Look Into My Eyes
opthalmologists
opthalmists
opticians
optometrists
all deal with the eye
oh please don't cry
they're far better than
a dentist with a drill
that spins about so shrill
they've got funny glasses
with calibrated numbers
and little gas hoses used
to check pressure on lenses
then you get too see just
how far you could read
give them a start when
you say: Made in China!
if eyes be that window
through which our soul peers
we might find these doctors
our friend throughout our years
optometrists
opticians
opthalmists
opthalmologists
`
poem by Frederick Kesner
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Related quotes
Doctor's Day 2012
Most Doctors…
Try their best to heal;
Do not try to steal;
Use their ken to deal
With patient's problems and do feel!
All Doctors…
Are just humans too;
Try to be humane and do
Their duty with ethics due,
Upgrading knowledge new.
A few Doctors…
May make errors great;
May fleece patients poor;
May not perform to their best,
And earn a bad name for the rest!
Doctors…
Are a noble lot and lucky slot,
Whose toil is praised but soon forgot;
Sacrifice their life-times but cannot
Find time to check own health from rot!
Wish Doctors all, ‘A Happy Doctors Day! '
May they labour, come what may;
For their kind work, may God repay
With heaven, and bless them His way!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 29-05-2012
poem by John Celes
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Let Your Soul Be Your Pilot
Let your soul be your pilot
Let your soul guide you
Hell guide you well
When youre down and theyre counting
When your secrets all found out
When your troubles take to mounting
When the map you have leads you to doubt
When theres no information
And the compass turns to nowhere that you know well
Let your soul be your pilot
Let your soul guide you
Hell guide you well
When the doctors failed to heal you
When no medicine chest can make you well
When no counsel leads to comfort
When there are no more lies they can tell
No more useless information
And the compass spins
The compass spins between heaven and hell
Let your soul be your pilot
Let your soul guide you
Hell guide you well
And your eyes turn towards the window pane
To the lights upon the hill
The distance seems so strange to you now
And the dark room seems so still
Let your pain be my sorrow
Let your tears be my tears too
Let your courage be my model
That the north you find will be true
When theres no information
And the compass turns to nowhere that you know well
Let your soul be your pilot
Let your soul guide you
Let your soul guide you
Let your soul guide you upon your way...
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dentist’s
Your mouth hurts inside for the pain comes from the teeth,
Pain is destructive to the teeth, its gums are bleeding;
Must we learn further help and admiration, or just weep?
First, the aching stops and then the dentist stops,
We all feel murdered, but why?
Firstly, mouths are meant for munching, fully chomping
The food residing in the head, feeding the brain as fast as it can;
We are not dentists, but full doctors, but full nurses,
As hospitals go, we stand firm on our teeth chattering away in the cold.
We felt absurd knowing your teeth.
The main worry was when it made me squirm, and then burn,
Too late, the drill was performed, with too much work,
And that was purity and goodness in the process,
For me, for me, and for those who call themselves the dentist.
We do find teeth a chore, always to be restored.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Dentist Chair (Fun Poem 99)
Everyone hates the dentist
some much more than me.
Just the thought of the drill
and the light in your eyes
puts the chills up me.
One of my worst encounters
of the dentist chair came in the 1960’s
when a cold in a tooth made my face swell
on one side like a melon
and I could only drink through a straw.
They knocked me out to remove the tooth.
Having no recovery room
they put me back in the waiting room
and sat me in a chair out there.
It was the dawn of the plastic moulded ones
and the one I sat on was so slippery
I kept slipping down.
I mumbled aloud about the dentist being no good.
Some of his patients took one look at me
and decided I was right, then made a hasty exit
from the waiting room.
With the side of my face swollen to the size of a melon
I can understand why.
Another encounter with a dentist
was quite a few years later.
A different dentist with a wholly different approach.
He was having his waiting room decorated
and I was the only one there.
He came in with a Cheshire grin across his face.
