Boo-boo fixing.
Temperature taking.
Vomit catching
(never complaining).
Records checking.
Parent calling.
Medicine giving.
All-around awesome—
School Nurse!
Morning entered quietly, as pale as silver rain, and with it came a gentle voice to soften fear and pain.
The hours were slow with aching, the road seemed hard to see, yet kindness, like a summer bird, alighted close to me.
No crown adorned her patient brow, No trumpet marked her way; She carried hope in simple hands— Shyni, my nurse today.
Sometimes the smallest mercies outshine the brightest sun:
A smile, a word, a careful touch can heal what others can't.
When evening folds the weary sky and shadows drift away, I'll keep one quiet star alive— Shyni my nurse today.
When the bombs fell on the maternity ward,
She rescued three babies instead of running outward,
Unmindfull of collapsing ceiling and wall.
Reminds me of air traffic controller,
Who kept his calm under war's rollercoaster.
Or firefighters on a high rise in flames,
Heroism with no care for fame.
Just ordinary people passing humanity 's test
With flying colors and zero tempest.
They shoved Lady Justice to the ground.
He tried to help her up.
He warned them not to touch her.
And in his last breath,
he asked her if she was okay.
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
They said he brandished a gun,
but everyone could see it was a phone.
They said he was a violent terrorist.
officers attempted to disarm him.
Why won’t they release that video?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
His extrajudicial execution?
The way they pinned him to the ground?
The way they pumped ten bullets
into his mortal form even after he lay lifeless?
How should we remember Alex Jeffrey Pretti?
An American intensive care nurse,
working for the Dept of Veterans Affairs,
living a life devoted to the care of others.
or a friendly neighbor always helping
those in need?
How should we remember him?
I will remember how he gave his life to help
Lady Justice to her feet.
The Nurse is coming soon.
It is five in the morning, and the pain in bed
throws me out, I struggle with a Walker
to reach my study
by thinking of something else, the hurting
will, if not, go away and subside.
I will not be bitter when family members
fails us now, so shortly before Christmas
I have gone through many struggles, this
time as always, with my 82-year-old wife
Modern hospitals don't want people to
overstay. I will not complain about the surgery
saved me from a certain death
Mind, there are times when one is overcome by pain
Death seems inevitable
I sit in my study, grateful for life and waiting
for a nurse who will clean me up and give
me pain remedies
hello I am your nurse, she said.
There will be a small pinch.
From behind her back, she brings out something enormous.
it takes two hands and a foot
because it is huge
the biggest shot dispenser I have ever seen
I begin screaming
no one comes
I am alone with this killer nurse
my second most horrible nightmare
the first one concerns a dentist who is poking holes in my teeth
Her eyes are laden with drunken sleep,
Silhouetted by lank, tired hair flimsier
Than the spine of an elderly, broken night.
Tattered, it buries the horrors of night;
Braided, it creases the rows of black corn,
Sweeping swiftly south and downwards;
Ponytail ties the umbilical linking life
And skyline light.
Lissome, she traipses with no lamp,
Even when darkness confidently pitches its nightingale’s romance
To district judges seated on the kerb of the apothecary’s creed . . .
With her the night loses its potency,
Its sacredness,
Expelling flies that die out on their own willpower,
Like winged dinosaurs,
Through the age of decomposing summer.
It's all been analysed before?
The oneiric spell cast upon slow, difficult nights
When the breath smells like the anus of hell.
By the way, I drivel.
Not saliva.
Oh, no!
I drivel on about hissing nights that ought to be lonesome,
Stretched out, dark, and without rays borrowed
Earlier from a twerking twilight.
Restless nights, worn like silky cloaks, diaphanous,
Seeing through the naked veins of her sweet eyes.
Leukemia boys and
Leukemia girls wave
in hospital volunteers,
as the angels wave
them away.
What is
love?
Beyond
an overpriced
ambulance ride,
and an unnecessary
hospital stay?
The most beautiful things:
summer sweat,
and Rome after
rain.
Inside,
a child draws
a yellow sun
with trembling fingers.
The IV, taped
down like it’s trying
to hold him
there.
Forced positivity.
A heart full of
apathy.
I see that
same world you try
to see with substance sober,
and I’ll be the first to tell you—
it isn’t a
blessing.
God has a
hand-grenade
smile, and it’s
hard to find
the grace
in that.
There’s
6 dead, 4 wounded,
and one on the
way.
What an
unimpressive
collection.
