A police road block
We went to the boy’s rugby match
it was at a school in Centurion
just south of Pretoria
and he was playing really well
got provincial colours
and went to the Craven week.
We parked up on a knoll
and you wanted to stroll down it,
to where the rugby field was
and I insisted that we follow
the road round,
but you cursed me
right there between the other parents
and was determined to have your way.
You didn’t want to hear anything
and your first step
going down that hillock
was the last that you took there,
since you stumbled and broke your leg
while I grabbed you to steady you.
I carried you down that little hill
and you were in great pain
and had your arms
around my neck
and at that moment
I knew that you loved me.
I went to fetch the car
and brought it round the knoll,
put you on the back seat
of your old green Honda ballade
with a lot of care and trouble
to get you in
without hurting you
and took you straight
to Unitas hospital
that was near.
I phoned the medical aid five times
while you were being admitted
to get a confirmation from them
to stop the hospital
from claiming a deposit
and when you were settled
I went home
to fetch some clothing
and toiletries.
I drove back with my own white Polo
and just at the hospital
was stopped by the South African Police
at a roadblock.
They made me get out of the car,
patted me down like a criminal,
wanted to see my drivers license,
was determined to search the car
and went through your
underclothes and things
and asked me what I am doing
with a suitcase of woman’s clothes
in the boot?
They were very rude
and I explained that I was taking it
to you in hospital
and was determined
to see their authority
to search my car.
They had the right order there
signed by a judge
for a roadblock and a search
of any car
on that stretch of road
but the police officer to whom
it gave authority
wasn’t there
and I demanded to see him
and they wrote my name
and identity number in a book
while I told them
that they were acting illegally
before they let me go.
You were glad to see me
and browsed through the magazines
that I brought
and I visited as long as I could
and asked the sister in the office
to take special care of you,
but when I left
the police and their roadblock
was no longer there.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
a Real life nightmare
It feels like another life
and had been at another time
and place,
where I knocked and knocked
at the locked bedroom door.
At last I found a key
and still something
was holding it
and I pushed with all my might
and at last it opened.
She was lying on the bed
with outstretched arms
and empty pill bottles
next to her head
and there was no note
to say farewell
and why she did it,
to this day
only she can tell.
She was still breathing
and I felt a weak pulse
and I was without strength
from flu,
but I picked her up
and got her over my shoulder.
The car was too far
and there was nobody
willing to help me
and I stumbled over my weak legs
and got hold of her again
and carried her to the car.
I passed over three red robots
without any car’s being there
and she belched over
my shirt and pants
and just before the state hospital
two metro police cars
started to follow me
with flashing blue lights
and screaming sirens.
I stopped at the ambulance
drop-off point
and was cursed by ambulance men
that was standing there,
and the metro police
rushed to me
took a look at her
and went on their way
and nobody wanted to help.
Anger gave me strength
and I carried her
into the hospital
and went straight through admissions
and followed the red line
to casualties
and somebody
brought a wheelchair
and some doctor
saved her life.
The doctor said that the belching
saved her,
but today I am just glad
that she’s out of my life
and that I do not have to face
another nightmare.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Ambulance that Got Away
When Grandpa suffered a turn, we
Called the ambulance, right away,
They strapped him onto a gurney
So he couldn't sit up, or sway,
‘We'll see you up at the hospital, '
We cried, as we waved him well,
The ambulance went with bells and lights
Like a demon bound for hell!
Grandma wasn't at home, we
Had to phone her on the cell,
She couldn't come back just then, she said
She was having a fainting spell,
So we waited until he was settled in
Then drove in a convoy down,
To the hospital at Ullarook,
Just fifty miles from town.
The nurse at the desk said: ‘No-one here
By the name of Alfred Groom,
We only have private patients here,
We bed them, one to a room,
If he hasn't got private cover, then
You'll have to look elsewhere,
Maybe the ambulance took him off
To the hospital at Bulnare.'
We phoned the hospital at Bulnare:
‘He hasn't been seen round here,
There was an ambulance, come to think,
But he left with a flea in his ear!
