En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Angels

Elliot Ray Neiderland, home from college
one winter, hauling a load of Herefords
from Hogtown to Guymon with a pint of
Ezra Brooks and a copy of Rilke’s Duineser
Elegien on the seat beside him, saw the ass-end
of his semi gliding around in the side mirror
as he hit ice and knew he would never live
to see graduation or the castle at Duino.

In the hospital, head wrapped like a gift
(the nurses had stuck a bow on top), he said
four flaming angels crouched on the hood, wings
spread so wide he couldn’t see, and then
the world collapsed. We smiled and passed a flask
around. Little Bill and I sang Your Cheatin’
Heart and laughed, and then a sudden quiet
put a hard edge on the morning and we left.

Siehe, ich lebe, Look, I’m alive, he said,
leaping down the hospital steps. The nurses
waved, white dresses puffed out like pigeons
in the morning breeze. We roared off in my Dodge,
Behold, I come like a thief! he shouted to the town
and gave his life to poetry. He lives, now,
in the south of France. His poems arrive
by mail, and we read them and do not understand.

poem by B.H. Fairchild
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Teachers

I met a woman long ago
Her hair the black that black can go
Are you a teacher of the heart
Soft she answered no.
I met a girl across the sea
Her hair the gold that gold can be
Are you a teacher of the heart
Yes but not for thee.
I met a man who lost his mind
In some lost place I had to find
Follow me the wise man said
But he walked behind.
I walked into a hospital
Where none was sick and none was well
When at night the nurses left
I could not walk at all.
Morning came
And then came noon
Dinner time the scalpel blade
Lay beside my silver spoon
Some girls wander by mistake
Into the mess that scalpels make
Are you the teachers of my heart
We teach old hearts to break.
One morning I woke up alone
The hospital, the nurses gone
Have I carved enough, my lord
Child, you are bone.
I ate and ate and ate,
No, I did not miss a plate
Well, how much do these suppers cost
Well take it out in hate.
I spent my hatred every place
On every work on every face
Someone gave me wishes
And I wished for an embrace.
Several girls embraced me,
Then I was embraced by men
Is my passion perfect
No, do it once again.
I was handsome, I was strong
I knew the words of every song
Did my singing please you
No, the words you sang were wrong.
Who is it whom I address
Who takes down what I confess
Are you the teachers of my heart
We teach old hearts to rest.
Well, teachers are my lessons done
I cannot do another one
They laughed and laughed and said
Well, child are your lessons done.
Are your lessons done
Are your lessons done.

song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Teachers

(leonard cohen)
I met a woman long ago
Her hair the black that black can go,
Are you a teacher of the heart?
Soft she answered no.
I met a girl across the sea,
Her hair the gold that gold can be,
Are you a teacher of the heart?
Yes, but not for thee.
I met a man who lost his mind
In some lost place I had to find,
Follow me the wise man said,
But he walked behind.
I walked into a hospital
Where none was sick and none was well,
When at night the nurses left
I could not walk at all.
Morning came and then came noon,
Dinner time a scalpel blade
Lay beside my silver spoon.
Some girls wander by mistake
Into the mess that scalpels make.
Are you the teachers of my heart?
We teach old hearts to break.
One morning I woke up alone,
The hospital and the nurses gone.
Have I carved enough my lord?
Child, you are a bone.
I ate and ate and ate,
No I did not miss a plate, well
How much do these suppers cost?
Well take it out in hate.
I spent my hatred everyplace,
On every work on every face,
Someone gave me wishes
And I wished for an embrace.
Several girls embraced me, then
I was embraced by men,
Is my passion perfect?
No, do it once again.
I was handsome I was strong,
I knew the words of every song.
Did my singing please you?
No, the words you sang were wrong.
Who is it whom I address,
Who takes down what I confess?
Are you the teachers of my heart?
We teach old hearts to rest.
Oh teachers are my lessons done?
I cannot do another one.
They laughed and laughed and said, well child,
Are your lessons done?
Are your lessons done?
Are your lessons done?

