Long Gurney Poems
Long Gurney Poems. Below are the most popular long Gurney by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gurney poems by poem length and keyword.
On this and in many occasions
We've seen him proudly display
His titles along side of his
World Championship.
Tonight he enters the ring a
Battered and Bruised man.
Allowing a non contender to
Best him, and then again being
defeated by the number one
Contender. He was battered and
bruised by the two and took the microphone
In front of an unsatisfied crowd saying it's
Obvious you all don't like me To then have
a guy who has been an upright official come in
To help him after the brawl, to pummel your
Worlds Champion who refuse any help, he wanted
To do it his self
On the gurney microphone in hand he began singing
" I saw it in her smile" to wild the bunch, he got a loud
Standing ovation, to his and the fans delight .
Tonight the Champion enters as the underdog.I have
Been told they have the video ready waiting for it to
Become official. It's believed this is the champions night
To be defeated. He is out muscled, he is out gamed, he is
Injured and wrestling in pain He can't be disqualified or counted out.
Past champions have called for him to forfeit the title and try to reclaim
It in a "rubber match" if you will, or use the series stipulation to have
him who would be champion to commit to a continuous seven series
Where the odds would be in his favored. His opponent can out wrestle him
On his best days and tonight, they say only a fool would go in
Not thinking about himself.
" I saw it in her smile
The look upon her face"
These the lyrics we have heard all evening, we just wanna know if she can dance!
Kontro I'Lavagna
Reporting
Contro Le Lavagna: aka Andro Maskulant
the Crony Troll
of Churnalism!
In the hush after the storm's refrain,
Butterflies emerge softly once again
Their wings a painted canvas of pure gold
Fluttering gently, kissing blossoms untold
Droplets of rain still cling to the air,
Glistening like diamonds upon flowers fair
The lightning's flash, the thunder's roar,
Now replaced by a tranquil rapport.
Spring whispers secrets to the earth,
Giving the butterflies a new birth,
A symphony of colors takes flight,
Dancing in the sun's golden light.
So let us cherish this magical scene,
Where nature's beauty is evergreen,
Butterflies soaring, free to roam,
A world that no longer feels like my home
I know 'pon this earth I'm just passing through
I am on the precipice, but not blue
Ahead the city made by God's strong hand
Reach forth take hand of Jesus, not man
Too close to the scary edge, do not fear
Too near the precipice, hang on my dear
When you reach the end of life's journey
Welcome the men wheeling in the gurney
Written: July 18, 2023
Away In A Manger Contest Re Run Poetry Contest- Sponsored by: JAN ALLISON
______________________________________________________________
Cruising starts the journey
Heaven-float, dream ship
Worthy of a gurney
Surge through blue waves trip
Sunlight kisses the deck
stoked sightseer meet
In such a tense wreck
Start a long sail treat
The ship leaves the land back
Each person sees chances
Captain wise and skilled track
Moves the ship well dances
Devoted crews on board
Stake one's most comfort
Kitchen Chefs' are the lord
Night's joy of all sorts
Poolside to ballroom dance.
Nothing's aye boring.
Fun, thrills, limitless chance.
Days melt exploring.
She said she would be gone a little while.
Hours later white-coated figures
wheeled her gurney in. She did not come out.
Though I imagine her coming out
being pushed in a wheelchair
flowers in her lap smiling weakly,
as I held a car door upon.
She travelled further than a little while,
the grocery store raced down a long road,
she chased it for miles and miles
then what with the headlong hours
tumbling over berms and ditches
like flung away road kills
I had to at last consider the term ‘a while,’
and what it meant to her.
Did she ever feel that the ER staff
had been on high alert since she was born,
or perceive the gravity of ‘a while’
as she sat laughing each morning
with her friends in the coffee shop,
or when her last lover quit
being her lasting love?
She’s gone now of course,
but for me that ‘awhile’ seems to grow less
every year I keep on living,
holding her face inside my eyes
like a child yet to be delivered.
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
I wrote this non fiction poem
For Debra Jean..
(C)London F. BuSS. 2022
Ailments? Purim Cures 'Em!
Down 'N the Dumps?
Simcha smoothes most lumps,
What's Simcha? Briefly, Shared Joy,
As more 'tis shared, less there is to annoy!
Trade a warm feeling, return a smile,
Rids everyone of at least some bile.
Together, we overcome trouble,
Synergy! Life expanded, unconfined by the bubble!
Purim practices include:
Mishloach Manos; Friendly giving gifts of food,
Booing Haman; Rejoicing in justice coming to a bad dude,
Related in reading aloud the Megillah, a group "Thrillah",
Purim Seuda; a common meal festively "Imbues Yah",
Matanos Leveyonim; gifts to the needy do truly cure,
Giving does more to the giver as to the poor!
Adar, name of the month, a "Roller Coaster" journey,
When Spring, time of green health inspires, "Arise from your gurney! "
Assuming Disguises; In Adar, nothing is what it seems,
7th Adar, Moses born & died, joy & grief in reams,
Even in Persia, Esther becomes Queen, a saving surprise,
Ailments? In Purim lies a cure! Mirth & birth reprise!
A chubby ambulance with blinking lights
Rolled up to the house next door
As if a stream of steady hurt
Had been screaming forevermore
Followed by a wailing dog
Where would his master go?
Followed by his live in whore
Taken in the fog, taken in the fog.
