Ward Poems - Poems about Ward

Birthday in a psych ward

You spent your birthday in a psych ward
For trying to get out
Now twice, on your record
What is it you’re without?

Way Ward

I held on for dear life, my confidence so low.
It was like holding onto a knife as I looked down below 
I knew the way out and yet I was lost 
In my heart was only doubt and  at  such a cost 

But I will not quit as I grab on even more

The Ward Nurse Has A Wooden Leg

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

Mental Ward

The nights are usually short, but the days are so long,
As I loaf in this room wanting to go back to where I belong.
The best I can do in this mental ward is pretend to be strong.

Fever Ward

Not a room for the waiting
or the receiving of the waiting,
but a room for a liquid thinking
a turgidity
that trickles through plastic tubes.

Is this where doors remain jammed
forever between Hospital floors?

Unseen, a wall clock drops
heavy packages of time
into narrow chutes,
latex handprints are shaken
from sterilized surfaces.
The regularity
of beep and whir mechanically
sucks light in and out.

The yoke recalls

Left at Rockbottom

I walk into my mom’s room, filled with fear,
As nausea is bubbling in my core.
I say nothing, it’s already clear;
I took a b’ttle of pills just like before.

Tears fall from my eyes and drip from my chin,
As screaming insults fall from my mom’s lips.
She yells, “Get in the car,” and the pr’cess begins.
She cont’nues to

My Teenage Years - Mental Health Hosptial

Teenage years are meant to be filled with great stories to tell,
but these are the years I fell mentally unwell.

My teenage years were spent in a never ending loop between hospital and home,
leaving me feeling incredibly alone.

Getting admitted into a psychiatric hospital,
where I stayed for two years,
away from home,
with a dozen other teenagers,
we all felt

Overheard in the Ob-gyn Ward

   Hey, ‘Nurse Ratchet,’ handle with care! ~
  
     The next Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is forming in there

Hospital Life

Life in hospital wards,
with blue drapes, white washed floors,
grey assets, wheeled tables.
Corn-beef hash, carrot mash,
day-pay TV cables.

Life in hospital wards,
spiked fevers, cooling aids,
pee cups, samples of stool.
Loose laced gowns, ECGs,
stagnant air, stubborn drool.

Life in hospital wards,
monitoring alarms,
timely medical rounds.
A poke, a prod, a look,
constant buzzers and sounds.

Life in hospital wards,
all day bed, in shared bays.
No

Way Ward

. for public domain


Way Ward

We will bury our sighs and sorrows,
debts and owes, and all our borrows,
our scarlet letters all have seen.

We shall cross the bridge,
hand in hand, beyond the ridge,
leave angry tears behind.

If no one welcomes you and me,
we start afresh, clean and free,
and try again, and try again.

word ward war

   wholly                                        state
           

Pediatric Ward

"Code Blue!"
Baby blue, blue 
baby, nurses crying
Years of yearning, a lifetime's dreams.
Hold me.

Ward 6

I am certain that I am unwell.
A swelling golf ball
Lodged deep beneath my skin
Makes sure of that.

The floors of Ward 6
Are mirror-clean and sterile,
A nature-coloured chessboard for
My bare toes to quietly tread.

I have no flowers, no visitors,
But home comforts in the form
Of trinkets and beloved books
Ease my mind.

It seems the courtyard is a patient too,
With

Ward 6

I am certain that I am unwell.
A swelling golf ball
Lodged deep beneath my skin
Makes sure of that. 

The floors of Ward 6
Are mirror-clean and sterile,
A nature-coloured chessboard for 
My bare toes to quietly tread.

I have no flowers, no visitors,
But home comforts in the form
Of trinkets and beloved books
Ease my mind.

It seems the courtyard is a

The Cancer Ward

The cancer ward.

We sat in the waiting room, of elderly people, with cancer
we had had surgery now we waited to see if it had been successful
A name was called a man on crutches rose, tried to look dignified
 not easy on walking aids.
I thought, if I wait, so he comes out if he throws the

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