song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching the Nurses Station

Sometimes, it seems so funny
Looking at the nurses station
From my fathers hospital room
When he's in the hospital

Once in a while one will hay hi
And they probable feel funny
But, what can you do about it
When his room is right aacross
From the nurses station

The chair is set just right
Do that you can see them
And you're not looking at them
You're just looking that way

poem by Jerry Abrahamson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wings

I felt wings being put upon my back
I knew there was no turning back
I had left this material world, and took
the steps up to the sky.
I knew I was dead! I just couldn’t understand
How or why. Why did I leave all that I loved
Friends, family, and my loved ones
To climb the steps up to the sky.
WHY? WHY? WHY?
This question kept pounding in my brain.
What did I do, am I going insane?
If I am dead, what am I doing here?
I feel myself walking on the ground.
Yet! I don’t hear no words, no sounds.
Am I between heaven and hell?
Then what am I doing here.?
Then I heard a voice say:
Sometimes spirits find it hard to leave
For in their hearts they do grieve.
You will learn that things are not what they seem to be
There is a difference between spiritual and reality.
They both walk side by side, and can affect you
No matter what you try.
You was chosen to leave this world
And that’s the reason you have those wings
For you will be into everything.
You will show people love, compassion, hope, and faith
Before it becomes much too late.
You will show people how to care, and how to share
How to give strength when there’s no one there.
How to move on in life, and go thru the struggles and strife.
There are so many things that you must do
That’s the reason that I picked you.
So spread your wings and spread them wide
For you have a long ways to fly.
There is someone waiting for you, and when you
Get there, you’ll know what to do.
So I flew to where he said: this was something I did dread.
The person that he sent me to see, was a relative that I once knew
Cancer cells were eating her away, and by her side her family did pray.
Somehow she saw me when I entered the room
She asked me if it was time- I said it was much too soon.
I told her she had to make peace with everyone she knew
And that would take a day or two.
She smiled and said: I understand!
Will you sit and hold my hand.
I held her hand till it was time to depart
For her new life was about to start.
She saw a band of angels in back of me
And they all began to sing.
HALLELUJAH TO THE NEW BORN KING
Now I felt that I earned my wings
Bringing people home was an exhilarating thing.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moving Oleta

Moving Oleta was the hardest thing he'd done
The nurses saw an old woman cryin'
But he saw the love of his life
She don't know where she is
But she knows this isn't home
Love is a hard, hard road
He met her in the summer of thirty-seven
In a brush arbor down on the Rush Creek shore
He loved her black hair and the mischief in her smile
But she won him with her eyes
All the years and children gone
He still sees her the same
Love is a hard, hard road
He woke up and mornin' and drove into town
He stayed all day til her dinner came
Then he took her to her room
Leaned on her wheelchair like a walker
And covered her with a quilt that she'd made
Only God and a couple of nurses
Helped the old man shoulder the load
Love is a hard, hard road
He said "They tell me this is all that's left,
Say this hell on earth is best,
I list all those reasons and I still don't understand"
He cursed his body old and weak
Tears of failure burned his cheeks
He said "Oh, don't you know I prayed to die before this day"
Love is a hard, hard road
There's a shadow much darker than the shadow of death
When you fear the reaper might not come today
They line 'em up in Laz-E-Boys out in the sunroom
The TV keeps the quiet away
She can't recall his name
And she's the only love he's known
Love is a hard, hard road
Love is a hard, hard road
Moving Oleta was the hardest thing he'd done

song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hospital Food

Coming down through the alley
Trying to walk without a sound
It doesnt really matter
cause there aint no one around
Tip toe through the alley and
Tip toe through your life
You still got it coming
Be it gun be it knife
Next thing you know
Youre eating hospital food
Karaoke castration
Take the wasp alive
Hes gonna sting you anyway
And take you to the hive
Yesterday was suckin and
Tomorrows looking bad
Who knew that today
Was the only thing I had
Hospital food
Want some hospital food
Hospital food
Delicious hospital food
In your tribute album to the world
You must never forget
To sing the one about the cat
Whos always getting wet
He always got a problem
Hes a very bitter dude
And now hes complaining
About his hospital food
Hospital food
Its gonna help the medicine go down
Want some hospital food
Gonna take a walk without a sound
A little hospital food
Helps the spoonful of sugar come up
I want some hospital food
In your blender and in my cup

song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are We Ill?