We don't take patients from out of town
There's few enough beds for us,
He's probably over at Gundacoot,
They run their own private bus.'
We drove ten miles to Gundacoot,
An ambulance sat in the drive,
We thought, ‘Thank God, he must be here!
Let's hope that he's still alive! '
We all raced in through the sliding doors
And crowded around the Nurse:
‘Who? Alfred Groom, in a private room?
Not here! ' We left with a curse!
We split up the convoy into two,
I drove to the nearest town,
A middling place called Jerribee
With a hospital, quite run down,
‘The government cut our funding, '
Said the Nurse in the parking bay,
‘We shut down twenty beds last week,
Your Dad isn't here today.'
My son had travelled the other way
To Inkermine on the coast,
The hospital there had a hundred beds
The locals were wont to boast,
‘He's isn't here, but the ambulance
Was spotted on leaving town, '
My son had sighed on his endless ride
When he called on the mobile phone.
That night when Grandma got her breath
She went to the ambulance place,
She battered him with her umbrella
Knocking his glasses clean off his face:
‘Where did you take him, tell me now
Or I'll have to call the police!
What? Are your ears painted on! '
‘We took him to Bungaleese! '
The only place that would take him was
The Medical Clinic there,
It isn't even a hospital
And you sit on a leather chair,
When we finally got to Bungaleese
Grandpa could barely talk,
We said, ‘We'll get you an ambulance! '
‘No thanks, ' he growled, ‘I'll walk! '
29 August 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Police intimidation
Today while in Springs
walking on the sidewalk
on my way to home
there was a police roadblock
put up right over the main road
just at Werda School
where you leave the shopping area
where eight armed policemen were standing
and when I got a call
from a wrong number
the one in the middle of the road
rushes to me; saying that I have taken a photograph of him
and the whole lot of them close around me,
I am even grabbed
with a hand into the back of my pants
that holds onto my belt,
I am searched
with hands being put
into my pockets
and my two cellular phones are taken
whereupon I say to them
that I have broken no law
and I am taking record of police intimidation
and a black police captain
(if military ranks are the same)
grab onto my arms holding them
and say that he is going to lock me up
and he stands so near to my face
that I am able to smell his sour breathe.
Whereupon I say to him
that I have broken no law,
that he has no grounds for arrest
and that touching me
is as good as assault
and then a white policeman
with two stars (a military lieutenant’s rank) walks nearer
and the captain let go of my arms,
some of the group gathered around me stands back
but the one at my back
is still holding on to me
with his hand on my belt
into the back of my pants
while another one
is busy going into the data
of my cellular phones
and the white one threaten
to assault me,
to hit me into a hospital
and I say to him
that surely in his eyes
it is illegal to tape
this conversation that they must let me go
as I have not broken any law.
Then he says if I again
spit him in the face while I talk
he will hit my teeth out of my mouth
and I say that the one holding me
is already assault
and that I will let them lock him up
in his own jail, if he touches me
and he says that he will not
touch me even with gloves
and that man stands so near to me
trying to intimidate, that I can smell him
and it smells as if for a whole week
he did not bath
as he is stinking of rotting sweat.
Then they want to know my name
and address from me
which I refuse
to give to them.
Then the white lieutenant says
that it is illegal
not to give my particulars
and I to him
that they do not have the right to it
as I have broken no law
as I am wondering
if the lot of them
want to come and assault me
in the middle of the night or something?
Then he says: “you that have swallowed
a whole law book, you know
that you have to give
your name and address.”
Then I say again
that I have broken no law
were just passing
and I am tacking record of police intimidation.
Then the white lieutenant says
that I do not even know what my name is
also in what street I am walking
and exactly in what town,
at what place
I am in the world.
The black policemen
stand laughing
as if it’s the joke
of all jokes
and I say that I want my cellular phones back,
that they cannot come
and steal them from me
and he threatens again to hit me.
When they can get no photograph of them
on my cellular phones
they give my cellular phones back
and the white man that they call adjutant threatens
again to assault me
and says away with you
that I must be on my way
and says record this now
and I will hit you like thunder!
