There I stood at heavens pearly gates
Waiting for God to decide my fate
I was still a child, though very sick
Hoping my passing would be quick.
Then an angel suddenly appeared
Took my hand and said “not yet dear”
“Hold on tight and I’ll fly you home”
In a flash I was back in bed alone.
Home for me was a hospital ward
Where the illness had to take it’s course
Though it was a long painful ordeal
I got well, but the pain I had was surreal.
The hurt was daily, monthly and yearly
Told I was too young for hip surgery
My compensating knee wore out too
So one operation became two.
Forty years passed before the first op
Two years later, the second op I got
I must have had a miracle man
For both surgeries went to plan.
Bless all medics who take care of us
Every one is a gift from above.
Categories:
medics, courage, fear,
Form: Rhyme
Bill prodded his sebaceous cyst
‘Twas massive the size of his fist
It spurted green pus
His wife made a fuss
“Get treatment NOW, I must insist”
Blue lighted to the A & E
Huge spurting cyst medics could see
Bill’s livid butt boil
Made doctor’s recoil
Needs lancing now, they all agree
They bundle Bill onto a table
“Don’t sedate him” said his wife Mable
I will succinctly put
He’s a pain in the butt
I’m leaving him when I am able
The medics gave Bill’s boil a prick
Green gunky pus splurts, it’s so thick
Poor Mable was heaving
She said, “Bill I’m leaving
Because you’re an ignorant dick”
“You wouldn’t seek treatment for years
Your constant moans left me in tears
I’ll file for divorce
I’m leaving of course
I’m going to live in Algiers”!
Bills visage turned ever so pale
His final breath he did exhale
The cad passed away
There’s no more to say
I’ve finished the end of this tale!
Categories:
medics, body, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Found a poem I wrote by accident
That caused me to have a shocked reaction
It was on 'A hundred days of poetry'
On YouTube, day one, for all folk to see.
Though I was not asked for my permission
It was read so nice all was forgiven
I wrote it back in the days of Covid
When we wore masks to cover our noses.
The poem had the title "Have you Seen"
How for all the medics it must have been
And all of those who work behind the scenes
The helpers, caterers, all in the teams.
I wonder what guided me on that day
To see and hear my poem on display
Have we a guardian angel perhaps
Out there with their feathered wings under wraps.
Categories:
medics, angel, appreciation, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
The sodium street lights
Your few striped freckles
The makeshift tattoo on my palm
A couple? Never. It's always been a triple or even a single at best,
A circle of medics healing medics.
This distortion is fine
It's a revolution of entrancing revolts.
Relics ignite for every star in the ground,
Scattered upon my brain.
To my pressed, dear, deadest flowers...
You keep leaving me out!
Crystalise for me, so I can die again for you.
My precious opalite,
Your purity is a miracle.
My beloved flaked obsidian,
Your impurity is a fiasco.
Both are much to be worshipped.
But now what am I to you>
The myriad, or the clone?
You keep me enshrined.
You rekindle yourself.
You say the circle is perfect, but it ends 4 corners behind.
I guess I'm only history.
Set me alight
If you dare.
Categories:
medics, extended metaphor,
Form: Free verse
A ticket pinned to the thigh reserves it,
the whole cadaver is parceled off - of course.
Legs are a late harvest, these often-indigent parts
carry a visual poverty long after the body is plucked.
Under watchful eyes the young medics
separate muscle groups, filter large blood vessels
from fibrous runnels, hesitant scalpels
seek out fascial planes.
The leg is devolving to scraps,
yet, ingrained in the tissue
I sense residual shades of a former life,
seaside postcards, old photographs,
perhaps campaign ribbons, odd tokens
amongst yellowed newspaper clippings,
all briefly surface as conjectured images
beneath a probing knife.
The gray flesh retains its personal history,
I imagine that behind the knee
there is a wife, children, and a separation
all spectrally etched between femur and tibia.
Much of the ensuing bone-whittling years
are demonstratively scored
across a formaldehyde and jelled narration.
The students suppose they dissect a limb,
while I notion that I turn over bloodless pages,
of an unwritten story,
and now the last few attached ligaments
remain as threads that speak at last
of a long journey’s end.
Categories:
medics, poetry,
Form: Free verse
HUMPTY’S RETURN
When poor Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall,
The Eggsperts all gave him no hope at all.
No one could put him together again,
Not the king’s horses nor all the king’s men.
He must have lost too much yolk they all said
And without a transfusion, he’d be dead.
But the medics said they could make him well
And set out to work on his shattered shell.
Their training told them what they had to do.
And using a large tube of super-glue.
They put into practice what they’d trained for
And bit-by-bit, he was ovoid once more
But, although he’s feeling over the moon,
Humpty won’t be climbing any time soon
Categories:
medics, nursery rhyme,
Form: Rhyme
It’s been a hard day but there’s no laws to say
That I can’t settle down with a gin
Late night R & R with an hour of TV
And then I will maybe turn in
The gin… that was easy, just spin that screw cap
Then tip up the bottle and pour
But what freaking demon has screwed G & T
It never was this hard before
This flaming recycling nonsense is mad
With screw caps that won’t separate
The cap and the bottle do not come apart
And boy does it make me irate
A one handed action to top up my glass
To sparkle and fizz as I sip
But that is no more because some lunatic
Decided he’d give me some gyp
Brute force is required to crack that first seal
But the cap simply won’t unattach
It sits in the flow and it will not let go
As it acts like a half open hatch
So now I need one hand to angle the bottle
Another to hold back the cap
It’s driving me nuts, I just want to relax
So much for this net zero crap
My bottle of tonic is sat in the cooler
But I settle down in my seat
The medics are worried about a big rise
In folk drinking alcohol neat.
