Conquest at the Hospice
For saying yes to be admitted
into the hospice, she has actually
accepted the seriousness of her
health case, that she is now
at the mouth of death.
She sends sms to dear friends
not telling that she is right at
the hospice but only wishing them
all the best in life that they
may keep their trust in God
to the very end of their days.
She knows how her daughters
have been saddened by her case
The medical treatment at the hospital,
taken so diligently each passing day,
has not really relieved her from
the agony in her mortal body.
And yet, during her last days,
as long as her lungs tolerate to breathe,
she uses the time to talk to friends,
sends them sms and wishes them all the best.
This hospice is her fortress of hope,
of courage to look at death face to face.
And we, who mourn over her last days,
realize how at this hospice, she has
vanquished the ugliness of death.
______________
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Redemption
He thought that he would die alone
when he entered hospice care.
Folks wind up in Calvary
who haven’t got a prayer.
Long estranged from his first wife
And the two children that she bore him.
He only sought a refuge
from pain and death before him.
The nurse on duty saw his name
And hope combined with fear.
Could this be her father that was lost?
Could fate have brought him here?
She asked the patient if he had
some family about.
He mentioned his two daughters’ names
“-but they must be grown up now.”
“I’m Wanda, I’m your daughter.”
She said, choking back her tears.
He begged for her forgiveness
For being gone for all those years.
Of course he’d missed her wedding day
and never held her child.
He’d missed so many Father’s Days.
Still, she made him proud.
Perhaps it was a twist of fate
Perhaps the Angels’ plan
That when this man had breathed his last
He held his daughter’s hand.
.
The story of the reunion of Wanda Rodriquez, hospice nurse with her estranged father, Victor Peraza, at Calvary Hospital in the Bronx.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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the Hospice
'THE HOSPICE'
As he lay there in the hospice thinking his final thoughts,
Had he had a good life, or had it been just allright,
No matter how it had been his final hours were here,
Would anyone come to see him as death was really near,
He would rather see them right now, just to hold his hand.
Than them saying things so shallow at his funeral,
So go there now and see him, it will help him move along,
Help him to the next world help him to be strong,
People want to see you before they pass away,
So go and hold his hand now before he goes away!
Say nice things at his funeral!
But dont forget this thing! at that time it will be to late for him to comprehend!
David Bennett.
poem by David Bennett
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So far things are going my way. I am known in the hospice as The Man Who Wouldn't Die. I don't know if this is true or not, but I think some people, not many, are starting to wonder why I'm still around.
quote by Art Buchwald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Have Friends Who Can No Longer Walk
I have friends who can no longer walk
And a friend who can no longer listen to music
And friends who cannot leave the house
And two friends who will never leave the hospice
And friends no drug can completely take the pain from -
It is not good to see one's friends grow old
And become so much less than they were-
It is not good to see one's friends grow old and suffer
And be unable to help them in any real way
It is not good to be old
And see what happens to the people one knows
And wait for the inevitable to happen to oneself-
It is not good to be unable to help in any real way
The friends one cares for.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Hospice means end-of-life care. The admission ticket is a diagnosis from a doctor that you have six months or less to live.
quote by Eleanor Clift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Glimmer Of Hope
Like any life you began at conception:
you never asked to be here;
two lives met, love sparked,
passion exploded, you made.
At an early age you fell in love with the pages.
People said you were destined for greatness.
But as life would have it,
you tried but now you are dying,
even though greatness beckons, come.
We saw how you gripped the curtain,
while taking your last look at the garden.
Your countenance glowed,
as if some mysterious being
showed you a sign of hope.
Friends that visited the hospice
said you were not a religious man;
but we knew you saw something
or someone through the window pane.
poem by Buxton Shippy
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Time Of My Life
Sometimes I'm just thinking,
that I got the best time of my life
I've been with my girl for seven years now
and I got the sweetest dog that,
trust me forever
After school I took my chances,
continued to do the things I love
And now I find that I was right,
I'm 26 now still I
do what I want to,
And the days are passing by,
and now I realize that I've got the time of my life
Time of my life
and the days are passing by...
Now I sit here thinking,
about the best time of my life.
so many years I've been with my band now
and four of my best friends they still
trust me forever
And still the days are passing by
now I realize, still I've got the time of my life
Time of my life
and the days are passing by... etc.
song performed by by H-BlockX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Blessings At Death (story)
(STORY) (5/22/12)
She was laying in her hospice bed
She knew in a short time she would be dead
She had no fear of death you see
She waited for it patiently.
She knew she lived a good long life
She was a daughter, a sister, a mother, a wife.
Regrets- she knew she had none
GOD had blessed her with a wonderful son
A faith so strong in GOD above
And she showered family and friends with tenderness and love.
She was loved by everyone around
In her spirit and heart true love they found.
The most gentlest person you'd ever want to meet
Knowing her was such a treat.
When she went for her physical that year
The doctors found what they feared
A cancer cell growing so rapidly
It was something they did not foresee.
She showed no signs as many do
But they knew her life was through.
Her family was with her 24/7
They knew soon she'd be in heaven.
The hospital corridors were filled with people
And bells were ringing from all the steeples.
She was not a woman of fortune and fame
And of nothing in her life did she feel ashamed.
