Long Painkillers Poems
Long Painkillers Poems. Below are the most popular long Painkillers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Painkillers poems by poem length and keyword.
“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
Rodin’s thinker felt deeply misrepresented in his pose
he had been simply doing his business in privacy but
paparazzis had caught him seemingly sitting on a rock
nothing on his mind but having a pee after a night out
too much beer with his mates in the pub and all that
was on his mind was whether there were painkillers
in the vanity unit to soothe his nauseating hangover
twitter went mad and the tabloids fronted his image
raised him onto the dubious pedestal of iconic status
attested him with clarity of thought and contemplation
he had only been looking at the bathroom mirror and
counting tiles and toothpaste stains in the marble sink
did not mind so much that he was nude in portraits
they painted because the truth must be stark naked
and he was not one to falsify events and their cause
but taking his ablutions out of context made him
feel shame rather than reason for he was abused
in nature’s call and his wife might object but he would
never again sit down on the loo when having a tinkle
10th March 2021
Seeming unseeing, expressionless being
Asleep in this wide awake town
Leant on the side of a bridge cross the river
Her gaze and demeanour are down
Considered a knife for taking her life
But thoughts of whom-ever might find
her blood drenched cadaver, decided she’d rather
not mess up an innocent’s mind
Spent some time thinking, painkillers while drinking
Might bring her the peace that she craves
But what if they merely left her feeling bleary
So now she stands gazing at waves
Nobody asks if she’s needing assistance
As busy folk head on their way
Ladies with lippy and cyclists nippy
And suited chaps seizing the day
A note she laid down, then without tear or frown
She climbed up and over the side
Made her last pledge on a protruding ledge
That really was not very wide
Well Lord, that was me, what had you hoped to see
Whatever it was I have failed
Messed up all my life, but I’ll get one thing right
For I’ve got my final act nailed
Behind her a groan in a juvenile tone
The nine year old face wore a frown
From under the bridge, that scared little kid
Said, please Lady, don’t let me drown
My dad paid a man who had a white van
To find a long life of good health
Snuck out of Francais then to my dismay
Abandoned me here by myself
She said take my hand, then climb up and stand
Safe on the bridge, then we’ll go
Miss, said the lad, did God have this planned
Honey, she said, I don’t know
Surgical operation, physiotherapy,
exercise and painkillers
(I hate every pill, they make me dizzy)
Neuropathic pain can be
violent and incomprehensible
It is subjective and personal,
an emotional experience
A short time of pain we can accept
Pain that lasts a long time
makes everyday life complicated
But it goes a little better every day
05/05/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
I wish that I had choked and died
On those chocolate candy bars.
I wish my mom had tanned my hide
About those tempting cookie jars.
I wish that I'd been tarred and feathered
For the dinners that I skipped
Because I preferred to gorge my taste
On Lays Potato Chips.
I'd like of course to quite forget
The delightful sweet 'life savers'
Which turned out to be unfortunately
A roll of nice teeth haters.
I wonder why my father
Didn't put a final stop
To the in-and-out of the refrigerator door
For another soda pop.
In truth, I would have received more mercy
From a family of alligators
Than the sticky, gooey caramel
Of flavored 'Now and Laters'.
The bantering I'll put aside
For I must now reflect
On the searing pain that's gripped me
Consuming tooth and jaw and neck.
I do agree the joke's on me
Now would someone please find
The 'painkillers'; the Orajel
Before I lose my mind.
RETA PRUITT
August 8, 2016
I fell victim to so many irresistible women
I was swimming in love while they were infatuated
debating if they would be or stay so true
but in the meantime
I was busy telling her I'm in love wit you.
But what do you do when you fall
in love so deep
and ya mate is lusting after you
infatuation is so cheap
and with every hurtful thing they
say to you the deeper the flat line beep
the same person that swept you off ya feet
now is making you emotionally bleed.
I used to believe that I would actually have a seed
by this woman of mine
but in all actuality she was wasting my time
and I got wrapped in how fine she was
kissing & hugging lusting & loving
but love don't love me all of a sudden
she hates me she's trying to date rape me
duck tape me
she left me alone when I called her name
it's the same old game
but ain't nothing changed
I'm still feeling this emotional rain
they ain't make painkillers for heart brakes yet.
yeah I made mistakes but now
it's too late.
