Long Rehab Poems
Long Rehab Poems. Below are the most popular long Rehab by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rehab poems by poem length and keyword.
Did you know that such a place as this exists? Neither did I until I had no other choice but to look into it
I knew there must be a way to deal somehow to stop the pain, they have rehabs for all other addictions why can’t love be the same?
You can be addicted to sex, drugs, or alcohol, but I believe the biggest vice out there is the cruelest and most painful of all
One that you can’t stop there isn’t a special cure to stop the itch, nothing can make the feelings go away they say time but that’s just a myth
Do you they give you special treatments such as therapy or lobotomies, what do they do take away the grief, the never-ending apologies
The apologies that you have handed out like crack to a whore, believing that all will be taped back together with just one word, and you can return to your cruel, vindictive world
Are there twelve steps to healing, to stop the love, where does it go? Do they recondition your train of thought? Really, I want to know
How does recovery work, one step builds onto another? Do you viciously word vomit out all of the names of your once upon a time lovers
Do you sit in a circle and try to sound more messed up than the rest? Do you get an award for winner of the darkest and utmost, indescribable pain that you have been harboring within your chest
And once recovery is over, and you come back here to get your chip, are you congratulated for your recovery over getting through the hardest part of it?
We’re celebrated for overcoming something that we should never have started in the first place, all because we were curious and just wanted a little taste
Rehab isn’t for the weak, it’s really there for the strong, the ones who have been battered and bruised by no means of their own
Yeah, I’m blaming the perpetrator, the one handing out the drug of choice, whether it be in drink, pill or feeling form, enough is enough
The death has to stop, the addictions need to end, rehab is there for us to get sober but when it comes to love is it all just pretend?
Sophie gained a MSci degree from London University,
In 2011, when she was 23, and was born prematurely,
So her Cerebral Palsy meant that post operation rehab,
Came thru the Riding for the Disabled Association, fab.
She loved Charters School, Sunningdale, an education,
And broke onto the Paralymic scene aged 16, action,
When as the youngest GB athlete in Athens, Greece,
She won a bronze on Hotstuff in the dressage piece.
The 2005 Hungary European Championships, next year,
Saw her win three gold medals, and then next again year,
The 2007 World Championships saw her win a bronze,
And in the freestyle dressage there were gold lawns!
The Summer Paralympics came round again in 2008,
But instead of the equestrian events being held, gate,
In Beijing with everything else, they were held away,
In Hong Kong, in the Olympic Equestrian Centre, way?
So determined Sophie competed in her second games,
To win an individual gold medal in the freestyle, claims,
And won a silver medal in the championship dressage,
This time on her horse Lambrusco, groomed corsage.
At this point in time in 2009, she won the MBE proud,
For her services to disabled sports, ‘cos she’s a loud,
Patron of many charities, and 2012 saw her take gold,
Once again, in the individual freestyle, postbox gold.
Sophie was given an OBE in 2013 in the honours list,
And in 2015 won a Woman of the Future Award to assist,
She works for Goldman Sachs in the financial city, hub,
With her first class masters degree in mathematics, club.
I died,
For a few moment,
Then I got revived—
I wonder why?
C P R
Ambulance, Paramedics
Open heart bypass surgery,
Echo Scan
MRI
Cardiac rehab
Now I live again…
I don’t know why?
Dying was easy…
One moment I was alive,
The very next,
Poof ! Gone!!
It was pure bliss
Unaware I was dead.
They say all their prayers worked.
I was lucky
It was a miracle.
God has a purpose for making me live again …
But who wanted to live any longer.
Being dead is better
than dying of old age.
The hustle and bustle of life
will not change
The brouhaha is never gonna end,
What I’m gonna do more now
that I didn’t do in the past 70 years—
So why bother living anymore,
It will be same o, same o.
There’s no lure of life left
No longing for living,
Life now lacks luster
holds no lust, no laughter,
Just lingering on in a limbo.
Now, death lurks in the shadows
with a smug little smile.
I was ready; it was my time.
Now I wonder
when is my opportune moment,
I am tethered to life,
No longer free,
Bogged down under pressure
to prove that it was all worth it.
When a new day dawns
and a shimmering sun
came looking for me,
It will be alright
if it finds me nowhere!
~06/08/19
~Contest: Best Free Verse 2019
~Sponsor: John Hamilton
Addiction.
I'm not addicted, I just like a hit.
Here and there, I won't submit.
Just some... ya’know… I mustn’t acquit.
I'm not addicted, I don't need rehab
Cmon! I ain't no handicap!
I scratched, slashed, and slammed.
I'm not addicted! Just give me a hit!
No! I won't admit it!
I wish I were 6 feet deep in a casket!
I'm not addicted. See 3 years clean.
I'm in pain now, burns like kerosene.
Now I take Buprenorphine
I'm not addicted. Maybe just a hit?
I mean, I'm not really desperate.
I really shouldn't recommit.