Arriving at hospital
The EMT jumped out
The staff all came a running
Too late without a doubt
You can search all you want
When a sheet’s upon my head
And I am thrown into that body bag
I will feel a bit of glee that I am dead.
As they toss my worn out flesh and eyes
Into chubby ambulance number thirty-three
That blinking light carousel
With the remnants of the last of me
Will take me to Neverland where I will finally be free.
The doctor calls “it”
As he shakes his youngish head.
The man on the next gurney
Promptly falls out of bed.
My spirit is smiling happily
As I am taken into the world of ones I adore.
Angels surrounding me to remind me
I have been here many times before.
I have been here many times before.
No, you cannot go with me, my darlings, who are sad.
When I leave this earth life, I will no longer be big or bad.
When I am slid into Number Thirty-three
The angels will prepare me for my trip.
As I am brought to the hospital
The doctor will be glad to call “it”.
The journey is to be traveled by us one at a time.
So take a swig of whiskey.
And know that I’ll be fine.
Flesh was never meant to travel to the Neverland.
Where I am enjoying my hobbies, the very best I can.
Do not be sad, my darlings.
This is a trip we make many times.
Know that even though my flesh is dead.
I am going to be fine!
I am going to be fine!
It takes ten legs squeaking in sneakers
And eight rubber wheels heavily humming
On the checkered sparkling linoleum floor
To move a boy with a tumor
From one hospital floor to the next
For emergency tests
One nurse one doctor a technician leading the way
Mom and dad
Trailing the speeding parade with teddy bears and balloons
And faces full of frowns surrounding a white crib
And a mobile I.V. tower
Thrashing like an octopus fished from water
Whisk
Kicking down the hallways
Onlookers flattened against the walls
Get out of the way
And as all this passes by
From the corner of my eye
I see a creature on a gurney
Unattended
Parked to the side
Fossil of old woman with her head resting
On a mop of white hair
Everywhere
Her skeleton face framed like a crazed witch
No longer Queen dancing in the ballrooms
Toasting friends writing checks signing up her volunteers
Here she is
Abandoned
Vacuuming the stale air through her purple pursed lips
Eyes locked on my boy
Make way
Make way.
24 PROMISES
Waking up in the arms of fire.
Ashes all around, burning picture frame.
I see nothing, the night is dark as can be.
I look up and see my father crying over me.
At this moment, I'm confused.
"AM I DREAMING!"
"AM I!"
I feel and see the tears falling from his eyes.
Without hearing him talk,
I PANIC ~
~At this moment. I feel my whole world collide~
Trying to talk, he whispers words,
Saying, "It's your mother!"
He mutters, them words I don't want to hear.
"NO DAD DON'T TELL ME!"
"NO DAD DON'T TELL ME!"
My heart drops onto the floor.
One long drop, I can feel everything in me wake up.
My blood is rushing, my bones can't stand still.
These tears, falling from my dad are real.
*I'm not dreaming* ANYMORE!
Without caring to put my shoes on,
I rush into my car and make it to mother's house.
The hours began to drag.
I got to see her lifeless body on the floor,
The paramedics setting her onto a gurney.
I jump on the ambulance,
Yelling at my mother to wake up.
"WAKE UP!"
"WAKE UP!"
She can't hear me,, cause I'm crying.
At this moment, every minute felt like an hour.
**I actually felt eternity, just by holding her hand.**
Arriving at the hospital.
I try to pull myself together.
Now her body is attached to life support.
I'm thinking she will pull through.
She always pulls through.
I closed my eyes, and told God,
I know I don't believe in miracles, nor will I ask for one,
Don't take her today or in that way.
Let her go on her own.
My eyes were close so tight,
God allowed a vision in my mind.
"My mother waiting for me on the other side"
I refused to let them remove her off LIFE SUPPORT.
Leaning over her lifeless body.
I whispered one thing into her ear,
I told her, my son's birthday near.
I told her you never were there for me,
Stay for his birthday, then set yourself free.
Hours, and hours past, she made it the first day.
Another 24 hours past, she stuck around another day.
Another 24 hours past, now it's my son's birthday.
Not another hour past, she decided to go her way.
She left without saying Goodbye...
I cried,
Ever since that day, something inside died.
by;p.d.
Heart racing, his mind struggles
This is now, not then.
Whispers of childhood
Haunt his every step.
This is now, not then.
Flashes of memory roll through his mind
As a gurney oft rolled him through these halls
Or halls just like these, he reminds himself
That was then, not now.
His chest tightened, he strains for each step
Awash in vintage anxiety
He focuses his thousand yard stare.
This is now.
That was then.
The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol
Nurses and surgeons in their scrubs induce
Childhood fear.
He acknowledges the fear
But keeps his eyes ahead.
God this is hard.
His head is swimming now
Nought but his sight
Keeps his balance.
The world is spinning
He can taste the aseptic air.
That was then, this is now.
And the fear remains.
Choking him, stabbing at him
Begging him to run, scream, cry…
Do something.
Again he mutters,
That was then, not now.
General Surgery… check in.
He walks in…
To the recovery room.
A wrong turn, and his knees nearly buckle before he catches himself.
His voice… no…
His father's voice
Sprouts from his throat
Asking directions.
He finds the reception office
Gives his information
Weight. Height. Blood pressure.
(That was then, this is now.)
The terror in his bones ignores the mantra.
He listens to the doctors, the nurses,
Unbelieving.
Walking in a day?
Full recovery in 6 weeks.
He's sure they said that forty years ago
To his parents
And the boy's wounds still haven't healed.