Long Tuberculosis Poems

Long Tuberculosis Poems. Below are the most popular long Tuberculosis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tuberculosis poems by poem length and keyword.


The Nigeria We Deserve 3

THE NIGERIA WE DESERVE 3

Who could enter a dark room without breaking
The holy glasses therein?
Are we suppose to keep running from pillar to post?
We have come of age to eat the fruits of the land
Knowing the bleeding eyes are signs of suffering
The eyes should be prevented from bleeding and 
The nose  from inhaling a forbidden air filled with
Poisonous ego.

The dark street is not what we all deserved
Bombing the souls of the innocent should stop
Man madness could make man pure in the eyes
Of stupidity but purity in insanity makes  the righteous hearts bitter.
We have seen enough of which we don't deserve
The fight in the house, domestic violence, child
Trafficking all are choas and the downfall of our
Nation

Why should we have a home and run to the forest?
Can we not stop the spread of tuberculosis in the
Nation?
We deserve a home, a paradise home not fire
Made to capture the innocent people on the street
The dark night covered our believes yet
We hope and dream of a better atmosphere
But the more we man up, the more things fall apart


Paradise lost, foolishness regained and wisdom flew away
Man up" they told us in the confusion of the day
Homosexuality set in, honesty escape from the church, church; a business for the idle hands
School our enemy, home; a forest of shame
Leadership, a forbidden tale.
This is not what we deserve, we deserve promising
Nigeria, 
We deserve the government by the people, of the people and for the people not Demo-Looters.


The pregnant woman delivers in pains
The still born afraid of coming to the country
Our hospitals a mess, our roads cry in tears
Rain of sorrow envelops our daily activities
Yet they promised us of faithfulness and unity
But their promises are always active before elections
After election, we all begin to dance alone
To our stupidity and foolishness in our own land
This is not what we deserve in our country.

The nigeria we deserve is of truthfulness
We deserve much more thatn the first world countries
Because nature endowed us with enough resources
We deserve much more than what we see now.


My Son

The bleeding of my eyes cannot
be over emphasis as the a weakness of my heart.
i have been brave thousand times to stop the 
black sky from darken my heart, yet my 
braveness was sold in penny days ago in public.
Your father has sold his soul to the bar 
where his father refused to accept defeat thousand times.
My son, mother is weeping as my pen is bleeding.
the Debts has accumulated in a very high rate 
And your sisters have returned from school with their back
on the back of the house weeping like weepers
Yet, all the burdens and the cross of this home 
are rested upon my shoulder to bear in pains.
Things has fallen apart and mother aren't happy.
the tuberculosis has began his romance on your father
After the last taste of palm wine he had last time
And i don't relish the prospect of getting him treated
All the time he would go back again with drinking.
I am not writing to ask you of money as you may think 
But for you to come home to murder the madness 
Created by his mad attitude in the midst of madness of the day.
Son, remembering where we started before the dark cloud
Where mankind eyes divided our dreams of perfections.
I saw the show and reflection of our difference in you
Knowing in your presence my hunger for love would 
Be banished and my murdered tomorrow received love 
in the eyes of those who laughed at me.
Mbajiakuwas here yesterday with a clapping lips.
Clocking the tress in the compound with his words 
But i told him of your fathers madness and he hurt me .
Son, they made me a monster of loneliness 
The day i and your father became strangers.
Your father is no longer receiving treatment because all
That i have saved    is gone.
My life, a divided of two by two
without a resounding adjective to qualify the nouns.
Son, i am broken in pieces !
Mother is dying in silence as if she has no one
to console her in this dark side .
come home son before your sisters are sold to get 
Your father treated as planned by your uncles.
I will be waiting under the tree where you grew up to welcome you.

                                YOur mother.
Form: ABC

Premium Member Skinny Dipping In Bygone Years

With her first words she mesmerized his soul,
Of rose water and lavender was her aroma,
Her tip tap of her fairy tale walk was majestic,
A woman of status still in her prime of depth and note, 
Wisps of red-hot curls, floating out of control adding
To her appeal, a magnetic touch to the usual
Variety of husband seeking maidens at the ball.

