Long Meningitis Poems
Long Meningitis Poems. Below are the most popular long Meningitis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Meningitis poems by poem length and keyword.
I once worked with a youth who had gingivitis
Twenty years younger yet she already had arthritis
Pretty enough in spite of her dermatitis
She so craved attention we all thought caused by meningitis
Winters seemed worse with time off due to bronchitis
Bouts in hospital for appendicitis and diverticulitis
Regularly like clockwork she came down with severe vacationitis
After each self-prescribed vacation she’d strangely suffer from moneyitis
She talked our ears off we kept hoping she’d get laryngitis
But no, it was only bursitis and colitis followed by gastritis
Ms. Black sure was high maintenance with her neurosis and neuritis
AP: 1st place 2025, Honorable Mention 2020
THE MANY CHALLENGES OF SURVIVING A CAR BOMB BLAST CRUSHING MY NASAL ARCH FRACTURED MY FACE THE WORSE WAS MY EYE BLOWOUT THE FORCE OF THE CAR BOMB ACTUALLY BLEW MY SKULL UP FROM INSIDE OUT BLOWING MY EYE INTO THE EYE ORBIT MEDIAL WALL BLOWOUT FRACTURE AMAZING WATCHING MY EYE FALL OUT OF THE SOCKET HOLDING MY EYE IN PLACE FLESH ALL OVER THE DASH BOARD MULTIPLE XRAYS MRI CAT SCANS RECONSTRUCTION SURGERY TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY EYE TRAUMA DIPLOPIA DOUBLE VISION SCARING THE EYE WALL SHATTERS RELEASING EYE FLESH BONE FRAGMENTS INTO MY SINUS WALL RECOVERY IS AWFUL STINGING PAIN INFECTIONS MENINGITIS ANTIBIOTICS PROTECTION MY EYE BALL FLOATS NUMBING PAIN OPTIC NERVE BLOCKS PARTIAL BLINDNESS THROUGH MY TRAUMA OF SURVIVING A BLAST MY IMPOSTER J JOHNSON HER MOTHER ACTUALLY BEGAN PERPUTRATING FRAUD UPON ME EXTORTION OF MY PERSONAL INJURY CLAIM FUNNY REALLY WATCHING NORMAL PEOPLE CONTROL ABUSE OF POWER TO EXTORT A BROKEN INJURED ILL WOMAN SIMPLY BECAUSE THESE JAMAICAN IDENTITY FRAUD THIEVES WERE OBSESSED WITH MURDERING ME MULTIPLE ATTEMPTS RESULTED IN A LAST RESORT CAR BOMB BLAST BASICALLY BLEW MY EYE BALL OUT OF THE SOCKET THE PRESSURE FROM THE BOMB BLAST CAUSING SEVERE TRAUMA WHILE I COPED WITH MY INJURIES CIRO GARGANO J JOHNSON TONI JOHNSON BEGAN A VICIOUS HATE CRIME UPON MY IDENTITY BULLYING SLANDER INTIMIDATION TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW WHY THIS CRUELTY WAS OCCURING BONE FRAGMENTS FLESH BLOWN INTO MY BRAIN AND I ORBIT MY PRAYERS ARE WITH ANYONE WHO SURVIVED A CAR BOMB BLAST MY PERSONAL BOMB WAS DESIGNED TO BLOW MY EYEBALL STRAIGHT THROUGH MY BRAIN I WAS VERY BLESSED TO SURVIVE SUCH TRAUMA THERE IS A LONG ROAD AHEAD BLINDNESS PAIN TRAUMATIC HEADACHES EYE DAMAGE DOUBLE VISION BLINDING PAIN THIS WAS A CRUEL CRIMINAL ACT THESE KILLERS SAT WITH CIRO GARGANO HIS FBI AGENT ALLEN KING AWAITING ON WORD THAT I DIDN'T SURVIVE THE BLAST LISTENING ON A WIRE TAP THIS IS HOW I HEARD HIM SAY JUST COVER YOUR EYE BABY SO I COVERED MY EYE UNAWARE THE BLAST WAS ABOUT TO IGNITE SET TO IGNITE BY THE CHANGING OF THE STREET LIGHT GREEN TO GO BAM EXPLOSION BLEW MY EYE INTO THE EYE ORBIT HORRID TO SEE DEVESTATING TO COPE WITH UNAWARE THIS IMPOSTER WAS ACTUALLY WAITING ON MY DEATH IN ORDER TO PRESUME MY IDENTITY WITH CATRINA BELL CAR BOMBER CIRO GARGANO THE MAD BOMBER TOGETHER THE DEATH OF AN FBI INFORMANT TOOK PLACE SHOCKING TERROR I SURVIVED STILL COPING TODAY
My Brother
Today is our twenty-fifth birthday, Dear Brother!
