Long Diagnosis Poems
Long Diagnosis Poems. Below are the most popular long Diagnosis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Diagnosis poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m driven by a special child
awesomely tame, never has gone wild
though in my service, he’s technically tied
against impact we both have already defied…
such ensures that chaotic challenges keep us on safe side.
By the special child’s gear
forward, we march toward victory flair
onward faith’s venture, we zoom and dare
triumphantly navigating with care, smiting fear…
keeping us hope-propped, brightening cheerers’ joy-filled tear.
Soaring midst miracles’ might
persevering to reach greater height
painstakingly, we vanquish disability’s blight
as he innocently trusts my expertise along prayer-plight…
ignoring his impairment fright, gripped by peace-illumined sight.
Bursting with zest, he conquers spasticity’s pest
hurdling over obstacles’ crest toward milestone’s nest
never letting seizures’ rest to hold his will around comfort’s breast
despite being wheelchair bound, he does surmount imprisonment test…
yes, I’m a genuine witness to the fullest, for to him, I’m the nearest and closest.
As his custom-made mobility device, I want him to fly
indeed, wishing him to giggle with mirth in touching the sky
while together, we explore up high toward championship-sigh
rejuvenated to maximize partnership midst his gestures of “You and I”…
functionally fulfilling our roles with joy against doubts, haunting with “why.”
He, entrusted to the orphanage in his diagnosis pain
accordingly, would “progress toward retrogression” terrain
yet, with God’s compassion and mercy, transformation he did gain
surrounded by kindness-bliss against attacking apathy’s gloom-strain…
now, his “Most Improved” award shows that blest dreams midst nightmares reign.
Screaming writhing violent
uncontrollable spasms of abandonment
immediately followed her (like Mary's lamb)
where e'er she went
verbal communication attempt didst rent
ear piercing outpouring
barrage heard clearly by vested gent,
a bajillion miles away e'en
stymying the likes of Lois Lane, Clark Kent
or special ABC letter writ agent,
when aforementioned younger daughter
raged day and night without abatement
soon after our baby's birth
agonizing distress self evident
when bundle of joy became a toddler,
which ordinary concomitent
expectant joyful milestones
hoop fully attendant
with hypothetical offspring
aurally learning oral rudiment
basis of language skill
with instructional accouterment
mastering native tongue
celebratory breakthru achievement
acquiring brisk command of lingua franca
easily excelling telly
tubby "FAKE" accent
gibberish with cogent
encoded development coaxed ability
regarding divine acknowledgement
pertaining to obvious delayed development,
when dada decried disabled
doc's "NON FAKE"
dupe forced mine abhorrent
realization upon crestfallen papa,
that our precious progeny
requisite remedial requirement
versed here, viz poetic abridgement
thee youngest of
(deux) daughters afflicted
at young age initial
general consensus genetic accident
engendered ambiguous diagnosis,
cuz forming words absent
purportedly linkedin with
high functioning autism
spurred self blame abutment,
sans cognitive fluke (most
likely inherited) malady immediate adherent
parental duty entailed, promoted
vouchsafed, et cetera
lifelong intervention convert,
a blessed webbed accompaniment
decades later nearly wrought total abolishment
whereat now grown year old lass
defied wildest predictions, adjustment
witnessed thee cherished apple of my eye
metamorphosed since early adolescent
to secure part time employment
attending Bend, Oregon Community College
and coordinating advancement,
where Shana Punim secured plane ticket
and took to friendly skies to my amazement!
My soul's omniscient Physician finally declared the verdict
revealing His truth-sealed righteousness-stamped diagnosis:
“You're afflicted with loathsome sin-cancer cells
naturally acquired since birth… then invaded your whole being.”
conquered by fatal pride's virus, verily smitten…
yes, spiritually, cancer-stricken was I…
Forsaking hypocrisy-denial’s stink,
I yielded to Him, crying for His healing*
…confessing my need for the Saviour’s cleansing blood
for miraculous cure toward triumphant transformation.
Midst grievous terminal stage of soul-debility
God, life's Source, reached down to me with His wondrous love
restoring, reviving me by His peace-filled pardon.
Receiving His life eternal grant through faith
I'm freed from death-hell's wages of sin-cancer's indictment
re-created to serve, exalting Christ
I’ll bring others with soul-ailment to Him
for their eternal wellness, serenely victorious.
*Jeremiah 17:14 Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise.
