Long Waiting room Poems
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In the waiting room, the plant
Sat near the windowsill.
Purple leaves were nodding
Like they had their own free will.
Their skinny stems supported
What were leaves split up in threes;
All were dancing to the music
From the radiator breeze.
Outside the sun was shining
Though the day was brisk and cold.
That brightness drew the plant
And like Svengali, had a hold.
For every leaf was straining
To get closer to the light.
I wondered if they’d loosen up
When day turned into night.
I guess we’re not so different
‘Cause it’s natural to yearn
For whatever makes us cozy
And it’s to that source we’ll turn.
THE EMPTY ROOM
Hard wooden seats in a waiting room
Feel a draught from an ill-fitting door
All I can do here is sit still and stare
The last train due back to civilisation
I’m here all alone so no conversation
A faint smoky scent hovers in the air
I wonder if any have sat here before
Not even a lamp glows in the gloom
Framed posters hang on the pale wall
Celebrating the enduring age of steam
Smiling families, clearly off to the coast
Moonlight as the only dim illumination
Closed for years, now a disused station
I sit still and ponder, quiet as a ghost
I’m not here of course, it’s just a dream
This is an image that I somehow recall
Wheelchair boogie.
In thirty minutes I have watched three people wheeled in, and three other people wheeled out.
They come in with one little purse or wallet, some leave with balloons and a bunch of lap stuff.
The latest wheelchair occupant had a chipper attitude.
He was the first one to talk loudly, and proudly.
Wearing a veteran’s hat, an older man, maybe in his seventies.
He seemed thrilled to be here, in admitting, at the emergency room.
Someone asks if he has been here before.
Several others laugh.
His eyes light up, he is a regular.
His name is Frank, and he is whisked in right away.
Others have sat in the chair a few minutes, not him.
A man in a bright green glowing tie-dyed shirt with mostly neon pinks sits down next.
His turn for the wheelchair boogie.
His shirt is not a reflection of his personality.
He sits in silence, looking down at his hands.
Not a peep.
Wheel chair boogie.
Only thing to do in an emergency room waiting room.
Beneath the burdens of countless nights,
In the cursed silence of the soul's waiting room,
I sat, the last one, loneliness carved by the chisel of forgetfulness into the stone of my heart,
Blocking him - he who left without looking back,
Left with longing, a heavy bracelet on a wrist of air.
In vain, I sipped from digital expectations,
Eyes thirsty for a phantom letter in the box of echoes,
The pain of seeing his connection without words for me,
The feeling of being lost with soles burning on carpets of illusions,
His indifference - a shroud that wraps me in night.
I say stop to this waltz drowned in tears - from now on,
The ties buried under the heap of forgetfulness,
What strange hurt to be silent when your whole universe spoke through him,
It wasn't so hard when he pushed me into the chasm of estrangement.
Once the image of him as a hero was sown in my soul, now the shadow of a stranger,
I wonder how small I can be in the mirror of disappointment,
Do I deserve this harsh forgetfulness after I gave my all?
Did success grow like a weed between us, or was it all just a lost game?
He pushed me away - far into the cold, bitter ocean,
Feeling only the foam of his indifference, a wave suffocating my love.
And now his once-adored shadow haunts,
The forgotten stranger walks free, and my heart is filled with cold.
They thought I watched for his newfound fame from beneath heavy lids,
But what I hunted was a love, one before any tally.
His once vibrant call now just an echo,
In my chest, the pyre's flame burns beneath the ash of his 'all is well.'
What a silent battle between what I was and what is expected of me,
A heart-ping-pong between guilts and a promise of the new.
This prosperity that seems to grind down the natural in people,
I turned to ask myself: Was I just a reflection in the mirror of his pride?
Reflecting on love, what it means, I find myself setting boundaries,
Limits enforced by the heart, known only to me,
I deserve respect, attention, and true care,
In love and life, there I will find my sanctuary for my soul.
Worthy of love, happiness, and light,
I will rise from this abyss, embracing the power that is mine.
Amid the echoes of pain, I will carve my path,
Turning wounds into newfound strength day by day, month by month, and year by year.
Angels guide me
Sat in a hospital waiting for God;
I need some help, to pick me up.