We were like-twins born on same date
Fifteen minutes apart
Who knew, you could leave me all on a sudden, Last Year!
By appearance we were alike, but opposite in nature
You were strong, energetic: Me weak, lethargic.
You! Always engaged being busy
Me! Preferred to lie down, being lazy.
In school, playground, everywhere, you acted as my protector
I was pampered by parents.
You took blame covering my fault.
I was all along indebted to you,
but got no scope to repay, only to admit gratitude.
Both of us were attacked by Meningitis.
Weak one survived, strong brother passed away.
Cruel Nature has done unforgivable injustice.
We were entwined for twenty- four years.
Timid backward brother left behind to shed tears!
Now I am a lone fighter in struggle of life,
only to put a posy of flower on your grave!
My Idol! My Brother! Bold and brave.
Since childhood I put my head on your shoulder.
My volunteered guardian! Fifteen minutes older.
My Dearest Brother
09/ 17/17
Poems that paint a picture 2 Contest by Silent One
Second Place
'STRAND SELECT F' Contest by Brian Strand
A gentleman from a grand, but time-worn oil-painting,
Unbelievably handsome in his fifties,
Immaculately dressed in a formal grey suit,
From the backdrop of a luscious tea-garden
On a mountaineous plush valley,
Looked at me with an intriguing smile.....
In my maternal grandmother’s house!
“Who is he?”
I remember enquiring my mother,
“And where did he go?”
My mother's eyes welled up...
But she wiped tears from her eyes,
And always said in a firm voice,
“He never left,
He is with us”!
Some day I realized,
My grandfather passed away in his prime years,
From a terrible disease called Meningitis!
Cruelly his life was cut short, but
He left a legacy of honesty, integrity, bravery,
Compassion for the poor and the needy…
He protected a huge population of
Distressed villagers in his area,
From being ruthlessly slaughtered,
When the country became devastated
With riots between religious groups.
Villagers composed and dedicated a song,
Chanting the bravery of a lonely warrior
Who courageously stood for them
Against barbarous enemies,
Sacrificing his own happiness,
So numerous men, women, children
Could live unharmed, and sleep peacefully
In their humble cottages.
King Arthur, legendary knight of the Round Table...
Legendary Robin Hood, the outlaw of Sherwood forest...
The legend of my own warrior,
jamais oublie'!
At the outset of the pandemic, a conspiracy theorist I was dubbed
Like many others who had doubts, an elephant in the room had now arrived
In many families and also friendships, as theorists, we were scrubbed
So five years down the track, I received a message from my seventy six aged accuser,
describing symptoms she has suffered , I believe ,as a result of being a vaccine user
Post operation to replace a dicky knee
immediate pulse rate , two hundred plus or minus thirty three
So what has been prescribed, it's called a beta blocker
keeps the pulse rate somewhere in the ball park
It's still pulsing around, one hundred and forty beats per minute
seemingly to me, still a rather rapid mark
Protection from the "virus" through the jab does not seem at all to exist
with covid reoccurring for this woman more times than the knuckles on the fist
There's also viral meningitis, allergies as well, she wonders is it the jab
what else would have caused it?
Was it forced? Twas a voluntary action,
no government agency enforced it
Here's a statement that she made: I'm fairly healthy compared to all my peers
Does she maintain beliefs about conspiracy theorists?
For me there's now much proof that validates my suspected vaccination fears
Footnote: this woman has decided to have no further vaccinations
Words
Like I’ve never felt the worst
Like I’ve never felt it hurt
You don’t know me now do you?
Ghosts
Haunting brand new unused minds
Feeding on a soul alive
You’ve not felt it now do you?
Was a tough struggle, ‘Tween land and water
War zone placed with the faintest border
To paint the struggle, the hues uncertain
Couldn’t understand why ‘‘twas so much harder
But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old
Gods
Please don’t let her wander off
Please don’t make this life too short
Hear our prayers now will you?
Too young for battle, she got no option
She fought her way through the heard of monsters
Still underwater, can’t reach the surface
Would’ve given up if you let me surrender
But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old
Your needles prick me all day long
But they stop me falling under the ground
Where the monsters wait to drag me down
To a place, I’d call home, if you’d let me go
But I was 24 days old
When I went to the death’s door
And you brought me back alive
And I was 24 days old
When I faced trial at court
And you saved me in the fight
If I did not find you then I’d be watching from the sky,
Still 24 days old
Context:
I obviously don’t remember any of this, but I had been diagnosed with meningitis when I was only 24 days old. Thankfully I made a complete recovery, and is quite healthy at the moment, with no side effects.
