Resented Dreams
When the dreams of sudden energy
Contrived my garden of joy
I too flowered and blossomed
In my very youth.
As the profession I had shared with people
Wore thin, I concocted a remedy
For I was a doctor within,
No dreams or illnesses.
I relaxed on the night of remembering my patients,
The dead were laid to rest and the mortuary
Stank of innocence, the dread
Filled the life of the sick.
May resentment be a tragedy
When resenting someone is like murder
Of another human being,
The same man or woman of the streets.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Happy Doctors’ Day,2008
All doctors are not demi-gods;
No doctor is miraculous;
All doctors are human beings,
Who help the sick and try to cure.
But doctors deal with human lives;
The profession’s noblest of all;
The Healer is Almighty God;
The doctor is His instrument.
The world is rife with ailments new;
The doctor strives his best to cure;
The doctor lessens suffering;
The miracles are done by God.
Yet, newer therapies have come;
The future for patients is bright;
Let people be more health-aware,
And live lives longer happily.
‘A Happy Doctors’ Day, ’08! ’
Pray God gives cures for more ailments;
The body’s, mind’s health stands foremost;
The doctor is like you, human.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-1-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ghosts of Dreams
We are all of us dreamers of dreams,
On visions our childhood is fed;
And the heart of a child is unhaunted, it seems,
By ghosts of dreams that are dead.
From childhood to youth's but a span,
And the years of our life are soon sped;
But the youth is no longer a youth, but a man,
When the first of his dreams is dead.
'Tis a cup of wormwood and gall,
When the doom of a great man is said;
And the best of a man is under a pall
When the best of his dreams is dead.
He may live on by compact and plan
When the fine bloom of living is shed,
But God pity the little that's left of a man
When most of his dreams are dead.
Let him show a brave face if he can;
Let him woo fame and fortune instead;
Yet there's not much to do, but to bury a man
When the last of his dreams is dead.
poem by William Herbert Carruth
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Girl O' My Dreams
Here we go, 2 .. 1, 2, 3!
I want a woman like Marilyn Monroe
The kind of woman that'd never say no
The kind of woman that'd make U scream
"That's the girl o' my dreams!"
I want a woman that'll treat me right
Give me good lovin' all through the night
Take her on a date, she's my machine
That's the girl o' my dreams
CHORUS:
Oh, the girl o' my dreams
Oh, listen people, that's the girl o' my dreams
I want a woman like Lauren Bacall
Old and wrinkled but knows it all
Got all the little tricks that'll make me cream
That's the girl o' my dreams
I want a woman that'll wash my hair
Even wash my underwear
Always smilin', never mean
That's the girl o' my dreams
CHORUS
I would say that U're a chauvinist
No, I just got a lot of things that are on my list!
Yeah, if she couldn't hang, would U give her the fist?
No man, I'd sit her right down and give her a little kiss!
Oh, I need a woman like Lena Horne
Knowed she was funky since the day she was born
Lena's mama say "Doc, is it a girl?"
Doc say "And how!"
Lena smiled, slapped the doctor and said
"Sucker I'm runnin' things now!"
CHORUS
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Youth and Calm
'Tis death! and peace, indeed, is here,
And ease from shame, and rest from fear.
There's nothing can dismarble now
The smoothness of that limpid brow.
But is a calm like this, in truth,
The crowning end of life and youth,
And when this boon rewards the dead,
Are all debts paid, has all been said?
And is the heart of youth so light,
Its step so firm, its eye so bright,
Because on its hot brow there blows
A wind of promise and repose
From the far grave, to which it goes;
Because it hath the hope to come,
One day, to harbour in the tomb?
Ah no, the bliss youth dreams is one
For daylight, for the cheerful sun,
For feeling nerves and living breath -
Youth dreams a bliss on this side death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
More grateful than this marble sleep;
It hears a voice within it tell:
Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well.
'Tis all perhaps which man acquires,
But 'tis not what our youth desires.
poem by Matthew Arnold (1852)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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My Dream Feels
If it weren't for that perfect fit
breasts to my chest;
if it weren't for those perfect lips
mine to yours
I'd not be so in love with you.
If it weren't for your flower-petal voice
those summer breeze yearning eyes
my summer heart
would not have blossomed so.
Absent my throbbing center
and yours matching
we'd not have sailed
to ectacy's edge
but we did;
such that without even touching
we evinced
these and more.
So speak to me in my Bed's Night
imagination plumb
and remembering
fantasy blended
till
there is no separating
dreams and the real
and this is perfection's tip
penetrating
Breathing me and I you
lungs filled with
that that perfect mix
estacy
remembering
and dreaming you
is all any person needs
because bodies
make no subtle
distinctions
between dreams and the real
in the three am hours.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Dreams We Had
Dreams we had
as a youth,
dreams long gone.
Dreams not fulfilled,
only talk was done,
dreams faded away.
Walk toward your dreams,
not away from them,
dreams can become real.
