Long Pancreatic Poems
Long Pancreatic Poems. Below are the most popular long Pancreatic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pancreatic poems by poem length and keyword.
Most of us should know that the fourth Thursday,
is called a Thanksgiving Day celebration.
The first Tuesday after the first Monday,
we elect the leaders of our nation.
Maybe you even know the first Sunday,
is when Daylight Savings comes to an end.
But did you know on November the first,
National Pomegranate Month begins.
Also, Native Heritage and Military Family Month,
Epilepsy, Alzheimer’s, and COPD awareness.
How about NAN-O-WRI-MO or Pancreatic Cancer too,
we’ll throw in No Shave November just for fairness.
The first Wednesday is Eating Healthy Day,
the first Thursday is Man Makes Dinner.
The first Friday is Samoan Arbor Day,
and of course, Black Friday is always a winner.
Who can forget World Vegan Day,
or Coronation Day of the fifth Druk in Bhutan.
It’s Liberty Day in the Virgin Islands,
Self-Defense Forces Commemoration in Japan.
It is Veterans Day on the eleventh,
Pneumonia Day on the twelve.
Parfait day on the twenty-fifth,
if you don’t care about your health.
I could just go on and on listing them,
but just between me and you.
We’d still be here reading next November,
and we probably still would not be through.
the bell rings,
and the world moves again—
backpacks swing,
voices fill the hall,
and i’m still sitting here,
staring at a blank page
that keeps whispering his name.
my uncle is dying.
they said it so quietly,
like maybe if they whispered,
it wouldn’t come true.
pancreatic cancer—
last stage,
no cure,
just time,
as if time were mercy.
i used to think sadness was loud—
crying, breaking,
some movie thing.
but it’s not.
it’s quiet.
it’s when your chest feels heavy
but your face doesn’t move.
it’s when the teacher’s words
slide off your brain like water,
and all you can hear
is your own heartbeat asking,
“why him?”
i sit behind a school desk
while he lies on a couch somewhere,
fighting to keep his food down.
and i hate it—
how i’m here,
how i still laugh sometimes,
how life doesn’t stop for this.
they tell me to focus,
to eat,
to stay strong.
but how do you eat
when guilt sits where hunger should be?
how do you focus
when grief is already practicing its lines
inside your skull?
he still smiles when i visit.
two hours a week,
every time he says, “hey, kiddo,”
like it’s just another day.
but i see it—
the shaking hands,
the thinness.
he’s slipping,
and no one wants to say it out loud.
the bell rings again.
everyone leaves.
i stay.
because i can’t learn equations
when i’m already counting
how many weeks might be left.
You were born in 1924 and you died in 2011.
You died one year ago today at the age of 87.
My grandparents gave me one of your records in the late seventies.
And I bought another of your records at a flea market in 1983.
It's a fact that you were a great pianist.
You were talented and you will be missed.
You began recording for Kapp Records in the fifties.
You did an amazing job when you performed Born Free.
In 2010 you were inducted into the Hit Parade Hall of fame.
When you died of pancreatic cancer, it was a damn shame.
You made beautiful music with those piano chords.
Now you're in Heaven playing the piano for the Lord.
(Dedicated to Roger Williams who passed away October 8, 2011.)
Was it Banting and Best,
Collip and McLeod’s feat ?
Whose efforts bore fruits,
And ‘Insulin’ was discovered.
Or was it the Compassionate Creator.
Who really Sorted out the pancreatic mystery,
And Granted man the sense,
To perfect the pancreatic extract,
That was injected to people with diabetes,
Safely and successfully !
A new era dawned in the history of medicine.
Many hopeless souls,
Got relieved and cheerful.
On being Gifted Insulin,
The “lifeline” so much awaited before.
Since that landmark discovery,
Diabetes has witnessed many more breakthroughs.
Each one a lesson, to the faltering human.
Not to despair and to carry on the struggle,
Despite upheavals and failures.
And never to loose the trust on our ‘True Benefector’.
We should always strive keeping us upright,
And keep words and deeds like a mirror.
Kindling the dreary paths for others,
And rescuing fondering hearts, from deep waters .
Ahead, Medicine has many more challenges.
Diabetes also needs more plunges,
Into the oceans of research and practice.
As in 1921, the insulin got invented.
May one day, “Diabetes” get eradicated.
he's dancing
he swayze her in his arms
it's a movie
an old movie
he is happy
a very unique joy
doing what he adores
a love like parents feel for their new born baby
it's a love you don’t know exists
until the very moment you live it
usually only reserved for your art or children
i am watching Patrick with a tear in my eye
tell my friends ‘it's just a bit of dust’
i'm sad
no
more then sad
in that moment he is unaware he will die young
unaware he will fight like a brave warrior
take on pancreatic cancer without even a whimper
he beats it for maybe an extra year of life
in the end
the end
(an all too familiar
set of words)
the last two words of a film
this is different
an end
a human life stolen
sends a chill
even
through arctic regions
the dirty C
too many lost
to this disease
draws my ire
he does die
young
he passes as gracefully as he danced
i'm watching the movie
i think to myself
no i speak it out loud
pancreatic cancer
now that's what i call
Dirty Dancing
La La La,
Ya Ya Ya,
Ga Ga Ga.
Awesome like totally Awesome.
