Long Forceps Poems
Long Forceps Poems. Below are the most popular long Forceps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Forceps poems by poem length and keyword.
Four Short Poems for the Apocalypse
Poem #1 – “Reality Bites”
Feeling so hopeless.
Feeling the loss somewhere inside.
I can feel it, but I don’t know quite where.
Reality bites.
Feeling so awkward and sad.
I knew it was bound to happen.
But still,
I can’t get it out of my mind.
The last time I saw her,
There in that stuffy smelly room,
She was shooing the demons away.
It is true.
The gods make those who are about to die
As mad as gadflies
Without blood to suck.
Reality bites.
Feeling so empty.
Feeling the loss somewhere inside.
I thanked the stars the night she died.
Poem #2 – “Part Biscuit Part Bone”
I shiver when I think about it.
Getting’ up at four in the morning to walk six miles.
There is only one fool who would do such a thing.
My brain is sometimes cracked like my sidewalk.
It must be part biscuit, part bone.
But when I walk in the darkness
The entire world is mine.
I am the only one alive
And I salute the ghosts in the shadows.
They want my soul
And I want their ethereal essences.
I shiver when I think about it.
Maybe death is like a walk at four.
There is only one fool who would think that.
It must be part biscuit, part bone.
Poem #3 – “Baked Babylon”
Squeezing the forceps, handlessly
Like a pair of tweezers with no grip.
I groan and suffer alone.
Like Grover Cleveland back in 1892
When his cancerous jaw was dug into
By mustached doctors wearing pink carnations,
Digging and gouging and tugging
Like some gravedigger looking for soft earth.
Baked Babylon is my grease.
Let it smoke and oilize.
I want death for myself, no one else.
One billion children do not deserve the incineration.
Poem #4 – “Why Am I Thinking?”
Why am I thinking?
Is it because I stink?
Is it because I’m stuck breathing?
Why am I dying?
Is it because life is a game with no winners?
Is it because I seek pleasure in a world of pain?
Why am I crying?
is it because life is so futile?
Is it because death is the best part?
Why am I thinking?
Is it because I can’t help it?
Can’t help stopping the inevitable?
Oh death!
You wait for me over there,
Like a forlorn lover,
Behind shaded curtains in the night.
Intravenous therapy,
She's watching over me.
Grasping my hand,
She whispers, "please dear, count to ten."
Six... piercing paralysis,
Her hand cold as the air.
She lets go, leaving me there.
Alone, squirming, for just one prayer.
Yelling, and screaming.
Kicking, twisting, and questioning.
Nothing happens, its all in my head.
Frozen, welded to my metal death bed.
Minutes and hours tick away,
Slow, painful psychological decay.
I try to think of hating her,
But those thoughts just blur,
her pretty face.
Then I realize why I'm actually here.
Amidst the psychotic silence,
she walks in, and smiles.
She says, "Darling, this won't take a while."
Okay I say, dismissing the horror of the situation.
Her angelic voice, sedating all sensations.
I see the scalpels, forceps,
retractors, and clamps.
Completely trusting, blinded by the hanging lamp.
It won't hurt, so doctor please just cut.
Bloody plasmic mess,
Pressure to suppress,
Wide open arteries, surgical misery.
No anesthetics. Painless, no distress.
She carves a circle in my chest.
I don't contest, just attest.
Let her carve into me, at my own request.
Just promise, no cardiac arrest.
She pulls out my heart.
Leaving my entire chest hollow.
No more emotions,
the hardest pill to swallow.
But it is why I'm here.
No reason to fear.
Doctor, all I ask is you don't hurt it anymore.
You do what you want with it, it's completely yours.
Now I'm heartless, and only function with my brain.
Emotionless logic was the only way to sustain.
My future seems brighter,
All my loves spent, cut from the source.
I feel so much lighter, of course.
It was the heart.
Thank you doctor, for pulling me apart,
making me feel so alive.
The love, the emotions, the surgery,
my new will to survive.
Thats when she said,
"Darling, it's all in your head. You've been dead since we first met."
Those Midnight Infatuations
1.
You're the water
on the phone Sun
that I crave.
To become the
dopamine blocker
in my brain.
2.
I am the minuscule rolled balls
of lent you pull at
on clothing
swiftly thrown away
making nerves
skip over your skin
holding hand in hand.
3.
My feet knotted with yours
but as the moon hits the glass
of week old water
on the oak nightstand
it shows you are just
another shadow I have
glued to my side.
4.
The tip of your
dry cracked finger
traces the outline
of the old water ring stain.
From whisky glasses
next to the bed.
Quick to turn back around
as he comes back in the room.
5.
Hot water consumes you
as liquid swirling
around your shriveled feet
turns crimson and all they can say
when arriving is
they did all they could
but I guess you didn't love
me enough to stay.
6.
You became a permeant
nettle deep in my
limbic system
and the only way
to remove you
would to get rid of
part of me
forceps tick
the folds of my brain
severing most ties
to the rest of my body
but you would like that
wouldn't you?
7.
