Long Hospital Poems
Long Hospital Poems. Below are the most popular long Hospital by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hospital poems by poem length and keyword.
No one had seen Rudolf for weeks
He was wanted via loudspeakers and flyers
"This is the moment where everything changes", Santa Claus said
Christmas Eve was approaching, there was nothing more to do
It came news from the University Hospital of Northern Norway
Poor Rudolf, lay for three weeks with a broken leg
Swelling and loss of movement - it was just hopeless
The plaster cast was heavy - he couldn't fly home
Rudolf was sent home by air ambulance, in a comfortable bed
On Christmas Eve he sat in the sleigh together with Santa Claus
Even with a broken leg he was able to overcome the obstacle
Rudolf's red nose has become a symbol of Christmas for everyone
"Nicholas Street Jail is a real place"
The building is imposing, massive and fearful,
built in 1862 as a jail and gallows for criminals;
the conditions were inhumane and appalling,
on the top floor was death row with only one way out.
It closed in 1972 (hangings had not been done in years,)
renovating was done but the creepiness remained;
one hundred and fifty unmarked graves were found,
deemed a heritage building it was turned into a hostel.
It is said to be haunted by the men executed there,
the dark cells can be rented on that top death floor;
small cells with tiny barred windows the only light,
some have seen ghosts standing at the end of their cots.
There are creaking cell gates and heavy footsteps heard,
wailing and weeping and praying all the night long;
on a dare- I rented a top floor cell with bars,
and was told the gallows still remained down the hall.
I went to my bunk not really believing the stories,
but in the night hands were reaching, pulling me;
I screamed but no one was there,
restless, I started walking a dark narrow hall.
There was a man walking also and I wanted to talk,
hello, sir, I called but he did not stop as I followed;
he opened a door and went through, I hesitated a moment,
then, I opened the door, it was the gallows . . .
His was hanging, his neck broken, his eyes staring,
I tried to scream but no sound came as hands pulled me;
decomposed dead were reaching and all had broken necks,
I was screaming when my body dropped into an empty void.
Found in the morning, crumpled and weeping,
talking hysterically about being hanged by decomposed men;
muttering about being dead, dead, dead,
and from the dark side of my mind I cannot escape . . . ever
The mental hospital where I reside is like a jail cell,
where ghosts hang me each night in the gallows,
where I fall into that empty vast void,
screaming, screaming, screaming . . . in the silence.
______________________________
September 25, 2022 (edit from September 19, 2016)
Poetry/Verse/One From the Dark Side of My Poetry
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1490-294-25
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Submitted into the contest, From The Dark Side
sponsor, John Lawless, Judged 10/04/2022
Ninth Place
The sign of Jesus coming
Is like a woman's labor pain
The pain is interval in nature
Like every hour is in pain
Then in every thirty minutes
Then pain in every five minutes
Then it's time to go to hospital
To deliver the new born baby
It's like in the time of Noah
God reveal His plan to him
People live casually, incessantly
What's wrong with marriage
What's wrong with business
What's wrong with ambition
What's wrong with wealth
What's wrong is that they don't know
That the ark is already finished
The selected one just come in
And all the animals for proginy
And people they don't know
The visitation of the Lord to them
Salvation has now come to those
Who heed the call to repent and obey
Eternal life in righteousness is on the bow
For everyone who just made perfect.
Linda, you gave me the confidence to be myself without apologizing.
Your kindness was most appreciated, especially without sermonizing.
You took care of my medical needs, and also my spiritual needs.
Your empathetic caring and kindnesses uplifted my depressed seeds.
I had never had a torn meniscus and a torn ACL before that day.
I was in shock, and hurt in every direction, every which way.
Your smiling presence and gentle ways helped me tolerate and stay.
In a hospital which actually made me feel quite sad and gray.
I did not appreciate you as much as I should have, I later found out.
On my third day there, I was given a different nurse, one with a snout.
She breathed too deeply her bumping-into-me stomach stuck way out.
Her manner irritated me greatly and made me want to shout and pout.
When you came back Monday, I wanted to give you a hug and a kiss.
I wanted to tell you how horrible was that other nurse, Little Miss Miss.
But when you told me she was your cousin, I was glad I did not do it.
But I am grateful for you my friend; your care helped me pull through it!
.
Do you believe in angels?
And do they patiently wait for prayers to be called to help?