The Nurse of Zionism (part 1)
She visited the stolen land
loved putting her feet in the sand
the sand was not pleased
the crushed bones of Palestinian dreams
olive trees burned so Europeans could party
Over three hundred bullets in a six year old
"Its complicated"
Thousand of children slaughtered
"Its complicated"
Doctors raped in IDF prisons
"Its complicated"
Children used as human shields
"Its complicated"
Hospitals bombed on purpose
"Its complicated"
Medical equipment smashed by soldiers
"Its complicated"
IDF dress up in Palestinians women's cloths
"Its complicated"
One will never heal
with a heart so cold for others
selfish, self centered, self absorbed
to the core
Nazis had nurses too
I should not be shocked
The Angel of Tel Aviv (Part 2)
I ask why the ones
with hearts of gold
carry such a heavy burden
of pain, loss and sadness
The world such a miserable place
nurses should carry compassions grace
mostly true
for in the afternoon sun,
the Hanoun in bloom
in Tel Aviv an angel of mercy
restored my faith in humanity
Nurse Nicole, with calmest eyes,
Moves through halls where silence lies—
Right hand steady, strong, and sure,
To Dr. Gabriel, she is pure.
Level-headed in the fray,
Guiding hearts from night to day,
With hands that heal and words that mend,
A fierce protector, faithful friend.
In every room, her kindness glows,
Like rivers where the soft wind blows,
Or streams that twist through shaded land—
She reaches out with healing hands.
She speaks in tones both firm and low,
Where pain and panic often grow,
And patients, lost in weary hours,
Feel her strength like sudden flowers.
Among green leaves and tangled trees,
She finds her peace in ocean breeze,
But never shuns the blood or bone,
The mess of life—she stands alone.
Empathy flows like summer rain,
Through aching hearts, through fear and strain,
And though the world may spin and call,
She’s busy, still, among us all.
A light in white, with soul so wide,
She walks where mortal hearts collide,
A woman made of will and grace—
The world feels safer in her place.
The leather tethers kept loosening.
I had to pull at them until
they dug into your body
binding you to a rocking cross.
It was all for nothing
you died snapping at unseen knives,
arching up, bending time into
frozen waves.
You once said you were Irish/Scots,
Appalachian.
You called yourself: Applachan.
Sinewy girl --- wiry poppy stems
in you, and engine oil
to soften tenacious roots.
The fever racked you up.
It shook your bones loose.
It blossomed,
pouring you out
in thimbles of awareness.
In those intervals,
blue hills filled your eyes
with summer rain.
I would talk to you of Ireland.
We went there on that last night.
We made a hasty camp
in the dream felled woods,
the deep raw stumps
were already greening.
Then I watched,
and kept watching
as feeble death broke its teeth
on your blood.
Thrust in the center of the storm
All I could see was You
My deepest fears had been born
My sanity like strings unloosed
Nerves unglued by life events
Perhaps this broke my mind
Strapped to a bed I no longer lament
Refused food or drink of any kind
The drugs they tried made me hide
Inside my paranoia so I didn’t speak
Except for occasionally with my eyes
At this one mental health nurse you see
She would gently hold my bound hand
And offered warm wishes and compassion
Through her empathetic angelic glance
I gained something humane in her passion
She’d offer me food which I refused
But fed my spirit with her kindness
After days my mangled mind improved
God sent her and a divine kiss
Through the eye of a manic storm
Where I lay broken despite grace of God
All I saw was this nurse's form
She grounded me with her heavenly heart
scuffs in the pearl white floor
when she leaves the room,
for empty hospital hallway memories,
haze of sterile gloom
like snails, the chronic men
each slowly wear away,
their minds left to trail behind them,
their faces falling into decay
the grey walls with snake green stripes
always constricting them,
the dim fluorescent flicker of the fate
to which they have been condemned.
To be a night nurse takes skill and grace,
Caring for patients in this darkened space.
With every step, we must be alert,
Ensuring their comfort, never to hurt.
We check vitals and administer meds,
Making sure each patient is well-fed.
Through the night, we work with dedication,
Providing care with love and admiration.
It takes compassion and a steady hand,
To be a night nurse, we must understand.
So here's to all the nurses who work late,
Thank you for all you do, you're truly great! ??
By Anna Tauvaa
A bat cries differently,
eats fruits,
gliding, hanging insectivore,
Jackal-Kite, living mammal, nursing offspring, pup , quarrelsome, rodent species, terrible, umbrella vampire, winged xebec, yearn zoo .
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