Long Terminally Poems
Long Terminally Poems. Below are the most popular long Terminally by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Terminally poems by poem length and keyword.
You were diagnosed with Leukemia and sadly, you didn't survive.
If you hadn't died 111 months ago, today you would've turned 75.
You were born on October the 18th of 1947.
But 111 months ago, you went to Heaven.
Your hair grew back when chemotherapy made it fall out.
When you were told you would die, there was no doubt.
It must have been terrifying when you learned that you were terminally ill.
You had to battle cancer and it was not easy to go through such an ordeal.
Today would've been your 75th birthday.
But 111 months ago, you were taken away.
[Dedicated to Charles F. Johnson (1947-2013) who died on July 13, 2013]
This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.
It was sent by a medical doctor.
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight? Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last. Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask, “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed,
with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last.
Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow? and in your haste not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die, cause you never had time
To call and say,'Hi', ...You'd better slow down, don't dance so fast.
Time is short, the music won't last..
When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day it is like an unopened gift .
Thrown away. Life is not a race, do take it slower, hear the music,
before the song is over.
By: David L. Weatherford
Self-harm isn't just a razor blade
My left bicep will forever bear those scars
Faded with time, perhaps
But ever the jagged lines of 2010
No, the new cut went to the lungs
Full well, full intention
To those in the know, it's child's play
But two packs of smokes in a week is the modern razor
All from mistakes made two years ago now
The self-flagellation tour ends with a mucous-laden cough
I messed up in a way that'll reverberate my entire life
Unless I stand up and barrel through like I always do
My lungs are sore and my head is aching
Inhaling more smoke than what rose up the chimney to keep me alive this week
At the far end of civilization, I burnt a week between my fingers
Well below freezing and using flame to heal and harm
So it's been for all of the last 730 days
There are so many ways to harm oneself after all
A year stuck in my head and a year spent stabbing my lungs
But it all stopped being fun a week after Doomsday 2024
I've lived in the Pit since three Marches ago
Terminally embarrassed to have burnt my dream on a single panic attack
Reliving that moment every day and how I could've pushed through
And drinking and smoking every other day away
It's embarrassing to hide so late into life
Smoking at midnight after everyone falls asleep
Washing my hands quietly at 3 AM to scrub the stench away
Taking a vacation solely to be alone with my smokes
So here I lay, so far away from any dream I've ever dreamt
In a shaky interstice while the world reels from an orange solar flare
I daren't dream beyond tomorrow, but one truth remains clear
Derek's Great Self-Flagellation Tour ended two days ago.
Nothing compares to the stillness of the soul.
Remain dignified
even within the spiral of desolation.
Remain upright
before the arrogance of opulence.
Life,
an hourglass filled with illusions.
The celestial spark
is lashed by the insolence
of fleeting vanities
idolized by humankind,
whenever it strays
from the love of the Grand Architect.
To sanctify goodness
is to divert the apostles of chaos
from the roads of our fate.
One existence
to purify myself
within the darkness of my weaknesses.
I know all my transgressions.
I was born guilty,
but I shall depart innocent.
I fight my demons each day
with the same self-denial.
I seek happiness
in mortification,
like a sacrificial lamb.
Nothing compares
to harmony and serenity.
Failures
have taught me to savor
the pleasures of silence.
My tormented mind
consumes the hatred of my enemies
like a hard drug.
I have but one journey
through this purgatory.
My penance
has not yet begun.
I’ve stopped
chasing after
the illusions of this world
fertile in decadence.
Imperfect,
thus dissatisfied
since the womb
of the one who gave me life.
I am
the sanctuary
of paradoxes
and countless contradictions.
I sustain
a battered shell
destined to die and decay.
I am saddened to have been born,
yet I cling to life
like the terminally ill in palliative care.
I give thanks
to the universal force
for granting me its mercy.
I’ve traveled far
to read
the silences
of human beings.
In my dreams,
my ethereal body
wanders freely
across distant continents.
I hate the Reaper,
that silent witch
who will keep me
from knowing
every country
on this planet.
Love is not always reciprocated
Seeming some hearts terminally
constipated –
unable to relieve themselves
and others,
to make lighter many burdens,
the long suffering of less fortunate sisters
and brothers –
yes, love is not only
tender petting,
it is also to help stop daily
fretting – feeling hopeless smothers
love is sinking
wells and tilling fields
giving an extra helping hand
when Nature poorly yields
it is lighting a furnace of warmth
for the aged, by themselves too weak
to battle late hour’s bitter cold
it is seeing gold as not mere glitter
but a wealth that could make life desperate
fuller and fitter
Seek out those children abandoned and forgotten!
Restore a World order that nurtures its vulnerable fold –
Dear God, if love
could only be bought and sold, I would
earn to buy all
give all away free...