I fell victim to another dishonest chick
so that's the reason I spit like this.
it hurt so much that she prised out the molar in despair
with a corner post missing pain oozed from wounded flesh
one cavity exchanged for another but rawness lay bare
she tried painkillers and sedatives then settled for hash
anguish hampered her feelings and she tore at her heart
until emotional turmoil pulsated in oblivion and voids
took a few more puffs from the reefer to make a start
to clean up her act but failed and reached out for opioids
dazed in a haze it appeared to work well for a short while
she pickaxed her mind and attempted to extract the root
of disorientation sorrow and evil but her mind remained vile
confused and drugged the remedy’s effects stayed rather moot
alcohol uppers and downers magic mushrooms and cocaine
followed her on the devastating road to full blown compulsion
whatever she tried she spread bedlam and became more insane
threw the drugs in the loo and looked back in fearful repulsion
21st September 2020
Little sweet Lucy..four years..so small.
Her pink teddy bear.. and her Barbie doll.
Pushed strollers of fun. ..in traipse of malls.
Then a Topsy turvy evil.. stifles her a thrall.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crawls a cruel connive...arrives a sudden sinister.
Wrangles her hard destiny. .lurks a doomed disaster.
Poor Child, ...Leukemia is now her master.
She collapses into the arms.. of a malevolent monster.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Wasn't Blood red. .that flowed in our veins?
Her's was a translucent black. ..
only strains..and those pains.
With her curly hair shaved. .the ugly doll sustains.
Syringe of thorns prick. .a rose.. to sick bed detains.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Crummy " Chemo" of the 'Crab '. .
creeps on the little dummy.
There's yucky throw of food...
from her aching tummy.
Fear stricken Dad.. and a tear streaked Mummy. .
Her outstretched arms.. say..
"I know you both love me"
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
The helpless girl.. gets weaker and thinner.
She longs for the table...sit together for dinner.
Forlorn she quirks.. in the MRI shiver.
Fighting with Cancer. .her spleen and liver.
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
Painkillers help ..seeing windows and walls.
Doctors are elves... and Fairy nurses call.
To live without dying. .she daily sprawls. ..
She cries, " Where are my dolls? "
A desolate girl..she dreams. .playing with dolls.
PLACED THIRD IN SCREWED POETRY CONTEST by Rob Carnack
7th October 2018
A Poem of Reaction Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward.
I toss fire down your throat
pour you your bullet, goblet to gullet
glass-jacketed explosions
line my wall like church organ flues
ablution for absolution from desperation
libation-liberations for exaggerated exhilarations
bottled fevers for believers
kneel your mind
choose your raptures
you’ve come to my altar
now your blood I’ll alter
shaken, stirred, swirled, singed with little bonfires
as potent a potion as you like
each percent speeds your ascent or descent
your thirst it’ll wet and abet
I have spirits to lift yours
a cure in every liqueur
bubbly for the lively
painkillers for loners
oh, I’ll hear your confessions too
earshot with your liquor shot, on the house
no judgement nor penance
just a warped sense of time to let you unparch your soul
salvage the day
and get ready to face the next one
I’m your friendly mercenary-priest
enforcing a restraining order against reality
one more?
The huntsman and his peregrine
Woods was all his belongings
The huntsman's only pride and his holy livelihood
Flew an injured peregrine to his land one evening
Her quill feathers perfumed of mountains and coastal
She was somebody or someone of a kind like peregrine species of grass
He beholds an earnest affection for this creature
Full of dotes well up inside her injuries and wounds
One dawn when sun rises and it's scorching rays erased everything into ashes ...
'His love for her
Her faith on him'
And the woods inscribed-
Her blood of despair
Her thirst for life
Her soul sheds tears miserably
But the huntsman owes no mercy to his once beloved peregrine
Pain was all
Pain is all
Pain shall be
Isn't this Pain, how can be composed of such tinsy four letters word
Isn't this Pain, more hungry and greed for massive depth inside the broken soul
Isn't this Pain, stands injustice to the medicine called painkillers doses
Isn't this Pain, a tryst with life each breathe and those wounds just spiced up again!
The huntsman or my beloved man;
His peregrine or I was his beloved (once)!