The distortion lens
you blinded me with
is the reflections
I see in coffee
only to get muckier
as you pushed
me away until the very end.
8.
The crevasses of your skin
crinkled like dew-fallen paper
left outside for too long
when the folds in
your lips cracked
when you smiled
shame the only thing
to see that is dirt.
‘ex post facto’ it is facile to see the human reality of matter
one does not need artificial intelligence to feel sorrow and joy
a life not bravely examined is not worth living
and therefore she dissected her innermost self
took scalpel and reason but failed to exhume
what matters most when cut through the chase
inspected valves chambers and flow of emotion
‘be kind to yourself’ but at first the knife was rather too blunt
double edged as well and she needed tweezers and forceps
‘where is the handle because I must get a firm grip
wrap a bandage around my soul and tear into pain’
a psychiatry bible rested uncomfortably aside an atlas
four chambers no doubt be it water fire air and earth
compassion kindness love and no doubt depression
formalin tested her nostrils with the corpse unsurprisingly dead
broken arrows at the core and faded names inscribed in dry blood
the life support machine had groaned under pressure
injection and years on the couch but nothing but stasis
hemolytic infusions adrenaline cardio version exhaustion
until she decided to explore what mattered the most
breathing barely more than sufficient she nearly arrested
a heart transplant was not for faint hearted patient’s emotions
but when she got going there was no going back in her theatre
mental surgery required passion courage and centre
the eye of an eagle and the skill to let go and recover
‘pioneering is quite fun’ she had to admit and proceeded
discovered that she was more than a cultural artefact
but living proof of suppression and uneasy surrender
what she learnt to love best in the end was her dark depression
because this nasty compassion opened her eyes and her heart
5th August 2020
As I entered the dissection hall with trepidation
My insides churned with disgust
When I set eyes on the cadaver
I felt scared and squeamish, but to continue was a must
I slipped on my gloves
And held up my forceps in my hand
As I looked around at my comrades
I felt I was far from wonderland
Our teacher told us to look down
And appreciate the structures we see
All I could think of was
This is a dead body in front of me
I knew I had to overcome my fears
As medicine was my life
I mustered up all the courage I could
And plunged my forceps into the cadaver like a knife
Everyone was horrified
At the unforeseen cadaver destruction
But I had a strange feeling
Of relief and satisfaction
I knew this was the only way
To rid me of my fear
Now I felt I had triumphed
After having murdered a cadaver
I knew that was technically not possible
After all the cadaver was already dead
I knew I wont go to jail
For severing off a dead head
Now my fear was abolished
The next day I walked in with confidence
What I didn’t know was
I would have to do a harsh penance
My teached made me dissect cadaver after cadaver
Meticulously and carefully
This went on for days together
She showed me no mercy
After a point I began enjoying it
The smell of formalin became appealing
I reveled in the dissection
And slowing my anxiety began retreating
Today I’m thankfull to her
For believing in me
She didn’t let me give up
And made sure I grew from a sapling into a tree
Today I’m a cardiothoracic surgeon
And cadavers don’t excite me anymore
Its beating hearts that do
And long surgeries are therefore never a chore
I still remember my days as a medical student
While meeting the deadlines at the 11th hour
But the day I remember most fondly
Is the day I murdered a cadaver
The second, ten years later,
caught her body less prepared.
Had finger nails been more pared her clench
might well have spared his palms
so close to drawing blood.
Her pelvis did not dilate in that hot steam tub.
Hours of pain through day and night were test
and strain enough to exhaust the parents both.
Was he then induced? He cannot quite remember.
But when no breath was left to push, and she was all but done,
the button was then quickly pushed to summon others to a run,
all scrub-green-gowns with wellingtons
to fill the meagre room.
Just out of sight a scalpel cut,
and cockle forceps clawed him out
as spattered boots slathered blood-red water gore
across the polished vynil floor.
Emotions barely held, like the churn of vomit just withheld,
for her sake, as he saw the bloodied face appear.
No nose, raw gaping flesh exposed,
cleft through his upper jaw.
The room shock silence fell, with frozen eyes
above the medic masks all rigid with surprise.
No scan had seen his cleavered mouth
obscured by sucking thumb.
Proud parades of parent picture-scan
concealed what now in birth struck dumb,
with defect's shock revealed.
As father saw his new birthed child
taken by the nurse a while and cleaned
and breathed like any other,
he searched for words to tell this sight
while needles stitched child's mother.
"There's something wrong,
something right here",
he pointed to his face.
But mother reached her hands outstretched
to becon child to her embrace
and son was laid upon her breast
just like her first had done.
No less of love's adoring gaze
signed love's great test was won
and would endure all testing days
for this beloved son.
The world has never been smaller,
we’re making strides for peace,
bonds of trade and the internet
bring us closer, at least.
an age where the old armed conflicts
may finally be no more—
(If your really want a lasting peace,
prepare yourselves for war)
It’s our job to make sure people
do not slip through the cracks,
the state can step up and provide
for folks who sorely lack.
