Snickers candy bar wrappers
three gel pens
respirator
daily pills
notebooks
thesaurus
supplements
magnifying glass
pink erasers
snow boot
one mitten
eye mask
birthday card from May
things on my end table on September twenty-fourth
THE GIFT
Given a gift so undefined,
my life to win or lose.
Told, "Accept your fate," "capitulate," but
quit wears another man's shoes.
Diminished down to nothingness,
quadriplegic, useless, frail.
The respirator blocks my voice.
My body's now my jail
Days into weeks, weeks into months,
grappling insanity.
Barely alive, and trying to fight, for
sake of my humanity.
Dragging my brain down memory lane
picking my life apart.
Epiphanes, oaths, and promises.
The world for one fresh start.
Etched so deep, each time I weep
when Freebird starts to groove.
Playing along on my air guitar
when I felt my fingers move.
Tears are pouring down my face.
My life in every word.
My fingers missing every note.
I am my own freebird.
Then the work begins, so arduous.
The battle still up hill.
Nothing in this world will stop
a man with iron will.
I kept all oaths and promises.
I own my life again.
It didn't just make me stronger,
it made me a better man.
Quick clay
A dog sent in
Looking for survivors
Given the last hug?
Hunting for people
Silent in quick clay
In a delivery room
She was real and she was perfect
Stillborn
A song played in the room next door
Dobie Gray – «Drift Away»
No beat
A wreck on the highway
Knocking on heaven’s door
A graveyard shift
Knocking on the door
Silence broken by
Slow steps
A ship in distress
A chopper sent in
Looking for survivors
A doctor thinking
The silent ones can wait in
The cruel sea
The room was bright
The respirator turned off
Death was pronounced
The body wheeled away
The room cleaned and disinfected
Nobody should die alone
The shelves is almost empty, the fridge too
The christmas gifts hide under the tree
Few in number, all wrapped up in blue
Nobody tells her to get up and dance
Nobody tells her to sing, sing «Silent Night»
All is not calm, all is not bright
I hear bells ringing
I hear choirs singing
All is not calm
All is not bright
Shine a little light on
The silent ones
My sister broke her C-2 which is part of your neck up high
She wore a brace for three months, then she had surgery
Surgery was to ensure that she might not have a wheelchair for life
There was no guarantee that it would be successful, but she has faith.
She put her neck into the hands of a highly skilled surgeon.
Dr. Kawasaki has an excellent reputation, and he fixed her up.
The C-2 is as high in the back as your nose is in the front.
As you can imagine, this was serious.
The physical therapist was worried when she saw sister’s file.
It was fifty-eight pages long. She wondered what she could do to help.
My sister walked in, and the P.T. kept a straight face for eight weeks.
Before she walked out the last time, the P.T. was honest with her.
When you walked in here, I was shocked, she told her.
I have been a P.T. for thirty-two years.
Anyone with a broken C-2 I have met was in a wheelchair or on a respirator.
The others ones are dead. You are a walking miracle.
My sister is completely healed now, and there is no pain.
I cannot say we believe in the power of God any more
But we certainly respect His decision to make her one of His miracles.
I put my respirator on my nose
In order to go in gorilla section
All I saw a sign "clinical rest time"
When you go to zoo, make sure to have excellent respirator for Gorilla section
The smell of charcoal lingers
from your soiled, tired body.
A respirator forces your breath
In rhythmic thrusts,
off the once sterile sheets,
now saturated with pools of hot sweat.
Minutes, hours, days pass …
Ending your life … with me.
Finding selflessness serving the good of the greater
The mission, leaving all better, a little more sound
A starseed, a lightworker; a humanity relator
I'm drawn to those whose emotions need a respirator
By listening; I lift shouldered weights of life's compound
Finding selflessness serving the good of the greater
Caring always, not just when convenient, or left, is a crater
Deserving of something stable, I'll be that ground
A starseed, a lightworker; a humanity relator
No wasted encouragement in this motivator
Searching infinitely for the lost, I've never found
Finding selflessness serving the good of the greater
Give me your pain; let me be its ruthless incinerator
Finding the path of truth requires a loyal bloodhound
A starseed, a lightworker; a humanity relator
Have faith; for evolution, it couldn't be the souls creator
Serving until no drum beat left in my heart does pound
Finding selflessness serving the good of the greater
A starseed, a lightworker; a humanity relator
Sponge-brained Bobby gulped air
through his underwater respirator.
Alien squid pulsed signaling sentience,
its bulbous head
swelling as it curiously explored
the artificial sea-life before it.
