Short Ventilator Poems

Does wearing a mask make you ill?
Are you a social distancing hater?
Then imagine how you'd feel
Being put on a ventilator






6/23/2020

"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure." ~Benjamin Franklin

Click on the pic to see more....

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There was a young woman named “Anna”
who spoke to her sister named “Hannah”.
“Anna” said “You’re a good “mum”
and maybe I’m just a “nun”,
but “sis”, I’m no second banana!”

Then “Anna” asked what is a “rotator”?
Does it “refer” to a ventilator?
Said a young “dad” named Adam
I really don’t know, “madam”;
“Don’t nod” at me, I’m just a parts trader....

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No.75  -makes me think that a whole chapter of Frankenstein is missing
where he made a dog from a spare foot
No.76 - looks like a fart travelling backwards
No. 77 - i think he can see the edge of his other eye round the back of his head
No. 78 - sounds like a vacuum cleaner on a ventilator machine
No.79 - looks like he was running for a bus that stopped too quick...

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Immune to the virus, I am. 
I eat green eggs and ham. 
That I eat daily with a fork. 
Hah, science, I’m no dork!

I use Johnson & Johnson shampoo. 
So I’m topically vaxxed, immune too!
Sure add bleach in my drinking water. 
Since Covid can’t live where it’s hotter. 

Wearing a mask is just for Halloween. 
Needles are for fun, not a vaccine. 
So screw your mask, I’ll see you later. 
From my bed, and shiny new ventilator....

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Bud Blooms
 
When my doors have close in night.
Only there are no more except night lamp at that sight.
Vibration and waves are passing through my blood to heart.
Nerves are stirred up, blood my fast.
She deserves right to close the door in darken.
In ventilator when mats sound sharpen.
Off and on long sigh with hissing sound scratched by sharp nail in that dark room.
Hope fragrance and charm will be flourishing in future to make the buds bloom.
Saroj khan[sakha]...

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An exquisite month and season
our eyes strain to thin
though heartache this has been
nobody understands the reason

as the leaves are falling softly
upon the beckoned ground
they're teardrops to the sound
all peaked cold and frosty

edgy for those of any ill
and all who fear the elevator
without viable ventilator
hope hides the perennial

fantasy doth bewilder
the rise of zest captivate
though bewildered on this date
together we sing for the gilder...

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