My own reserve entirely in Thee
A Drop In The Ocean
Life had given me no parachute for what was and if it had then
silken sulk would have terminally fallen with ignition on impact
Grounded and rock bottom ‘zero zilch kaput’ for only lonely more
nothingness left but oncoming train lights in razor wire tunnels
No more tears to rip apart the residue in rock pools of dry tears
of desiccated love congealed darkness and broken drowning heart
Out of nowhere in one last ditch attempt one trench of last sorrow
oblivion squeezed one more drop from my torn twisted tear glands
It landed with your agonised droplet pressed from your deadening
pain and merged your void with my void as we could not avoid
the void any longer and we slipped on two tear drops merging our
journeys dried river bedding turned into moist dew of longing and passion
We landed and heavens above springs from below conjoined into one
and the heat of the moment melted our frozen Universe with the moon
pushing waters in pulling waters out crescendo climax fertile flooding
new land novel feelings delta of loving long lost mourned now reborn
Two magic teardrops slipped out of their way to slip into each other
just like us for eternity melted together at hip mind emotion and reason
Two drops fallen two soul mates one miracle landing
20th June
Contest: I slipped on a tear drop and landed
Sponsor Cindi Rockwell
Why should we hire you?
I guarantee this is the only conversation
we will have while I work here
Why did you leave your last job?
The tried to make we ask an 95 year old if she needed insurance for her 2 year deceased husbands PlayStation 5
What is your weakness?
It’s either my concentration or
When did you get there
What are your strengths?
I am great at ignoring questions
Good with Subzero in Mortal
I am amazing at pretending to be sick
I have a brilliant coughing emoji
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Creating a time machine and coming all the way back here to stop me from taking this job
Are you Sarah Conner
Tell me about your ability to work under pressure?
For let me think
All of my life I have been pulled by a gravitational force and under the same air pressure as everyone in this room.
Yes I can send the next person in no pressure
Describe your management style?
I manage to avoid as many of the management as I can over the whole works hours
and that goes double outside of work
Why have you been unemployed for so long?
Now I am gonna take this in too parts
Unemployed
Technically I was employed by the government
to look after my terminally ill wife
So long now is that a comparison
But to what
That mountain that shadows your office
Has hardly stretched
A humming bird has flapped its last
The middle of the ocean has began a wave
So long
This was fun let’s not do it again
What is your dream job?
Well my dream job would be like a little factory
Conveying belts moving clouds of dreams
People forcing them in boxes
While chewing sandwiches
I have a corner office where I get to design them
I am a head dream architect
Yes I can follow security
The doctors have given Dad 18 months to live but I don't believe that.
They say he's dying but I say that they're full of crap.
I will not give up because I know that he'll survive.
If people have faith, I know that he'll remain alive.
God has performed many miracles and he'll do it again.
With God's help, Dad will beat this disease, he will win.
The doctors say that Dad's leukemia has made him terminally ill.
But I will not give up because I know that every day God heals.
When the good Lord heals my dad, it will be something that I'll celebrate.
Any prayers that he receives will be something that I'll really appreciate.
(Dedicated to Charles Johnson, my dad.)
allegro: vermilion fields are history
he's been ill for some time
terminally ill from mysterious origins
sick of all the monsters in the closet
in close proximity of the macabre mansion
peacocks are flying over the hanging gardens
and books are covered with frozen blankets
adagio: ceremony on Monday
down the spectral oubliette
at the dawn of new dark age
he's pouring absinth
through green flames
it's better to be late
than when it rains
intermezzo: blue leaves falling
still there's a lady in the mirrors
still there's a lady in the lake
he's always searching
for the keys of the piano
for a moonlight
on black and blue sky
rondo: heart of vine disease
chairs with paws came to life
ran away to stormy night
and walls crashed down without a sound
someone's singing in the front hall
someone's rapping at the back door
there is no one uninvited
no one left to die alone
Life was hard and he had lost all that mattered
first his mother who was murdered on her way home.
He watched his Dad unable to cope with her loss
fade away to skin and bones a relief when he passed on.
His wife walked out on him with their three children
leaving him with a pile of debts and a broken heart.
He lost his job for too much time off with no reference
and soon he would lose his house to the bank and divorce.
Now the final straw he was terminally ill and in pain
constant debilitating pain that sapped away his strength.
Lining up the bottles he poured out a healthy sized drink
and placed the pills ready in rows, with six in each pile.
Putting on a selection of his favourite bands he hunkered down,
settling himself as comfortably as possible this last thing
in his own hands, he got to chose. Not the illness he would beat
that by his own choice, for him death no longer held any fear.
Sipping, swallowing he washed down the pills until none remained.
After all enough was enough and he had nothing left to lose.
As he drifted off he dreamed of better times now past and gone
Soon he was walking in pleasant green pastures, ahead he could see.
His parents waiting with smiles on their faces and open arms
a vivid bright light that burned his eyes and yet welcomed.
He walked through the veil with eager steps to perfect peace
leaving behind without any regrets, the empty husk of his body.