Short Bedridden Poems
Short Bedridden Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bedridden by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bedridden by length and keyword.
Boulder shoulders,
bursting biceps,
terrifying to see,
a menacing mountain
of a muscle-man
he used to be.
Now, bedridden,
he wilts away his days
till the end arrives.
This nursing home's
locked doors hide
closing and closed lives.
Paraplegic
Wheelchair, catheter
Racing, dancing, maneuvering
Colourful rims and frame, colourful little person,
Singing, rhyming, mischievous
Surgery, bedridden,
Me
***
6th place in Diamante contest
Sponsor Janis Thompson
October 15, 2016
birth out in the mist
bright things then have birth
between the beauty and decay
molten lead adjourned
the faithfulness of a century
lies bedridden
the missives continueth
Doom stirs the mosaics of dearth
please do not disturb
the cadence of tomorrow's plan
The butterflies hoover
There is an orgy of fruit above our heads
Delectable sweetness falls unto our beds
We shall devour the sweetness so ripe and pure
Tantalizing encounters,
Angels so bright with amorous decor
Intercourse woven upon the forest floors,
Lustfully we be bedridden
Satisfying our wanton souls in the village of Sidon
His point-blank, most promising laurel lost
Long, long his e'er-lasting longing lingers
His muse becomes bedridden under freezy frost
Yet his nikhedonic mindscape ne'er malingers
Surging from mood's winters and merging its splinters
Ramrodding illusion-edified effulgences into his emulous edacity
Without knowing whether with reluctance or with alacrity
A crippled devout is bedridden
None in his family to earn
His innocent, cherub children
Are dying of starvation!
With pouted lips they ask
‘O! relenting Lord hark!
To us why are you so merciless?’
Immutably He replies, ‘—Because you are faithless!!
‘The extortionist though he commits sin,
Prays me from his heart within!!’
Fie! Fie!! Relentless Lord!!!
Compassionate, clement Death! Be not proud!!
Form:
A crippled devout is bedridden
None in his family to earn
His innocent, cherub children
Are dying of starvation!
With pouted lips they ask
‘O! relenting Lord hark!
To us why are you so merciless?’
Immutably He replies, ‘—Because you are faithless!!
‘The extortionist though he commits sin,
Prays me from his heart within!!’
Fie! Fie!! Relentless Lord!!!
Compassionate, clement Death! Be not proud!!
Form:
A Skilled Care Unit
Faces racked with pain,
no medicine can cure.
Sad and alone, no one
comes to visit.
Bedridden, confined to
wheelchairs, nowhere to go.
Pacing the halls, doors locked,
prisoners at the end of life.
Memories of laughter, family
outings, salt, sea air, cookouts.
All slowly fading now, freedom
lost to old age and infirmities.
Life condensed to a single room
with death the only escape.
There is a fact known,
A fact not meant to be so.
A fact we know,
Though here we fight for it being better.
For literature, I am seeing her in a coma,
And writing in a mortuary
While I did see Drama insane,
I see prose, bedridden,
Then for poetry, I weep,
For she is at her grave side.
Someone should help her, I pray,
Maybe us, I think.
My best I attempt,
But would it be enough?
I ask.
For all it need is a miracle.
A miracle strong and powerful.
KANU EKPEZU
Eyes upon another for I did not know your name
Though what purest love rest still within me
Dorminant, triggered in the looks of thy eye
Sparks like matter, irrodescent in thy sight
The magic mustered to my very plight
For I did not know your name
Yet ye inthrawled me
Took me up to heavens starling sights
Left me alone bedridden In the night
No I did not know your name
Though the red threads aligned us
Entangled with you before I could explain our truth
Naked and naïve
it’s time to bereave
your bedridden soul
for which ravens toll
You wear cynicism in
on a placid sunny day
melting a turquoise sky
into a saffron souffle
Your derision derides
the emptiness inside
digesting a child’s core belief
with your apocalyptic grief
So filet those frailties
with that phoenix in your fray
by flapping that acrid ash
far, far away
Then bathe in a turquoise sky
on a placid sunny day
as you stand before that child
naked and naïve
How would it feel to be tall? To be rich?
To be bedridden, hungry or poor?
How would I cope with a limp or a twitch
Or a wheelchair to get out the door?
How would I live with no water or heat
Or with servants to tend to my needs?
How would I thrive with no friends I could greet
Or my talents thought worthless as weeds?
How would it be to be not who I know
As myself all the way to the core?
There’s no way to tell but I hope, even so,
I’d be me still – no less and no more.
There once was this goddess named Nut
Who was found in the tomb of King Tut
Her head was a cow
But her body was “WOW!”
And as goddesses go – she kicked butt
Her skin was the hue of the sky
Covered with stars floating by
Of her it was said
She protected the dead
She was one of the highest of high
But the statues of her were all hidden
And common folks looking – forbidden
Only priests got to peek
Incantations they’d speak
Wishing she could be bedridden
Mdailey 7/28/11
Placed 15th in contest