Colonoscopy.....My Second One.....[LONG; Medical; Personal; Humor? ] Humor
Despite all that could've gone 'wrong', the procedure did go well,
And next week Dr. Kao, to me, the lab results will tell.
I left the office wide awake, and, without sedation, feeling fine.
As I walked some blocks to meet my wife, on a banana and muffin I did dine.
I'd suggest pre-op and post-op post cards to keep patients on right track,
Especially for us 'older' patients who, sometimes, perfect memories lack.
The pre-op handout I received could be clearer; ask me if you dare.
The post-op handout was clearer, but I almost forgot I had it, I swear!
The pre-op telephone call to me (ask me about it) Dr. Kao might abhor.
The post-op call was a nice touch, but might not have helped if I'd passed out at home on the floor.
It's been ten days at least and daily aspirin dose (I'd stopped taking) is overdue.......but
My bowel's remembered, pretty well, how to handle the food I under-chew.
Roger reacted well to my idea of hiding fake poop; it was a 'joke'.
I'm glad he didn't laugh convulsively and through my bowel wall poke.
It seemed a short 'procedure' after such a long home preparation.
Sort of reminds me of the frequently-long buildup to a short ejaculation!
We don't watch 'tv' much at home, but the tour of colon I enjoyed.
I trust the job was done 'right' as doc and nurse their skills employed.
Discomfort I had some, but minor. I never was a hurtin'.
Afterward I waited to 'pass the gas' till I was hid back behind bed curtain.
(July 2011)
poem by Bri Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
My home is in you
A home
Doesn’t have four corner post
To call it a home and to stand on its own
As long as your love is strong
I don’t need that four corner post
A home
Doesn’t have four big walls
To call it a home and to protect me when nature calls
As long as your arms is around me
I don’t need those four big walls
A home
Doesn’t have to be in an isolated place
To call it a home and to find a solemn inner peace
As long as I have you near me
I don’t have to be in an isolated place
A home
Doesn’t have to constructed materially
To find all the comfort and call it a home
As long as I have you and your love
I don’t need to built a home for my home is in you
12.18.05
poem by Sweet Seven
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wish To Be Wrong....
i've been looking for myself
i know where
and so i went in you
where i can be home
i feel this frenzy
of heart bursting into flames
i dare
look longer to that place where
i am truly me
there is this tension that swings from
ecstasy to ecstasy
there is this call to go back and be at peace
it is from faraway now
i dare not to listen
i am now at home and i gaze at that which makes me feel at home
on the night where i never sleep
but is never tired till
the next light of my day
there is an outburst
of emotional eruptions like geysers from a pool
i watch it
long enough and dare myself to be just there
standing
in such stillness of
a post
now without feeling anything anymore
it is then when i wish i should have been wrong
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
October the Post Office Cat
Some thought she was a stray
That had come for scraps along the way
That might be left from the lunch
Of the post office staff; a kindly bunch.
But others knew her for what she was,
October the Post Office Cat.
She had a duty like any employee
To be on time and serve the public daily
And as any other as all know,
Had an official position just so.
October the Post Office Cat.
As soon as the walks were swept
And the doors were opened for the daily visits,
She found her space upon the walk
A bit removed so that none would balk
As they came to do their task or mail whatever.
October the Post Office Cat.
She often times was given the duty
Of minding some child whose custodian
Had business to attend
In dealing with the letters or packages within,
So she laid there carefully in the sun
Till end of day when her work was done.
October the Post Office Cat.
She was known by all who came along that way
Parking carefully throughout the day
Making sure that she was not disturbed
As she, her duties did perform.
Watching and listening to the sounds of pleasure
That only can be bestowed on one to treasure.
Yet adults knew not how to measure.
October the Post Office Cat.
On the post across the way
A yellow sign was placed on display
By the lady who ran the insurance office
Who wanted to be sure that others notice
That this was the path taken each day
As the cat came to begin her official stay.
October the Post Office Cat.
There came a time when she did not appear
And it was certainly a time to fear
That something had befallen this special one
Who worked so hard to please everyone
And the sign was removed so that all would know
That she wouldn't be there anymore.
October the Post Office Cat.
Then mysteriously the sign reappeared
On the post for all to read
Which proclaimed that this was the crossing
Reserved for the cat that all were missing.
And it's said that she comes each day
Although never seen by adults on their way
But the children know that she is there.
October the Post Office Cat.
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Do Not Post Your Poem Here
Do not post your poem here
Unless you've something worth a say!
You must not waste a space like this,
For space can waste away!
Do not post your poem here
With words which make no sense!
Be careful when you post it here
That you use the proper tense!
Do not post your poem here
Just to fill a space with words!
A poem should be well thought out,
Was it meant to be absurd?
Do not post your poem here
If in cliches you would write.
A poem should be fresh, yes sharp -
You'll know when it's just right!
Do not post your poem here
Just to see yourself in print.
You're wasting others time you know
With such, self centred stints!
I wil not post my poem here,
This one does not exist,
But did I tell you at the start
That I'm a nihilist?
poem by Joe Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
FEEL AGAIN - Song Lyrics
Passing by my eyes
Are people living lives
They flow before my gaze
Just like the memories
In my mind
I watch them from
My hiding place
In shadows so
To hide my face
And as they pass
The memories flash
Of how it felt to feel that way
And home…
I long for home…
Where is my home…
Please take me home…
Home…
Please take me home…
Where is my home…
I long for home…
I watch the people
Not because
I wanna be their friend
I watch them not
Because I hope to know
Them in the end
I simply watch
And ask myself
Why do I feel this way
How did I get here
Can I hope
To feel again someday
To feel the feelings
That they feel…
To hope, to love, to cry
To fall and feel the pain
Or rise in triumph to the sky
And home…
I long for home…
Where is my home…
Please take me home…
Home…
Please take me home…
Where is my home…
I long for home…
All I have are memories
Of the times
When things were good
Memories of the days
Of when I felt
The way I should
Memories now that
Flow before the view
Inside my mind
Just as the passing people
Flow before my open eyes
Oh God! How can I be
Like them
Is there a way to
Start again
I know there is
I know its there
I’ll find it
I don’t ****ing care
What I have to go through
What I lose and what I lack
I know my heart
Can feel again
If I can only
Find my way back
Home…
I’m going home…
This is my home…
It feels like home…
Home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
Home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
This feels like home…
I’m finally home
…Jeff Bresee
poem by Jeff Bresee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Old Town Types No. 26 - Dr. Andy Deveraux
Some saw in him a Scottish wreck; some said that he was mad;
A few proclaimed his genius, but all agreed 'twas sad
That Doctor Andy Deveraux had let things slide so far.
'A mighty clever cove,' they said, 'but weak, and - there you are.'
For down at Paddy Clancy's bar you find him night or day,
A silent and sardonic man, who went his bitter way.
'Last night,' some housewife would exclaim, 'I thought I'd seen a ghost;
'Twas that awful Doctor Deveraux, going home by post.'
'Going home by post,' they said. A sorry township jest;
Long since had Clancy tackled him, and had to give him best.
''Tis under this 'Blackfeller's Act' I'll put yeh! Not a sup!'
But the bitter tongue had lashed him till he gladly gave it up.
So Deveraux would drink alone, brooding, till wits grew dense,
Then sought his own home, late at night, along the three-wire fence;
From post to post, in staggering spurts, he made his shameful way.
'Doc's going home by post,' men sneered. 'Broke out again today.'
None knew his story in the town nor, clearly, whence he came;
Nor yet what foul thing rode him - what sorrow or what shame -
To cause a once fine, brilliant mind (as his degrees inferred),
Its urge to brief forgetfulness. And Deveraux spoke no word.
Long since, kind Doctor Littlejohn had sought to play the friend,
To meet a wall of fierce reserve, and get snubbed in the end.
So age and drink took Deveraux, and he sank down and down,
To be a thing for men's contempt, the butt of half the town.
Some say it was a drunken freak; some say a hero's act,
An epic of self-sacrifice. Yet there remains the fact
That there's a tale in that old town men tell until today,
And I have gained thro' hearsay, for I'd been long away.
The details are a little vague - a garbled tale and wild,
Of how the drunken Deveraux died to save a stricken child.
And whether by the truth or by tradition 'twas devised,
I only know that there today he has been canonised.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Post-Modern Poetry
The post-modern poem is the poet's surprise-
It has no agenda but its own interpretation-
It reads the ‘expressive I' as an infinite longing of the soul
To know and be known-
It writes out of many different places
But finds it difficult to call one its home-
It has many names and voices
But none speaks with an authoritative rhythm -
It is only its own alone home
And so I writing it know
It will not be found in me by those who write it as their own-
Chaos, perhaps, is its signature,
And loss of all the ancient rhythms and forms-
It wants to wander where it will as it does -
But I, I thinking back to what we were
And remembering years of reading others
Know too its voices are many even within the single self-
There is no ‘modern' anymore and no ‘post- modern' either
In the age where everything is accessible
And all is easily found and communicated
The single soul's signature cannot mean a name is real -
Only where all effort is and fails
Only where nobody really is
Only where many write and no one can really read
Perhaps beyond this
Beyond post- modern poetry
This poem too will teach Poetry how to live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whipping Post
I been run down, I been lied to,
I dont know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now shes with one of my goodtime buddies,
Theyre drinkin in some crosstown bar.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
My friends tell me, that Ive been such a fool,
And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what youve down.
