Short Diagnostic Poems

The bard of Avon live
Long live his renowned name 
I gather his words yo become a dictionary 
His lexical usage are more secular and diagnostic 
I move forward with literature inspired
By him and his works 
The sonnets he wrote calligraphes the venom
The venom of wisdom...

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A clever work indeed,
But you must really need,
Either a doctor or a goat,
It's up to you to vote,

In this poem you come acrostic,
To shepherds as diagnostic
As a woman a tad too caustic,
Of their herd's fruit a bit bombastic

I think they see with herder's eye,
You had too much Shepherd's Pie!!

Ha! Ha!...

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hospital's antiseptic ambiance,
   temple of impeccable hygiene,
      the oracle, the doctor, still not in;

the wallclock  looks bored, tired of ticking,
   drags time at an arthritic pace,
      anemic hands round its palsied face;

white coterie thrums down the hallway,
   doc's rounds complete, all waiting in place
      for his diagnostic curse or grace....

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hospital, with its antiseptic ambiance,
our top temple of impeccable hygiene,
its priest-oracle, the doctor, 
not yet in.


weary wallclock looks bored, tired of ticking,
pulls and drags time at an arthritic pace
with anemic hands around its 
palsied face.


at last, white coterie thrums down the hallway,
doc's rounds complete, everyone must wait in place
for his crucial diagnostic curse 
or praise!...

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