Socialism can look after
the forgotten of the earth—
(One hundred million dead agree,
this idea never works.)
Our age of great equality
rewards the female sex,
women have taken the workplace,
what will they take on next?
The barriers that still remain
will know the righteous fight—
(Yet no job brings fulfillment like
raising up the kids right.)
We’re taking on the patriarchy,
demonize toxic males!
All men who follow their nature must
be attacked without fail.
Don’t they know that it’s a new day,
both feminine and wise—
(When men aren’t allowed to be men
Civilizations die.)
Let us make peace in the Middle East,
they’re all misunderstood,
their faith is no different than ours,
it’s done a lot of good.
Let’s tolerate the Islamist,
it’s time to heal these scars—
(Why don’t you ask a Yazidi girl
how ‘tolerant’ they are?)
We’re building a safer world,
it’s not the wild west,
to speak of firearms is wrong,
even if done in jest.
All the right folk agree with this,
anyone with a brain—
(The day that you give up your guns
is the day you wear chains.)
A woman should not be made to
carry unwanted kids,
and there should be no question if
she wants to abort it.
You see it’s just a clump of cells,
we know this to be true—
(Now imagine if your own mother
put the forceps to you.)
Hey s'up Joe? You bring the beer?
Yup, I'll set it here within our reach.
You know, we've been at this a year..
I see you got that last part complete.
This book sure was a nice find, Bill.
Yeah, though I'm not sure about these kits.
What ya mean?. Hand me that wrench...
This section gotta be sterile; put on yer mitts.
Okay..use the forceps, it's tricky..don't flinch.
Alright..install..hardware and secure into ..main assembly...
How?! ...What?!... You gotta be a liar!
Now, ya made me nervous, my hands are all trembly.
Huh! Yup. Says right there..use bailing wire!
This is critical,.. gimme the pliers.
Okay, it says to install this thing over here.
Install it?! ..I cant even pronounce it!
But I'll try it... Hand me another beer.
Now solder the what to the who?
That thing-ama-gig to the whatzit rod?
Oh I get it .It all makes sense now,.. I think.
Then this gets installed into the Pod.
Flap A goes into center slot C,
Oh now it's comin' together!
That's so tab B can slip on into slot D!!
High fives! Let's grab another brew!
'Nother four cases or so and I'll be waivin' by by!
Yep, hook that whatyacallit to the computer and Presto!
And then, Buddy, you'll be flying high!
What you thinkin' on? Why you drinkin' so slow?
Well, ..do your neighbors still think this is a Silo?
Ah don't worry,.. they're just a couple of rummies,
or else. ..they would have kept this book, Joe!....
On "How To Build a Spaceship For Dummies"!
Word Painting In Black and White
Cubed ice dismantling the plank bridge with pliers
made of syrup spilled with a dash of grief and brawn
the reptilian doughboy mixes up another cosmic batch
of truth cookies designed to mislead with wishes of
the big power grab all manifesting inside the largest
television set ever devised with a flat screen as big as
a flying saucer that has at last come down to earth
so large and compelling my eyes were sucked out of
my sockets for five seconds of blind purgatory something
I thought of as an impossibility what with the moon landings
in the last century and all the heart transplants with
a dozen doctors dedicating a day of grueling hours with
silver forceps and scalpels designed to cut and close
as with all relationships between a tight skirt and a mustache
on the floor by a black vent kissing with fingers touching and
moans muffled by the hand of fear there on the green carpet
in a mad darkness by the black vent and the trees with lemons
invading from days and decades earlier when young women
found the tile smooth and electric with sharp tingling sensations
on naked nubile skin rubbed down with cold creams made of fish
ransacking a thousand anchored ships with knives made of pearl by
old pipe-smoking hippies who make love all day with sprawling girls
looking for hot thrills inside gardens made of stone and bootleg love.
A memory from deep recesses of my mind crept
Meandering, probing, seething
In deep shafts of wrath swept
From crevices where the memory for too long held prisoner wept
Cursing the day it saw the light of day
In an ice cold
World where though on bended knees it strove to eat morsels of clay
No Good Samaritan to its rescue stood bold
Enough to lend a helping hand
Or a tender shoulder to cry on
As nestled thorns in the loveless land
Accommodated in its bosom no single clone
Who could pluck up courage
To defy the tyranny
Which unleashed a barrage
Teeming with calumny and larceny
Whose green eyes rolled with glee
At the sight of the memory wincing at every blow of the hippo tail
In Galilee
Where a hangman from Hell
Snapped the memory’s neck
Cracking vertebrae
As a snake
Writhing and slithering whose fangs did stray
Aiming to inject venom
On the neck of the memory when God’s love
Crushed the demon
On flapping wings of a white dove
On which the memory flew
Restored
Its yoke the memory threw
Away its pains gored
As the memory with a spring in its footsteps
Determinedly cruised to my heart
Snatched the forceps
Which with a start
Let go of my freedom
When all of a sudden I awoke
In love’s kingdom
Enthused by God’s omnipotence as spells of my slavery broke.