HIV/ AIDS Anecdotal Poems
She loved a man and he was young;
He loved her back and had some fun;
They married too and some years passed;
They both died young, left child orphan!
He was a trucker working hard;
He used to come home twice a month;
He was a wayward, smoker, drunk;
He died of AIDS, infecting wife!
A police husband’s wife was nurse;
The man gave HIV to her;
When he died, she took ART;
She died too when she stopped her drugs!
It was a jolly trip for boys;
They enjoyed well, sang, drank and danced;
Some strayed into the red-light zone;
All of them developed AIDS sometime!
Young boys and girls do venture young
To know what love-making’s about;
Adults have sex outside marriage;
And when AIDS strikes, they are soon dead!
Even the rich and literate
Succumb to pleasures that can kill;
Homosexuality, IDU
Can turn you sero-positive!
Why risk your one life precious most?
God wants the human race stay pure;
You cannot live by whims, fancies;
You are duty-bound till you die!
‘Avoid all risks of HIV exposure
Keep your mind, body’s composure’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-2011
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Only 25
Today I was thinking of my cousin he was only 25 when he died.
His life was over before it even really got to start.
You see, in a moment of passion he didn't wear a condom.
And in that moment he contracted AIDS.
He lived for seven more years and then one day he just died.
He was only 25.
Note: This poem was not just a tribute to my cousin but a message to the young and old please don't let my cousin and millions of others death be for nothing. In that moment stop for a moment and put on a condom. Sex doesn’t kill people but AIDS do! !
Veteran's day lament!
1376... sounds like some historical date
Required to be memorized in high school history class
Well it’s not. it’s a much, much more important number
And we cannot let it pass.
It’s the number of our young boys in Afghanistan
Who have died all alone
It’s the number of young boys
Who will never come home
They died for a people who will never care
They died hoping to accomplish something
We should have kept them home I know
For their gallant deaths will accomplish nothing
1376.…sounds like some random numbers and
To our leaders I suppose they are
To me it’s young lives, gone forever
In a stupid and senseless war.
Speak up! ! ! Bring them home, Keep them home
This madness has gone too far! !
poem by David Whalen
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On Hearing Of The Death Of Kevin Hickey
Sad news a news that travels far and wide
And I was told of how young Kevin Hickey died
On the Shannaknock road of his car he lost control
And the reaper claimed his body not his soul.
He was pre-deceased by his Mother Kathleen
And his better days in life he had not seen
And his father John is left to bear sorrow's cross
And grieve the tragedy of his heart-breaking loss.
And though the accident that claimed young Kevin's life happened a few years ago
The scars of grief to heal are always slow
And the pain at the loss of his son in such a tragic way
With John Hickey till his own end will stay.
At the spot where Kevin died John erected a grotto as a memorial to his son
And it would seem that is as much as anyone could have done
To honour some one that they loved so dear
Such stories of love are heartening to hear.
I have heard of how young Kevin Hickey died
And such sad news does travel far and wide
And his remains will rest in peace forever more
But his soul lives on the soul has wings to soar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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9/11, And The Days After
how many died that day
at the World Trade Center?
how many died
in the field?
and how many have died...
how many young boys
sent off to war?
how many citizens of Iraq?
Afghanistan?
how many women and children?
how many deaths
does it take for
us to finally understand?
killing is wrong!
one death does not
justify another!
murder does not
heal wounds...
or bring back
loved ones.....
one decade later....
and we still dont understand
the value of life...
and therein lies
the cause for mourning,
and the sadness!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
He Often Thinks Of Rosie
He often thinks of Rosie where might she be today?
Is she still back home in Derry from here long miles away
For three years they were an item but for them things did not work out
As often can happen in love affairs between one from a Northern Land and one from a Land in the far South.
He did not wish to live over there and in Melbourne she would not stay
Nostalgia won out over love or so 'twould seem that way
She went back home to Derry though he had asked her to become his wife
Young Rosie she was homesick a natural thing in life.
His wife and he have parted ways they have a year old son
The love died in their marriage he is not the first or he won't be the last one
To know of marriage failure such is life I do suppose
Yet his greatest love will always be the lovely brown haired Derry Rose.