June 20, 2019
Edited on September 22, 2021
In the hospital, the room so still
A feeling of melancholy, my heart will feel
the music of a story, told by the nurse
who hears the whisper, a quiet curse
warm tears bleed across the pages
magazine leaves, in the early stages
coloring the twilight in yesterday’s prayers
the diagnosis, distant as a dream, repairs
colored in grace, the stories, the pages
silent flow of praise, erasing the night
the burden of sorrows, worried
by the way the sadness overtakes
pain upon pain, the mysterious – insane
how the pages turn, a gentle maze
whispering through the decades
hospital stay, while the burdens are gray
they are flavored with shame, overcome
by the flames of a sentence – decayed
omnipotent, His grace floods the soul
leaves a print of His amazing, through faith
we can overcome these darker days
find the way through the pain, heal and remain
a part of heartfelt faith, this faith…
hospital haze, melting through the windows
of pain – erasing the stillness on display
God, He will surely find a way – to make me say
even this day has been worthwhile
and I still praise as He remains the very best thing,
the only way that I can say – life is compiled of
echoes of faith, a tender chance to finally say
He is truly my everything!
No matter how my heart might break,
I know the One who will never forsake
And because of His love, His kindness,
I’ll praise… Praise Him always, a song
that stays on my lips, forever His –
blessed by the love that came from above
the love that assures me, with Him –
I have hope, I have faith, I have love that never fades
with Him, I never doubt – love is living,
always giving – a heart who is surely healing!
I got many rivals
I’m always hiding in shadows
Searching for scripture to read
And meditate from my bible
I have a diagnosis
Your thinking a poor prognosis
But that is ok I know the one
Who can fix my psychosis
I don’t claim a victory
But I do have some liberty
With the faith in the son
Who overcame deaths misery
People make fun of me
Which feeds insecurity
I put up a front
Deep down inside I am lonely
I want your acceptance
But I get your rejections
So I turn to the Father
Who gives me protection
I work with a den of wolves
Their bellies are never full
Tearing me down with those
Insults its terrible
You say I am a loser
But I am not a drug user
I’m trying to win souls
But they keep acting like boozers
Many times I have faltered
Feel like quitting I’m altered
Pick myself up once again
On my knees at the altar
I got no excuses
Devils says I am useless
But I will still follow the Lord
Keep up with and choose it
Not trying to be right yo
Just enduring the fight though
Peaks and valleys part of
Life must go on to the end so
We all got a history
But the cross is the mystery
He took all the sin so
That we could go freely
So don’t listen to users
They’re wicked abusers
They follow their master and
His name is Accuser!
I’ll keep slaying these idols
And give back God his title
And keep reading the stories
He gave in the Bible
My emotions don’t own me
Depression and anxiety
I turn it over in prayer
And I live life joyfully
My emotions don’t own me
Fear and anger and sadness
I send up those prayers
And give him the madness
My emotions don’t own me..
My emotions don’t own me..
he has been abandoned again
he hates his life
hates his therapist
yes it is the one he was in love with last week
he cannot control his moods
they twist him around and throw him against a wall
not really him, for there is no him
only a shell of where a person could have been
he has never felt more adrift
alone abandoned unloved
he is chronically bored
today depressed anyway this minute
there are no grays only blacks and whites
sometimes all bads, other times all goods
this is what borderline personality disorder
does for him
he is empty and lost
perpetually and completely
wait. There is no he.
I open the jar of poems like a bottle of whiskey on a long night,
where the poet's whispers are raw and direct, a course of love in four acts,
obsessions and (un)blamable loves writhe like cigarette smoke in the room,
and we laugh blue, like ink spilled on a dirty table.
I swallow the silence like a bitter shot,
place spring in my steps, like a season crucified on the pyre of colors,
we find ourselves in the sea of rediscovery,
where weeping brushes shed their tears on leaves,
and frowning clouds mock the horoscope of coming days.
You propose a love-test to me, like a diagnosis of a weary heart,
a surgeon of emotions searching through the darkness of the soul,
and a concert in two begins softly,
a symphony of love with rebellious strands and stellar amalgams,
when you smell of stars and drawings come to life on the dusty sidewalk.
We invent seasons, my breath becomes freckles in the rhythm of love,
a tangram of mad silences, a puzzle of existence,
each piece of tranquility fitting into the chaos of the everyday, like a lost day.
The spiriverse carries us into a world of psychospirituality in verses,
a universe breathing and living through each harsh rhyme,
lessons flow like venom sold at life's corners,
thoughts like iron filings sneaking into the night,
a radio suspending its melody at the corner of silence's mouth,
lights struggling to break free, words parked at destiny's traffic light,
where is the congruence in a world where death is the color of chestnuts?