“Mr Harris, do you mind if this gentleman
takes out your teeth today? ”
Being I and thinking it was a student,
I said I didn’t mind.
The dentist then said, “He is my interior decorator.”
The smile still implanted on his face.
I nearly ran out of there.
Now the third tale concerns my wife
and she fears the dentist even more than me.
She had an appointment
and when we arrived,
the surgery was closed for lunch.
We went for a little walk
and all the cars we passed had dents in the side.
“See that.” I said.
“Yes.” She replied.
“That’s what the dentist does
when he can’t get his own way.”
As we approached, a corner
there was a church on the other side.
“Why don’t you nip in there for a quick pray
that the dentist doesn’t come back? ”
She thumped me I wonder why.
As we walked back to the surgery I assured her,
that everything was going to be OK.
They calm you as soon as you walk in.
She looked at me suspiciously and asked how?
They have a big mallet just above the door
and bop you on the head as you walk in.
Your teeth fall out in the process
and the job is done.
Now I wonder why she has never asked me
to go to the dentist with her again.
1 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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It's Your Soul
I'm feeling the stress
I'm feeling the pressure
It's setting in
It's breaking me down
I don't know how much longer I can take it
I don't know how much more I can take
I'm seeing the end of myself
I'm seeing that this is all I got
Man I'm depressed
Man I cant do this
I'd never say it out loud, but this is too much
My friend are great they help me forget
I turn to my sins, to my addictions
It's turning me into an empty person
This pressure will break me
I won't say it out loud but I can't take it anymore
I won't say it out loud but this is true horror
I dress it up, I put on a smile, I deaden the pain for awhile
But it's all an act
The pain is quite real
I say I'm tired
And yeah I got no rest
I say I'm sleep deprived, and believe me I don't sleep
But even in my quiet hours...
There is no peace
I say I'm sleep deprived, but it doesn't matter how much I sleep
I'm still tired
It's a never ending tiredness
The feeling is wearing me out
Wearing me out
Until I'm just
Weary
There is no sleep in sleeping
There is no rest and resting
I can't find peace in inner peace
I can't find peace in outer peace
A vacation won't do
So I tell you
It's your soul
The tiredness
It's your soul
The weariness
It's your soul
The depression and longing for more
It's your soul
The brokenness and stress
It's your soul
Feeling like you can't do it
It's your soul
Feeling overwhelmed because it's all too much to handle
It's your soul
The reason you're restless even in times of rest is because
It's your soul
The tiredness and brokenness is in your soul
So let go for once
So let God for once
This problem is deep inside
And no matter how hard you try to hide
You need help
Because it's your soul
So let Jesus restore your soul, because that's rest
So let God give you peace, because He's the only one who can
So let the Holy Spirit comfort you, because He'll mend your soul
It's funny that we always look forward to this vacation or the next
It's funny that we think there's an end to the stress
It's funny that we think we're tired because we don't sleep
It's funny we don't realize we're lost sheep
Because the problem is our soul
Go to Jesus because He promises
'Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden with burden and I will give you rest...'
poem by David Knox
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Small Things Bother Me
He wore dark glasses I could not see his eyes
And the mirror to his soul he did disguise
He hid from the World his personality
Without the eyes a face you only see.
Perhaps his eyes from the bright sun he shade
The main reason why dark glasses are made
And though he lives nearby him I shall never get to know
As he wears dark glasses rain or sun shine or snow.
Any acknowledgement of me he never seems to show
And we pass each other by without saying hello
Through his dark glasses into my soul he peer
And he's still a stranger though to me he lives near.
Perhaps I'm small in ways and small things get to me
But it bothers me when others eyes I cannot see
Whether their eyes be blue, brown, green or grey who can say
As the mirror to their soul behind dark glasses hidden away.
I see him often though not every day
And his eyes behind dark glasses always hidden away
The mirror of his soul is well hidden from me,
Perhaps I'm small and small things bother me.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Its Funny...
Its Funny...