He often thinks of Rosie they parted ways six years ago
He loved her and he always will though apart they did grow
Nostalgia won out over love in their case anyway
She went back home to Derry and home in Melbourne he did stay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Another Young Soldier
Another young soldier has died far away
An army representative will call on his mother today
For to tell her your son on the course of his duty has died
He served and died for his Country with his mates at his side.
Another war mother will grieve for her son
It will not matter to her if the battle was won
And it will not matter to her if her boy died brave
She will weep every time she will visit his grave.
Another young soldier to join the war dead
A bullet from a sniper hit him in the head
On his next birthday in June he would be twenty three
His loss a heavy cross to bear for his parents and members of his family.
Another young soldier may he rest in peace
At least from further suffering he has found release
Just one more to die in another man's war
On a bombed out back street in a city afar.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Day John Kennedy Died
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I replaced ignorance, stupidity and hate
I dreamed the perfect union and a perfect law, undenied
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
I dreamed that I could do the job that others hadnt done
I dreamed that I was uncorrupt and fair to everyone
I dreamed I wasnt gross or base, a criminal on the take
And most of all I dreamed I forgot the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
I remember where I was that day, I was upstate in a bar
The team from the university was playing football on tv
Then the screen want dead and the announcer said,
Theres been a tragedy
Theres are unconfirmed reports the presidents been shot
And he may be dead or dying.
Talking stopped, someone shouted, what!?
I ran out to the street
People were gathered everywhere saying,
Did you hear what they said on tv
And then a guy in a porsche with his radio hit his born
And told us the news
He said, the presidents dead, he was shot twice in the head
In dallas, and they dont know by whom.
I dreamed I was the president of these united states
I dreamed I was young and smart and it was not a waste
I dreamed that there was a point to life and to the human race
I dreamed that I could somehow comprehend that someone
Shot him in the face
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
Oh, the day john kennedy died
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mom And Dad
If my Mom and Dad had not died
When I was young
What would my life have been like?
Would my Mom had showed me
How to use make-up;
And tell me, “not too much,
Or it will cake-up.”
What about the Father and Daughter dance;
Would my Dad had taken me,
If he had the chance.
I wonder if my Mom
Would have talked to me
About my little monthly friend;
And bring me a hot cup of tea
Every month that it began,
And let me lie in bed
With a warm heating pad.
Would my Dad had talked
To me about boys;
The one’s I should date,
The one’s to avoid.
I wonder what it would be like
To have living parents when you’re grown
Would your Mom still hold you;
And hum a happy song.
If you had a day
That didn’t go right;
Would your Dad take you out,
For a Father and Daughter night.
I wonder if I would have
Asked my Dad for money;
Would he just reach in his wallet,
And say “here you go honey.”
I wonder if my Mom and Dad
Would have cried at my first wedding.
What emotion at my divorce?
Cried at my second wedding.
At the birth of my child rejoice.
Would my Mom be in the room
When I had my first baby;
Would she had held my hand,
And said “it’s part of being a lady.”
If my parents had not died
When I was young;
Would they be proud of me?
What I grew-up to be.
Copyright © by Phyllis Strong
poem by Phyllis Strong
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Short Story of the HIV
A Retrovirus threatens man,
Whose youth dare risk their lives sometime,
By indulging in unsafe sex,
Earlier in life than expected!
The young adults affected, die
Early in life, than most others!
Their partners get the virions,
Through heterosex and homosex!
Some get the virus through blood route:
Infected blood, I V drug use;
Some mothers pass virus to babes
Through placental route, while in womb!
The virus once within body
Enter immunocytic types
And replicate within such cells,
And killing them, before they leave!
Avoid then, getting the disease;
Use condoms to make sex safer;
Be faithful to your life-partner;
Don’t share needles if drug-user!
There is no cure for this disease –
A chronic one that surely kills!
ART early can contain
The viral growth and slacken spread!
A proper vaccine is ideal,
If made without any delay;
But making it is not easy,
As virus genes can change make-up!
And victims die of infections
Opportunistic and severe;
Most suffer from Tuberculosis,
And tumors that can kill them fast!
’Tis sad to see the victim melt
To just a skeleton skin-clad;
The virus spares no one on earth
Who performs sex immorally!
Awareness has been created;
Discrimination still abates;
The infection rate is lesser;
The war on HIV goes on!