How many men are against us when we are ill?
Illness desires you as a last resort, when ill.
The magnificent and the abhorrent ailments
Need both cures, again and again in the hospital.
The hospital is for doctors who care,
And the nurses are fearful of you.
Patients need patience to adore the health
Of a nation in pity for their condition.
The pities are seldom seen in youth
As they are in public or private.
May the men who are against us be quiet
Now that illness is the past.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Still Smiling........

Smiled When Mother Took Me Into Her Arms For The First Time,
Smiled When Saw World Outside The Hospital For The First Time,
Smiled Whenever Went To School,
Smiled Even Being Laughed At....
And Called A Fool....
Smiled When Stood First In The Class,
Smiled When I Wasn't Misunderstood..... At Last!
Smiled When My Poem Was Said Wow!
Smiled When Realised That Only Day Is Today....
And Time Is Now......
Smiled When Got My 'True' Love,
Smiled As I Always Felt We Are Two Doves,
Smiled Even When Came To Know He's Not Mine,
Smiled Even When He Married My Friend.....
And Raised A Toast Of Wine,
Smiled Even When Lost Every Hope,
Smiled Even When Wasn't Able To Cope,
Smiled Even When Knew My End Is Near,
Smiled And Enjoyed Cutting My Nerve.......
No Fear...............
Smiled At Every Moment Of My Life,
Whenever, Wherever And Never Cried.............

But Now, I'm Lying Under A White Cover,
Father Putting Me On Fire.........
With No Blessings Left To Shower.....
People Around Have Nothing To Do With My Death
But Are Crying.........
And I'm............
Still Smiling.................................

poem by Apurva Jain
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Noon Break Eroticism

the night shift must have been so
damning
the dying screams, the latest victims
of the night wanting emergency attention
the doctors are at home sleeping
and some nurses are sleeping
on their desks
and there
marvin wakes up from his deep slumber
washes his face
combs his hair
and does his routinary toilet
gets this tissue
and wipes his
skin under
reflected by this dirty-white
bowl

he stands up, pulls his brief
and pants and zips
and then he washes his hands
with soap and water
goes out of the toilet
faces the coming nurses
and takes his
late breakfast

the morning is so boring
and it is noonday
back again
to this eroticism

the shemales with
some blowjobs
the virgins with fears
and his groans

that no one hears
in the government hospital

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The aged poet. For Kealan if

When he was young
and life was poetry
and poetry was life
and girls made poetry
in his heart

he’d showed his poems to
an aged poet who
was quiet a while then
nodded his head and
smiled and
said ‘keep writing’

and he swore that day
as long as he could hold a pen
he’d write some sort of poetry

and so he did and so he did

and when he was
too old to hold a pen
he spoke his poetry
some say in an Irish pub

and people came from miles around
and said sure it was a t’ousand times
better than to read his poems on the page
which was itself worth –
and that last phrase was poetry
for who is not Irish and a poet