He hurriedly asked her for the opening dance,
She accepted and gracefully took his hand,
He first tested the waters, like a ballerina she danced,
Sadly, the music stopped for an interval, and
So led her back, as her deep smiling hazel brown eyes	
Played with his, quizzically asking if she would see him
Again, he bowed and loudly voiced ‘my lady, the next dance
Is mine.’ it was a sweltering July night, she curtsied, and
Walked outside to the patio, attracting every man's attention.

Lord Kingsworth was from Somerset and, the Duchess of York  
From Yorkshire, they made a striking couple as they swayed, 
Laughed and whirled all night on the dance floor, infatuation
Had certainly crept upon them and the gossip column in 
Tomorrow’s Country Times would certainly talk of this romance
And definitely would not let such a juicy piece of scandal escape them.
Lord Edward Kingsworth invited Helen, the duchess of York to a picnic,
Helen, charmingly smiled and accepted, Edward would pick her
Up with his carriage at eleven o`clock the following morning.


He had made up his mind he would ask Helen to become 
Betrothed to him, who should he ask for her hand in marriage,
Her eldest brother she explained, as her father had died last
Year of tuberculosis and so it came to pass that after
An engagement of one year which held many ardent nights
And many picnic loving days by the river, which meandered
Close by them, always hurriedly stripping and unashamedly
And joyfully, enjoying the cool water, deliciously naked, finally
Became husband and wife at the beautiful York Cathedral.
What a happy couple they were, and blessed with three
Beautiful little girls who all had their mother’s unruly red hair.
Form: Narrative

The Hyperspace2

One thing we discovered that all aliens are not cruel
In fact they do have humility and care being loyal
To our multi-verse in tons
In a way like humans
Some are even superiors to us
With cutting edge technology thus
Some can be inferior to us
But not cruel and selfish like Sapiens
Those were the freshest example 
To the universal brotherhood a preamble..6

After treating us in most universal way
They bade a good bye in a unique way
The moment was unforgettable 
Since the multi-versal bond became stable
Gifting us latest tools and weapons
Besides the knowledge of making vaccines
The team of the biologists departed miles
In a fraction of second with smiles
The tools such as scanning the universe
The compass which runs in outer space terse..7

A goggle which detects virus in body
A medicine that cures all malady
The skills of making water from air
The technique creating fuel fair
How to make a plant grow into a tree
In a few seconds to be stress free
Autism, leprosy and tuberculosis
Corona, dengue and cirrhosis
Would no more be in system solar
For they gave us solutions stellar..8

We too decided to have a purpose
Of making the universe an abode of peace
Back to earth- we were seen as polymaths
Thought leaders and titanic smiths
For the knowledge we received soon delivered
To the research scholars in varsities cultured
The nation felicitated us uniquely
As we became the inter stellar community solely
What a way to have a travel in space..!
Precious was the meeting with our fellow aliens face to face..!!..9

It makes me think that a life with no purpose
Has no meaning at all thus
Where there is a will there is a way
Let us say this come what may
While the sun shines come on make hay
There lies hope in each ray
With clear vision and mission possible
We achieve many a thing impossible 
‘The universe is our home.’ A new address
Even Lord Krishna said in his address..!! ..10
Form: Couplet

Lacking Substance

er Infectious Diseases:
Anthrax. 
Foot-and-mouth disease. 
Leptospirosis. 
Salmonellosis. 
Rabies. Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE) ("Mad Cow Disease"):
Screwworm. 
Bovine leukemia virus. 
Ringworm. Fallboard
Q fever. 
Chlamydiosis. 
Campylobacteriosis. 
Listeriosis. Lid
Yersiniosis. Brucellosis (also known as Bang's disease):
Cryptosporidiosis. 
Infections with pathogenic strains of Escherichia coli. 
MRSA. 
Bovine respiratory disease. 
Mastitis. Bovine Tuberculosis:
Bovine tuberculosis 
there's a town named "Accident"
 in Garrett County, Md.
they teach piano lessons there
SHe told me jis name was
 Buceta Grande
come somma cazzo

pearmint (Mentha spicata): A classic, versatile mint with a refreshing flavor. 
Peppermint (Mentha x piperita): Known for its strong, cooling aroma and flavor. 
Chocolate Mint (Mentha x piperita): Offers a unique chocolate-like scent and flavor. 
Pineapple Mint (Mentha suaveolens 'Variegata'): Features variegated leaves and a pineapple-like scent. 
Apple Mint (Mentha suaveolens): Good for mint jelly and has a strong apple scent. 
Corsican Mint (Mentha requienii): A miniature variety, great for containers and ground cover. 
Eau de Cologne Mint (Mentha x piperita f. citrata): A refreshing mint with a citrusy scent. 