Dedicated to ‘every hero
Who aims to make AIDS, a zero! ’
By the Dean, IRT PMC,
On the occasion of the
World AIDS Day,2011
On behalf of the ‘Red Ribbon Club’
Of IRT PMC, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-11
poem by John Celes
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I have had lots of friends who've been affected by Aids and a very good friend of mine, Oscar Moore, died of Aids and I was with him in his last year quite a bit. And of course he was a man living in a very rich culture with a wealthy family who was able to afford health care.
quote by Emma Thompson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epidemics historically have tended to kill the very young and the very old, but AIDS is different: Those ages 20 to 40 are most affected, which means that so far over 12 million African children have been orphaned because of AIDS.
quote by Marvin Olasky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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WE All Should Know
More soldier's died today
why didn't i see about it on my tv
all I've seen is movie stars
and
Paris Hilton behind bars
Lindsy and Brittney
were drunk driving car's
while are boys and girl's die for their freedom
we shouldn't have to see them
till all are kid's come home
the media should be ashamed
their the ones i blame
just playing the rating game
the world should know what's going on
all across this land
not who asked who for their hand
or Pamela Anderson is getting divorced again
just in the time it took to write this poem
more young soldier's have probably died
but you won't hear or read about it
unless
Brad Pitt did it
Copyright © 2007
poem by Art Kuttler
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My Life - The Story of Young Boy - Pt.1
She yelled and took the bottle
And then my dad yelled back
Young boy crying in the corner
Memories of my childhood are all black
“I hate you” she screams
But he hates her more
Their hatred builds
As they even their score
Pins her to the couch
Saying nasty things
Young boy is wondering
Is this the joy life brings?
Sister gets pregnant
One blames the other
Whiskey fix, does the trick
The young boy loses his mother
The working day is done
Father watching the TV
Young boy shows dad what he has done
Father doesn't want to see
Young boy makes a mistake
Dad calls young boy a name
Young boy crying in the corner
Filled with guilt and shame
Young boy seeking somebody
For his life he wants to share
Always seeking and never finding
Cause no one really cares
Mom moves away
Young boy so sad
Family broken
Parents glad
Their lives go on
But his does stay
Young boy, old life
With no time to play
Young boy now a teenager
Turns to drugs and booze
The pain he faced, he turns away
His past he wants to lose
Young boy then gets married
To a beautiful wife
Wants so bad to forget his past
And start a brand new life
Young boy yells at new wife
New wife yells at me
My young boy in the corner
The old cycle he does see
Young boy now starts seeking
To make my life brand new
For the benefit of my young boys
My pain they won't go through
New wife says to young boy
You're never going to change
She packs her bags and then she leaves
Another family now estranged
Young boy really hurting
Hoping pain won't last
For now he has a starring role
In the memories of his past
Young boy sitting wondering
Is the pain what it is worth
Broken people, doing broken things
To make a broken earth
Young boy now is fighting
Fighting for his life
Trying to make the old, brand new again
For his young boys and his wife
Young boy finds Our savior
That sits upon His throne
The abundant life he offers
Shows Young Boy he's not alone
The cycle it continues
But young boy wants to try
To fight for what his parents didn't
Then the cycle he'll defy
So young boy makes a decision
He also makes his creed
He hopes to fix his family
All to God he'll lead
So young boy gives it one last chance
With the hope that Jesus brings
Young boy knows it's not over
Til the fat lady sings.......
To be continued
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Footnote to a famous poem
You all know it from the classroom.
It’s in all the anthologies.
Many say it’s his best; ‘a young man’s poem’
full of life and love and promise;
and short too. His long poems,
they’re great but few have the patience now
and who cares about Poet Laureates
when they’re out of fashion?
It never appeared, did you know,
in his lifetime. Sat in his desk drawer,
a single poem in a fine Italian leather folder.
His wife left it there after he died;
remembering when he’d sent it to her
the night before their marriage; she caught him
once, sitting there, an old man reading
a young man’s poem; closed the door quietly,
said nothing.
They cleared the house after she died.
It would never have come to light
if years later his mistress hadn’t left
a copy – it transpired - to the museum
in her will; he’d written it just for her, she said;
but made her promise not to publish it.
She felt she owed it to his memory though.