Your youth only stays
for a short moment,
then like a vapor, its gone.
Chase your dreams now,
no matter what anyone may say,
dreams can come true.
Sick of Being Sick
I’m sick of being rejected;
I’m sick of being emotionally neglected;
I’m sick of crying so many tears;
I’m sick of running away from my fears;
I’m sick of my childhood nightmares;
I’m sick of being told to do those stupid dares;
I’m sick of not having friends;
I’m sick of all these dead ends;
I’m sick of myself for what I’ve become;
I’m sick of feeling oh so numb;
I’m sick of watching myself drown;
I’m sick of my heart falling to the ground;
I’m sick of this life;
I’m sick of this everyday strife;
I’m sick of not having a dad;
I’m sick of getting mad;
I’m sick of my childhood past;
I’m sick of being harassed;
I’m sick of the dread;
I’m sick of wanting to be dead;
I’m sick of being the one who’s always so strong;
I’m sick of being somebody that doesn’t belong! !
poem by Shelby Brockway
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{Her}
I awoke sometime in the the night
Laid back looking at her
The moon was shining
Softly through the window
Enhancing her face
Giving her the restful look
That glow in children
I hope her dreams are soft and sweet
For when she rises
Her innocence of a child will be gone
She must face the hardships once again
A woman faces each day
When she lies to rest
She shall, once again, return to the innocence of a child
Needing only the little love
Every child should have
I will be beside her then
For when she needs that love
I will be there
Just to show that she is loved
poem by Robert W. McCarthy
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Warchild ('78 Demo)
Warchild, your heart is broken
Your mind is breakin', it's such a shame
Warchild, your body's broken
Your woman's taken, it's not a game
People once shared your wisdom
Shared your memory, shared your dreams
Now your thoughts have all been shattered
What once was rhythm are now just screams
Warchild, I used to love you
The whole world loved you, we used to care
Warchild, your mind has been emptied
So all you do now is just sit n' stare
People once shared your wisdom
Shared your memory, shared your dreams
Now your thoughts have all been shattered
What once was rhythm are now just screams
Your lady's waiting, she's hesitating
Not knowing why
Warchild, the pain you're showing
The pain is knowing that you're gonna die
People once shared your wisdom
Shared your memory, shared your dreams
Now your thoughts have all been shattered
What once was rhythm are now just screams
song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Advice to Doctors
No patient’s mine; no patient remains yours;
The patient comes and goes from Doc to Doc;
If he improves, we simply then rejoice,
Though God’s the key to the diagnostic-lock!
All patients ail and expect some relief;
A doctor’s duty is to help him out;
All patients speak the truth; Time is the thief;
To use his knowledge best, all Doctors ought.
Fleece not the poor; cheat not the ones who’re sick;
God is the Healer prime; He uses us;
Off not life’s candle-flame with intact wick;
The Doctor shirking work invites God’s curse!
Lose not Ethics; lose not your morals, Doc!
Like patients, Doctors are part of God’s flock.
8-28-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is nothing more dread and more shameless than a woman who plans such deeds in her heart as the foul deed which she plotted when she contrived her husband's murder.
A Woman Is Like A Beautiful Poem
when a woman looses her purity
it is the most tragic experience the world
has to suffer. in a woman's heart
rest the hope for a better tomorrow
to see a woman cry is the hardest
moment a man has to witness
when a woman's heart is filled with
darkness and poison, that is similar
to a garden with barren soil.
nothing will grow and everything will die
a woman's dreams are like a breath
of fresh air in a cesspool
her arms will shelter you from any harm
her eyes will rescue you from a life of monotony
and her words will become your long life symphony
a woman is like a beautiful poem
at times tragic at times grandeur
but in her essence she is forever golden
poem by Raymond Valadez
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Little Pieces of Innocence
Little Pieces of Innocence
(0n watching my children sleep)
Sweet sleep, little pieces of innocence,
While dreams so serenely fair,
Fill their heads with joyous thoughts,
How gladly do I stand and stare,
Upon the gifts that love has brought.
No darkness spreads her sorrow here,
Sleep on dear children, rest, but know,
Your father watches with such delight,
This moment of truth, and with heart aglow,
And filled with love this night.
Those little pieces of innocence,
So serene, so full of grace,
Sweetest gifts that Heaven imparts,
Fondly shall I long embrace,
The innocence in their hearts.
Those little pieces of innocence,
Their youthful years so few,
Enjoy now as you grow,
Joys of innocence, pure and true,
That only children ever know.
The hour is fleeting, and morn is nigh,
Innocence so filled with truth,
Awake! enjoy your childhood years,
Before time sweeps away your youth,
And innocence disappears.
Never, never can I lose them,
No time or distance shall stake a claim,
Though saddness may overcome me,
My heart will stay the same,
And those little pieces of innocence will forever be.