and when he was too old
to walk down to the pub

they came and listened
at his door and at his window

and when he was too old to speak
they came to see his silence

and left as poets
for their head
had joined their heart

poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Blind Girl

she was blind
but that is life
relentless life
she was blind
but young and beautiful
blonde
like an angel in heaven
sometimes she feels
as if she is in prison
sometimes cries and weeps lonely..all alone
sighing
like every woman
this young beautiful girl has also a heart
to love and to be loved by
she sometimes giggles and soimetimes laughs
in whispers and in louds
it was life
relentless life
she was blind and blonde
she was young and beautiful
and like every other woman has a heart
never the less
in anyway
her parents left her to a mental hospital
in which the government had put me in
to live and to be protected
because the beauty is always
in danger on this world
angels cannot survive alone on this world
it is a relentless cruel and cruel world
she was blind
she was beautiful
she was blonde
she had also a heart like every woman to be loved
i talked wih her in whisper noise
she loved my voice
and reconciled a bit
one day
on a sunday morning
she came from closed section to visit me
and drink tea with me
smiling and with joy
i tried to boil the water
just then
as always in my life
seeing the beauty near me
the nurse came angrily
did her duty again
she scolded the blind beauty
what are you doing here with this man
go to your section
a very cruel thing to mention
this happened long long ago
in the mental hospital i was staying too
the beautiful blind dissappeared and flew away
weeping..fearing and crying
where had she gone
i have never known
I have never seen her again
she was beautiful and young
blonde as an angel
she had also a heart to love and to be loved by
but it is that relentless life
she was blind
and the world and its nurses are cruel and relentless too
where must this angel be
that was long long ago
perhaps she is in heaven
may be happy there
flying flying and flying with joy
nobody will never know
may be waiting for my voice
to call her

Metin SAHIN

poem by Metin Sahin
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The Doctor Said

The stroke was bad, and arriving at the hospital
we expected hushed, grim words
from the preoccupied doctor.
The doctor said it was brain-stem, hopeless;
the coma was total; his mind, the doctor said,
was at the bottom of a deep well.

So we entered his room and
saw the machinery of life-support,
reassuring noises, glowing red displays,
tubes and wires tethering his shattered mind to the bed.

The doctor said that Ed would not come back,
and we should cut off the milky food
flowing down a clear tube to his still living gut,
and give him a gentle death by starvation;
it would not be painful, the doctor knowingly said.

But his coma was so restless and active,
his eyes were wide and darting,
his mouth opened, as though to speak,
and his legs rose and fell,
like he was walking to Sunday Mass.

He looked alive, so we refused
and directed the nurses
to keep hope flowing,
at least for now.

When it was my turn to sit with him,
I said, “Hey Ed! You know,
I’ve been drinking all your beer at home, ” and he smiled
and looked at me with humor and said, “ohhh? ”

But the doctor said it was automatic reflex,
and smiled indulgently at me.

The next morning the doctor,
(expecting no response) said,
“Hello Ed. How are we feeling today? ”
but stopped, nothing to say at last,
when Ed replied, “Lousy! ”

Ed lived for the next three years
as grandchildren were born,
baptisms were witnessed,
and first communions were celebrated,

and ready at last, he died
one bright, peaceful
April morning,
with nothing more
to be said.

poem by Steven Federle
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Why God Gave Her So Many Miseries?

With no money in the
Pocket
I was lying on the road
Writhing in pain
When passing by me
She saw me
Stopped by my side
Gave me water to drink
Took me the hospital
Got me treated
Paid for the treatment
As soon as I recovered
To my astonishment
She vanished in thin air
I asked the hospital staff
If anybody knew her
I got an answer
That left me speechless
She was a lonely widow
Living on meager income
She was suffering from
Cancer
Her days were numbered
Her gesture left me startled
To me she was a god sent
Angel
She forget her misery
To help me
I failed to understand
Why god gave her
So many miseries

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The Ambulance that Got Away

When Grandpa suffered a turn, we
Called the ambulance, right away,
They strapped him onto a gurney
So he couldn't sit up, or sway,
‘We'll see you up at the hospital, '
We cried, as we waved him well,
The ambulance went with bells and lights
Like a demon bound for hell!

Grandma wasn't at home, we
Had to phone her on the cell,
She couldn't come back just then, she said
She was having a fainting spell,
So we waited until he was settled in
Then drove in a convoy down,
To the hospital at Ullarook,
Just fifty miles from town.

