Long Carers Poems
Long Carers Poems. Below are the most popular long Carers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carers poems by poem length and keyword.
Why was my whole special school life,
An interpretation of nature and school?
A philosophical contemplation and analysis,
A freeway inquiry into the education tool.
Because the god concept was lain out,
On the household table, delicately spread,
I was sharp at social phenomenon,
Even as a primary child was not off my head.
When I journeyed down the corridors,
Slowly, because of my disability,
I was more often than not on my own,
‘Cos the others would show off their mobility.
So I thought about the politics,
Of the special school and our integration right,
Our need of ramps and disabled toilets,
The importance of everybody’s mindset height.
I classed the whole organisational structure as wrong,
For using the carers as playtime supervisors,
‘Cos in my old nursery school the teachers contravened,
In any tit-for-tat playground misdemeanours.
The teachers knew us in the classroom,
So adjudicated fairly and with respect,
Were able to administer justice,
Wherever there was a point of regret.
The carers were just not on my level,
And you had to do what they said,
Which overshadowed my whole experience,
Which made me much see red.
It was believed that the carers had a light on,
Because they scribed for us in maths,
But your profession level sets your reception,
Of high-flyers’ stares and laughs.
I mean, I didn’t ever laugh at them,
For their low rank and position,
But that just meant they never put me with,
My parents speech and religion.
But I considered myself determined philosophically,
Not in the free-will line of thought camp,
And just needed a man, board or committee,
To rejuvenate myself and amp.
So I often spoke with the school doctor,
The boss of the cliques and staff,
But the other pupils resented it,
Laughing at my physical prospects, chaff.
When your life does not go right,
Insist, if you can, on calling the shots,
Make appointments with the gods,
And beam with importance watts.
I minced my words when asked to place,
Myself with evangelical Christians chaste,
Because i was outrightly on passions side,
Wishing to elope with my arms open wide.
They were carers, so could brood and scowl,
If they thought my views were liberal and evil,
So upon my plate i did put pop and books,
To make sure for them there were no crooks.
But they cornered me one day with strength,
So i said I’d tell John, the graduate of breadth,
And he also took some thoughtful contemplation,
To understand the third Bayesian complication.
There’s a Bayesian probability of a third, flat,
That Jesus actually existed and knew the pat,
So although the incarnation is two steps too far,
The nativity can be framed in academic banter.
Even though they said i had no right to delay,
My exit from Christianity’s church open parley,
I believe i had the full right to suddenly walk out,
Instead of explaining beforehand my long pout.
To God we offer thanks
for medicine and for carers,
for all who've kept in touch,
in prayer been burden sharers.
Through all the skills and gifts
by which you set us free
from scourges of disease
may we now thankful be.
In grief we still lament
the cost of many losses
in life and work and health,
with bearing all these crosses.
Not destitute of hope
in you our God we trust
as guide through days to come
in new life to adjust.
All praise to God of all
with whom we share this planet.
May we be one with them,
respecting every limit.
Each insect, beast or bird
from which disease derives –
we must respect their space
that we and they may thrive.
Dear Jesus you've been here
through times of isolation,
in us to hold real hope,
restoring motivation.
Then arms outstretched once more,
set free from all regrets,
we'll open wide the door
to welcome back our guests.
We meet again in joy
refreshed upon our journey.
As we move on from here
with Christ who shows us mercy,
there's much that we can learn
as we survive the test –
in prayer we can discern
how care is best expressed.
My last foray into this arena
Had me living memories, not wished to share
Here I go again, another visit
Into the elderly homes, we wish not
A sunny day, another gathering
Carers working, making things happen
Those in wheelchairs, still smiling
Others in mobile beds, unsure of the happening
A talk by an ancient, born 1917
Strong voice, begging to be heard
Wartime memories, clear as a bell
The telling of a visit into hell
Strong voice, sharing memories
Some good, others not so
I look around the room
Half the listeners, into their snooze
On and on, goes the story
Death and glory, hand in hand
How can you tell such a sad command?
Bravery, such as only you can understand
Bodies of men, only families know
Story goes for one hour
Comment from teller, end is near!
Carers sob quietly, hidden words
Room is quiet as never before
I leave this place, memories flooding
If there is a being, ruling the happenings
Make me safe, send me happiness
Please, Do You Have Double Vision?