I’m not addicted, well… yes, I am.
Back into the rehabilitation program.
I only took a milligram…
I’m not addicted. Well, I can't be.
Hanged from the roof, I'm a coward to flee.
Death comes for us all; now they're talking to me.
-AFFLICTION-
My poverty drove a Ferrari
My monkey rode a horse
Bad luck was hitch-hiking
Overtaken by a Porschè
Slamdunk my face with dishes in the sink
Screamed so loud at nothing pulling faces in the dark
Walking with a white cane
Talking with The White Man
Unseen, unheard, so I did not have to think
Obscene, blackbird ,singing like a lark
Broken semi quaver
Swimming in the river
Reasoning with know-alls
Confusion is an eight ball
What youre not going tell the man
Is the something you can not say
Plastic horses returning on a rotating carousel
My transgressions stay in rehab
My anger burns in hell
Bland stupidity clings to me
O hear that urgent summons!
Tolling in the valley
Such a sacrificial bell
Mike is a Glaswegian who trains with the Wildcats,
The wheelchair rugby team who like taking centre,
He was born on the 13th December 1982, the stats,
But had a diving accident in 2000 which did batter.
He was studying at college in health and fitness,
But during his rehab he was introduced to rugby,
The GB Development squad took him on, address,
Until in 2006 he was selected for the elite, as lucky.
The GB team took silver, 2011, at the Europeans,
And in London they came 5th to boast the place,
He became captain of the British team, had ions,
And at the Euros 2015 won gold, Rio to embrace.
At the dark intersection of convergent shadows
There lies an orphan thumb tack,
A silent menace to unshod feet,
Waiting to jolt me awake from the dream.
And it wouldn’t come as an unwelcome surprise.
I’ve been experiencing life in syndication.
Living off the residuals of tired plots
And oft quoted tag lines:
"To the moon, Alice!"
“Lucy, I’m home!”
“Son of a gun!”
“Dyno-mite!”
How many re-runs does it take
Till you run out of reasons for watching?
My publicist was admitted to rehab.
My agent never returns my calls.
The last time I walked the red carpet
Was in a black and white photograph.
But I did look stunning!
Megan Giglia
Megan won Britain’s very first medal at Rio,
Having had a stroke and brain haemorrhage,
And having also overcome deep depression,
To ride victorious around the track to circuit.
She suffered from fainting spells at work,
So took tests and found spinal fluid blood;
A craniotomy put her into a two-week coma,
To give a week right, speech, memory flaws.
An intensive rehab facility set her upright,
But Megan found it hard to function aside,
And she was soon diagnosed with epilepsy,
So she and her partner split their two ways.
A friend’s mother brought her back to life,
By sharing how she felt about her cancer:
It was terminal and would her life prohibit,
Which made Megan rethink and recollect.
Megan said about her terminally ill friend:
“She told me she wanted me to find a sport
and be the best that I can be.” Good advice.
So Megan decided to turn her life around.
A C3 athlete in para-cycling, was classified,
Having analysed many, all the different sports,
Megan was accepted by a Para programme:
Cycling’s programme for sports development.
But soon she progressed onto an academy,
And joined the British team for the Worlds,
Which were held in Apeldoorn in Holland,
Where she finished in fourth in two events.
Then in Nottwil, Switzerland, she came fourth,
Twice again, and this was in the road contest,
So she travelled to Montichiari in Italy’s land,
Where she won gold for both trial and pursuit.
That set the stage for the Rio Paralympics,
Where she was then entered for the pursuit,
The women’s 3000m individual pursuit, track,
Such that she took the bright gold medal!
Seven months sober. Two months out of rehab.
Those numbers are small on paper,
but they feel like lifetimes to me.
Then you appeared—after all these years—
like a quiet miracle I never expected.
Your message didn’t just reach me;
it woke something I thought was gone.
You’ve brought writing back into my days.
Every word I put down now
is steadier because of the way you listen.
It isn’t about making anything perfect—
it’s about breathing in a way
that feels alive again.
I don’t know where any of this leads,
and maybe that’s the best part.
Right now, it’s enough
just to share the late–night thoughts,
the small truths,
the pieces of me I kept hidden for so long.
Thank you for finding me.
Thank you for seeing me.
I’d love to hear what’s been moving through your days lately, if you feel like sharing.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in Time,
salivating for intelligent conversation...I think,
Shakespeare would have been interesting --
Most people today, seeming more programmed
than ever before in history – afraid to be alone
with independent thoughts; distracted by
background music, beeps, and screen prompts;
A society that has become reactionary, opposed
to Free-thinking and Self-determining (Ripe for
abuse!)
Would not be surprised to see a Cathedral being
built, Cross on top, "Church of Social Media" --
Next-door to an Abortion Clinic, "Preschool for Applied
Robotic Thinking" --
On the same block a Rehab
for those addicted to Traditional Marriage
and Monogamous Sex....