When im happy I have a bad day
Its Funnny,
That when I wish it was hot it snowed
Its Funny,
That when the world is finally at peace War begins
Its Funny,
When I fancy Chicken my mum cooks pork
Its Funny,
When I get a new phone It breaks
Its Funny,
When I tell my friend a secret and politely ask her not to tell a soul but she does anyway
Its Funny,
When my mate does something wrong I get in trouble
Its Funny,
I want to watch a movie on T.V but theres a powercut from start to finish
Its Funny,
When I ask for a cat for my birthday, I get a fish
Its Funny,
When I say I love you
You reply....I love you too and I always will
poem by MeganOlivia Maxwell
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The Dentist Appointment
On Thursday morning, I have to see the Dentist;
Cancelling the appointment, I am trying to resist.
I just don't know if I will be able to do it;
I don't know if I can put myself through it.
To help myself relax, and help allay my fears.
I am planning to plug my iPod into my ears
If, with my favourite music, my ears are filled,
It will drown out the sound of the dreaded drill.
Whenever I think about it, I feel extremely tense.
The relief I'll feel, when it's over, will be immense.
In the pit of my stomach, I get bouts of butterflies;
A few times, in secret, I've even had a little cry.
On my last trip to the Dentist, my eyes sprung a leak,
And my fingers gripped tightly to the edge of my seat.
The needle which they use, feels me with such fright,
So I'll lie there tomorrow, and shut my eyes really tight.
On Thursday morning, I'm the first one in the chair;
I'm hoping that this will make it a tad easier to bear.
But what if, the situation, I really just cannot face?
What if, away from the surgery, I then quickly race?
My Dentist does his real best to put me at ease;
He is really friendly, and looks slightly Chinese.
But, if I keep myself calm, and be really brave,
My teeth, my Dentist, will then be able to save.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Critics Outside And Inside
Peers are critics outside and conscience,
The critic inside. We listen to both.
We make efforts to silence both the critics.
When there is a conflict between the two,
Do answer the calls from the conscience
Rather than yield to the peers' pressure.
One thinks of oneself when one spends for food.
One thinks of pears when one spends on clothes.
Love from pity is the call of conscience.
Love for relation is the call of peers.
People go bankrupt from peers' pressure.
A coward is led by peers influence.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Pressure
Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah
I dont really want to give it to you
cos its really contagious
You can pick it up anywhere
And it can be quite dangerous
You can spread it mouth to mouth
You can even get it when youre alone
But I can always live with it
Whenever I am close to you
Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure
I get it driving in my motor car
I get it when Im drinking in a bar
I get it riding on the subway
I get it regular every day
And anyone who never had it yet
And doesnt know what Im going through
But I forget the pressure
When I am close to you
Altogether now-oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure oh yeah. oh yeah. oh yeah
Pressure pressure feel the pressure
You got the pressure and thats a fact
I can tell by the way you act
And I can tell that youre pressurised
By the look thats in your eyes
I know the pressure cos Ive got it too
So I know what youre going through
But I forget the pressure
Whenever I am close to you
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Funny Things that Happen.
Funny things that happen quite often to me,
Like going shopping for slippers, and come home without;
Or go out in a tshirt, but find it's back to front I see,
Am I going crazy, what's happening should I shout?
Funny things that happen when you go to ring on the phone,
Then sure it's the right number, but a man says I've been here a year;
So you end up finding the man is your neighbor in his home,
So you gasp for an excuse, to get off the line, realizing he's so near.
Funny things that's happened to my dad one day,
He couldn't find his glasses, that were on his nose;
Where did you two put them now, is what he did say,
Even when we tried to show him, he was still full of woes.
Funny things had happened to me a while ago,
When I was engaged, a doctor thought I was a wife;
He had not read the history, if he had it would show,
But we just laughed, another funny story to my life.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Funny isn't it?
Funny isn’t it?
The torture and pain
But don’t worry about it
Wasn’t it just a game?