Title:
The Eternal Water Oaks
A lone voice whispers
The invisible Angel smiled at the rows of sorrowful patients
Which lay before it on ward twenty-one of Saint Peter's Hospital
In New Brunswick
New Jersey
As it then looked at just one particular sorry soul, whose body was now broken and bent
For it was why it was summoned by heartfelt prayers
Whispered by his family and wife to be heard
For it to be dutifully sent
The smile it carried wasn't a smile of ill judgement
Or dismay, but of immense hope
To change the sad vibrations at play
For it knew the recently diagnosed patient would find the tenacity and strength to eventually cope
Whether they recover or leave others to grieve
For they all do
It's a silent degree
A line spoken by the Almighty
What all things follow if they truly believe whatever it says
All they or others have to do is call for them and pray
To summon angels from The Great In-Between
The bringers of such priceless white crisp envelopes to soothe the soul
The invisible folk
Who'll follow like betrothed guardian philanthropists
Just huddled together
Sleeping
In the half-shade of the Great In-Between trees
The Eternal Water Oaks
Waiting for psychic calls to spring into action
To fly to those caused by an exothermic reaction
A chemical interaction followed by the evolution of heat
With incredible satisfaction
To find those whom they are called to greet
Into the lonely, caressing arms of the swirling grey mists
Which moved and flowed all around
Like it had a phenomenal supernatural intelligence
Hiding those sleeping
By The Great Grey Oaks
Angels
Hidden
By its holy smoke, which it uses to dutifully cloak
Eternal friends
Who know
Living or dying isn't the end
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
.
Thank god for the first responders for saving my life desperately panting painful chest pains my children surrounded my bed my praying hard to believe Ciro was there Cheering my death in order to allow his Jamaican identity fraud to perpetuate fraud upon me on my death bed reaching for my hospital bracelets fall risk fainting afib irregular heart beats truly sad the both of them taking hospital labels from dying patients to continue the ongoing data breaches at HCA hospital Systems Jamaican identity fraud Ciros criminal group my prayers are with my killers sorry JHORE you will never ever be me you may wear my bathing suits for Ciro to dream of me but you will always be his JHORE hiding in the dogs bed itching and scratching
I stared at the wall
Bricks on bricks
A bench in an empty corner
Built to last
That cathedral
I had arrived by train
Under overcast weather
No rush to get on the tram
Going to the hospital - knew to much
Brick on brick - there too
Eating a sandwich
Sad that too
People moving around me
Empty eyes in the shadow
Sitting alone by the wall
You can’t go back
Awake the dead
Reset fractures
Make something become
Become undone
You can turn around, look back
Remember smiles, anger, tears and laughter
You better look ahead
There and then - facing the wall
Ready to cry
Heard a chopper flying low
Blue lights waiting
You can’t go back
Always
When you face the wall
I am absolutely disoriented while I wait.
I am unable to reclaim the time I have lost.
I was entirely sure of my counterpoint.
Being warned led to her bewildered epithet.
Something odd is going on in this universe.
Her nightmare overwhelmed her deeds.
It is a rare occurrence on Planet's surface.
This was observed in a variety of breeds.
"I'm sorry," the doctor whispered in her ear.
These are her worst, deepest plights.
My main concern is how I fit into this fear.
Put her most deepest anxieties to rest.
This is a sign that the tumor is carcinogenic.
Tumor proliferation is increasing rapidly.
She left the hospital; she was beset neurasthenic.
With too much imagination, she went loopy.
Thus far, it is the fatal endeavor I have ever faced.
She was fearful if she would meet with fate.
Notify her relatives of the specialist's prod.
While being unseen, she felt the impact.
In the same way, they depict her experiences.
Also, I'm going to faint, and I'm pretty upset.
I am willing to make voluntary sacrifices.
My children are crying, and I'm stressing out.
My tears mirror the early-morning rain to me.
What she is saddest about is the cancer scare.
After all of that, her concerns started to grow dim.
She said, "I love you," and closed the door.
Written: Juin 1st, 2021
Cancer Ivy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
The first heart attack was quite mild:
he put it down to indigestion
at first, but the pain persisted.
Some pills and lectures on lifestyle changes
followed the stay in hospital.
Yes, he'd try to stop smoking, he said,
and to cut out the fatty foods.
But the craving for cigarettes
was too strong and he secretly smoked,
while assuring me that he'd quit!
The next heart attack was much worse;
he really did try after that -
a fat-free diet was no fun
and nicotine patches were no help...
but he stuck to it for a while
(I think it was a week, maybe two).
Then I smelt the smoke on his clothes,
saw him wolfing down bacon sandwiches,
slyly like a naughty schoolboy.
By then I pretended I didn't know -
my nagging was killing him, he said.
The third heart attack finished him.
I'm heartbroken that his heart was broken...
I find hard to move around,
dragging my aching body,
unable to do even the simplest chores...
yes, I am very sick of flu:
it's something I can't undo!
I will not go to the hospital,
lie in a comfortable bed for hours,
coughing and sneezing waiting for a call...
while spreading this virus and infecting others.
I'm missing out on brisk walks
that keep my immune system healthy,
and no blues frustrate me more than loneliness...
come spring and let joy renew itself in this memory.
My remedy is Robitussin by far,
a miraculous cure for cold symptoms,
and since I can't go out, or drive my car...
I indulge myself in the creation lyrics.
It's my first day back to work,
I'm drinking coffee, and I shouldn't,
but these headaches won't go away...
unless I smell it, sip it and dream away.
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci