Bullet Below Her Breast (missed...udderly)
Sad, Saggy Saga
Ninety three year old lady,
sad and bereft
By her beloved husband’s
untimely death
Decided to join him
and no longer be apart
Twould best be done
by a bullet to the heart
To her doctor posed the question,
“exactly where does my heart rest”
The doctor replied,
“just below your left breast”
Gunshot under her left breast
Failed to set her free
She was admitted to hospital
With gunshot wound to left knee
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Hand That Feeds
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Please, doctor, doctor, please
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Feel like an old diseace
Get your sweet ass off the floor
Doctor, doctor, doctor
I cant refuse any loose harted lady anymore
I scream your name into the crowd
You feel the flame, but yo aint proud
Mabye your attitude aint right
So all thats left for me to do is bite
The hand that feeds me
Feeds me
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Doctor, doctor, please
All things you put me through
What the hell you want me to
Do all the things that uncle john needs
I aint the dog that bites the hand that feeds me
In the middle of, with a spittle of
Et tu like birds of a feather
When another day, love another way
Push, shove, make love, play
Never never, never ever
Never ever, never ever
Na, na...
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Please do a-what you can
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Would you please give my life a hand
All the things you put me trough
What the hell you want me to
Do all the things that uncle john needs
I aint the dog that bites the hand that feeds me, yeah
Doctor, doctor, doctor
Doctor, doctor, please
(repeat)
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When a compassionate Nurse dress your wounds
Doctor told him' You are all right and discharge in the evening.'
The patient begs; ' I would like to stay one more night Doctor.'
'It's up to you.'
He informed his beloved wife; 'Hey! Darling, Doctor wants to see me tomorrow for an urgent matter, no idea? '
And he waits till the kind Nurse's visit to his cubicle room.
But another one came and she is on leave it seems.
He dreamed in the particular night that he met an accident and admitted to the same hospital.
* Human mind is an untamed beast explores new adventures?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Piece By Piece
She heard from her doctor today he told her that he would have to remove her arm soon. She hung up the phone and with tears forming in her eyes she staggers and look at herself in the mirror. She sees that she's been losing her body piece by piece. Six months ago she had her left leg up to the knee removed. And a year before that she had the foot on that same left leg removed. Even before that she had my right arm cut off to the bicep. Now she gets a call from her doctor telling her he has to do the same with her right arm. She knows without all the amputation she would have died because of her poor blood circulation but sometimes she wonders would it had been better to just die at an earlier age whole then watching her body leave her piece by piece.
Lady & The Doctor
The lady keeps the doctor in a place inside her pocket
The circle made her circle like a wheel
The doctor gives a strange love, but the lady she dont knock it
Shes glad to get a piece of anything
Because the lady needs the medicine ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Doctor needs the lady to see
The doctor keeps the lady in a page in a book
On the history of communicable diseases
The ladys been to school, she lets the doctor play it cool.
He writes the script, she follows his lead.
cause the doctor writes love story so fine
The ladys learned to read between the lines
Sometime
The doctor, he takes housecalls where he visits the animals
In their stalls, shoots them full of juice and then goes home.
The lady hits the supermarket where she rides the aisles in a shopping cart
till she feels shes played enough of the part to set by ooh,
The lady feels its enough to just be good.
But the doctor has his need to be understood.
The doctor feels hes so abused and the lady feels shes so unused
And demands the doctor tends her daily parts.
Ooh, but the doctor just cant do it because so long ago the lady
Blew it, theyre too old now to make another start.
The lady feels the doctors made of stone.
The doctor heart, it just aint fond of ? home?
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Purgatory
They are in queer,
A thief, doctor, murderer, king & queen, liar,
politician and etc.,
A soldier is questioning them about their past sins
before they enter the two pathways.
One is to heaven and the other to hell.
'I theft a bible' thief replied.
'then you can go to the right path'
'I did hundred abortions' doctor said.
'turn to left'
'we did adultery' king and queen replied.
'left please'
'I killed a politician' murderer said.
'right ahead and the liar can go back.
'before you go to the left path visit the pathologist for an aid test'
soldier shouted to the politician.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Because
Ah, remember this?
Why, I must have been thirteen when this came out!
Or was it fourteen?
Or was it twenty-two?
I could have been twelve actually.
Just because you left and said goodbye,
Do you think that I will sit and cry?
Even if my heart should tell me so,
Darling, I would rather let you go.
Just because I want someone whos kind,
With a heart as good and pure as mine.
