Long Wheelchairs Poems
Long Wheelchairs Poems. Below are the most popular long Wheelchairs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wheelchairs poems by poem length and keyword.
In the front yard, I see cars,
going places, who knows where.
In the backyard, I see trees,
leaves fluttering in the wind.
White clouds drift in a sky of blue,
butterflies flit from here to there.
The world goes on and on,
and I am all alone.
In the classroom, lots of kids
doing work the teacher gives,
in the playground young ones play,
boys and girls in their own style,
on the playground, year on year,
a cacophony of children's shouts,
sounds, forever, on and on,
and I am all alone.
Jobs, careers, marriages too,
religion, books, philosophy,
life's phases pass one to another -
in one, out one, then the next.
Years, in cycles, years like wheels,
on tricycles, bicycles, and cars,
and one day, wheelchairs,
going places, who knows where,
And I am all alone.
MID-SPRING
It is mid-May,
Mid the welcome of spring’s changes all
Over the norther hemisphere;
Amid still growing joy with strolls through
Parks and fields, admiring the all
Of after Winter,
And here, still growing in our own ways,
We live:
The long blooming mass of babies (born after 1945);
We,the vigorous, overwhelming, well-meaning,
Once new generation, now with
Slower action or being taken on the avenues
In wheelchairs through
This year’s disturbing Spring
With its news of impending environmental
Crisis, wars, injustice,
And pandemic hatred and illness.
Here I may be seen by the wayside, abloom at
The end of an ambitious, climbing vine of
Morning Glory. There! Off the topmost
Dried-throughout branch
Of a magnificent, ancient, gnarly tree,
Which cradles me
I pray from here ——
Hanging confidently at the tip
Of Glory’s vine,
Against the mid-day’s sun at its highest. So,
Squinting, maybe see me against
The blanched-blue sky,
Ever close to the promise of God —
Dangling, reaching
On sweetly…down, trying
To keep a longer hold
Onto my rising fragrance.
The full area of my petals’ centers appears
Still whiter than the higher clouds, despite
My contours maybe trying to edge brown
And curl.
In the traveling breezes, I do not always
Even seem to feel my pleasant bobbing
On these warmer airs;
Nor with each dawn do I seem to feel
Quite as bright, or light or spry.Yet
To and in Nature’s eye, I
Remain here aflight
— Even ‘tho, yes, on a vine,
Observing the earth, keen
For the surprise
Of some sprout bursting
With awesome strength
To push aside then out
Free from under a stone,
Using its force against the greater mass,
In a motion
To find its unique
Space of light for life.
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(c) sally young eslinger 6/3/22
Thanks be to God
In thanksgiving for my family,
friends and my brothers/sisters on PoetrySoup
…
Thanks for all well wishes & your prayers as
I face my surgery 6/7…Hugs!
Let’s talk about different ways people walk -
They walk with God
They walk in, they walk out
They walk up, they walk down
They walk too fast, they walk too slow
They walk around
They walk away
They walk on by
They walk gracefully
They walk the runway
They walk by faith
They walk in deliverance…
Let’s talk about how it sounds when people complain about walking -
I don’t feel like walking
Why we gotta walk?
That’s too far to walk
You always wanna walk
I’m tired of walking
Don’t be walking in front of me
You better watch where you walking
You be walking too fast
Why we gotta walk everywhere?
It’s too hot to be walking
It’s too late to be walking
Don’t walk that way, that’s the long way…
Please stop complaining and be careful of the words you speak, because there are some people who wish they could walk. There are people born with no legs, people who have had their leg amputated, people who suffer with arthritis in their legs and people in wheelchairs who wish they could walk.
Walking supplements your income, so be grateful and don’t take God’s grace for granted. Just saying…
When we build
for everyone,
everyone wins:
The ramp helps
not just wheelchairs
but strollers,
delivery carts,
tired legs.
Captions help
not just deaf ears
but noisy rooms,
second languages,
different processors.
Multiple ways in
mean no one
stands outside
looking through
locked windows
at learning
they can't reach.
Every entrance
leads to the same
beautiful place:
understanding,
belonging,
growth.
Design from the start
for every brain,
every body,
every spirit
that walks
through your door.
I’m dreaming with my eyes of faith,
Godly dreams hope you’ll see.
My dreams backed with God’s promises,
‘New Earth’ … for you and me.
New when God’s will, “on earth is done,”
for years heard people pray.?
On beautiful earth we call home,
God’s Kingdom … will hold sway.
Christ is King of God’s Kingdom, all
authority received.
In heaven, and right here below,
on earth … no one will grieve.
Dream of throwing away wheelchairs,
our walkers, our canes too.
Isaiah wrote that we’ll leap about,
just as we’ve seen …deer do
.
Our friends who’ve lost their sight, observe
at last see me and you.
Show them, won’t need try explain
the pretty color … blue.
Years dreamed of God’s promised blessings,
God’s Paradise soon here.
Hope you’ll dream through your eyes of faith,
God’s will on earth … is near.