But nothin seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And I cant run.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.
Transcribed by rich kulawiec, [email protected]
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Whipping Post
I been run down, i been lied to,
I don't know why i let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now she's with one of my goodtime buddies,
They're drinkin' in some crosstown bar.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
My friends tell me, that i've been such a fool,
And i have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and i look at what you've down.
But nothin' seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And i can't run.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
Sometimes i feel, sometimes i feel,
Like i been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, i feel like i'm dyin'.
Transcribed by rich kulawiec, [email protected]
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Take The Long Way Home
So you think youre a romeo
Playing a part in a picture-show
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
Cos youre the joke of the neighborhood
Why should you care if youre feeling good
Take the long way home
Take the long way home
But there are times that you feel youre part of the scenery
All the greenery is comin down, boy
And then your wife seems to think youre part of the
Furniture oh, its peculiar, she used to be so nice.
When lonely days turn to lonely nights
You take a trip to the city lights
And take the long way home
Take the long way home
You never see what you want to see
Forever playing to the gallery
You take the long way home
Take the long way home
And when youre up on the stage, its so unbelievable,
Unforgettable, how they adore you,
But then your wife seems to think youre losing your sanity,
Oh, calamity, is there no way out?
Does it feel that you lifes become a catastrophe?
Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.
When you look through the years and see what you could
Have been oh, what might have been,
If youd had more time.
So, when the day comes to settle down,
Whos to blame if youre not around?
You took the long way home
You took the long way home...........
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Idealism that makes no distinction between areas where our national interest lies and those from which it is remote does no good for America. The weariness of the post-Versailles, post-Korea, post-Vietnam eras is never far from the national mood.
quote by Dick Morris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
This Is Not Your Country
Road blocks and fire
Barb wire upon barb wire
This is not your country
Armoured cars, corrugated scars
Grafitti scrawls:
This is not your country
Home sweet fortress
Gunshot - we hate your kind
Get back !
This is not your country
I need some air
And Im stopped and repeatedly questioned:
Born and raised ?
But this is not my country
Were old news
Alls well
Say bbc scum
One child shot, but so what ?
Laid my son
In a box, three feet long
And I still dont know why
A short walk home becomes a run
And Im scared
In my own country
Were old news
Alls well
Say bbc scum
Everybodys under control
Of our surveillance globes
Were old news
Alls well
And thirty years could be a thousand
And this peugeot ad
Spins round in my head
British soldier pointing a gun
And Im only trying to post a letter
A short walk home becomes a run
And Im scared, and Im scared, I am scared
Old news
Alls well
Bbc scum
Youve got more than the dead, so zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Youve got more than the dead, so zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Youve got more than the dead, so zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Zip up your mouth
Youve got more than the dead, so zip up your mouth
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To Every Girl
To every girl that's said, 'Sex CAN wait'
To every girl that's said, 'You're handsome.'
To every girl that was never too busy to drive across town to see him.
To every girl that gives flowers and a card when he is sick.
To every girl who has given him flowers just because.
To every girl that said she would die for him.
To every girl that really would.
To every girl that took time to do what he wanted to do.
To every girl that he cried in front of.
To every girl that holds hands with him.
To every girl that kisses him with meaning.
To every girl that hugs him when he's sad.
To every girl that hugs him for no reason at all.
To every girl who would give their jacket up for him.
To every girl that calls to make sure he got home safe.
To every girl that would sit and wait for him for hours
just to see him for ten minutes.
To every girl that would give her seat up.
To every girl that just wants to cuddle.
To every girl that reassured that he was handsome
no matter what.
To every girl who told her secrets to him.
To every girl that tried to show how much she cared
through every word and every breath.
To every girl that thought maybe this could be the one.
To every girl that believed in his dreams.
To every girl that would have done anything
so he could achieve them.
To every girl that never laughed at him
when she told him her dreams.
To every girl that walked him to his car.
To every girl that gave her heart.
To every girl who prays that he is happy
even if she is not with him.
...This one bulletin is for you...
Not many girls appreciate nice guys anymore...
And because of this, there are not many left out there...
I guarantee 90% of the women on your page will not re post this because they care more about their image
If you are a nice girl re post this with 'We're a Dying Breed '
If you are a guy that thinks every girl should treat a guy this way
re post this with: 'To Every Girl...'
poem by Eliot Perez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
10/31/2007 Command Post Controller
I work in the command post,
You wouldn’t know there everywhere from coast to coast.
We work while everyone else is wake and sleeping,
We do things that help our nations safe keeping.
No one understands the command post because,
No one fully grasps what the command post does.
Know this though,
Controllers are at work even in the snow.
Holidays we are still here,
24-7 every day of the year.
I work in the command post,
Family I miss the most.