The nurse at the desk said: ‘No-one here
By the name of Alfred Groom,
We only have private patients here,
We bed them, one to a room,
If he hasn't got private cover, then
You'll have to look elsewhere,
Maybe the ambulance took him off
To the hospital at Bulnare.'

We phoned the hospital at Bulnare:
‘He hasn't been seen round here,
There was an ambulance, come to think,
But he left with a flea in his ear!
We don't take patients from out of town
There's few enough beds for us,
He's probably over at Gundacoot,
They run their own private bus.'

We drove ten miles to Gundacoot,
An ambulance sat in the drive,
We thought, ‘Thank God, he must be here!
Let's hope that he's still alive! '
We all raced in through the sliding doors
And crowded around the Nurse:
‘Who? Alfred Groom, in a private room?
Not here! ' We left with a curse!

We split up the convoy into two,
I drove to the nearest town,
A middling place called Jerribee
With a hospital, quite run down,
‘The government cut our funding, '
Said the Nurse in the parking bay,
‘We shut down twenty beds last week,
Your Dad isn't here today.'

My son had travelled the other way
To Inkermine on the coast,
The hospital there had a hundred beds
The locals were wont to boast,
‘He's isn't here, but the ambulance
Was spotted on leaving town, '
My son had sighed on his endless ride
When he called on the mobile phone.

That night when Grandma got her breath
She went to the ambulance place,
She battered him with her umbrella
Knocking his glasses clean off his face:
‘Where did you take him, tell me now
Or I'll have to call the police!
What? Are your ears painted on! '
‘We took him to Bungaleese! '

The only place that would take him was
The Medical Clinic there,
It isn't even a hospital
And you sit on a leather chair,
When we finally got to Bungaleese
Grandpa could barely talk,
We said, ‘We'll get you an ambulance! '
‘No thanks, ' he growled, ‘I'll walk! '

29 August 2012

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Forgivness

Forgiveness.

It was dawn in Calcutta; I had spent the night in
a bar with no name, when I came upon a hospital
in a side street, a place for the dying. Two nurses
in white uniforms with blue borders - they were
nuns- twins, poke marked, elderly, had prominent
noses and dark penetrating eyes. They led me to
a room were an ancient woman lie dying on a mat,
she smiled held out her hand and asked me what
had taken me so long? I told her of my endless
journeying, all the obstacles in my way and how
I regretted my lateness. She smiled glad that she
could see me a last time; then she died. Twilight,
long shadows a day was ending and I had been
forgiven for not knowing I was loved and missed.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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White Girl

The white girl came to an expected end
after she took Charlie as a friend.
There was only one way for her to go
when she slid that slope of snow.

You could plainly see her slow demise
with dilated pupils and reddened eyes.
Her lack of appetite and loss of weight,
incessant talking which wouldn’t abate.

She ground her teeth and couldn’t keep still
and giggled on to her next tripping pill.
Rhubarb and custard, and snappers too
left her vomiting and asleep in the loo.

Everyone knew that this couldn’t go on,
but she was out of it and too far gone.
One morning she was found out of her head
and died of an overdose in a hospital bed.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Stories Of Hope Series #11 Adopted Child

The child was brought into this world
By an un wanting mother, did not have
any family, no sisters, no brothers.
But was adopted from birth by a woman
Who was seeking a child, and didn’t
Have any of her own for quite awhile.

This child was loved, like he could never know
Because as a mother her love she did show.
Never had a need or want for anything in life
Never knew about the mothers struggles or strife.

The child at times would question as to why
he was from a one parent family.
She told him that it was the way she wanted it to be.
She loved this child more than life itself
And in her heart this child would dwell.

Then one day before high school graduation
He had needed papers of when and where
He was born documentation.
He knew his mother kept the important
Papers in a metal box- which was always kept locked.

