Medic Poems - Poems about Medic

Face of an Angel I hear the distant rumblings of artillery shells I hear the singing sound of stray bullets I lift my head to look around and see the toll Bodies scattered like leaves on a fall day. Some with limbs torn from them like a barren tree. Some with their entrails exposed like a lion’s prey. I feel no pain, just a sense of floating Of being...

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Verse #1: C In my arms, Robert died that day G C An...

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I was a paramedic for many years until a work injury put a stop to things and so this is a poem reflecting on my career my blood was pouring into him while his blood stuck my feet to the floor a floor vibrating over wheels screeching corners with road signs flickering lights, shouting back at us how we disturbed sleep this night...

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Medic medic Amoeba down Hurry hurry Before it drowns Step step From there to here Medic medic Has no fear Dividing dividing The nucleus splits Membranes membranes All have slits Fix it fix it Cytoplasm’s spilling Rushes and gushes The scene is chilling Stitch stitch The vacuole Medic medic Has a micro-tool Amoeba amoeba Will survive For now for now On a micro slide But wait wait Paramecium Medic medic Can you see him There there In a morass Sliding sliding Off the glass Drat drat Coz really...

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Mind-Cracking, Health-Crushing Hard Drug Whose taker has his own grave dug: For all the sad life’s holes it does plug, Any helping dosing down on rug, As though a shooter did one slug Or a dirty criminal one mug. A time to up a staircase lug The Hopelessly Suicidal on drug; To all the questions by a medic a shrug: No deliverance...

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A parent wanting his son to survive, For this begins to humanly strive To snatch him back, have his Jim revive The scene before twelve a buzzing beehive, Even as more alerted feet arrive, Delaying Journalists to the scene soon drive A hunger-induced fall and tragic swoon No unpaid medic ever arrives that soon No ready-for-body-use glucose, An unashamed fry of sugar as penury...

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A lonely well, clear A nurse besides stands The sorry state of losing pro Angst, fury and fear fight for brow Tears gleam running after Twin coppers sinking low....

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THIS POEM WRITHED OUT OF THE HEART; BASED ON A TRUE STORY AS PEOPLE OF THAT GREAT CITY ARE TORN APART.. I AM A NEW YORKER I was in a quarantine when my dady died That night. I saw my mom lost all emotions— fear, fantasy, failure, depression, OR WHAT? My dad failed to fight... I am a proud...

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Hey, Doc You're on the clock Ten patients an hour You could use a cold shower No time to waste Diagnose with great haste But don't a tumor mistake For a plain old headache At the end of the day You add up your pay -- Insurance is covered Go home to your...

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He almost slipped away today With the many words he meant to say About the way he felt From the cards that were dealt It was hard to keep the ghosts away They would come in the dark Screaming, crying, begging for his help Faces obscured, but he knew who they were The ones he had lost In every sense of the word Drink and...

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From Medic to Cultured Gun Man Richard Boone Now scattered ashes in Hawaii’s sea tomb. Played a doctor in Medic, Then Paladin who could have even spoken Samoyedic....

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One day, a demon in a Medics uniform , came my way . The Stranger appeared at night duty , only to find his prey. I lay helpless in a hospital bed. from recent Surgery with IVs was I fed. He acted as if he belonged there. as if it was his job , to be the night nurse...

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. The shattered stare of the war-shocked float and fade in the medic's head, the spasmodic throes of the dying, the sickening stench of the dead. He trudges on through bloodied mud, seeking out the lost and the wounded, dazed in the gray haze of gunpowder, slain before the battle even started! ....

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The Medic He is calculated in measure and rhythm, In words without rhymes, For he is a medic and he is the ink pen That silences death’s toll in time. He never speaks, in its solemn sobriety And his beauty rises to my pulse Like the epiphany of a sonnet, Or the sonata of a piano Until, at last, a shard of his sanctuary Unfolds...

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The spasmodic throes of the dying, ...

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