Just a loving heart so pure and true
That she shared it with everyone she knew.
They say she died in her sleep, as everyone began to weep.
But before she died - she had told her son
"tell the world- LOVES JUST BEGUN'.
poem by Louis Rams
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The Beacon On The Hill
The beacon
welcomes incoming
and farewells outgoing planes
on the other side
of the valley
patients arrive at the hospice
by ambulance
and too soon
leave their earthly bodies
behind.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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The Last Beach
The last beach
the Colonel took
was concrete
and led
from his Caddy
to the Crystal Fountain Dining Lounge.
He bravely advanced
halfway
to his objective
under withering fire
from the
grenade-sized tumor
in his brain,
then collapsed.
Across the road
The Shellpoint Village Nursing Pavillion,
complete with hospice for the dying,
patiently awaited his arrival,
as manatees
calmly basked
in the Caloosahatchie.
His death now foretold
under the Florida sun,
he rose again,
commandeered
a wheeled dining chair,
took the objective,
and ate
like a man
with no tomorrows.
poem by Percy Dovetonsils
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Taper In The Storm
All our smiles, chats
Amorous talk.
Faded with the
Time's subtle walk.
No lust, no grief,
But parting song-
Is heard, my dear
From distance long.
Much blood oozed out
From scarlet heart,
Let get dried
Let be it blurred.
Silence' wide mouth,
Nibbling my past;
Storm of minutes
Now spreading vast.
The taper mind
With sinking flame
Will be flown to
Death's own dark realm.
How long can I
Stand still alone
In strong wind and
In hatred zone?
Lonesome days cry,
In nothingness.
Let death and me
Meet face to face!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bad Luck
today his house is burned
everything he has
lost in a matter of a few hours
the body of his only son
wrapped in plastic charred
there is no face of agony to see
and his chamber maid
ashed to death
a face without a hair
a skull with some flesh
the odor is incredible
how much does he owe still
to the gods?
he is drugged to sleep in the hospital
things are not that easy to swallow
bad luck, bad luck, all his friends are telling
this bad luck to each other
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Of These Days
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
And Im gonna try
And thank them all for the good times together.
Though so apart weve grown.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
And Im gonna thank,
That old country fiddler
And all those rough boys
Who play that rock n roll
I never tried to burn any bridges
Though I know I let some good things go.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
From down in l.a.
All the way to nashville,
From new york city
To my canadian prairie home
My friends are scattered
Like leaves from an old maple.
Some are weak, some are strong.
One of these days,
Im gonna sit down and write a long letter
To all the good friends Ive known
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
One of these days, one of these days, one of these days,
And it wont be long, it wont be long.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Happy Days
Oh happy days,
Everyone likes you.
Oh happy days,
Please stay today.
Oh happy days,
Sweet like honey.
Oh happy days,
loving family ties.
Oh happy days,
Giving us strength.
Oh happy days,
Children out playing.
Oh happy days,
On the green grass.
Oh happy days,
With boundless optimism.
Oh happy days,
I give thanks.
Oh happy days,
Dreaming for more.
Oh happy days,
Warm and bright.
Oh happy days,
Like love eternal.
Oh happy days,
And glad memories.
Oh happy days,
New hope prayers.
Oh happy days,
With smiling faces.
Oh happy days,
Holidays and health.
Oh happy days,
With close friends.
Oh happy days,
Generous and giving.
Oh happy days,
Shiny rainbow dreams.
Oh happy days,
Till the very end.
Oh happy days,
Always and forever.
Amen.
poem by Rowina Mallick
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Death, My Friend
Death, my friend - so good to see you!
Stand aloft and view my soul!
I have to say you’re looking frightful -
Bony chum, you affable ghoul.
Death, my friend, so charmed I’m sure!
State your case and tell me straight -
Am I worthy of reward, so
Venture I to Heaven’s Gate?
Death, my friend, a new acquaintance!
You're always welcome in my home -
Though the stare from empty sockets
Indicates to Hell we roam!
Death, my friend - my bosom buddy.
My! your finger points at me!
Be you tired of my frivolity?
Aha, I see - Oblivion, we!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chronic Wait
When a full moon was taking a bath
by the serene lake, you moved about in
abandoned identity, your sides flaring up.
A slate gray nubion cloud was tossed
around by a tall tree. Hotstepping you despaired
to prevent a stillbirth of a genre
in genocide of anonymous flora viberating
in cyberscape of ominus sentences. The
exhibitionist was taking over the podium. Petit mal
brings the heels down of worshippers anointing
a pair of sandals. Someone goes a non-linear
fashion, denies the holocaust and howling.
Hospice was needed for non-believers in any
case. A continuum of exurbs intercedes in the
slaughter of bovine names.
poem by Satish Verma
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Wishing Death
u've left me w nothing more
wishing death
i feel these hurts
they are my own
wishing death
i cry silent tears
they dnt come out down my face
they come out in anger
fear
silence
this desolate place i call my own.
i'm wishing death
it's calling my name
i shall never forget its lasting voice
the tears are finally coming
i've decided
wishing death
tht u will remember my face
red and angry
with silence all around
my eyes a glassy stare tht penetrates ur mind
makes u think
wishing death..
poem by Musicland Suicide
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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