Demolition by Fault
The amateur brain surgeon was patient,
tried to be gentle when probing the
Primary Somatosensory Cortex.
But tremors in his hands cut short
his forever-cleaving career.
poem by Rick Stokes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Had Surgery
The small throat, the larger stomach, all this concern
With the wrong certain structure so made of me.
The surgeon has a guile, a patience too dear, but I
Am patient, a patient of well-being so well cooked.
The small throat has been enlarged and the stomach enticed
To cook me the food of luxury, the plastic relish of society.
This religion I follow of a surgeon in surgery shall last
For a life-time, forming more years onto my life tonight.
A doctor is blessed for the guilt he does not own,
A doctor planned me a retreat from life, and the time.
poem by Naveed Akram
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My Father's Hands
I see my father's hands
Long fingered, elegant beauty
Shivering tremors replacing strength
Once they held the world
Once they held my hands
Safe in their elegant length
when I first faced this world
My small hands in his
shivering tremors, giving me strength
I see my father's hands
When I look at my own
Like A Surgeon
I finally made it through med school
Somehow I made it through
Im just an intern
I still make a mistake or two
I was last in my class
Barely passsed at the institute
Now Im trying to avoid, yah Im trying to avoid
A malpractise suit
Hey, like a surgeon
Cuttin for the very first time
Like a surgeon
Organ transplants are my line
Better give me all your gause nurse
This patients fading fast
Complications have set in
Dont know how long hell last
Let me see, that i.v.
Here we go - time to operate
Ill pull his indsides out, pull his insides out
And see what he ate
Like a surgeon, hey
Cuttin for the very first time
Like a surgeon
Heres a waiver for you to sign
Woe, woe, woe
Its a fact - Im a quack
The disgrace of the a.m.a.
cause my patients die, yah my patients die
Before they can pay
Like a surgeon, hey
Cuttin for the very first time
Like a surgeon
Got your kidneys on my mind
Like a surgeon, ooh like a surgeon
When I reach inside
With my scalpel, and my forceps, and retractors
Oh oh, oh oh, woe, oh
Ooh baby, yah
I can hear your heartbeat
For the very last time
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Amateur Hour
Dont make me sad
Talking bout tomorrow
Its not so bad
We were doing fine just then
Youll move on up, youll move on out
And you wont cry
cause your amateur hour is over
Youre only going where Ive been
And youll see what Ive seen
Youre no amateur - amateur
You know if someone likes your face
Youd be a fool to stay strictly amateur
Its strictly for amateurs
The world could be a better place
If some of us could stay
Amateurs
Theres no more time
To think about the way ahead
Just miss one line
Fall over - youll be left for dead
Your heart will play no part except
When memories of your amateur hour take over
Then screw yourself into a ball
And keep it rolling on
Youre no amateur - amateur
You know if someone likes your face
Youd be a fool to stay strictly amateur
Its strictly for amateurs
The world could be a better place
If some of us could stay
Amateurs
Dont make me sad
Its not so bad
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Surprise Party
The turntable hacked up a melancholy blues
The air was heavy with dust and odors
Several zazous danced while holding to their hearts
Short girls with spasmodic behinds
In a closet, an amateur obstetrics couple
Delivered themselves to games full of art and naivete
Another in a corner attempted with ardor
Tonsil-coupling, to music.
Hands encountered one another under too-short skirts
Drunk, two lovebirds—(what if I said: two dodos?)
Looked everywhere for a bed; they were all full…
Let this happy youth screw itself
Why eradicate from them this impure manure
If their hope restricts itself to rubbing membranes?
poem by Boris Vian
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After all my probing into the human brain, I should still be aware of mysteries and come up with them myself.
quote by Pamela Stephenson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your job is not your career
I responsible to my job, I fight for my career
I bound to job, I grow with career
Job is described, career is developed
Job is fulfilled, career is achieved
Job is for living, career is for life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I would hate to think I am not an amature. An amateur is one who loves what he is doing. Very often, I'm afraid, the professional hates what he is doing. So, I'd rather be an amateur.
quote by Yehudi Menuhin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Stalemate
I do not give thanks to the hands that feed me
I work for those
Hands anyway
Writing his letters
His own contents
Not to my delight
I love somebody else, her hands are soft
Her thoughts so graceful
Touching me
Penetrating the deepest recesses of my brain
My soul jumps with joy
To the sight of her,
She eats me, I am half-consumed yet I
Sing of her
Kiss her all day
Yet what does she give me?
This death unto myself,
The hands that feed me caress me to no end
Helping me live, I understand this kindness perfectly
How I wish to love the feeding hands
How I wish to reeducate myself & learn to live on these hands
I am hardheaded, as always thinking about her all day all night long.
The heart has its own foolish reasons, while the feeding hands
Are patient, and silent, understanding my true longings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Trumpet
A friend fell and smashed up his teeth and jaw,
And ended up in 'casualty' what's more,
The surgeon came to sew up his damaged face,
And put his teeth and jaw back into place.
He asked the surgeon, if he would be able to play the trumpet,
No problem at all, the surgeon said, superbly, that I can bet.
Oh, how amazing, said my friend, Gosh, I must tell my wife,
Because, I've never ever played a trumpet, in my life.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Truth About Forever
How long is forever really?
You told me you'd love me forever and ever.
I actually believed you.
Forever is really short if its how long we made it.
Which was not long at all.
I gave you my heart,
And you took it for granted.
I can't believe I was that blind
That I did not see that we would never make it.