Some people prefer not to have
footnotes to poems; they say
they spoil the poem,
and cheapen a great man;
some people like them; they say
it makes poets seem more human.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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She Loved Like Diamond
She ran the risk from unity
Obsession dies alone with tragedy
She loved like diamond
She loved like diamond
And cut so hard
She died
A passion course that leads to pain
An acid taste that laced her soul again
She loved like diamond
She loved like diamond
And cut so hard
She died
Another path,Ive run them all
The rain has cleared the stains,no trace at all
She loved like diamond
She loved like diamond
And cut so hard
She died
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On June 1st of That Year
I wish I could take back everything that I have ever said that hurt you
I wish I could have another one of our 'important talks'
But that's not going to happen
Since you didn't make it thought ther night
I just hope you didnt feel much pain,
When you died
I still can remember the call
When I picked up the phone and it was the hospital
And they told me that you was in a bad car crash
And that you had died instanly
I just wish I would have said I love you
And gave you a kiss
Instead of being pissed at you
Over something so childish
The women told me that you was under the influence of drugs
I just sat there and started weeping
I told you earlier that day that drugs was going to kill you
I just wish I wasn't right
I just wish I could hold you in my arms just one more time
I just wish I could have been their to say good-bye
There is not one day that goes by
That your not in my thoughts
It has be so hard for me the past month it has been hell
I told you if you died
I would be able to handle it
That I would have to join you as well
You dont have to worry anymore
Because in a second or two
I will be with you
People thought I was stronger then what I was
Then they found out that
I couldn't handle the presure of the world by myself anymore
When little Brandi hung herself
On June 1st of that year
(4-24-05)
poem by Brandi Young
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love Died Young
They met at the local library
One cold wintry day
They had nice conversation
And later met again at
A local party
He had hair of black
Blue eyes and a lovely smile
He was so handsome in her eyes
Her hair was golden like wheat
Her eyes were emerald green
Her beauty was rare
He adored her
They dated for 2 years
Then one day he fell to his
Knees all pride pushed aside
And he asked her to become his wife
She gratefully accepted his proposal
With God as the witness that day
Three years have passed
Two children came to them
A blessing from God
A boy and a girl-twins they were
Then three years later
The wife falls to the floor
She weakly said: “I am ok now” as
A hand was extended to help her to her feet
After the doctor’s exam
She was told she had a short
Time to live for she could not be healed
Love so young how could this be?
Her husband and two small children struggled
Wondering how could God let such a terrible thing
Happen to such a good family
Love died so young the husband
And children found strength to carry on
The mother lives on through them all
But how they long to find out in the end
Why love had to die so young?
©Copyright 2006 Becky LaPrarie
poem by Becky LaPrarie
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If I Died Today
if i died today
what would you say
if i died today
what would you do
would you cry
because i left you alone
or would you hate me
because we are bound by blood
if i died today
would you kill yourself
because you failed as my gaurdian
if you died today
id weep black tears
and as my soul shattered
id wish to be with you again
in our other world
but if i died today
you would try to bring me bak
even if it killed you
but in the very end you would realize
all i wanted
was for you to live
and to protect my body
so that i may once again return.
poem by Jasmine Appelhaus
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Linley From Dubbo
Though she is only forty four she looks much older
And gray through her shoulder length hair of brown
But twenty years ago she looked a beauty
One of the finest in Dubbo her Hometown.
She married young when she was only twenty
And she was pregnant on her wedding day
She loved her husband and to him was faithful
But her price for loving him too high to pay.
Her angry husband when drunk often beat her
But next morning he'd say I'm sorry dear
I promise you that this again won't happen
Perhaps I ought to give up on the beer.
But his promises to her were quickly broken
The leopard never seems to change his spots how true
He often came home from the pub aggressive
And he often beat poor Linley black and blue.
Till she grew tired of Jack her violent husband
And she took her daughter Jo and headed south
Since that day ten years back she hasn't seen him
And where he now lives she doesn't wish to find out.
Linley from Dubbo is a young grand mother
Her grand daughter will be two years old next may
She won't be going back for to live in Dubbo
In Ferntree Gully she's happy to stay.
Since she left her husband she has had many relationships
But none of them lasted more than a year
But she says soon that she will meet her soul mate
And happy times for her she feels are near.
Despite all she has been through she feels so positive
And she has got a good approach to life
And lovely Linley from Dubbo in her forties
For some lucky man will make a marvellous wife.
poem by Francis Duggan
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