My last foray into this arena
Had me living memories not wished to share
Here I am again, another visit
Into the elderly homes we wish not
A sunny day another gathering
Nurses working, making life happen
Elderly in wheelchairs, still smiling
Others in mobile beds, unsure of the happening
A talk by an ancient, born 1917
Strong voice begging to be heard
Wartime memories, mist is clearing
From death too imprisonment
Visions flow, must be told
Strong voice, telling of memories
Some stumbles, others not so
I look around the room
Half the listeners into their snooze
On and on the story flows
Death and glory, hand in hand
How can you tell such a sad command?
Bravery such as only you have known
Bodies of men, families memories
Story spanning for one hour
Comment from teller, time had run out
The carers sobs echoed around the room
They all knew what time running out meant
They gathered, comforting ensued
trying so hard to change the feelings in the room
I leave as in visits before, memories flooding
My thoughts, a place such as this even exists
If there is a being ruling the happenings
Messages needed, please send happiness.
Dad, why are those men carrying flags?
Because it's a parade
To honor our country
Then the little boy asked,
Were you an Army man?
Yes, I was.
Now look straight ahead to the Flag son.
Why do the Army men in wheelchairs
Have ribbons on their chests?
They're for bravery son
Do you have any?
I wasn't as brave as them.
Now look straight ahead to the Flag son.
Can I be a soldier one day?
Only if you grow up big and strong
Stand tall and straight
Have a steady hand
With good eyes
And aren't afraid
Then you can be a soldier.
Sitting around the kitchen table
Listening to their fathers and uncles talk of the days when they were young
Boys grow up
Listening to the glories of war
Adventure and camaraderie
And guns and things.
Years later another war begins
From old wounds never healed
Young boys become men
And answer the call
During the war
Soldiers slog on
Mired in mud
Deep in fight
They obey this
And do that
But no one wants
To see a soldier
On his back.
Politicians will say
The outcome of war
Rests with the people
But once the war starts
And the killings begin
Politics becomes business
Dirty tricks a diversion
And truth a casualty.
People ask
Who is in charge?
No one answers
Reasons not given
Only lies and
Pointed fingers
And the voice at the top
Has no blame.
But one thing is certain
When all is said
There will be bloodshed and
Many dead.
Ask the old men
Who know about war
And drink to memories of long ago
Boys were led to believe
Stories made of lies
The simple truth
Never told
Is fathers lied
And soldiers died.
He cannot see the sun…although he feels it on his back…
He cannot see the stars or the moon…for his world is painted black.
She cannot listen to the nightingale sing…or hear footsteps on the ground…
She does not know her mother’s voice…for her world is lacking sound.
He cannot climb the stairs…or jump high into the air…
He cannot walk or run…while confined to his wheelchair.
And we wonder how this is possible?
How did this come to be?
and what must life be like for those so different from you…and me.
So we attempt to come together without making too much of a fuss…
and we try to share our world with them…as they share their world with us.
With our friends who cannot see…we will be each other’s crutch…
as we explain the world we see…and they reveal the beauty there is in touch.
With our friends who cannot hear we find a way to understand…
We will learn to speak with one another…by talking with our hands.
With our friends who are in wheelchairs…we find a common goal…
we will show them how to rock…if they show us how to roll.
And though we’ll never truly understand each other…it’s enough to know we care…
as we slowly begin to realize…despite our differences…there is so much that we share.
And so we wonder…after experiencing our different worlds together…
and having so much fun…
If this kind of acceptance and understanding…would work for everyone.
Perhaps, then, we wouldn’t let our different countries,
different backgrounds…
different colors…
different beliefs…
create in us so much discord
so much pain…and so much grief.
What if the things that make us different…
instead of being feared and hated and banned…
what if the things that make us different
are just different things to understand?
The restaurant was wonderful;
The food was well prepared.
The atmosphere was cozy
And I liked the booth we shared.
The waiter, super-friendly,
Was attentive and the beer
Was a local IPA, which made
Me grin from ear to ear.
Yet glancing at the other diners,
What I noticed first
Was the fact that everyone was old
And what was interspersed
At their tables were their walkers
Or their wheelchairs or their canes.
Still, they ate and drank and laughed and maybe
I can’t quite explain,
But it made me understand how life
In Florida is sold -
Not to get away from winter,
But to join your fellow old.
Now that we know struggle
can exist in commemoration meetings
museums, battlegrounds or rivers
now that we know soldiers too can
be bourgeoisie making business
workers can govern or dance to be
Love can be free
Vagabonds can write poetry
advocates count syllables astutely
architects forgetting about wheelchairs
now that presidents fail farmers fickle
with colonels wanting to sing sonatas
now that heroes hymn in the heavens
we know Soul has no gender or class
Now that we know hunger is only a lesson
and rage a rampant note going past
now that we know eyes are but mirrors
through Dark Ages with democracy
imprinted on genes
now we can touch exuding Light
So let’s smell a good stew
dwelling with arum lilies new
let’s listen to frogs croaking
squeeze a warm hand poking
now that Consciousness opens up
i t a l w a y s w a s
~~~~~~~~~