural town.
He was well-liked by all within his community, 
he was the town judge.
Everyone gave him much respect. However, 
he had another group that he was the founder
and head chair of.
This group was a close group that didn't allow 
outsiders.
They didn't accept anyone that didn't look and
act like them.
On a dark and stormy night, Carlton had a bad
car accident.
He was banged up real bad; he lost a lot of blood.
And he needed a blood transfusion STAT.
He also had a heart condition, so he was on the 
top of the heart transplant waiting list.
It was touch and go for Carlton; they didn't know
if he would live long enough to receive a new 
heart.
But in the nick of time, they found him a heart.
A month later, he was released from the hospital.
As time went by, his family and friends started 
to notice significant changes.
From the food he ate, the music he listened to. 
But the most significant change was his new 
friends.
He started hanging around with “ Them.” 
Carlton resigned as founder and the head chair 
of the group he was apart of immediately.
Carlton had a change of heart two ways on that 
life-altering day.








Alexis Y.
03/4/2021
© Alexis Y.  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member My Last Letter

My last letter


Came to me breathless and tired,
His yellow eyes I could well notice,
His dad too had such eyes I enquired,
And God ! another brother having similar,

My reference letters helped fasten diagnosis,
But oh the agony of disease itself,
The mother, the siblings losing cheer,
When came to know it wasn't curable,

Well he was a proven thalasemia !
Three of a poor family suffered,
My hands trembled and eyes teared,
Blood transfusion to five year old every other month,

My heart ached and prayers had failed,
Words in the letters were weeping for justice,
A costly affair to life of a poor innocent sick,
Why God? For what wrong of his did he suffer?

She wasn't coming last three months,
Apprehensive I went sleepless,
One day to find the mother bitterly cry,
Little had I known it was my last letter !




Written September 13th, 2014
For contest 'Maybe my last letter' by Elly Wouterse

Premium Member My Sister Elizabeth

Born a year after her crowning, named after the Queen
   My sister had no luck, her life short and mean
Academically and behaviorally in trouble at school
   A royal rebel was 'Liz;' she broke all the rules

Couldn't hold a job for more than a year
   Her 'friends' all smoked dope and drank beer
Yet a good heart had she; give you the shirt off her back
   Acted surprised, not upset, if it didn't come back  

Contracted HIV from a tainted blood transfusion
   Lived seven more years in pain and disillusion
A tragic story, cut down at 36 by AIDS disease
   My sister Elizabeth, namesake of royalty  


 
 ~ This year marks 29 years since Elizabeth's passing ~
Form: Ode

Premium Member Midnight a and E

The sun descends this cloudless night
A moon for howling, full and bright
A moon by which the bats take flight
And wolf-men and the undead bite

Stretchered in, a bite mark cruel
He won’t heal but must refuel
But medics’ blood runs warm and free
In this midnight A&E

Devour the sick by full-moon light
Bed by bed and bite by bite
Amid the carnage and confusion
A foul unholy blood transfusion

A werewolf with a stethoscope
Takes his patient’s final hope
Blankly eyes his victims’ notes
And slashes their inviting throats

Werewolf docs and Vampire nurses
Send their patients home in hearses
That my friend is not the worst
They go home with a raging thirst

Home to guzzle son or daughter
Wives bring priests with holy water
Silver bullets, wooden stake
Cruciform her fingers make

Vampires drinking O-neg smoothies
Snarl, “You’ve seen too many movies.”
Hurl away depleted kin
Snatch the priest for one more sin

Bloodied canines catch the moon
Glinting as the werewolves croon
Shed their clothing in the mud
Sniffing out the virgin’s blood

Through the night they drink their fill
Bite or slash their every kill
Wounds the Gods will not let heal
Seeping blood that can’t congeal

Policeman wary, raps the door
Slashed, undead, he hits the floor
Spurting blood he blinks an eye
As a glimmer tints the sky

Then as lupine pelts recede
Kindred canines cease to feed 
At this dawn’s first gasp they flee
To that blighted A&E
Form: Rhyme

But




Me? Corny?
No.
But...
        ...
           ...
  I dream that I could go to war 
        simply so a picture of her is nestled 
            in my top shirt pocket 
               at all times.

 I'm still not corny, man.
But...
        ...
           ...
   I fill my mind with thoughts of entering Noah's ark with 
   her for a (150 day) date 
     Hand in hand 
         As a pair of anteaters 
              (makes long-distance kissing easier)

I'm still not corny.
But...
        ...
           ...
     I sometimes hope that I need a blood transfusion from 
     her every 42 days so that I can always have 
       a piece of her
           with me 
               at all times. 
          
I'm not corny.

But...
        ...
           ...
     But everyday, 
           Without fail 
                I pray that one day at the ripe age of 70
                I could 
                herd my grandchildren around my chair so
                I could
                explain every little thing that she did that 
                would humble even Frane Selak, 
               
                 Only for her to come in and yell 
                                    "You left the dishes, again"
               in that hypnotizing voice that I know all too
               well to which we all will erupt in laughter 
               and-and-and....