By
Richard Netherland Cook
poem by Richard Netherland Cook
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Dreamz
what is a dream if you cant achieve it
what is a dream if you dont believe it
i want my dreams to all come true
i want my dreams to be shared with you
a dream is a place of magical things
a dream is a place where bluebirds sing
all our dreams we are longing for
a dream of you that i adore
why is dreams all filled with joy
when after a dream it is destroyed
why is dreams of something we cant have
when we dream of the things we once had
dreams come with so many meanings
happy and sad so many feelings
so why do we dream if it hurts inside
when we watch our dreams all fade and die
if i was a dream id fly away
id dream of happiness and make it stay
what is a dream with no ending
why do dreams start descending
what is a dream that aint complete
why are dreams so discreet
dreams are full of many things
dreams are full of true feelings
believe in dreams and youll succeed
believe in dreams yes i do indeed
poem by Mitchell Nott
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Sonnet: Congrats Doctor GB!
He started off as Teacher medical,
Surgeon’d his way up dizzy heights ’yond rest;
A doctor had to remain ethical,
Although a business-man, one of the best!
He burnt the mid-night oil and healed the sick;
His patient’s life was precious-most to him;
He laid the Health-care Foundation by brick,
And fought life’s battles for his patients grim.
His love utmost and tender-care paid off!
He pulled off cures, miraculous indeed;
Assisted by his dynamic, good staff,
He forged ahead; for knowledge, he had greed!
Awards did come for paths chosen were tough;
Only his heart knew weathers that were rough!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dreams
When then a child I had brave dreams of things that might just be
As I grow older so it seems those dreams are part of me
The longing and the wistfulness that out of dreams are made
Are by life's beauty lesser things and fall into the shade
Of what is real and what is not and so our dreams become
The hope that lies inside of us and forever drives us on
For dreams are dreams when all is said and dreams are wafer thin
And the magic that we have in life comes only from within.
poem by David Keig
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Childhood Memories Sung to the Tune of Shawnee West Franklin Bison Blues
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with green and growing things
Some people have a childhood garden
Filled with purple peonies
Mine is sere
Throughout the year
Nothing grows here
Some people have a childhood rainbow
A sea of colors all aglow
Some people have a childhood rainbow
Red to violet in a row
Mine is gray
Bow of clay
Without a ray
Some people have a childhood temple
Covered with a million treasured dreams
Some people have a childhood temple
A sunny Wat of Gods and kings
Mine is plain
Squats in the rain
Functional 'n sane
Where childhood memories abound
Life flows vividly around
Where childhood memories have fled
Hearts lie dead
Kyrenaikos
Lay me where soft Cyrene rambles down
In grove and garden to the sapphire sea;
Twine yellow roses for the drinker's crown;
Let music reach and fair heads circle me,
Watching blue ocean where the white sails steer
Fruit-laden forth or with the wares and news
Of merchant cities seek our harbors here,
Careless how Corinth fares, how Syracuse;
But here, with love and sleep in her caress,
Warm night shall sink and utterly persuade
The gentle doctrine Aristippus bare, --
Night-winds, and one whose white youth's loveliness,
In a flowered balcony beside me laid,
Dreams, with the starlight on her fragrant hair.
poem by Alan Seeger
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Night Of Horror
Night draw closer
like plague,
leaving me in wonderland
for I know not where I belong.
Night‘re for victorious
Night‘re for victim.
The victim is the man;
the victory is for the witches
every night they haunt
my armedless soul. (I dread to night)
Every night‘re nightmares,
They slain my dream
and murder became the
fate of my sleep
Every night they claim
my peace;
the peace that goes with nightfall
and left me to the luxury
of nothing but fear.
Fearing for the night
fearing for nothing,
yet I'm fearing for everything
fearing, and mere fear;
fearing that tonight
they might wash
them guilty hands in my blood
like they did with Caesar's
Night are filled with everything
Yet nothing come to your aid.
Night are brighten by stars
Yet darkness crown we head
I dread night fall.
The hoots of owl
Flames my disgust
For night fall.
The noise from their vocal piece
Make me mistake my dreams
For illusions;
I dread might fall
For at night my soul
Die a thousand time before
Cockcrow.
poem by Matthias Pantaleon
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Remembering
I never really want to be alone.
I had a woman once in my life and but now shes flown.
Evry night I keep seeing her face.
I never really broke her heart. she was a part of me.
But thats the way it was now we live sepratly.
When will you walk through this door babe?
When you left I fell to pieces.
But now I feel as good as if I were dead.
Ill keep remembering all my life.
Remembering when you were my wife.
Remembering all my life.
And Im facing a life that I must go through remembering.
I first set my eyes on you one cold february.
You made me go out of my way to make me feel fine.
Oh but when will you walk through this door babe?
When you left I fell to pieces.
Now I feel as good as good as if I were dead.
Ill keep remembering all my life.
Remembering when you were my wife.
Remembering all my life.
And Im facing a life that I must go through remembering.
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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