But maybe I am asking for too much,
Darling, please dont ever break my heart.
I know you think youre smart,
Just runnin around breaking lovers hearts.
Just because you left and said goodbye, hey!
Do you think that I will sit and cry?
Even if my heart should tell me so,
Darling, I would rather let you go.
Uh-uh-uh -
This is doctor winston oboggie saying goodnight
From record plant east, new york.
We hope you had a swell time!
Evrybody here says hi.
Goodbye.
Just because you left and said goodbye,
Do you think that I will sit and cry?
Even if my heart should tell me so,
Darling, I would rather let you go.
Uh-uh-uh -
Goodbye!
Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh -
So long!
Been a long year!
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Played With Her Heart
He played with her heart
then left despair.
He played with her spirit
without a care
as to what he was doing
to the rest of she.
Oh if this never
happened from he,
she'd be able to breathe again free.
But time is the only
messenger of peace.
The passing of it
will have to surcease.
And if there's not enough
time that's left.
She'll go to her grave
with her soul bereft.
He played with her heart.
'Twas so hard to bear.
I believe he left it
beyond repair.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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But you have left me …..
We have went our separate ways
But you have left me with some good memories
We are no longer together
But you have left me with unforgettable moments
We have went our separate way
But you have left me with little tears to cry
We are no longer together
But you have left me with no questions as to why
We have went our separate ways
But you have left me with so much to live for
We are no longer together
But you have left me with peace inside my heart
We have went our separate ways
But you have left me with out a partner
We are no longer together
But you have left me with an extra friend
poem by Stephanie Mcgrath
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doctor Doctor
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, the mess Im in
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh the mess Im in
She walked up to me
And really stole my heart
And then she started
To take my body apart
*livin, lovin, Im on the run
Far away from you
Livin, lovin, Im on the run
So far away from you
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, Im goin fast
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh, Im goin fast
Its only just a moment,
Shes turnin paranoid
Thats not a situation for a nervous boy
Doctor doctor, please
Oh, the mess Im in
Doctor doctor, please,
Oh, the mess Im in
But you look so angry
As I crawled across your floor
Shes got the strain,
And I cant take any more
*repeat
*repeat
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Bed
I am bed ridden and admitted in hospital
I get disheartened on doctor’s arrival
May thoughts cross over in mind?
Doctors come treat me and be very kind
I am totally afraid of death
I know how people offer wreath
Hey will be sobbing and remain in tears
I go berserk and loose heart to bear
I know no harm will be done
All illness may disappear and certainly gone’
I shall be back home with full cheers
I shall smile again without any tears
It is time to express our gratitude
And this should be general attitude
No need to express grief, sorrow
He has done all well for tomorrow
The illness can’t be contributed to anything
That can take place with anybody for something
It is body and may fell apart any time
Don’t think negative about it anytime
Keep only one faith
That may avoid the death
Rest everything is decided and in time
We may miss and curse it sometimes
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deep in thoughts of love, I came
Deep in thoughts of love, I came
On two young maids,
One sang: ‘It rains
On us, the joy of love.’
Their faces were so calm and sweet,
With modesty and courtesy,
I said to them: ‘You hold the key
Of all virtue and nobility.
Ah, young maids, do not scorn me
Because of the wound that I carry,
My heart has been dead inside me
Since I left Toulouse.’
They turned their gaze towards me so
They might see how I was wounded
And how a spirit born of sorrow
From my wound’s deep centre issued.
When they saw me so destroyed,
One of them smiled and said:
‘See how this man is conquered
By the power of love.’
The other filled with mercy, pity,
Made for joy, in Love’s likeness,
Said: ‘Your heart’s wound I see
Came from eyes of such excess,
Such power, they left within, a brightness
I cannot endure:
Tell me if you recall
Those eyes in you.’
To this harsh and fearful question
That the young maid asked of me,
I said: ‘In Toulouse I remember
There appeared an elegant lady,
Whom Love called la Mandetta: she
Struck me so fiercely, suddenly
To death, with her eyes, inwardly,
Through and through.’
She who had laughed at me before
Now replied most courteously:
‘She, who set herself with Love’s power
In your heart, gazed so fixedly
Into and through your eyes, that she
Made Love, himself, appear there.
If it’s deeply that you suffer
Turn to Love.’
Go to Toulouse, my little ballad,
Enter the Gilded Church there quietly,
Ask of some lovely lady, clearly,
To take you, out of courtesy,
To her of whom I told you fully:
And if you are received,
Say to her softly: ‘See,
For mercy I come to you.’
poem by Guido Cavalcanti
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1985 Food Medley - 02 - Doctor
[parody of doctor! doctor! by the thompson twins]
Woah, cause hes my doctor, doctor,
And his name is bernie, bernie.
Oh, doctor, doctor,
Im feelin pretty dismal.
Doctor, doctor,
And his name is bernie, bernie.
Oh, doctor, doctor,
Wheres my pepto bismol?
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad Habits & Infections
Come to me like Im the doctor
Say you need someone to talk ta
You want advice go ask your mother
One bad turn deserves another
cause Ive been cursed with your infection
Makin my head hurt makin my eyes burn
Youve taken me in the wrong direction
And left me there with no protection
Bad habits can be cured by cutting
Them out
Infections can be cured by cutting
Them out
Maybe youll find a friend up in the
Rainbow room
If you can dodge the drinks that
Theyve been throwing at you
Anyway, your boyfriend should be
Coming home soon
Then you can hide your life away
Bad habits can be cured by cutting
Them out
Infections can be cured by cutting
Them out
Come to me like Im the doctor
Come to me like Im the doctor
Come to me like Im the doctor
I am the doctor
I am the doctor
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well, after I had the heart attack, it was a very simple choice. What the doctor told me I did and I did it religiously. I ate nothing but lean turkey breast or chicken breast or a piece of fish that was very lean. I mean I stayed away from everything.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lamentable Ballad Of The Foundling Of Shoreditch
Come all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail,
It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail,
By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't desire),
From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.
A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed
With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd,
And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest-
er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed.
She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step,
And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep;
The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty,
Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.
She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said,
Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.
Better to travel by secknd class, than sit alone in the fust,
And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.
A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail,
To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail;
Saysee you look unwell, Ma'am, I'll elp you if I can,
And you may tell your ease to me, for I'm a meddicle man.
'Thank you, Sir,' the lady said, 'I only look so pale,
Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale;
I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest:'
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.
So in the conwersation the journey they beguiled,
Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child,
Till the warious stations along the line was passed,
For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.
When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train,
This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again.
'Thank you, Sir,' the lady said, 'for your kyindness dear;
My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here.
'Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see?'
The Doctor was a famly man: 'That I will,' says he.
Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently,
Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently.
With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it,
Then she gave the Doctor the child—wery kind he nust it:
Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from,
Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform.
Vile hall the other passengers vent upon their vays,
The Capting and the Doctor sat there in a maze;
Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby,
The Capting and the Doctor vaited vith the babby.
There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more,
But their feller passinger neather on 'em sore:
Never, never back again did that lady come
To that pooty sleeping Hinfnt a suckin of his Thum!
What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus,
When the darling Baby woke, cryin for its nuss?
Off he drove to a female friend, vich she was both kind and mild,
And igsplained to her the circumstance of this year little child.
That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap,
And made it very comfortable by giving it some pap;
And when she took its close off, what d'you think she found?
A couple of ten pun notes sewn up, in its little gownd!
Also in its little close, was a note which did conwey
That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way
And for his Headucation they reglarly would pay,
And sirtingly like gentlefolks would claim the child one day,
If the Christian people who'd charge of it would say,
Per adwertisement in The Times where the baby lay.
Pity of this bayby many people took,
It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look;
And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see
Any kind lady as would do as much for me;
And I wish with all my art, some night in MY night gownd,
I could find a note stitched for ten or twenty pound)—
There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say,
She'd adopt this little baby, which her parents cast away.
While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair,
Comes a letter from Devonshire, from a party there,
Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire,
To send the little Infant back to Devonshire.
Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddicle man,
Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran;
Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak,
That takes his seat in Worship Street, four times a week.
'O Justice!' says the Doctor, 'instrugt me what to do.
I've come up from the country, to throw myself on you;
My patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills,
(There they are in Suffolk without their drafts and pills!)
'I've come up from the country, to know how I'll dispose
Of this pore little baby, and the twenty pun note, and the close,
And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please,
And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez.'
Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk,
'This year application does me much perplesk;
What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby
In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby.'
The Doctor from his worship sadly did depart—
He might have left the baby, but he hadn't got the heart
To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the law allows,
To the tender mussies of the Union House.
Mother, who left this little one on a stranger's knee,
Think how cruel you have been, and how good was he!
Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she;
And do not take unkindly this little word of me:
Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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Doctor’s Day,2010
Doctor, doctor, carer of sick!
Doctor, doctor, healer on earth;
Doctor, doctor, noble is thine field;
Doctor, doctor, serve thine brethren well!
Doctor, labor all the more;
Clean and dress the chronic sore;
Let no person taint thine name;
Never forget thine great aim.
Doctor, let not wealth allure;
Doctor, lead a life all pure;
Doctor, try to always cure;
God will bless thee on earth, sure.
Dear Dr.B, K, Padmavathi M.D.,
‘Happy Doctor’s Day,2010! ’
From the Dean and staff of IRT, PMC
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-1-2010
poem by John Celes
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Death Of Archbishop Turpin. (From The French)
The Archbishop, whom God loved in high degree,
Beheld his wounds all bleeding fresh and free;
And then his cheek more ghastly grew and wan,
And a faint shudder through his members ran.
Upon the battle-field his knee was bent;
Brave Roland saw, and to his succor went,
Straightway his helmet from his brow unlaced,
And tore the shining hauberk from his breast.
Then raising in his arms the man of God,
Gently he laid him on the verdant sod.
Rest, Sire,' he cried,--'for rest thy suffering needs.'
The priest replied, 'Think but of warlike deeds!
The field is ours; well may we boast this strife!
But death steals on,--there is no hope of life;
In paradise, where Almoners live again,
There are our couches spread, there shall we rest from pain.
Sore Roland grieved; nor marvel I, alas!
That thrice he swooned upon the thick green grass.
When he revived, with a loud voice cried he,
'O Heavenly Father! Holy Saint Marie!
Why lingers death to lay me in my grave!
Beloved France! how have the good and brave
Been torn from thee, and left thee weak and poor!'
Then thoughts of Aude, his lady-love, came o'er
His spirit, and he whispered soft and slow,
'My gentle friend!--what parting full of woe!
Never so true a liegeman shalt thou see;--
Whate'er my fate, Christ's benison on thee!
Christ, who did save from realms of woe beneath,
The Hebrew Prophets from the second death.'
Then to the Paladins, whom well he knew,
He went, and one by one unaided drew
To Turpin's side, well skilled in ghostly lore;--
No heart had he to smile, but, weeping sore,
He blessed them in God's name, with faith that He
Would soon vouchsafe to them a glad eternity.
The Archbishop, then, on whom God's benison rest,
Exhausted, bowed his head upon his breast;--
His mouth was full of dust and clotted gore,
And many a wound his swollen visage bore.
Slow beats his heart, his panting bosom heaves,
Death comes apace,--no hope of cure relieves.
Towards heaven he raised his dying hands and prayed
That God, who for our sins was mortal made,
Born of the Virgin, scorned and crucified,
In paradise would place him by His side.
Then Turpin died in service of Charlon,
In battle great and eke great orison;--
'Gainst Pagan host alway strong champion;
God grant to him His holy benison.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Shadows Of Darkness
Shadows of darkness fall over thee,
and a shroud of pristine white covers you.
Death is forming soul, and his raptures be.
I can no longer comfort you,
in this hour of your need.
Death has taken you too far from me.
A stone husk is all that’s left.
No warmth there within your breast,
no heart beating to keep you warm.
Nothing but a cold piece of flesh.
Stiff you become, as the hours grow long.
Your gone forever from this mortal life be,
no longer to touch or smell the fresh air,
‘cause death is your partner now, not me.
poem by David Harris
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Married To A Doctor
Married to a doctor the daughter is freed from him,
It is her emancipation, the affair of decent jests;
One slavery is far greater to become
And that is patriotic duty, the very happiness is about.
The way to this different family is to peep into laughter,
To become a very business man is the real joy.
A doctor has left the family, for the absence is valid,
And his practice is a rebellion from the very heart.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Butterfly Is Dieing
After the fall
I am left cold, shivering, a mess
And as the leaves crawl
I am naked in winters cold breath
After the dive
That left me breathless, unspoken
There's nothing left to revive
A heart that used to flutter is broken
After the chase
I lay myself at your feet
Batting my wings against this small cage
Refusing to admit my defeat
After the dusk
I'm curled in what's left of desire
Trying to capture an evaporating lust
Your smile has soured-always the regretful buyer
After the question
I posed-thinking the answer I knew
You forced me to swallow my lesson
The only love here was the love I had for you
poem by Aria Siren
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