Ok.
I'm corny.


Damn it.


Premium Member For All You Dear Soupers

The poem I'm writing right now's number eight
   For me that is special; I must save the date  
I've been cranking them out, one on top of another
   For all you dear Soupers, all my sisters and brothers

I'm really quite lonely; that's the reason I write
   The family I come from was nervous, uptight
My parents and siblings were rather difficult folks
   Had trouble relaxing---couldn't tolerate jokes 

I understand it's not real; I comprehend the illusion
   Yet all you dear Soupers are my daily (blood) transfusion  
You comment so kindly on my poems each day
   Better than money, your words; they're my actual pay
 
So as I conclude these lines of inadequate appreciation
   Let us meet again tomorrow ~ same time and same station
Form: Sonnet

The Mythical Unsung Heros

Evil Loki and Queen Maeve
have joined forces to make a mob.
All evil creatures that had died before
with the powers between them
these same creatures will live once more.
They raised Medusa the long dead gorgan
with Athena's shield, which they had stolen.
And given the Cyclops another eye;
another thing stolen once belonging to Odin.
Fafnir needed a blood transfusion.
Ilmarinen, brother of Vainamoinen
made a machine that made dragons blood.
And fearsome dragon Fafnir rose again.
The Minotaur has been brought back to life, 
strangly enough by the ancient Chiron 
half man, half horse mentor to many hero's
And after removing all of Bellerophon's arrows 
Chimera with it's serpents tail,
raised his head and spit fire
all vengeful creatures these
revived to continue terrible deeds
bringing distruction apon the earth
all the dark places that they can lurk

A woman scorned without forgiveness
turning men to stone her bussiness.
The giant with one eye can see again
stands tall with boulders ready to pitch it.
A dragon who lost his guarded treasure
has an anger of equial measure.
A bull headed man and the king of the jungle.
Both have issues and constantly grumble.
A god and a witch seem to have it together. 
World, get ready for some very terrible weather.




(For the Myths contest)
Form: Narrative

Premium Member A STORY OF LOVE

Love is not blind but because of it’s unpredictability and it’s elusiveness
It can, at times, be a little difficult to see.
Other times, however, it is as palpable as can be
We can feel it in our heart, in our mind, in our body…and it is obvious to see.

An old story I bring to you today and using the criteria from above
See if you can tell the exact moment it becomes a story of love…

Mary and Johnny were sister and brother. 
Mary was sick and the doctors came to the conclusion…
the only thing that would save her life…would be a blood transfusion.

Since his blood was a match the doctor approached Johnny saying,
“Johnny, I know this is a little scary…but in order to save your sister…
would you give your blood to Mary?”

Johnny hesitated for a moment whispering to himself, “I know it will be scary.”
then he sighed and said, “Yes, doctor…I will give my blood to Mary.”

As the nurse inserted the needle into Johnny’s arm he whispered to himself,
“This is when it gets a little scary.”
only to feel his fear subside knowing he was helping Mary.

After a little while the doctor noticed a tear form in Johnny’s eye…
when he asked Johnny what was wrong 
Johnny answered, “Doctor, when exactly will I die?”

The doctor leaned over…and with a tear in his eye…
He said, Johnny you don’t have to worry…you’re not going to die.”

“Because you gave some of your blood to Mary…you both are going to live!”
But no-one in the room that day will ever forget…the gift Johnny was willing to give.

I believe we could all use more stories of love in our life…
Not only for the warm feeling in our hearts these stories create…
But also…when a heart is filled with love…
there is no room in there for hate.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Vampire Integration

she’s the anorexic vampire
just can’t stand the sight of gore
and she’d rather starve to oblivion
than bite necks any more
she’s resigned to a long hunger
she won’t be holding her breath
for when you are a near immortal
it takes eons to starve to death

she has an ethereal beauty
almost transparent in her look
she’d grace a glossy cover of
any monthly ladies book
she could wear the latest fashions
become a cat walk queen
an ultra slim clothes horse
thin as you’ve ever seen

her story has a happy ending
for after lots of confusion
she topped the waiting list
for a monthly blood transfusion
and she graces tv chat shows
in the wee small hours of the night
just so long as she’s back in coffin
before first morning light

she’s the anorexic vampire
though only we know
in line for discussions
for her own tv show
but she’s not really bothered
doesn’t honestly give a heck
just so long as never ever
need bite another neck
Form: Rhyme

Puppy - Part 2

When you died, you died too soon.
You died one year ago this afternoon.
A vet tried to save you with a blood transfusion but you died anyway.
You died and my heart was broken one year ago today.

I bought you in 2017 and you were only six years old when you died.
If a person ever says that I didn't love you, that person will have lied.
Some Chihuahuas are hateful but you were not.
You were one of the best things I've ever bought.

I took you to two vets but your life still came to an end.
You weren't just a dog, you were also a wonderful friend.
I have something to say and it is 100 percent true.
You were a very special dog and I'll always love you.


[Dedicated to Puppy (2017 - 2023) who passed away one year ago today on August 17, 2023]
Form: Rhyme

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