Health Poems (230)

Thoughts wrap
around life bones
like ligaments
keep the parts in
relation to the whole
supple for flexibility
like tendons
bands of fibrous tissue
connect muscle to bone
carry tensile forces
produce movement, fluid, propel.

Hierarchical structures
difficult to quantify
nonlinear, viscoelastic behavior
difficult to analyze.
Then come you
the fall, hard.
Stretched, twisted, bruised
soft-tissue damage, great
body fluids puddling
mixing with blood.

Breaks are clean
even compound ones
reset and repair
periosteum and
marrow cells
replicate and transform
cohesive strength
returns
good as new
memories not as strong.
Severe soft-tissue damage
where layer upon layer is torn
requires a much longer time
to heal.

***

How is it with injury
one forgets how to move
forward
left and right
down and up
making small adjustments
in the circles of life?

Though exercise is painful
immobilization is the enemy
of healing.
Baby steps, the current goal
moving unassisted in a
straight line, with little pain
no crutch to lean on
moving forward step by step
hoping
tomorrow
there will be dancing.

NURSE
NURSE, NURSE
I was the little girl,
he was the little boy.

She did not mean to fall
but all she did not much
but a bump and a scrape or two.

He tried to not, but sure he did
he tumbled down the hill in still of
himself he hit his leg to the ground
in so he scraped it up and then.......

she/ he needed the nurse, she put a bangdage'
if that did not work then the wrap had to do.
The nurse is tender but helps to mend the weak and
the ill.... That is why they are called the nurse.
©breathless22

my little no belgium..
I love you tender and sarcastic's..
you the present of my pastry..
let me escape you a message of foliage.
none,knows the direction of clouds,
skies are horizonless and flemish..
in a piece of hankerchief ,
you bable three misunderstandings,
and paris the mucker,only its grandeur..
my little no belgium ,
because so easy-cosy..
I climb up your montains of humility,
laughing your sleepersking..
in memoriam..
a winter sleepy day debarking at dawn,
my poor shanty handluggage along,
eternal migrant...all ways..
agressed by a suggestive smell of beer and factories..
a perfume of chichas and chaotic roadworks..
I found a reasonable mad house for daily inspiration..
my jolly no belgium,
national shower day every years'topic..
sellout governance,
man keen spirit..
poets go to no belgium..

just how much does this world weigh?
when we're standing on a mountaintop
depends on our location you'd say
different at the bottom of Mariana drop

strictly physical parametrical laws
cannot outweigh those emotional jaws
that grab us, grip us, tight in hand
and send our hearts to another land

where smiles are gone, burdened, bent
the weight beyond what Atlas can bare
a souls depressed tangential descent
even gods can't overcome that despair

melancholia bears a universal weight
everyone on the planet knows the feeling
millions of humanity do deeply relate
grief and sadness sets souls to reeling

and forces us to carry, if only awhile
the weight of the world, too many miles
yet the heavy burden can be put aside
and level horizons viewed and applied

techniques are many to betray it's gravity
toward happier days with family and friends
defeating diabolical depressions depravity
so melancholia concludes, a means to end

© agoodguy2have 2011-05-05

Morning breaks pain awakes
Struggling to get out of bed
Dressing takes an eternity
This weighs down my weary head.

Husband casts the furtive glance
Concern crosses his face
This wears down the tired soul
It's become a race.

Ramp to be built
To take the hilt
Of one's enduring flame
Caned walks have now become the pain.

Answers sought
Cannot be bought
No matter how long the time
It's becoming clear that this life is no longer mine.

CERTIFIED CURSE’S ASSISTANT


Did you know there are places our old folk are kept?
And if sadly they have no one else a guardian must decline or accept
If they choose to eat they’re served the cheapest part of the pig of course
However these elders aren’t aware that they may be eating horse

You’ve got your cocky little C.N.A.’s who think they have absolute power
And they’ll ignore the old people’s pleas at any particular hour
“You know, “ I said to one “Mrs. Wagner hasn’t eaten in more than ten days”
The C.N.A. responded “don’t make me no never mind ” and then she asked for a raise

Many of the Nurses are the same damned way
They don’t give a damn what the elderly have to you say
Cold sores, bed sores mount up by the score
But they say, “it’s five o’clock and I’m out the door”

So to wrap things up tidily some of those places will kill the old
And believe me because I saw it first hand and wasn’t just told
The C.N.A.’s run around not listening to what Mr. Hirsh said
Well perhaps they’ll take their job a little more serious when they find Mr. Hirsh dead

These professionals act without care or concern
So in school a lack of sympathy is the first thing they learn
The frail and elderly should receive mercy from the staff
Instead they are at thee mercy of the staff, and that ain’t no laugh © 2011.…Phreepoetree
(AND THE ADMINISTRATER HERE IS AN ALLIGATOR)

The mind never needs sleep,
Not so the body, for eventually it will weep.
Close your eyes; lay yourself still.
Concentrate on the blackness, let come what will.
Slow your breathing, and do not exist.
Inside the darkness is a relaxing mist.
While you do not exist in the darkness, look around.
To the left and right then up and down.
Clear your mind, and do not think,
Lay in the blackness and feel yourself sink.
The longer you watch, the more you will know,
There is no you and there is nowhere to go.
But continue, to in the blackness see,
The nothingness that is all around thee.
Let not thine eyes open, nor thought be aware,
That there is anything around you, for you are not there.
Just look around and see what you see,
Your mind shall stay awake, but rested you shall be.