Forever sounds like a long time,
But you have proven it is really really short.
Forever sounded like a wonderful long time with you.
But now I see your real colors,
I am glad that forever is not long at all with you.
poem by Makayla Straight
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That had to be a Dream
Lustful eyes that wait with patient passion
Stalking the prey as it awakes with the sun
Yearning eyes that feast with emotion
Silently sizing up its breakfast greedily
Longingly wishing to tear apart such feelings with a look of rapture
Hunting a long overdue feeling of contentment
Shadowing footsteps before awareness catches
Prowling across the linen sheets with abandon
Probing with a gentle touch conveying serenity
Snared with such a captivating sight
Frozen with the wildness so right
Scents become mingled with sweetness
Fatigued the huntress rests
poem by Cody Williamson
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Something About The Trees
I remember what my father told me:
There is an age when you are most yourself.
He was just past fifty then,
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?
There is an age when you are most yourself.
I know more than I did once.
Was it something about the trees that make him speak?
Only a single leaf had turned so far.
I know more than I did once.
I used to think he'd always be the surgeon.
Only a single leaf had turned so far,
Even his body kept its secrets.
I used to think he'd always be the surgeon,
My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife.
Even his body kept its secrets.
I thought they both would live forever.
My mother was the perfect surgeon's wife,
I can still see her face at thirty.
I thought they both would live forever.
I thought I'd always be their child.
I can still see her face at thirty.
When will I be most myself?
I thought I'd always be their child.
In my sleep it's never winter.
When will I be most myself?
I remember what my father told me.
In my sleep it's never winter.
He was just past fifty then.
Submitted by Jt
poem by Linda Pastan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swinging the Lead
Said the soldier to the Surgeon, "I've got noises in me head
And a kind o' filled up feeling after every time I'm fed;
I can sleep all night on picket, but I can't sleep in my bed".
And the Surgeon said,
"That's Lead!"
Said the soldier to the Surgeon, "Do you think they'll send me back?
For I really ain't adapted to be carrying a pack
Though I've humped a case of whisky half a mile upon my back".
And the Surgeon said,
"That's Lead!"
"And my legs have swelled up cruel, I can hardly walk at all,
Bur when the Taubes come over you should see me start to crawl;
When we're sprinting for the dugout, I can easy beat 'em all".
And the Surgeon said,
"That's Lead!"
So they sent him to the trenches where he landed safe and sound,
And he drew his ammunition, just about two fifty round:
"Oh Sergeant, what's this heavy stuff I've got to hump around?"
And the Sergeant said,
"That's Lead!"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Once the amateur's naive approach and humble willingness to learn fades away, the creative spirit of good photography dies with it. Every professional should remain always in his heart an amateur.
quote by Alfred Eisenstaedt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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ITill Exhaled -“Inspired by Viola’s Anticipation”
The lingo of “hope” I spoke-
“Certainty” hope’s bonded fettered slave
Tongue rolled out sun
Cleaving clouds of doubts
I spoke hope; retrieval whence blasphemous-
A catharsis of uncertainty
I spoke of “you” in a monosyllable of “us”
I knew of tremors, tsunamis and jolts
But I said “us” alive, awake to
undoable [heady damage]
I inhaled you as I whispered……. “hope”
poem by Frank Lisa IndiRa Francesca Roger Platt Cornish Ma
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The Human Brain and Accidents
Each thought and act of man is born
Within the brain’s cortex neuron;
To do a thing right / wrong is one
Decided by inhibition.
When good prevails over those bad,
It makes a person always glad;
When evil functions turns one mad,
The outcome is so very sad.
God gives full freedom to do things
To paupers, subjects, queens and kings
Alike, and satisfaction springs
In minds and hearts of all earthlings!
The brain is vital-most organ,
And has to function through life-span;
The conscience is prime in man;
To use it always then, all can.
The bloodless brain is defunct one;
A brain-dead person’s life is gone;
To live like this, no one is born;
Yet, accidents make life forlorn!
Yes, accidents kill most persons;
Don’t take more risks; use common-sense;
Why worry much and make life tense?
Why spoil the eye’s God-given lense?
To live a vegetable life
Is detestable-most, a strife;
Why cut the thread of life by knife,
When natural deaths are almost rife?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 09-05-09
poem by John Celes
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I thought I wanted to be a brain surgeon until I realized all the schooling it required. I didn't like school very much so I had to come up with something else.
Love Is So Short
Love is so short and forgetting is so long
It’s hard to forget the one to whom you belong
You are no longer an us but a you
You are now a one, not a two.
Love is so short but memories last forever
Remembering the promise of being together forever
Tears cannot bring your loved one back
For they will only subside until you crack.
Love is so short but feelings will remain
Nothing can be done to ease your heart’s pain
You yearn for one more hug or a perfect last kiss,
For it is something that you truly miss.
Love is so short and moving on is so hard
A love so deep leaves you forever scarred
A wish for holding your lover one more day
Anything you can do to take the pain away.
Love is so short but crying never stops
Nothing seems worthwhile when the penny finally drops
You gave your soul to them, you’re entire heart
You never thought, for just one day you’d be apart.
Love is so short and living you can’t bear
Because all you want is for them to be there
They say things are meant to happen a certain way
But why did god take my lover away.
poem by Kayla Neil
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I think the greatest photographers are the amateur photographers who do it because they love it. Arnold Newman is a good example; he is a consummate professional, but he's also an 'amateur' in the pure sense of the word.
quote by John Sexton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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