Funny isn’t it?
Watching her hide from you
Hiding behind people
So scared of what you’ll do
Funny isn’t it?
Ripping up her soul
Well I suppose you had too
You have to be in control
Funny isn’t it?
When you don’t see her around
Proud of your work
That You won your ground
Funny isn’t it?
When your smile starts fall
As you look for that girl
Missing from school
Funny isn’t it?
When the guilt takes its toll
When the worry starts
And it tares up your soul
Funny isn’t it?
When you see her friends looks
When you wish you could give back
All the things you took
It was funny wasn’t it?
Went you read that note
And you saw the reasons
she had blood on her coat
Its funny now isn’t it?
As the guilt take its place
And all you can see
Is her lifeless face
poem by Amie Waddafuck
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Drill Baby Drill
DRILL BABY DRILL
“Oh-oh say can you see”
Any beach-sand oil free
This pollution debris
A gift from corporate B P
DRILL BABY DRILL
This sea-borne disaster
Oil hardened like plaster
Needs a plug-the-leak master
To stop the oil gushing faster
DRILL BABY DRILL
Beautiful pelican creatures
Once with beautiful winged features
Now bogged down in oily slime
No longer enjoy their flying time
DRILL BABY DRILL
B P drilling for profits and dividends
Caused havoc with too many of natures friends
Along with much of the seafaring life
Who share the pelicans’ oily strife
DRILL BABY DRILL
The Gulf of Mexico now in distress
Is due to B P’s preventable oil laden mess
We’ve only one planet so we better beware
No more DRILL BABY DRILL-give Earth its due care
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Out Of Reach!
The playful tiger watched the leaves
That fell from yonder tree
And while that nothing yet achieves,
His eyes lit up with glee...
So on his belly he crept close,
For just one leaf to catch,
With whiskers trembling by his nose
At plans he hoped to hatch...
Advancing forward yard-by-yard,
Eyes tilted skyward now,
He squinted, focussing quite hard,
With furrows on his brow...
Though in his mind he saw a bird
For every leaf that fell,
His error hadn't yet occurred,
He simply couldn't tell...
Then suddenly he leapt quite high!
Though somewhat overweight!
Yet out of reach! Oh, my, oh, my!
'That's great! ' he said, 'Just great! '
Opticians can't help tigers, friend!
Just folks like me and you...
They're there to help us comprehend
Our changing point of view...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Out Of Reach'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Peekabo, I Almost See You
Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to
lead it,
But there comes a day when your eyes
are all right but your arm isn't long
enough
to hold the telephone book where you can read it,
And your friends get jocular, so you go
to the oculist,
And of all your friends he is the joculist,
So over his facetiousness let us skim,
Only noting that he has been waiting for you ever since
you said Good evening to his grandfather clock under
the impression that it was him,
And you look at his chart and it says SHRDLU QWERTYOP,
and you say Well, why SHRDNTLU QWERTYOP? and he
says one set of glasses won't do.
You need two.
One for reading Erle Stanley Gardner's Perry Mason and
Keats's "Endymion" with,
And the other for walking around without saying Hello
to strange wymion with.
So you spend your time taking off your seeing glasses to put
on your reading glasses, and then remembering that your
reading glasses are upstairs or in the car,
And then you can't find your seeing glasses again because
without them on you can't see where they are.
Enough of such mishaps, they would try the patience of an
ox,
I prefer to forget both pairs of glasses and pass my declining
years saluting strange women and grandfather clocks.
poem by Ogden Nash
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The Magic of Numbers
The Magic of Numbers—1
How strange it was to hear the furniture being moved around in the apartment upstairs!
I was twenty-six, and you were twenty-two.
The Magic of Numbers—2
You asked me if I wanted to run, but I said no and walked on.
I was nineteen, and you were seven.
The Magic of Numbers—3
Yes, but does X really like us?
We were both twenty-seven.
The Magic of Numbers—4
You look like Jerry Lewis (1950).