Dreaming becomes a refuge in the realm of revelation,
Nefertiti chases us through the desert with helium thoughts,
the galaxy sleeps in an octave of love,
let me love you to the depths,
let's step out of our comfort zone,
running through subtleties and handicaps,
seeking our place in a universe for just us two,
a universe waiting to be discovered in every verse of brutal reality.
This poem was too long to submit without premium membership, so I have submitted it in two parts, but it is meant to be read together.
Part one....
They say he is clearly psychotic, if knowing that was even a possibility.
The visible signs are all present, his behavior is a dead give away.
"Normal" people don't act this way, they act like everybody else.
When did being different, become the diagnosis of being clinically insane?
Their image of "normal" is repeatedly drilled into our heads.
Through the direction of our leaders, our education, multi-media.
The television and cinema screen their greatest tools for propaganda.
A man and his lovely wife, with their two point five children,
A duplex in the suburbs, undistinguished from any of the others.
a neatly trimmed lawn, a few hedges, a two car garage for their one vehicle.
A couple truly in love, rarely do they argue, with great sexual chemistry.
Working constantly through the better part of their lifetimes
making enough money to pay their bills, and splurge once a week.
their companies CEO, the bill collectors, and the government's tax brackets,
all work together in unison, to ensure that they are never more than comfortable.
At the age of sixty-five, they have a small nest egg saved up together.
Only now, well into their "golden years," are they allowed to live as they choose.
Their biggest motivation and desire, is simply to survive for another year.
When they die, their children discover they have no money in their accounts.
It always is a shock, revealing your parents have died completely broke.
Ideal examples of the perfect "American Marriage," left penniless in their grave.
Luckily for the children, they had purchased a small life insurance policy.
The payout almost exactly enough to cover the burial costs and funeral.
Even experiencing this unsettling revelation at their parents expense,
These same children are pre-destined, doomed, to follow suit.
Brain washed into believing that their outcome will somehow be better.
They spent less, saved up more, purchased a better insurance policy.
Unaware their parents shared these exact thoughts, forty years prior.
Sitting in the specialty clinic
when this big word is tossed
in our laps I watched my son
tumble flip play football soccer
tumble play baseball yes we all
knew he was short but now after
injury this unexpected diagnosis
I'm completely stunned hopeful
but how many surgeries bone loss
bone death I still can't pronounce
the word Achondroplasia never in
my vocabulary a form of dwarfism
normal size person with the hereditary
gene can have short bones in the foot
arms or fingers bones that are weak
soft dying degenerative bone loss when
I gave birth I counted ten toes ten
fingers who would dream of testing
degenerative bone loss passed down
from the father's gene we pray knowing
there is no cure so we gather research
therapeutic braces shoes and surgeries
god keep my family safe staying in my faith
The USA and Europe
By Franklin Price
07/05/2020
Today is Sunday and it's morning
And I'm watching Meet the Press
As usual it is leaning
Toward presenting leftist mess
What prompted me to write this
Was their latest Covid views
How we compare to Europe
And their Corona Virus News
Comparing to the U.S.A.,
E.U. Cases have declined
Although it has more people
I think there's something you may find
The E.U. is not one entity
It's an economic ploy
There are many countries
Independence they enjoy
Each has its own government
For its Covid to report
There is no central reason
To supply a false retort
Is testing on a par with ours?
Is there incentive there to lie?
Is Covid not discovered
Until they're about to die?
Has E.U. made Covid political?
Are they working to get through?
Each country is determining
What's the best thing it should do.
In the U.S. there's incentive
For some monetary gain
When diagnosis for the virus
Might be caused by other pain
May have gone to some center
For other predetermined cause
Then covid diagnosed once there
Should that make us think and pause?
I'm not saying all the cases
Are either wrong or right
But the longer it progresses
There is political delight
The media still slants the news
Reporting on half truths and lies
Saying E.U. cases going down
While ours are on the rise
If we take away incentives
That encourage some to lie
May find that Covid 19
Will make less, in the U.S., die
I'm only just one person
Who's concerned for our dominion
I think there's truth, I've written here
But it's only my opinion
If you think I'm onto something
Or if you know it's true
Pass this along to others
Might be something we can do.
Report it to your congressmen
And Congress Women too
Let them know, you know, what's going on
It's what your country needs of you