He found the key to the box, and opened it
Up with care, and with his mother the reason
He would share.
He found an envelope dated 1/29/92
Which was his birth date, that much he knew.

He opened the envelope and saw the heading
“ certificate of birth” on the first paper he took out.
As he opened it up and started to read
Where it said parents names, was blank as can be.

He waited for his mother to get home
And then the papers would be shown.
When she got home he asked her why there was no names?
She put her head down and said: she was to blame.
You see: you was left on the hospital steps
With a note attached to you blanket saying:
“She could not take care of you
And this was the best that she could do.”

Being a nurse in that hospital, I fell in love with you
And I went through the process to adopt you.
I have loved you from the start, and you’ve
Filled my soul and heart.
No one can love you more than I
And I will love you till the day I die.

The tears started rolling down her face
And he kissed her tears away.
He said: you are the only mother I have ever known
And because of you, I have a family.
“ that could never change for me”.

I’m so sorry that I never told you my son
And for any hurt that I may have done.
I just wanted to protect you
That is all I wanted to do.

They both shed their tears, and comforted their fears.
He said: I decided that I would go to the court of records
And change it for all to see, that you are
The only mother for me.

On his birth certificate they attached a stipulation
Which read: this woman became his mother from
The moment that he was found
And this case has become world renown.

Because of the hope she had in her heart
Her and her son got a brand new start.

HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brazilian Cafe

Grey Hospital and a Brazilian Café.

The hotel where I stayed served lousy coffee, insipid and milky.
I knew there was a Brazilian café nearby, on my way there walked
past the closed down city hospital. Grey walls dripping of uncured
diseases, graffiti and dead windows. Convert it into an office block,
but who wants to work there, a place haunted by cynical doctors and
indifferent nurses who stalk the halls at night waiting for their shift
to end so they can get out from this place of horror, and patients
they have lost interest in and can do nothing for. Tear it down and
throw the debris down a gully. At the Brazilian café the coffee was
strong and healthy; the staff, young, moved as dancers to the music
in the background. There is much of Africa in the Brazilian soul,
passionate, courageous; yet, sometimes, viciously moody.
The girl who served me coffee, smiled with lips and eyes, her skin
dark, glowing… fit. And the sad hospital faded into oblivion.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Midnight greyhound

As you lay there, fast asleep alone,
Ive packed my bag and gently kiss your crown,
as you read this who would of known,
that im miles away and your left on your own.

know I tried to be the best that I could,
I tried so hard, my lifes so misunderstood,
if I stayed here, it wouldn't of done any good,
leading seperate lives on this ocean, casting out deadwood.

The misery spread like cancer throughout my viens,
and I couldn't live a lie, not all over again,
as I wait here to board this bus out in the rain,
my love for you has gone, as my heart it unchains.

I shall sit down and think of better times that we had,
please don't begin to cry or get too mad,
just lead your life, find somebody new and be glad,
that am not around singing the same old ballad.

Impossible, yes, you were at times to get through,
I couldn't spend all my days the same with someone like you,
when we didn't talk, touch or smile, I thought you knew,
that this day will arrive and it will end us two.

poem by D.A. Woods
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without IT she couldn't fly

She glared at the dark night sky,
Her gentle skin had felt the rain,
She spread her wings, prepared to fly
But crouched down in awful pain.

She jumped into the hell not sky,
Her snow white wings are now black
Whith IT she used to reach so high,
And now for her there's no turning back.

She stood and glared at night sky,
Her dirty clothes are soaking wet,
If only she didn't fly
Her mind of not been now dead.

She took a look apon the sky,
For very last time- spread her wings,
A silver blade had raised up high
LIke lightning it had split her wrists.

The girl collapsed in need of dose,
Without it she couldn't fly
' So why I need to live? ' she froze
A needle had appeared in the sky.

She reached for it, but it's too high,
Her brown eyes- are now blanc,
'COCANE' her mind had begging- wishpered back,
As life had left her in the dark...

poem by Snejana Novosedlova
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