Then I say that this type of thing
only happens in a police state
and that they are Gestapo
busy with police intimidation
and that I am going to publish this incident
and they laugh at me.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder as a citizen,
who pays my taxes
when and where I have a job,
what rights does the law representatives claim
to themselves
and how good, are they at their jobs?
The two cars that had being stolen from me
have after three years
not been found back
and this lot is fast
to stand and threaten with assault
and I scoff at them and know my rights,
but three thousand farmers have been killed
and where are their killers?
Surely walking around freely?
Surely one can only expect an incident like this
in the new South Africa
where things are only going
from bad to worse.
[This incident happened on Saturday 11 December 2010 at 09h15.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Most of your precious jewels were stolen
Most of your precious jewels were stolen,
your car’s window smashed
by a black man with a beanie hat,
who grabbed your handbag
from the seat next to you
were you were parked between two cars
at a traffic light.
The thief ran into the minibus taxi rank
and you were too afraid to follow
into that maze
of black travellers.
Even you cellular phone was taken,
along with your purse, identity document
and driver’s license.
You called me from the nearby
plumber’s shop
and I drove quicker from Johannesburg
to the centre city of Pretoria
than the Police could
from a few blocks away.
Every precious jewel you had,
the emerald engagement ring,
the ten-centimetre broad gold armband,
your string of pearls, two rings
with three carat diamonds,
the charm bracelet with the big five
that I collected golden pendant
by golden pendant for you,
even my Rolex watch was stolen
and some golden Kruger Rands,
earrings, rings and bracelets
that I cannot recall anymore.
You were crying and shaken
and I tried to comfort you
and entered the minibus taxi rank
trying to find discarded documents
or something,
but without avail.
When the police came
they were too afraid
to search the taxi rank
and said that its dangerous
and when I told them
that I had searched it already
they were astonished
and they told you to report the crime
at the nearest police station
if you wanted to make a case
and drove away with their yellow van.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Most of your precious jewels were stolen [1]
Most of your precious jewels were stolen,
your car’s window smashed
by a black man with a beanie hat,
who grabbed your handbag
from the seat next to you
were you were parked between two cars
at a traffic light.
The thief ran into the minibus taxi rank
and you were too afraid to follow
into that maze
of black travellers.
Even you cellular phone was taken,
along with your purse, identity document
and driver’s license.
You called me from the nearby
plumber’s shop
and I drove quicker from Johannesburg
to the centre city of Pretoria
than the Police could
from a few blocks away.
Every precious jewel you had,
the emerald engagement ring,
the ten-centimetre broad gold armband,
your string of pearls, two rings
with three carat diamonds,
the charm bracelet with the big five
that I collected golden pendant
by golden pendant for you,
even my Rolex watch was stolen
and some golden Kruger Rands,
earrings, rings and bracelets
that I cannot recall anymore.
You were crying and shaken
and I tried to comfort you
and entered the minibus taxi rank
trying to find discarded documents
or something,
but without avail.
When the police came
they were too afraid
to search the taxi rank
and said that its dangerous
and when I told them
that I had searched it already
they were astonished
and they told you to report the crime
at the nearest police station
if you wanted to make a case
and drove away with their yellow van.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sirens
I hear them again.
The sirens are on their way.
In come the police.
Along with the paramedics.
Off to hospital I have to go.
They can't leave me.
Not now they've been told.
My suicide can't go on.
Becuase the sirens are screaming.
Here are the police.
Who I hate with all my might.
Saving my life.
They don't care about my strife.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Stories Of Hope Series #11 Adopted Child
The child was brought into this world
By an un wanting mother, did not have
any family, no sisters, no brothers.
But was adopted from birth by a woman
Who was seeking a child, and didn’t
Have any of her own for quite awhile.
This child was loved, like he could never know
Because as a mother her love she did show.
Never had a need or want for anything in life
Never knew about the mothers struggles or strife.
The child at times would question as to why
he was from a one parent family.
She told him that it was the way she wanted it to be.
She loved this child more than life itself
And in her heart this child would dwell.
Then one day before high school graduation
He had needed papers of when and where
He was born documentation.
He knew his mother kept the important
Papers in a metal box- which was always kept locked.