But I don’t gripe nor complain,
I’m proud to serve I have no shame.
Next time your working your nine to five,
Remember controllers actions help keep you alive.
When you lay your head down and asleep you drift,
Remember a command post controller is still on shift.
poem by Coreena Dejesus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Long Way Home
Well I stumbled in the darkness
I'm lost and alone
Though I said I'd go before us
And show the way back home
Is there a light up ahead
I can't hold on very long
Forgive me pretty baby but I always take the long way home
Money's just something you throw
Off the back of a train
Got a headful of lightning
And a hat full of rain
And I know that I said
I'd never do it again
Oh and I love you sweet baby but I always take the long way home
I put food on the table
And roof over your head
But I'd trade it all tomorrow
For The highway instead
Watch your back if I should tell
Youre loves the only thing I've ever known
One thing for sure sweet baby I always take the long way home
You know I love you baby
More than the whole wide world
Im your woman
You know you are my pearl
Let's go out past the party lights
Where we can finally be alone
Come with me and we can take the long way home
Come with me, together we can take the long way home
Come with me, together we can take the long way home
song performed by by Norah Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Just Got Back
Words and music by rick nielsen
Well just got back
Been gone too long
Wasnt my idea, didnt pull the trigger
Oh oh oh I i I Im just so glad
Im just so glad to be back home, yeah
I just got back
Been a long long time
Wasnt my idea, didnt point the finger
Oh oh oh I i I Im just so glad
Im just so glad to go home
You run the risk of falling
With some solitary sam
Ive sailed the seven sins a poly-future plan
A. paul calypso
Isnt really what it seems
This aint committee art
My god, is it a dream?
I just got back
I been asleep too long
Wasnt my idea what the doctor figured
Oh oh oh I i I Im just so glad
Im just so glad, Im just so glad, Im just so glad
To be back home
No no no no no no no no
Im just so glad
No no no no no no no no
Im just so glad
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Easter Rising
eiri amach na casca
(the Easter rising)
The Proclamation had met with silence,
he must have known the fight was lost,
But, Connolly, faithful to the Cause,
Was accepting of its cost.
They took the Green, The inns of Court,
the Post on Sackville Street
De Valera stood at Bolandʼ s mill
the place where five roads meet.
Their commander, Pearse, a scholar,
Apportioned his menʼ s lives,
To garrison each strong point
Till the British would arrive.
Their tactics were pure suicide-
They could not hope to stand,
But their strategy was brilliant
Meant to rouse a sleeping land.
Sure to die of a snipers bullet-
Or a British firing squad
These unabashed Republicans
Held out against long odds..
Bloodied by the Rebel guns,
The foe paid dear for ground
The general post office was in flames
as their gunboats shelled our town.
The week crawled past and Dublin burned
The post Office glowed White hot
Pearse watched his troop dwindle and fade.
Faint from shell and shock..
They gave up to be crucified
In Imperial British fashion
And by dying saved their country.
Their deaths brought her resurrection.
The British with their firing squad
Could ready, aim and fire.
The Brotherhood by dying
Could persuade, convince, inspire
From the graves of these patriot men
Was an Irish nation grown.
Their struggle at the post office
Still captured in itsʼ stone.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Wait For My Turn In The Post- Office
I WAIT FOR MY TURN IN THE POST- OFFICE
I wait for my turn in the post- office
Impatience breathes all around me
I tell myself to be quiet-
I am seated after all
And now have a pen in my hand.
Others can waste time waiting
But I will write a few lines for Eternity
I remember the agitation
The sense of meaninglessness
Which have accompanied me all day today
And yesterday
And many days
And all my days.
I write these lines
With relief,
As if I am really doing something.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Love Letter Received By A Wrong Person!
A letter intended for someone, received,
The post man clouded with confused doubts,
As the letter was registered, a sign needed,
When the cloaked person's same old pen signed,
The post man smiled at his pretentious friend,
Whom he knew for many months, the elf,
Changed into a seraph, fully made up,
when The sleeve was pulled up, wrinkles seen,
The same old name carried same old IC number,
He scratched his head with unbelief,
Why a person must put make up as old and young,
Even at his own home, either he wanted to impress,
Himself or fool the visitors who are unaware.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Autumn Post Mortem
Kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
leaves like the chameleonic colours of spectral spring and
time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem
Memories not so self conscious as to requisition mourning
lights always changing and another day's sure to bring
kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
The night then is bright with day's approaching light
sufferance of deep space sprouting telephonic ring
as time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem
And my uncertainty is once again clouded with certainty
clearing the haze of successive summer days and heralding
kindred spirits strolling through your amber autumn
For in time the peace of patients and their lonely hearts
broken impart curtains scarlet softly spoken diamond sing
as time's shedding past lives preparatory to post mortem