Categories:
medics, anger, drink,
Form: Rhyme
One day you were sadly taken away
So extremely ill you were, you couldn't stay
I could not be with you, Covid was rife
For three months I missed the love of my life.
I feared the worst, then heard it was sepsis
You were riding a storm, I was in bits
Only got to you when chances were slim
But you were strong and you never gave in.
It was lonesome without you for so long
Specially that Christmas, it felt so wrong
Friends and family kindly rallied round
Without you, joy in my heart couldn’t be found.
You walked the storm, were led to still water
Prayers were answered, by our supporter
Then came the day that you were returned home
No longer was I at home all alone.
It wasn’t simple, ‘twas a mountain to climb
You slowly improved, few steps at a time.
I thank the medics, so skilled and so kind
Through it all, you were always on my mind.
Categories:
medics, care, i love you,
Form: Rhyme
A man is dead
when he’s bled
medics say
Poets say
At last his soul is free
that day
Categories:
medics, freedom, poets, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
Her trace of terror remains in every home.
The fear of death lingers wherever she roams.
Although improved and four years removed,
We will always remember her tyrannical rule;
And never forget medics who labored gallantly
To halt the evil beast of death and travesty.
Categories:
medics, death, sick,
Form: Couplet
The slump
My doctor, like many medics, knows little concerning
diabetes, but she does her share of guessing and gives advice according to her assumption
Cheer up, she says, you look sad.
Depression is a part of the illness, walking on a treadmill of illusion to stave off a coma that hangs onto the sick like an ill-fitting cape, a heroic actor will not be seen dead wearing
Beans! She says triumphantly is good for diabetes with
meat and veg, pauses, and suggests walking is good
Diabetic ice cream, she says, must be good on a hot day
it is full of artificial sugar, I say. No, I'm not about to help her
I know what she likes, should I invite her to a classy restaurant, it must be posh as she goes to her hairdresser twice weekly
Do you still smoke? No, but it makes no difference Tobacco, has nothing to do with diabetes
She grabs her pad and writes out some tablets to be taken
twice a week
and come back in six months.
Looks out of the window and asks herself if you are still alive!
She knows I'm a mind reader.
Categories:
medics, angst, courage, emotions, humor,
Form: Blank verse
”Christmas is for celebrating with those near and dear, the day that the world was kissed with God’s glorious gift.”
Quote - Poet’s own
It will be lonesome my darling
On this special day of the year
Yet feel the love I am sending
Whispered heart to heart sincere.
I hear joyful church bells chiming
With a message ringing out clear
All will be well from this day on
For sweet baby Jesus is here.
Tidings of elation sweetheart
Jubilance from heavenly love
You are in safe hands I promise
Medics skilled with gifts from above.
There placed beneath the Yuletide tree
Is a poem for you dear heart
With words written only for you
The inspiration of my art.
Home is wherever the heart is
There is nothing that could compare
Being with you by the fireside
Snuggled up in a cosy chair.
Santa Claus by special request
Direct my love back to the nest.
Categories:
medics, blessing, christmas,
Form: Rhyme
I lie, in silence
whilst medics search for my brain
they’re scanning my feet!!!
Categories:
medics, health,
Form: Monoku
Sudden slump of that which was erect
Which by standing up tries to correct -
Continually, we meet a fall,
As athletes compete; during football,
Nearly always suspending a game,
Referees whistle protecting its name.
Time for awarding a team free kick:
One way of letting a squad wounds luck…
In a clinic a malfunctioning heart:
Cause for the medics to around dart
By the fainting who had not eaten,
For nothing he had left in kitchen;
This type of fall the solvable
By fronting one with consumable…
Not the from-Grace-to Grass of Greats
The painful crash of once heavy weights:
Their well-fought fame burning to cinders
But tomorrow’s rise not this hinders…
Categories:
medics, allusion, analogy, cry, perspective,
Form: Rhyme
So far, the reddest river
But does not flow forever:
A coursing through enclosures
Vessels furnishing closures…
For journeys should Heart Pump thank:
They would cease, if The Heart Sank
To be left a congealed mass
While owners eyes ‘doomed shut glass…’
Lots of information stores,
Not the same a saint’s and a whore’s;
Medics who checked the river
Could pick out one with fever…
Many things run in the blood,
Some of them unleashed ‘foul flood’
The Best from this Red Fluid ‘Gift’
Which from parents did lift…
On robes Automatic Stain -
Their wearers always in pain:
Means they should face the way home
And for replacement dress comb.
While dealing with blood: gloves,
For even he that one loves.
Categories:
medics, allusion, health, humanity, people,
Form: Rhyme
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