I have not missed a day from work because of illness since 1956.
quote by Kenneth H. Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Let the Illness In
At first, we both make contact
With mucus membranes,
And we let the illness in.
The fevers we may contract
Fester in our brains,
And we let the illness in.
We won't know how to react
While writhing in pain,
And we let the illness in.
Yet, such is the fate we pick,
Choosing to be sick,
And we let the illness in.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Union Cures The Illness
For any illness,
The symptoms and signs are within oneself, but
The cure is obtaining medicines from source outside;
Whereas,
For the illness of a well jeweled mistress
Who is longing for union with lover,
She herself is the medicine,
Union cures the illness.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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The best doctor prevents illness, an average doctor visits when the illness is imminent, and the unskilled doctor treats your present illness.
Cure For Me
I acquire the cure for my ills,
The solution is final for my illness.
It is death that resides in the middle of life,
I ignore when I am like a fortunate man.
The illness will be cured due to beasts,
They enter the planet through the vacuum.
The illness is again discontinued.
My Satan is conquered for all those watching
So that ill men who see can nevertheless find
The very soul to be complete.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Bussing to Work
Sitting on a boring bus to work,
I dream and stare and read,
grey morning light suffuses us,
we users of this beast
Stops come and go, take people on,
and deposits those who leave.
For destinations unknown,
and of no interest, to me.
Work lies ahead, sleep stays behind,
My missed compatriot.
And you are on your bus to work,
Missed more yet than that.
You sit there in your grey lit suit,
I hope you think of me
Minutes away, so close behind,
I left you on our stop.
Waking up in your arms, so warm,
Still all I want to feel
In mornings cold and busy days,
I think of you and me.
How after this long day of work,
We’ll share togetherness and then
Tomorrow morning after showering
I’ll leave you at the stop again.
poem by Kevin Linnekamp
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In my thoguhts i am alone
In my thoughts i am alone
where i fear no one understands
the pain the illness the sadness
the nightly terrors i handle alone
this experience i cant handle of this illness
they call bipolar the way im defined or labled that
one can not see past to see who i am beyond the illness
who is scared of herself who is caring for others more than herself
who will do anything to make another happy
but for one to meet someone who is 'bipolar' thats what they see
unstable depressed manic angry mood swing mess
but what they dont understand is how stable is not in our world
and it doesnt define us it makes us who we are
this illness we battle alone cause unless you have it
you can never fully understand and even if you do i dont think
we can fully understand it...
alone in this illness
alone in these thoughts
alone is how i feel
i cry alone when i feel alone
i sleep to be alone to feel nothing
to feel nothing or empty is what i need
it would be better than the saddness and hurt and
the feeling of alone
my tears fall alone
i enjoy being alone but the feeling of alone is
something i can not handle
to feel like there is no one
to feel like no one can truely understand or care
i only ache with this fear
i try to cry and scream for help but no one seems to hear
so lost in this illness and how to not feel alone
poem by Juliana Willsey
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Something In The Mist (Written With John Leon)
There was something I had missed,
While passing through the mist
A lonely shadow, or an empty hollow
Not so clear, and cunning
My eyes had missed, but something
'Tis' nothing' I reminisce me uttering
Evading my thoughts and stumbling,
On cobblestone floor
And through deepest darkness
I fled the night
'But what if? ', I soon found myself wondering
Upon trails of translucent light,
Had the perpetual film of air concealed?
A doppelganger, a mare in flight?
Had illness crept inside my mind?
'No' a marauding voice responded,
Placing anchors in my bones
My eyes aloft in search of a vessel,
But in vain, for before me unfolded
A blackened passage, a bereaved chamber
Inhaling the embers of life around me,
Until instinct prevailed motion,
I stood in asylum
And on endless nights that followed,
I dared to dream
Of that opportunity that I missed,
For I never returned to find
What I had passed in the mist
poem by Joseph Ostapiuk
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Killin Time
People polishing guns
Theyve got nothing better to do
Though they think theyre having fun
Theyre just living to die, if they but knew
Now, now
All day long they sit at home
Waiting for the milk to come
Watch them turn into stone
Thinking bout the things they might have done,
Now, now
You missed the point, you missed the point
You really missed the point
Everybodys got to know
Loves the reason were here
No matter which way you go
Loves gonna meet you there
Killing time, killing time
Killing time, killing time
You missed the point, you really missed the point
Made me cry, I wonder why, why
You missed the point, you missed the point
You really missed the point
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear is a question: What are you afraid of, and why? Just as the seed of health is in illness, because illness contains information, your fears are a treasure house of self-knowledge if you explore them.
quote by Marilyn Ferguson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear is a question What are you afraid of, and why Just as the seed of health is in illness, because illness contains information, your fears are a treasure house of self-knowledge if you explore them.
quote by Marilyn Ferguson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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I still when I wake up hit the ground running; and having an illness, I'm only one of hundreds of thousands of people that live with an illness, and I'm just in awe of the bravery and dignity of the people I see at the hospital.
quote by Karen Duffy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They have been deprived nutritionally, or some illness has not been picked up, or they have not been screened for vision or hearing defects, or they have not had some kind of a chronic illness or error of metabolism picked up.
quote by C. Everett Koop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I didn't have a teenage or early-20s experience that was free and without worry. I missed the screw-everything, have-a-good-time phase. I was worried that if I didn't stay on track and work, work, work, I was never going to accomplish anything. Now I'm trying to have fun and have the freedom to do nothing.
Sandra Bullock in Harper's Bazaar
Submitted by Alexandru Uvra
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Depression Is an Illness
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You cannot eat
You cannot sleep
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You cannot cope
You have no hope
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You always cry
You want to die
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
Please seek advice
It could save your life
When you’re feeling overstressed
poem by Donna Caldwell
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“Bound to work”
“Bound to work”
She was ailing with pain.
Work speed was some slow still then she was working.
Why?
She was a worker in a factory.
Work provides food and medicine for her family.
So, she was bound to work in illness also.
She was not telling to the manager about her ailment.
Because it may be possible that manager can sent her on leave with out pay.
And pay was everything for her.
She was a poor worker of a factory having burden of her poor family.
Poverty and burden was her destiny.
I feel that it is the story of unaccountable poor people of the world.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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They'll None of 'Em Be Missed
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list - I've got a little list
Of social offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed - who never would be missed!
There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs -
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs -
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat -
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like THAT -
And all third persons who on spoiling TETE-E-TETES insist -
They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano organist - I've got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed - they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try";
And that FIN-DE-SIECLE anomaly, the scorching motorist -
I don't think he'd be missed - I'm SURE he'd not be missed!
And that NISI PRIUS nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist - I've got HIM on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life -
They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,
Such as - What-d'ye-call-him - Thing'em-Bob, and likewise - Never-
mind,
And 'St - 'st - 'st - and What's-his-name, and also - You-know-who-
(The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to YOU!)
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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After An Illness
AFTER AN ILLNESS
After an illness
The feeling of being alright again
Is a special kind of happiness -
Gratitude and a sense of Blessing
Hope and the feeling of Beginning again-
I have been sick and troubled in my sickness for days now
How good it is to feel I can walk out into the fresh air again
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Do you know what people want more than anything? They want to be missed. They want to be missed the day they don't show up. They want to be missed when they're gone.
quote by Seth Godin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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