My gorgeous body swipes with acceptance my entirety,
Loves my mind, its monumental triumphs and dark corridors,
Liaisons with winds which passion causations of complexity,
Wets my sweated brow with trickles of sweetly scented odours.
This destination is surreal, but i know i have long arrived,
Dazzling with sanity my sense is only murmurous with ache,
But why do sonorous by-passers play the goat contrived?
When i have only the arcane to interact with and myself take.
Do you have double vision too, please sir, please tell me do?
Will you see my invisible disability as nothing at all sometimes?
But upon need, will you follow my hurt wherever it will go,
Just on that odd occasion, when it surfaces and whines?
It may be that i just need that small bit more time and attention,
From that shop assistant or the bus driver who explains things,
Or may be i just require more respected by the health profession,
And not my carers who supposedly can talk for me with grins.
From John o'groats, to portland bill Sothend to Tenby too' Britain is straining might and
main, or p'raps we're muddling through? Through all the guff; the short supply; in the face
Of daunting news, our women and men have entered the fray, to fight this novelle flu'
Nhs staff and carers have taken the brunt, our leader was down a'while too!
Some have called on the Lord to stand in the gap, to strengthen heart; and soul and sinews!
As the doctors plan and rationalize; amidst the hullabaloo, come now let us join the fight
As come what might, for Britain is muddling through' the capt'n walks on a frame of hope
We salute the many like you! Though we stay at home, we've minds and wills; to search
The way till the day breaks true, let Britain unite and we'll smash this blight
We're understated yes.. Yet muddling through!
BLINDFOLD
I hear childrens voices
filled with laughter and noise,
hopscotched in endless streets,
mingling in sometime dreams.
I hear childrens laughter,
pitching above the hum drum,
of spectacled, so called carers all !
For your own good merchants.
I hear childrens tears falling,
In a rain storm of scary thunder,
beating a retreat in bricks and mortar.
Those merchants of care, no where.
I see the gaggle of childrens tongues,
burning in that mist of cordite,
spectators; comment do nothing.
Carers eyes burn in guilt and greed.
I see children, i see children,
I see nothing, commiting to human!
In hells morning, in flames of religion,
I see dead children, i see nothing.
NHS
Just three letters
That represents just three words that mean more than a profession, that mean the best on earth.
I have personal experience of their dedicated care and compassion. I would shine a candle for them in the darkest night. I would for them stand and fight with all my might.
NHS
Not just three letters
Not just representing three words
Without their care and compassion we’d be in so much hurt
So, next time you get the opportunity to be thankful; you better stand and clap. Because these hero’s amongst us for you would never take the slack.
Just three letters
But not just three things. Dr’s, Nurses and carers and all the support that their care brings.
Be thankful that they are there because no matter what colour your skin, you’ll get the very best care that humanity can bring.
There is a cruel desolation these days in death
No comfort in congregational crowds.
Fear crackles on every street corner
With wary social distancing observed
On the wards,the lives of victims and carers
Held in healing and helpless hands
Too little gear to keep them safe
And shortage of drugs to palliate the pain.
Why the shortage of machines to let them breathe?
Beneath the hopeful promises of pestilential
Politicians bewildered by their ignorance
Over the insidious and devious virus
There is clearly panic,gnawing at their nerves
Bleak,apocalyptic end- of -days sensations
This darkness do shroud, our exit befogged
Flailing and hoping,failing and groping
Underlining starkly our human frailty
And turn our faces to the wall or God
Too many sacrificed to the pandemic shortages
Lives lost to lack of foresight and pecuniary policy
All lives under threat from the invisible Covid-19
With so many lungs by its deadly threads deeply invaded.
How on earth we have found each other?
You asked in one of night messages
In the facebook groups its one way or another
On the same train we were passengers
We got off at the same station
We took the same street to the house
With roses and other flowers plantation
A home where you lived with your spouse
The carers teams you have to manage
Four times a day in a row
The aftereffects of covid brought fatal damage
His passing was a terrible blow
We were always supportive in hardships
Still the hard times remain like forever
You were fighting type 1 diabetes
It required a huge endeavour
We lived close together though miles away
Doing everything what should’ve been done
How on earth we have met one day?
Can’t recall now, my dearest one.