I’m going crazy, I’ve lost the plot;
I’ve lost my way, without your love.
Stood before me are a cleaner and his twin brother;
A serene presence glows around them both.
They speak peaceful words, within the mundane
And I immediately feel comforted by the holy ghost.
They talk to each other and I listen intensely,
To every word looking for an answer.
There is no-one else in the waiting room
And in them I see Him or Her.
The God up above gave them religious names
And I believe they are here when I needed to be saved.
They mop up the floor like Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty
And I see in them both, something Heavenly.
When I am at my lowest and in need of some help,
They appeared before me and eased all my problems.
They showed me Heavens gates, when I was living in Hell,
Now I am sane once more, but angels should not be forgotten.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Rebirth and Recovery
As I sit in the waiting room of my physician
I contemplate my life’s position
I think of many nights of wizardry and magic
when all it was, was as a life so tragic
I felt as life had just begun
staying high was so much fun
I was young-felt that time was on my side
but time is a funny thing, you see it never stops,
this I confide.
It seems to me that 20 years passed overnight
my youth stolen by a thief in the night.
The thief I speak of is not man or animal,
but an affliction,
You see, it’s a disease called addiction.
It rakes you in with promises of women,
riches and fame,
but when you’re all used up, all you’re left with
is guilt, remorse and shame.
So here I sit in the office of my physician,
listening to him tell me my life’s condition
and how I’m supposed to die of this affliction,
as I choose to live once more.
James David Rider
8-1-09
Thank you all for indulging me, this was written by husband, who doesn't write poetry, not
until now, and I feel it's something that needs to be gotten out there so here is the first step.
I didn’t bring a charger.
I didn’t bring a snack.
I’m nervous ‘cause I’m texting you
And you’re not writing back.
The hospital is crowded;
You haven’t yet been seen.
You’re thirsty and I couldn’t help;
I think you think I’m mean.
I’m sitting in a waiting room,
Your sneakers in a bag.
I’m trying to stay calm, while
All my spirits start to sag.
This night will stretch for hours
As I sit alone and mope.
I feel like I don’t have the tools
That I will need to cope.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Right now it’s hours later.
I somehow made it through
And most important, I can breathe
Since, somehow, you did, too.
Let me introduce myself
My name is suicide
I live in the shadows
Just at the back of your mind
You’ll probably never meet me
Sometimes I'm on posters
Usually in your doctor’s waiting room
You may glance at me
Put me to the back of your mind
That continuous cough
Your main concern today
Sure you’ll get better soon
Now we come to the other guy
I’m at the forefront now
Doesn’t seem to be any alternatives
No introduction needed
No explanation required
Sometimes we have a trial run
Just to see
But really, our mind is made up
The poster stares right at him
Taunting, asking what he’s thinking
What is he thinking
The same thoughts as yesterday
The day before yesterday
Today
Tomorrow
The cough would have responded to antibiotics
But it was never really about the cough.
There was a woman whose name Caroline
She dreamed one day she could teach online
She learnt technology tools
But never tried to take schools
While teaching she found her students offline.
*****
All students were invited to join zoom
To download the app and attend classroom
The teacher sent a passcode
There were works on the main road
The attendees still in the waiting room.
*****
Caroline did not give up on her dream
She devised a very clever scheme
Got training on e-learning
Attended virtual schooling
At home she could host members of her team.
*****
Caroline tried to lend students a hand
They worked with all the tools at their command
She bought for each a smart phone
To build a life of their own
Caroline henceforth had it all in hand.
Our medical system in Central Pa.
needs a major tweak.
Unfortunately the absence of care is
daily growing more bleak..
I can't see my cardio. until nearly a week..
A shortage of primary's clearly exists.
I'm currently on four waiting lists..
Drove to an e.r. yesterday to be seen
when my b.p. went up to 216.
Sat in a waiting room for over two hours
as other patients conditions were much more dire.
One young man clearly very sick waited to be
seen with a rupturing appendix..
After two hours of waiting I decided to go, in
hopes that my numbers would return to low,
remembering something my brother said
some time ago..
He said buy some beer it works you know.
Never really developed a taste for beer but
am drinking in the am and it works my dear..
High blood pressures are quite concerning,
alternative methods I'm quickly learning.
I'm almost certain I'm turning German.