She calls me Darling
I call her Kitten
I try to keep her smitten
in the bed or in the kitchen

The Ozark 10 is a group of people who
done decided that they were goona
BBQ this summer at least once a week
even if someone pre-cooks
the food the day of
to have summer suppers all summer
 Written by  Leonidas R Trey
Piano Player
and Cantar(
(I usaully sing Tenor so that
the contrabassoon don't
tease me so much)
Form: Ballade


Mother Teresa and I

Mother Teresa
She is the mother of every poor people, injured people, ordinary people...

Always we remember the great news
'Mother Teresa will get the Nobel Peace Prize.'
It was one of the best moment in our life...

She lived in our city Kolkata (Calcutta) .
She ate our Bengali foods.
She loved us so much...

One day, I was twelve years old
I met  her at Mother House along with my parents.
I looked at her heavenly eyes.
I touched her sacred feet and hands.
I heard her divine speeches.
I love her innocent smile.

I told her only the sentences, 
'You are the mother of the world, 
Mother of my parents.
So you are my grandmother.'

My father hesitated. My mother was silent.

Mother Teresa said to me with smile, 
'GOD BLESS YOU MY SON'

Today my eyes are full of tears
Mother, I miss you. 
I love you so much....


SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA



(Mother Teresa founded the Missionaries of Charity, a Roman Catholic religious congregation, which in 2012 consisted of over 4,500 sisters and is active in 133 countries. They run hospices and homes for people with HIV/AIDS, leprosy and tuberculosis; soup kitchens; dispensaries and mobile clinics; children's and family counselling programmes; orphanages; and schools. Members of the institute must adhere to the vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, and the fourth vow, to give "wholehearted free service to the poorest of the poor".

Mother Teresa was the recipient of numerous honours including the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize. In 2003, she was beatified as "Blessed Teresa of Calcutta". A second miracle credited to her intercession is required before she can be recognised as a saint by the Catholic Church.)

Premium Member Family

It all began in the summer of 1876, in which Brother Clive Werthings had returned from 
feeding the sow.  He walked through the kitchen door and into the morning light shining in from the window.  With great distress he uttered the following:

	“The eyes of the pigs came alive!
	Their dead eyes and ordinary pig faces
	We’re preaching to me! Squealing
	Away with you, away with you! They shouted!
	I swatted them with my hands
	And as my hand swung towards their pinkish flesh
	My fingers turned to hooves!
	My arms shrunk to the size of their front legs!
	It was blurry, muddy, and I could not think straight
	And so I started to pray and I forgave God for all the things 
	I swore against him if he’d just release me now…

Brother Werthings took a deep sigh as his family of on-lookers watched breathlessly.  
He had been to the asylum once, his mother thought in communal privacy with the others. 
And now this, she thought.  She watched him finish:

	“And then he did. He released me.
	The next moment I was on my feet
	Staring at the stupid pigs.
	I simply turned around and 
	Walked back into the house.
	A new man.

Brother Werthings took a profound step forward, consequently out of the ray of sunlight coming in from the window.  He then repeated in the shadow:

	“I am a new man now.”

The family lived on, living out their lives:  a proud ship, slowly rotting in the vast sea.  And years from now, one looking out, or looking in, could never know the full truth regarding the validity of Brother Werthings’ statements.  

Though on his deathbed, struck by tuberculosis, he demanded on his 
tombstone be chiseled:

	Clive Werthings
	1847-1897
	The Eyes Of The Pigs Came Alive!

Palermo, Sicily, 1943

for George
"You always said you had little invisible friends,"
He wrote in a Christmas card one year, and Yes,
funny he would remember that.  I called them Shovel,
Hoe, and BicaBacaBoca, all of indeterminate gender,
like Arial in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," beautiful
like that, and mysterious.  Like the Bard, I now
consign them to the page.  Reborn again.