He sees with his own two eyes, vision upon vision, without seam.
He remembers places and things and people that he has never before seen.
He, now, stands before an immense spire.
Glancing around, he finds himself in the middle of some mire.
His body begins to pulse with a terrible ire.
Only then does he see himself upon a burning pyre.
He wakes up, but did not sleep, and has had no respite.
The mind reflects on events of its history; the heart becomes contrite.
He feels a fear begin and wonders at the fright.
His mind is opaque, what day is it? Is it day or night?
Searching his mind for answers, yes answers, that is what I need.
He quells all oppositional doubts, for it is on these things that fear feeds.
I search the dark places, because it is here that doubts breed.
Fear will swell into a devouring beast if I miss even the tiniest seed.
Even now, as I write, I am of two minds.
One is at peace and benevolent and kind.
The other however is cold and ruthless, devious and hard to find.
Ever they battle, one against the other; they’re forever warring in my mind.
The cold calculator sees only losses and gains.
The other must bear my hurts and pains.
One exists to command and flex its sway.
One is there to balance the other and keep it at bay.
Now I am lost, searching for the truth.
But what is the cost? I’m arrogant, belligerent and uncouth.
I’m kind, loving and gentle.
Events are constantly testing my mettle.
Searching, seeking, hoping to find.
Someone to forever call mine.
The days go by, too fast and too slow.
The battles I must fight none will know.
I sit staring at nothing, in a daze.
My memories aren’t clear anymore, like seeing a picture through a haze.
I don’t know who I am, I’m not even sure I care anyway.
Searching for truth, I seem to have lost myself somewhere along the way.
I have seen wondrous things that I never saw.
It is like being imprisoned in a room with no walls.
I am not free, nor am I caged.
I’ve never broken free, despite how I have raged.
Yes, all good things to those who wait.
But I may die from anticipation at this rate.
And still here I am, nigh on ten years later,
I am not dead, and still the anticipator.
I am still caged, but oh how I have raged,
To break free and yet I am still me.
You don't know about what I've seen,
You don't know about where I've been.
You don't care about what I know,
You don't care as to where I go.
I've lived a short life, yet know more than most,
So to pain and sorrow, here's my toast.
You’ve been with me, all my life,
Been with me though peace and strife,
On my left is a sorrow unknowable.
And on my right is pain uncontrollable.
Ever and anon, it seems that I have written,
And many upon many times, been smitten.
By life, love, and the pursuit thereof,
And still I am here, same old worries and fear.

All things come to those who wait.
Yet we are never sure what to anticipate.
And here I sit; it’s getting late.
I try to think; then my thoughts dissipate.
I’m barely lucid; listening to the moonlight.
Early morning shadows, unhidden, dance upon the height.
I watch them dance beyond my line of sight.
I, then, bid them farewell until the next night.
The sky becomes striated, with wondrous colors; then the sun rises.
What things this glorious day will bring, I can only surmise.
I hear a bird hail me; so I watch as it flies.
I see a rabbit on the grass and away he shies.
I look up into the deep sky of dark.
I feel as though my life is so feral and stark.
I am as an overgrown forest awaiting just one spark.
Many are those who tried to find me, but always they missed my mark.
Looking around I begin to search inside.
I know not for what I am searching; yet I can feel it still, though it hides.
As one who is by himself and alone; in himself he confides.
He has his ethos and through life he abides.
He is his own adjudicator on his own continuum.
Ambling through life, looking for love, ad infinitum,
He ceaselessly works on his own decorum.
In his heart rages a fierce and constant forum.
The sound of many voices flows through his head, lulling him to sleep.
He wakes to the voices, and gratuitously he begins to weep.
He then goes on, and like a man upon the height, he leaps,
Taking in the world, looking for some small thing to keep.
The voices, they flay him, screaming to go faster.
They seek to control and guide his steps; yet of himself only he is master.
They spur him on, towards inevitable disaster.
He refuses to listen, as the voices grow ever vaster.
They, then, disappear and silence reigns.
Were they imagined, or are they real? Is he insane?
The memories of them begin to wane.
Then he is alone; the silence becomes maddening, and now comes the pain.
His body is exhausted and he aches, oh, how he hurts.
He tries to reckon, but his mind starts to skirt.
For a fleeting moment he is as a child playing in the dirt.
Without a care in the world, the end of the vision is quite curt.
He is himself and alone; he wonders, was it a dream?
He hasn’t the answer, what does it all mean?

You look at me what do you see
A body bent, misshapen
Features slack with drooling mouth
And fingers constant twitching

The only sounds my mouth escapes
Are grunts that sound so pig like
Body trapped in chair on wheels
No way for me to move it

But spare a thought for me inside
This body that I'm trapped in
My mind is clear, yes I can think
Inside of me I’m normal

I too have hopes, dreams and wishes
Yet no-one I can tell
A prisoner I am of my appearance
Stuck inside this living hell