He found the key to the box, and opened it
Up with care, and with his mother the reason
He would share.
He found an envelope dated 1/29/92
Which was his birth date, that much he knew.
He opened the envelope and saw the heading
“ certificate of birth” on the first paper he took out.
As he opened it up and started to read
Where it said parents names, was blank as can be.
He waited for his mother to get home
And then the papers would be shown.
When she got home he asked her why there was no names?
She put her head down and said: she was to blame.
You see: you was left on the hospital steps
With a note attached to you blanket saying:
“She could not take care of you
And this was the best that she could do.”
Being a nurse in that hospital, I fell in love with you
And I went through the process to adopt you.
I have loved you from the start, and you’ve
Filled my soul and heart.
No one can love you more than I
And I will love you till the day I die.
The tears started rolling down her face
And he kissed her tears away.
He said: you are the only mother I have ever known
And because of you, I have a family.
“ that could never change for me”.
I’m so sorry that I never told you my son
And for any hurt that I may have done.
I just wanted to protect you
That is all I wanted to do.
They both shed their tears, and comforted their fears.
He said: I decided that I would go to the court of records
And change it for all to see, that you are
The only mother for me.
On his birth certificate they attached a stipulation
Which read: this woman became his mother from
The moment that he was found
And this case has become world renown.
Because of the hope she had in her heart
Her and her son got a brand new start.
HOPE IS THE KEY TO SET YOURSELF FREE
poem by Louis Rams
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Why God Gave Her So Many Miseries?
With no money in the
Pocket
I was lying on the road
Writhing in pain
When passing by me
She saw me
Stopped by my side
Gave me water to drink
Took me the hospital
Got me treated
Paid for the treatment
As soon as I recovered
To my astonishment
She vanished in thin air
I asked the hospital staff
If anybody knew her
I got an answer
That left me speechless
She was a lonely widow
Living on meager income
She was suffering from
Cancer
Her days were numbered
Her gesture left me startled
To me she was a god sent
Angel
She forget her misery
To help me
I failed to understand
Why god gave her
So many miseries
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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The Hospital Ship
There is a green-lit hospital ship,
Green, with a crimson cross,
Lazily swaying there in the bay,
Lazily bearing my friend away,
Leaving me dull-sensed loss.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Numb is my heart, but you carelessly dip
There in the drift of the bay.
There is a green-lit hospital ship,
Dim as the distance grows,
Speedily steaming out of the bay,
Speedily bearing my friend away
Into the orange-rose.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Dim are my eyes, but you heedlessly slip
Out of their sight from the bay.
There was a green-lit hospital ship,
Green, with a blood-red cross,
Lazily swaying there in the bay,
But it went out with the light of the day -
Out where the white seas toss.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Cold are my hands and trembling my lip:
Did you make home from the bay?
poem by W.H. Littlejohn
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Hospital Food
Coming down through the alley
Trying to walk without a sound
It doesnt really matter
cause there aint no one around
Tip toe through the alley and
Tip toe through your life
You still got it coming
Be it gun be it knife
Next thing you know
Youre eating hospital food
Karaoke castration
Take the wasp alive
Hes gonna sting you anyway
And take you to the hive
Yesterday was suckin and
Tomorrows looking bad
Who knew that today
Was the only thing I had
Hospital food
Want some hospital food
Hospital food
Delicious hospital food
In your tribute album to the world
You must never forget
To sing the one about the cat
Whos always getting wet
He always got a problem
Hes a very bitter dude
And now hes complaining
About his hospital food
Hospital food
Its gonna help the medicine go down
Want some hospital food
Gonna take a walk without a sound
A little hospital food
Helps the spoonful of sugar come up
I want some hospital food
In your blender and in my cup
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Very Strange Tale
An unexpected and unknown pregnancy
That ushered a series of events
Brought Susan in a state of emergency
Confused in her predicament.
The doctor said she had miscarried
And the bleeding she had was not usual
Her fiance, they were to be married
But now they ended at the hospital.
So they brought her there for surgery
With only her boyfriend now in tow
She called up her mother and said briefly:
'Mom, they're operating on me, you must know.'