My Navy hero, he sent us letters in brown V-
Mail folders, wartime paper and postage efficient, 
and in one for our pianist stepmom, the lyrics
and  music to "Lili Marlene."  As for pin-ups,
he never owned up to Betty Grable's fabled legs,
her teasing over-the-shoulder glance, aimed toward 
GI's everywhere, though there was the obligatory
tattoo he could never erase after sailor days, bluing 
like Popeye's down the inside of his right arm.

Pacific time brought reward, some misfortune:
a bout with tuberculosis in Bizarte, Tunisia: 
a year of recovery in a Naval hospital at home, 
painting by the numbers, waiting out the time.  
But, there was a hero's commendation from his 
commanding officer for "aid in evacuation 
of the wounded, and bringing the vessel into
port after torpedoing."

The ship, LST-3, earned two battle stars 
for World War II service.  Decommissioned 
and struck from the Naval Register, it was sold
for scrapping, 10 September, 1947 - the year 
I graduated from high school. 

He was not sold for scrap metal, nor sustained 
any.  He came home to his sweetheart, and his kid 
sister -- you know the one.  That's her in a middle 
row of the Ritz movie house, the one crying 
while "Anchors Aweigh" plays after the War Bonds 
trailer to the image of a warship, plunging 
valiantly on a faraway sea
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.

Enormity of It All

Where do you start,
When this world opens up
In front of you,
When this hidden view
Reveals itself in one big bang.

I knew I wasn’t normal
From an early age
But when you hear it all, 
It still shocks.

The attempted murder, rape,
Sexual assaults, 
Suicides, attempted suicides, 
Addicts of all different flavours,
Take your pick. 

Adoptions, 
Brain tumours, 
Autism, 
Kids born blind or deaf.

Deaths? 
Nothing particularly special, 
Just aids, 
Tuberculosis, 
Pneumonia and the rest.

Thank god, 
Thank god for all this.
It saved me, 
It saved my soul from non-recognition, 
From thinking I was the only one screaming out in solitude. 

It explained what was inside, 
Explained why I felt so strongly any external hurt, 
Explained that I couldn’t cause any extra torment, 
That I had to get better.

So I started down the long, lonely path. 
Slowly strained to gain strength, 
From friendships strong and weak, 
From recognition of my soul, 
From mere platitudes given by empty bodies. 

Eventually I reached the point,
The point where I was strong and capable, 
Where I could convince others
Of their meaning. 

Later on, 
After years of cravings I realised, 
I became enlightened. 

I did not need to run,
Run scared of these pools of despair. 
They were vanquished, 
Within my control. 

They may not have disappeared
Completely.
To do that would destroy
Who I was, 
What I had become. 

Just had to somehow strap them down
Release their energy, 
Their passion when needed.
And find my soul-filled place.
Form: Prose

Premium Member Grace Darling

Grace Darling

Tempest spits upon the gunnels
But Grace Darling manhandles the paddles,
To rescue the folks of the Forfarshire crash,
Stranded on Farne Islands off Northumberland coast.

The spirit of innocence to give more than ought,
Took on the challenge and faced the onslaught.
And lucky for them on Big Harcar Rock,
Grace Darling was manning the boat.
                        ***

Note:
   During a stormy night on September 6, 1838, the paddle steamer SS Forfarshire with 61 passengers and crew aboard, ran aground, and floundered near Big Harcar Island of the Farne Islands group in the North Sea, located off the Northumberland coast of the United Kingdom, and sank in the early morning hours of September 7, 1838. Thirteen people escaped the sinking vessel and were stranded on Big Harcar Island, where four got swept away into the sea. The others that were on the SS Forfarshire perished in the storm. 
   Grace Darling and her father (William Darling, who was the Longstone Lighthouse keeper, located in the outer group of the Farne Islands) rowed out to rescue the survivors. Grace Darling (age 22) manned the rowboat and kept it steady while her father aided in the rescue of the stranded survivors. For her heroics, Grace Darling became the first woman and the first citizen recipient of the Royal Humane Society’s gold bravery medal. She and her father were awarded the Royal National Lifeboat Institution silver gallantry medal. Grace Horsley Darling was born in 1815, and died from tuberculosis in 1842.
Form: Verse

Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Reflection on the Important Things

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter