Long Ventilator Poems
Long Ventilator Poems. Below are the most popular long Ventilator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ventilator poems by poem length and keyword.
Telemetry
I hear the thump and hiss
of the ventilator.
I see the wavy QRS complex on
the monitor.
I see you lying so still, a living
organism kept alive by machines.
I know you are gone, but I
have trouble letting go.
I know your living will
says no support.
My will says I want you
still with me.
I see the doctor look at you
then at me.
I see his sad eyes reflect my
feelings.
I know he has watched this scene
play out many times before.
I watch him shake his head from
side to side.
I look at the nurse, she
looks away.
I take your hand one last time
and ask for forgiveness.
I nod and the nurse
pulls the plug.
The wavy lines go flat and
the ventilator goes silent.
He came from Bangladesh, on the official business
of pursuit of happiness, with only a suitcase and a family of three
settling in Coventry and working at the hospital next to the big cathedral
that survived Nazis' bombardment, being a scholarly man he read lots of history and was enchanted by Rumi's poem, wondering if in his next life he could be a wandering sufi, whirling in praise of god. Life was easy until the outbreak
and he exceeded himself helping patients, some of whom came too late to be rescued and some who came just in time to be put on the ventilators, until they were overwhelmed and patients crowded the hallway, coughing and moaning in pain. But, he came from Bangladesh remind you, where scarcity is the norm and will to survive pretty high, so he set upon himself to
save as many as he could until that dreaded afternoon when he was faced with the stark choice no doctor should ever be presented: to choose between an elderly and a young woman, both in dire need of the last remaining ventilator. Between the two, the woman was sicker, was unmarried and no family to feed, and the guy was a recent widower with four children who depended on him.
Agonizing the good doctor kept asking for advice and, simultaneously, wrote down his metrics and assigned a value to factors such as age, survival chance, and the like, but the decision-time was near at hand and no time to lose, in the end it was a flip of the coin and he opted for the woman, who died nonetheless as did the older guy, agonizing the doctor's conscience to the point that in examining the next victim he removed his mask.
To say my twin sister Carolyn is lucky is an understatement.
She had a broken C-2 that had to be fixed.
Dr. Kawakaki from Iowa City put rods in her neck.
She had a physical occupational appointment yesterday.
Doctor read fifty-two pages on her before she arrived.
Doctor said “I know this might be morbid, but I have to tell you…
The only people I have met with a broken C-2 were either
On a ventilator, paralyzed, or dead.”
My sister was astounded.
She is walking, driving, making a quilt, and hosting Christmas.
The doctor asked “How long were you in the hospital?”
My sister was in recovery at 9:30 p.m. on a Wednesday.
She was in the car ready to go home by noon on Thursday.
My sister said “I am glad I had such a great surgeon.”
I said “And tens of thousands of people were praying for you too."
A thousand vents for blowing grease
the burger bleeds and trickles.
The stove tops way of frying meat
to sell their grease and pickles.
A greasy slab to clot your blood.
The hamburger's inflection.
A special sauce to fatten up
the liver from protection.
A heart attack to fear aloud
you come to feel the hurt.
Your senses blind to feeling pain
your swearing has to blurt.
A paramedic standing by
with paddles out to shock.
The ventilator turned on low
in case you start to gawk.
A hospital for calculating
service for your wealth.
but don't forget the morgue is there
and that could mean your health.
Some will pass away
Some see the skull beneath
The skin,
Others will feel,
Living or dying,
A certain stillness
In the air,
A certain absence of movement,
Except perhaps,
When looking out of a window,
Leaves swaying gently
In the breeze
Or a blaze of colour
From early spring flowers,
But always a certain silence,
Crisp and solid like air;
And sunshine
Wrapping itself around
Contours of buildings
Revealing a geometry
Never noticed before,
All done quietly;
A seen but not heard televised
Ballet of medics on a ward
In a bubble world of ventilator machines,
Or silent images of trucks
On empty streets carrying coffins to
A crematorium.
The advantage of a plague year:
It never passes with a scream but in a whisper.
Poet's Note:
I’d like to take the opportunity to thank all those who are playing their part in the emergency ( whether in an active or passive sense ) but especially all those in the health sector many of whom are in the front line and therefore most at risk and also a big thanks to all those involved in providing essential services without which we would all be in a bigger mess than we are already. A big round of applause for all these folks please. Desi Gall
Father ignores the pandemic by drinking from the flask.
Brother is yelling he won’t wear a mask.
Mother is rolling her eyes, feeling news-reel deceived.
Sister has had her vaccine and is greatly relieved.
Cousin came home from a funeral stamping her feet.
Wearing a mask would have made her feel off beat.
She left in a huff, yelling mean things to the others.
Church staff, minister, and sixty old grandmothers.
Grandma is holed up in her room, not answering her door.
This pandemic is making the whole world sore.
Uncle Henry says the Covid 19 is a lie and a hoax.
He’s on a ventilator now, dying with a bunch of other folks.
I was in my greenhouse,
Sad and alone.
When I noticed an invasion
of one small sparrow that intruded my domain.
It hit the shaded glass panes,
attempting to escape or at least
trying to find a resting place.
Oh, foolish bird, why did you enter
such a prison that could mean death?
It chirped, a cry for help.
It flew like a crazy thing, hitting poles and panes.
So I opened a ventilator
hoping it would not spoil the humidity
that was required in my greenhouse.
Would you believe it? The sparrow
simply refused the opening
preferring to rest upon an empty shelf.
So patiently I opened the door and finally
out it flew, straight among the branches
of an old oak tree. Liberty achieved.
I closed all openings and wondered
if I could ever be as free.
Once upon a time
I was gifted - The Book of Love
Pretty, lovely alluring me a lot
It was then
When I was climbing
The ladder of my aim
I thought it may cause disturbance
But I couldn't quash my eagerness
As soon as I touched the book
Warning words flung from the cover page
"Don't open this book,
It is harmful for your health"
I ignored & shrug off all suggestions
'cause I couldn't quash my impatience
I opened the book of love, atlast
It was beatific & heavenly
Smiles were raining
With unusual feelings
I was like flying with invisible wings
Ah! It was whole heaven
In the book I was reading
One day I woke up
Found faraway my competitor
& I was down on the ladder
I closed The Book Of Love
Tried my best to step up
Now, for me it was not nonchalant
'cause I was mucho addicted to that
& I couldn't quash my desperation for that
Very evening, I poozled The Book Of Love
On desk in bags & cupboard
On ventilator, under beds & all drawers
Here, there & everywhere
How could I so careless & sloppy
The Book Of Love was lost - Huh! Unhappy
I went to the person who gifted me that
To say sorry - I lost that
Then I came to know
An outrageous news-
The Book wasn't lost
But he took his book back
Crestfallen, I pondered what I lack
Every single second,
I was going deep in quicksand
One day I saw
My previous progress cards
Grade A in all of that
I opened my textbooks
So challenging & interesting were those
I understood the best book
Not The Book Of Love
But those of my school
Now I'm ready
To compete with my friends
Oh! What's now?
He offered me-
The Book Of Love again
Now I don't need this- I smiled
Just keep this flotsam with yourself
In the aftermath of birth to my last child, a procedure was
performed the next day, intense breathing, anxiety and
overwhelms me. code blue announced over the intercom
I'm having respiratory distress caused by the anesthesia.
The electronic vital sign monitors beep, I'm flatlined for
30 minutes after loss of consciousness according to medical
staff, I'm revived and hooked up to a ventilator. Out-of-body
encounter, I'm amongst the clouds looking down at the medical
is staff working on me am I in heaven or hell? I was suddenly
approached by a male image, the face not seen gave me a
hug a kiss on my right cheek, and said I'm not done with
you and I were awakened on the third day. Out-of-body
encounters.
My brother died so suddenly, unexpectedly
at sixty six, a young age in today’s standard.
He contracted the Corona virus that took his life.
Unable to breathe, he was taken to emergency
on Christmas Eve and was admitted to stay.
With all the available care administered,
he still struggled with his breathing and
was transferred to Intensive Care Unit,
intubated and was put on the ventilator.
With his weak body, he struggled more
and lost his dear life in mid-January.
Now, I knew and learned through his family,
how much stress he was dealing with,
how he painfully and continuously struggled
with all the family issues, concerns, hardships.
How he was singularly tackling all these
adversities, problems, difficulties, aside from
his health conditions of asthma, diabetes,
high blood pressure and so on and on.
The financial, mental, emotional tolls
and medical conditions he went through
affected him more physically, manifesting
in tremendous muscle aches and pains,
making him struggle more almost every day.
Just thinking even in near death
or up to the end of his life, he struggled.
Now, he rests in peace, no more life struggles.
His life struggles taken from him, for him to rest.
3/8/21 Life's Struggles Any Form - Updated Poetry
Constance La France
PS Grammar: Checked