When the frantic mother had arrived
Poor Susan was covered in a white sheet.
The mother was told she did not survive
While on surgery, her Death she did meet.
Her sister said she could not believe it -
She had seen Susan in their room weeping,
She was on the bed, dressed in hospital sheets
Crying 'What have they done? I'm aching! '
The sister then asked her. 'How are you?
Are you alright? ' In a flash she had quickly gone
The strangest and weirdest thing came true -
That was the death time of a departed Susan.
Now at night at the hospital corridors
Night shift nurses hear someone weeping
Though dismissed as some silly horrors
Some still see a sad Susan there walking.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Kid's truth lands pop in soup
It was a bright summer’s day
And a man was driving his car
It seems he was crossing the speed limit
So it’s obvious the police weren’t far
The police chased him all the way
But the man had already reached his house
He admitted himself inside
Looking as terrified as a mouse
He asked his wife to tell
The police that he hadn’t come
And he concealed himself in the bedroom
Feeling depressed, scared and glum
The police arrived and asked the wife where he was
She said he wasn’t there
When her three year old daughter stepped up
With cheeks so chubby and fair
She piped up in her little voice,
“If you want to know just ask me
Daddy’s hiding in the bedroom
Why don’t you go and see? ”
The police caught the man
And asked him, “Well, what do you say,
It seems because of your own daughter
You are in trouble today”
The man just shook his head and said,
“I am to be blamed for this tumult
I always taught my daughter never to lie
And this is the result! ”
The inspiration for this poem came from an anecdote in Reader's Digest
poem by Risha Ahmed
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The military police
One afternoon
just after returning from work
there was a knock on the front door
and three military policemen
with flat orange hats,
and orange arm flashes
demanded to come in
and wanted to search my place
as somebody had told them
that I was a friend of someone
for whom they had an arrest warrant
for not turning up to camp
and the simpletons thought
that I was hiding him.
Being in the citizens force,
I intensely disliked the military police
and knew that he was quite safe from them
and showed them the gate
which made them really angry,
but they were furious
when I told them that I knew
where to find him
and that they could go
to the local police station
where he was on duty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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What a big joke
What a big joke
the new defence force has become,
where three thousand soldiers
strike and run riot
and it’s people
who chooses to be soldiers.
If Jan Smuts ruled
they would have been dead
as he let them
load a gun
for Jopie Fourie
and to me it’s nothing less
than revolt
for which people in the past
could pay the ultimate penalty.
I almost laughed myself apart
when medical troops
where brought to justice
for whoring
and I wondered
what was now happening
at the once great 1 Mil?
What kind of army has no discipline
and in what defence force
troops and junior officers
tell generals
how to do their thing
and the President
is challenged
to take instructions?
In my time you where bound by law
to go without any choice
to the defence force
and if you did not go there,
the military police
quickly came to fetch you
at home.
In my defence force
nonsense was taken out of you
from the start
and the authority of higher ranks was supreme
and we exercised with a pole and tyre
and received
the best training there.
.
For two years we
had to do national service
against a pauper’s pay
and it felt at a time
as if the camps
would never end.
a Soldier pointed his finger
at a lieutenant
and received thirty days
in the detention barracks
for it.
It was a defence force
that showed its fist
to Swapo, Fapla,
the Cubans and Russians
and the best soldiers
knew their duty.
Against what foe
will this new army be able to stand
if there’s no discipline
and like in a asylum people run amok
and I wonder
what omen
is hitting the new South Africa
where patriotism
lies at the backdoor
and every soldier thinks
that he’s a general
and like all things
in this once great country,
this army is more than pathetic
against what it once was.