The Magic of Numbers—5
Grandfather and grandmother want you to go over to their house for dinner.
They were sixty-nine, and I was two and a half.
The Magic of Numbers—6
One day when I was twenty-nine years old I met you and nothing happened.
The Magic of Numbers—7
No, of course it wasn’t I who came to the library!
Brown eyes, flushed cheeks, brown hair. I was twenty-nine, and you were sixteen.
The Magic of Numbers—8
After we made love one night in Rockport I went outside and kissed the road
I felt so carried away. I was twenty-three, and you were nineteen.
The Magic of Numbers—9
I was twenty-nine, and so were you. We had a very passionate time.
Everything I read turned into a story about you and me, and everything I did was turned into a poem.
“The Magic of Numbers” from The Collected Poems of Kenneth Koch, published by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. Copyright © 2006 by Kenneth Koch.
poem by Kenneth Koch
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His Healing Process
The Lord is doing a mighty work, as His Spirit does more than lurk,
As the doctors, for me strive, with their medicine, to keep me alive,
As the work of God may overwhelm, the doctor who is at the helm,
While doctors deal with my infirmity, that our human eyes can’t see.
However, The Lord knows and sees, each of my body’s infirmities,
As the doctors deal with the known, from the tests they are shown,
While the staff with this is dealing, God above is doing the healing,
Moving me ever closer to the end, of my present battle dear friend.
The doctor indeed seems impressed, as my condition is assessed,
As my condition betters each week, to bright, from what was bleak,
For I am closer to being healed, far from what was initially revealed,
Being told that in two years ahead, I would be much closer to dead.
But, new health God has granted me, just how much I’ve yet to see,
Now my health is being restored, through the doctors, by The Lord,
Slowly, but surely I can say, God is giving me more hope each day,
Hope as I see my Lord and God, leading the way with staff and rod.
In His mercy, He has shown His face, guiding me daily in His Grace,
As my Lord leads me in this trial, He’s by my side, there’s no denial,
He’s in the process of healing me, so that many other souls will see,
My Lord’s Grace, with His Power, as I progress, every day and hour.
(Copyright ©06/2011)
Pressure
A funny thing happened yesterday
I felt the pressure in a brand new way
It kept hitting me from all directions
I got this feeling I was cracking up
My knees were shaking and I couldnt close my eyes
I fought to gain control and make corrections
A funny thing happened yesterday
I felt the pressure in a tv way.
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me.
You watch the box and the video jocks
If you could talk that could even be you up there
Thats why you need max head room
Too much pressure for peace on earth
Too much tryin to get your moneys worth
Too much dying
The eldorado, the mercedes benz
The job security that never ends.
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me.
I feel the pressure building every night
One of these days Im gonna go out like a light
Oh, baby
I feel the pressure building every night
One of these days Im gonna go out like a light.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Image of a Friend
As I look through the window of friendship,
I see in the gentle wind,
The whispered breeze of an angel,
It is in the image of 'friend'.
This friend has a heart of compassion,
Caring that comes without end,
The giving of love to others,
Characterizes my dear friend.
This friend has hands that carry,
The load of your burdens with ease,
Hands that will hold others' problems,
Grasping with love, not to cease.
This friend has eyes, understanding,
That see to the heart of a soul,
Eyes that are never condemning,
But rather see new ways to grow.
This friend has ears that listen,
And hear the call of a friend,
Ears that will cherish the moment,
And take the time to lend.
The image of friend described here,
Is the picture I see in my mind,
When I look through the window of life,
Your image is what I find!
poem by Jean Penner
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Made In China
Made in China
You find it every day.
Made in China
Not the USA.
Never could we work
for the pennies that they pay.
And still live here
in the USA.
All those corporate giants,
They have found a way
to reap in all the profits
out of the USA.
Now we're finding toys
with which our children play
with chemicals from China,
not the USA.
Seems to me Americans
there will come a day
that we will all be sorry
here in the USA.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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