Bobby the deep-diver waved,
made rude inexplicable signs
with his five fingered flippers.
Alien squid
reported the sighting,
but his meeting with the frogman
could not be confirmed,
and so the giant squid populous
kept on believing
that they were the only intelligent life form
in the entire watery universe,
and they were right
on so many fathomless levels.
Automated Daily Warning
Satellite Sentinel One-Niner-Three
Geo synchronous orbit
Pacific-Med-Atlantic contiguous sea
Sunspot activity forecast
Will deplete Ozone layer more
Than level originally forecast
On our bulletin before
Sunblocker max level needed
Forecast UVstrong clear skies
Max density protection recommended
For exposed human eyes
Contaminate Pollution level rising
From spontaneous vegetation blaze
Need for respirator mask is expected
Requirement for at least four more days
Tsunami warning
From expected Polar melt
All station warning
On designated high risk belt
Currently extending
Roughly Pole to shifting Pole
This is your automated daily warning
Global Health Service Control
Sponsored by the makers
Of Sommulus Happy Pills
Working relentlessly
To add perspective to your ills
This bulletin will repeat hourly
With regular up dates
Courtesy Sommulus Happy Pills
Your reliable Mood Help Mates
Alberta Texas Florida …
We call her Bert for short
Was born near the Alamo
And soon brought to Port
Salerno in Florida … duh!
Where she contracted Covid
And languished in the ICU
Lucky to find a respirator
To no avail, it was a zoo,
So they finally took her off
In a unit close to the Gulf
And she became a statistic
Ten thousand and forty-two.
Bert chose not to be jabbed
Like so many nowadays
But it made little difference
For she died … anyways!
SIXTH PLACE WINNER
written December 14, 2021
especially for "Alberta Texas Florida" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joe Maverick
Divin' Deep down there's guttural
gurgles and burbles
Jivin' in the respirator.
I dive deeper, still deeper
than I've ever been before.
The seabed is littered
with littoral lie-there's
just layin' about,
praying to be picked up
by some swim-on-buy kid like me.
It's a jalopy junk yard down there.
Old shells long discarded by hermit crabs
looking for joyrides in new digs
and sporty convertible squats in RV's.
Shells discarded are great do-uppers
for crabs putting on weight.
No one is homeless down here,
for all shells discarded,
are reborn to after-lives
decreed indeed by need
in Davy Jones' Locker.
When a person dies so young, I have to ask why.
I still miss you as each day passes by.
When my brother told me how sick you were, he told me face to face.
He didn't want to tell me over the telephone so he came to my place.
Until he told me the bad news, I didn't know just how ill that you were.
It was painful and heart breaking and your death was hard to endure.
You didn't die on the operating table even though the surgeon thought you would.
I was unhappy eight years ago today because I had to say goodbye to you for good.
Because of an aneurysm, my brother and I had to take you off of the respirator.
We did this to end your suffering and you died twenty-something hours later.
You said if you were ever on a respirator, you wanted to be taken off if you couldn't make it.
We did as you requested but your death was devastating and it was hard for me to take it.
You were living proof that a person doesn't need a big education to be smart.
Rest In Peace, Mom, you were a wonderful lady and you had a very big heart.
[Dedicated to Agnes M. Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away 8 years ago today on March 6, 2013]
Quick clay
A dog sent in
Looking for survivors
Given the last hug?
Hunting for people
Silent in quick clay
In a delivery room
She was real and she was perfect
Stillborn
A song played in the room next door
Dobie Gray – Drift away
No beat
A wreck on the highway
Knocking on heaven’s door
A graveyard shift
Knocking on the door
Silence broken
Slow steps
A ship in distress
A chopper sent in
Looking for survivors
A doctor thinking
The silent ones can wait
In the cruel sea
The room was bright
The respirator turned off
Death was pronounced
The body wheeled away
The room cleaned and disinfected
Nobody should die alone
The seats are empty
Nobody tells me to shut up
And dance
Nobody tells me to leave this behind
And sing
One more song
You die alone, barred from family:
try to imagine how it must feel.
You're attached to a respirator:
air is being forced into your lungs.
Try to imagine how it must feel;
to never see your loved ones again.
Air is being forced into your lungs:
you're unable to breathe on your own.
To never see your loved ones again:
anxiety is worse than dying.
You're unable to breathe on your own
isolated from those who love you.
Anxiety is worse than dying:
surrounded by strangers wearing masks.
Isolated from those who love you;
never to see their faces again.
Surrounded by strangers wearing masks:
you're attached to a respirator.
Never to see their faces again:
you die alone, barred from family.
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