[Reference: 1 Mil=> One milatary hospital.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Helpless With Dementia
I was a victim of dementia
I could not remember recent things
Confined to a small lock down area
When I had a visitor, I was so happy
I can’t remember that I wasn’t a real mother to you
Or when I let others abuse and beat you too
I am now at the mercy of all others
Oh how I pray you forgave me too
You tried your best to take care of me
But I kept wandering off, only wanting to be free
You felt such guilt and cried many tears
When the doctor said you could no longer take care of me
I know you searched many nursing homes
To find that special place, that would care for me
A place of love, where i couldn’t roam
A place with nurses, where I’d be safe
You paced the floors and cried
Each time they sent me to the hospital
They would say I must haven fallen
They were convincing with their lies
Bruises on my face, they weren’t all falls
Violent patients abused me
I was at the mercy of all of them
Said they wouldn’t break elder laws
They had an excuse for everything
Blow after blow
You tried to stay most of the time
For you they put on a show
When you were there
They would paint my finger nails
And fix my hair
When you were gone I was tied to a chair
They took my dignity and self respect
They were paid by the hour, and didn’t care
Towards the end, they say I fell and broke my hip
Next week told I fell and broke my leg
Once a week I was at the emergency room
You always beat the ambulance there
The last hospital visit, I got a staph infection
The doctor said i was near the end
I couldn’t tell you what they did to me
Because I forgot so much
You stayed by my side until the end
Telling me you loved me, and softly singing hyms
The angels came for me one night
And ended all my pain
Please don’t cry for me anymore
I’ve been made whole again
I look down at you, and wish I could take the pain away
I’m in heaven now and this is where I must stay!
To all that have loved ones with dementia, please guard their care.
All nursing homes are not the way they seem. They will put on a show for you so they can make their blood money. They neglected and abused my mother. So I am her voice.
To my mother who did the best she knew how to.
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Punishment parade
I was in residence in Salisbury house
at the private university
lying at the foot
of Helderberg mountain
when in my fourth year
somebody with a master key
broke in to my room
stole clothes
and some bottles of cool drink
and even took a cake
out of the refrigerator.
Nols, a first year friend,
who was studying the same degree
was fresh out of the army
where he had been a lieutenant
and caught the thief red handed
stealing from his room
and to this day I do not know
how he convinced him
to confess,
but like a military prisoner
he and his roommate
marched that thief
right to my door.
His race was Coloured
mixed with Indian
(and why I address race here
will later become clear)
and sorry wasn’t enough
and what he didn’t sell
he drank and ate
and Nols asked:
“what do we do,
with the prisoner? ”
I made a joke
about a punishment parade,
which they took very seriously
and every day that student came
as their prisoner
and did push ups and lifted weights,
until he was convinced
to pay me back,
but it wasn’t the end
of the story.
Six o’clock one morning
on a winters day
the dean of Salisbury house
called me in.
“Who do you think you are
to call the Rector
at five in the morning
about your car
that was defecated on
and threaten with
a racial war? ”
My face was blank,
as it was the first
knowledge that I got
about faeces
on my yellow BMW.
A master degree student
who’s nickname was Ouboet (big brother)
walked in
and took the responsibility
for the call on him
but I wanted gibe that dean
and said that I am going
to the police to lay charges
and to let them take samples.
He took me very seriously,
tried to argue
and prayed for me
and both Ouboet and I suppressed laughs
and immediately I knew
which people had tampered
with my car
and I used a red fire house
to spray it off.
I didn’t have to wait long
before the responsible party
drove his new white Golf gti
straight into a big oak tree,
landed in hospital
and left the university.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Laid Up Once More
There is another bend in the road, again with another heavy load,
A heavy load of concern and care, another load in which to bear,
Yes, for another time in this life, I will have to go under the knife,
For The Lord has willed for me, yet, one more necessary surgery.
It’s not only me filled with cares, but, concerns my family shares,
It is especially in times like this, when we trust in The Lord Jesus,
As concerns around us are rife, He comforts my concerned wife.
Who is bearing yet another load, as we travel down another road.
I am not eager for the time ahead, laid up in another hospital bed,
And far away from my normal routine, while in that hospital scene,
Again, limited in all that I can do, while The Lord sees me through,
Back again, with my family instead, while far from a hospital bed.
But The Lord knew well before, I’ll have to enter the hospital door,
And why I needed surgery again, as He guides the hands of men,
While they wield that surgical knife, guided by The Creator of life,
So as they work with their hands, the Lord by me faithfully stands.