People expect me to go to med school so I can repay the debt I owe to those who saved me, but I chose to study arts instead.
I wrote this song hoping to release it and raise funds for a children’s hospital where I was admitted when I was diagnosed. But since I didn’t get a chance to do that, I decided to publish it here.
Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you
Sudan 1993 and an ugly famine reaps its prey
malnourished bodies make it difficult to believe
that women were created from the rib of men
it is the most vulnerable who carry the weight
if you pardon the cynical pun on the grotesque
the lens is open and a vulture remains on guard
carrion in the making seems to die on the right
side of the frame and the wrong side of history
a little bird like face hands buried in minute hands
a grunting beak not afar as if smacking hungry lips
vultures have a serious problem with their reputation
but this particular images reaches down much further
into gut wrenching emotion of insatiable repulsion
for the record it is not the grim raptor who was ringed
but the little girl who wears a UN feeding station band
in all honesty the predator is not as close as it seems
a nearby manure heap serves its overfed companions
but the photo fails to escape the onlooker’s discomfort
however they wish it would fly away on prayer or wings
one vulture a Pulitzer Prize and millions of birdwatchers
although Kevin Carter the award winning photojournalist
followed all rules and was forbidden to touch anybody
for fear of spread of disease like cholera or meningitis
he was pilloried for only taking the shot and despairing
instead of well what exactly should the bird have told him
we are not privy to the fate of the iconic avian marauder
do not know what we would have done in such situation
maybe niggling bird song made us contribute to charity
but the other protagonist died in a red pickup truck with a
hosepipe and the girl’s parents told the press she’d survived
11th July 2020
On the plain of oblivion, where dreams lose their color under the leaden sky,
Our country stretches like a canvas of memories unraveling in the wind,
Here, where politicians are the shadows of extinguished times, without echo,
We have witnessed a theater of the absurd, with thieves dressed as saints,
Minds bright only in the selling of illusions, while dignity withered away,
Deputies who traded their words for the gold of smuggled dreams,
And in the grand hall of history, we shamefully failed the test of maturity,
Under Europe's cold gaze, we were just a land of scoundrels, a whisper among shouts,
Neither the enemy's armies nor their fierce cannons brought us down,
For the disease that gnaws at us comes from the depths of our weary souls,
A silent epidemic of moral meningitis that has taken our luster and hope.
In the silence of the night, when the moon casts its gaze over our desolate fields,
I feel how the heart of the country beats faintly, like an echo in an abandoned cathedral,
We collapsed not under the weight of our enemies, but under the burden of our own betrayals,
For this disease is unseen, yet it consumes us from within, a cancer of the spirit,
And yet, among the ruins of lost dreams, there still flickers a flame,
A longing for rebirth, for cleansing, to find the path back to light, to ourselves,
In the midst of this epidemic of forgetfulness, to find the strength to rise,
To heal from the shadows of the past, to rediscover who we truly are,
For under this leaden sky, there is still the hope of a new dawn,
A silent call to regain our dignity, to rise from the ashes,
To be more than a minor country, to become a tale of courage and light.
Jonnie Peacock was born on 28th May in 1993,
And is an English sprinter and right leg amputee,
He won gold in the vital games of London 2012,
And into the category T44 he does neatly delve.
He was born in Cambridge, that old university town,
But at the age of 5 meningitis did make him frown,
So he asked his hospital for some football facilities,
Who gave him a prosthetic for his lively jocularities.
Directed to Paralympic sport, he did truly awaken,
To running the 100 metres, and he was totally taken,
Not faking, he raced at the Paralympic World Cup,
His first international, in Manchester, he did build up.
Next month June, the US Paralympic trials do occur,
Jonnie set a record time of 10.85 to squarely concur,
With his coach Dan Pfaff, who believed he could win,
At the London Paralympics, where we saw him grin!
First grade, pelted with eggs
Second grade, broke both legs
Third grade, fell down the stairs
Fourth grade, clawed by a bear
Fifth grade, ran into a tree
Sixth grade, twisted a knee
Seventh grade, concussed my head
Eighth grade, fell out of bed
Ninth grade, had meningitis
Tenth grade, appendicitis
Eleventh grade, torn hamstring
Twelfth grade, acute bee sting...
So, to allay any fears from admission committees
I wrote the following college application ditty:
You may consider me somewhat injury-prone
But I have yet to break my first wishbone
And I give you my whole-hearted assurance
That I will use my parents' health insurance