Cool Like I was and she was like Waaah
And I was like "YaYa" and she was like "Ye Ye".
Welcome everyone to my little soiree.
I have fish from France and caviar from the sea.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Mrs Goldfish you have a baby tadpole.
Now Son I want you to make me proud.
Never spit first. Wait until they spit at you then
return fire. Make me proud.
Actually my son painted it. He clearly shows
a tendency for Monetesque brush strokes.
Although if you look carefully you can just
detect the Da Da influence.
Mother I hate you. I always have.
I'm going to drown myself in a bath full of honey.
I will just slowly sink away thinking of bees.
I tried so hard with that boy. I gave him everything
But I guess the Artist doesn't fit in a Scientific world.
And the Scientist doesn't fit in an Artist world.
Mrs Goldfish you have 17 different cancers. Some
are lymphomas others are organ cancers. Lung and
pancreatic cancer.
Perhaps you should sit down dear.
I don't feel well. Goodnight all.
He demands a unilateral appointment with all of us and more often than not, appears suddenly without warning, without mercy, leaving grief, sorrow, and tears. He has been given 'a power of passage', but he too has an appointment and a destiny with destruction and doom. But until then, he comes and goes, and takes without giving. There was LEE, a giant of a man and lover of people who after a couple of years of lung sickness, died last summer. Then there was PAT, who over the years had many encounters of illness and survived. But in the summer of 2018, he was attacked with pancreatic cancer that took him away from us. My good friend BOB came down with throat cancer. I must admit that I had fears and frets over him, but I and others continued to exercise our faith on Bob's behalf, and thank God he recovered greatly. A few months ago, there was GENE who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died last Fall, but not before we celebrated with him his wonderful life. A couple of weeks ago, my friend GERRY passed on after much discomfort. Someday, death will cease his sway over us and we will celebrate his demise. To everything, and yes to death itself, there is a time and a season.
03012019PoSoupContest, Dance of Death, Chantelle Cooke
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
In the quiet whispers of the night,
I hear the impending dawn chuckle
a shadow verse
of glimpse of soon-coming,
like a white horse, hero of a romance looming.
Blue sides echo with turn,
a long standing joy taking burn.
But down in the water below,
Leviathan stealths, deep and low,
in demi-urge- surging,- mingling with
the flowing pangea of dreams,
a birth pang showing.
mirrored creation phi relativity.
As I listen to the water's song,
On nights where reflection reflects strong,
It seeps into my being, magnetically long
Becoming part of my very throes in ideallic throngs.
The quietness creeps into every nook,
worn sense lingers in each shadowed look-
looking back.
A heavy burden I must brook,
cup it into my hand at my appearance took.
Yet in the midst of all the pangs,
pancreatic paleolithic lithographic phi heart strings.
Smoking jackets - storybook glistening spines,
nightcapped bungalows of review and time.
Love still shines through- in endless flame,
in projector rewind of black and white
memories seeking colors divine.
Life, though fleeting, is not in vain,
though it endlessly tortures me,
it also brings lights and
thunder and quenching rains.
What truly matters, that is what will be,
bee to remain for my queen.
Through avenues of the dead intertwined with mine?
In this life, my purpose I find-
sticks and stones, haphazard bones of
nothing but stark reality, alone.
That is, what we will sea.
The Deep,
of matters keeped.
My thoughts of rose- picked by hues of meter
by my sense of prose in
magic's clothe s.
Or is it salt-peter.
I had known and interacted with him for at least twenty years. It would be great if I could remember the first time I met him, but I shall never forget the LAST time I looked into his eyes.
He was a staff pastor at our church with multiple assignments. Never have I met anyone more dedicated to his ministry.
We were happy when he consented to take some extra time off. At first, it was announced that he would be on a 30-day sabbatical, but I'm not sure if anyone knew that his sabbatical would be interrupted. During that period, he had a medical appointment that proved very negative. Following that appointment, another announcement was made of his condition. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer that was of the none-treatable variety. He was given a short time to live and we all took it very hard.
It was decided that our church would have a celebration of his life before his demise. There were many people at the amazing service, but I was able to make eye contact with him and his family. I thought that was the closest I would come to saying goodbye to our beloved pastor. However, as I was driving out of the parking lot, I spotted him in his daughter's car engaged with others. I knew that this moment with him alive might be my LAST. So I stopped, and exiting my vehicle, I proceeded quickly and stooped my head through the window while he was speaking with someone else. I kissed him on the forehead and slowly walked away, sadly. That was the LAST time I touched him, the LAST time I saw him alive, but that affectionate moment will last a lifetime.
11272018PoSoupContest, The Last, Silent One; 2P
Debra's Doctor gives her a
prognosis of Pancreatic
cancer. She asked him, "How
long do I have to live?" "One
month was his answer!!"
She is listening but she
drifts in and out. In a state
of shock, she cries out!!
Scattered thoughts of her
children, husband, parents,
sisters, brothers, God!!
She can't go on she feels
like she has had enough!!
Why me!!? she screams
inside!! She is trying
desperately to realize, to
realize, to realize!!
"Everything stops right
now!! Oh my God I will die!!
I'm so afraid of death!! This
is not real," she shouts!!
She cries, and cries!!
She ask God, why, why, why?
The Journey Begins!!
Michael Tor 11/14/2015