All this as God works in my days, for my good and God’s Praise,
As The Lord’s comfort and peace, trumps this now awful disease,
While each day I’m again assured, this battle belongs to my Lord,
As God brings me closer for sure, to His timely and ultimate cure.
Revelation
Been ‘bout ten years Shell I been together,
All pretty fine, some ups and downs and whatever
Couple of kids no more had been planned
Fibro house, half an acre of land
Oh yeah, Shell is pregnant which was quite a surprise
Not sure if the house is an adequate size
But, hell, I’m now happy though was worried at first
The area round here’s goin’ from bad unto worse
It’s housing commission and they put the dregs here
Lots of blackfellas with their swearing and beers
They drink on the footpath all times of the day
An' look at us white folk in menacing ways
I’d get rid of ‘em all if only I could
I’ve never yet met an Abo that’s good
They lie and they steal and they’re primitive too
Send them back to the country is what we should do.
Anyway, on this particular night
Shell’s breathing heavy and didn’t feel right
So I called up the doctor who told us to wait
Time the contractions and get ready mate
‘Round ‘bout three thirty we knew it was time
Twenty k’s to the hospital – not a long drive
It was windy that night and the clouds they were low
So we got in the car and drove safe and slow
It was then that the rain came – like being in the shower
What should take ten minutes was taking an hour
The creek burst its banks down near Somersby way
And the radio said there would be big delays
I got on the mobile – quite frantic by now
Then Shell’s waters broke and I didn’t know how
Somehow then it all happened so very quick
But the blood and the screaming made me feel sick
Then all I could hear was a tiny quiet cry
My baby! My baby! I sang to the sky
It was dark on that roadway – nobody around
And the rain it was teeming – we were stuck out of town
The ambulance got there ‘bout a quarter to five
I stayed with the car – I was planning to drive
I now think that it’s strange I stayed with the car
I’d not yet seen my baby – the night had no stars.
“This can’t be my child! ” I screamed at the nurse
“You’ve made a mistake and to make matters worse
This baby is black so just take it away!
Now sort out this cock up or I’ll make you all pay! ”
I woke with a bandage surrounding my head
A drip in my arm in a hospital bed
They gave me sedation and I felt quite numb
Was this all a nightmare? What had I done?
I’d passed clean out in that hospital ward
‘Cos we had the wrong baby and I’d fell on the floor
A sensible doctor then came to see me
Now just a few questions he said patiently
How is my baby? And how is my Shell?
They’re doing quite nicely, he said, very well
Now tell me, the Doctor then asked seriously
Where are your parents and are they healthy?
Why is there a problem? I asked him once more
No, not really a problem just for my records
So, you were adopted? And when would that be?
I told him it was ‘round nineteen seventy three
I’d lived out near Dubbo and my parents were killed
In a car crash or something on a road in the hills
That is your wife’s baby, he said quietly
My blood pressure rose and I started to scream
But it can’t be my child so where’s the bitch been
I’ll kill her! I’ll kill her! That whore’s cheated on me!
I took what they called a paternity test
The lawyer said it was all for the best
I now know the truth and it’s been hard to take
That baby’s my own and was not a mistake
I’d thought I was Irish with some Maltese genes
But I am an Abo – that’s proven it seems
My parents they died just a few years ago
They’d lived in the country – they’d moved out from Dubbo
They thought if adopted then I’d have more chance
Of a prosperous life and improved circumstance
So all of those years I’d been living a lie
Regarding myself as superior white
‘I don’t look like a black man’ I said to the lawyer
‘But then nor do I, would you please sign this form sir’.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Triplets; Aging, Sickness and Death!
In the life's hospital
You born,
Then discharge after sometimes.
Live outdoors happily
From childhood to the old age?
One day you feel that you're sick,
Again you go to that hospital,
After taking biopsy and doing lot of experiments
They found you're no more.
How sad the three stages on the same unending road?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We have a VA hospital back home in St. Louis. Like many of our colleagues, we hear continued concerns about the access and the service. I have seen a statistic that more than 60,000 veterans today are waiting more than 6 months for an appointment at a VA hospital.
quote by Russ Carnahan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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