Baby's First Day Out
Government General Hospital
Maternity Ward No. 42
authorized intake : 65
actually admitted : 97
most busiest LABOUR ROOM
in the district
every 18 th minute
you will hear a new born cry
birth rate is higher
on Sundays and Holidays
24 x 7 Industry - very great service -
in the large pre-natal hall
there hangs a small, old sign board
both in Hindi and vernacular
' Beware of Thieves
Keep your belongings safe'
with an ugly insertion, as a last line,
‘Protect your child from being
Stolen or exchanged'
as if, the restricted labour ward is
just any other market place.
poem by Santhana Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Birth of A Feeling
There was a great storm in my mind,
I heard the thunder pounding in my heart,
Even lightning struck through my nerves,
The condition senseless and unusual,
The vibrations so intense and vivid,
My heart so determined and focused,
The muscles pulling and stretching,
My heart was in a labour room,
The birth of a feeling
I saw you and I liked you,
My sight impregnated my heart,
The world longed to witness the day,
Behold the day has came,
My heart in a state of shock,
Holding in its hand a feeling,
Behold let the day be remembered
The birth of a feeling
In an unexpected labour room,
With an unexpected general populacy,
For an unexpected pure lady,
A feeling was born, for her
Should the feeling die a young one,
Or should it reach adulthood,
It is a question of faith, yes
Spare her the good news,
Or keep the feeling a secret,
For how long will i hide the feeling,
For the birth I alone knows,
Yet the death we dont expect
I am falling for you,
Yet falling without you,
In the womb still I was not sure,
The doubts of a child in the womb,
I skipped my period and I knew,
Yes I was pregnant with a feeling for you,
Celebrate this birthday with me,
The birth of a feeling
You may never be the parent,
But the child is for you,
Adopt it maybe, or abandon it maybe,
It shall so mightly grow and grow,
Oh beautiful feeling of mine,
I celebrate, the birth of a feeling
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money
Stolen by poverty
Let stolen by 'antipoverty'
Might of the mint is an effigy
Endorsed in life's kinetic journey
Rags to riches coiled in coinage
Birth to death in currency-appendage
Food, clothe, shelter hike
Varied labour-men when strike
Target is money-market
Goal is money-profit
Craze is gold locket
Racing in final syndromic silt
To be is to be knowledgeable
Enough is enough satiable
Fear is to fear avarice
Beware is beware of vice, malice
And
Don't we just opine of money a demon
Don't just opine of money either a daemon
Born in this country
We to deify money, Goddess Lakshmi
Bestower of wealth and morality
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Mrs. Ward
On friday afternoon at three o'clock
A passing lady looked into a shop
Her eyes lit up as this the sign she read
Recruiting office, that is what it said
Exacitedly she stepped inside to see
How her sons would fair if they were militry
The man in charge to her was very sweet
And said, "please sign here on this little sheet"
But when she got home her mind grew many fears
The message from the soldiers in the war rang in her ears
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
At six o'clock the lads came home from work
She told them what she'd done, they went beserk
We'll have to go to war and fight and die
And mrs. ward she wiped a tear from her eye
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
Don't put your boys in the army mrs. ward
You know they'll only waste away, oh oh
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The first of all commodities to be exchanged is labour, and the freedom of man consists only in the exercise of the right to determine for himself in what manner his labour shall be employed, and how he will dispose of its products.
quote by Henry Charles Carey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As a personal beneficiary of the service that Amtrak provides and as someone who represents a congressional district that counts on safe, reliable rail service, I am a strong supporter of providing this vital industry the funding necessary to continue operations.
quote by Tim Bishop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Birth Of A Child
I've been floating around here for quite some time,
They need to release me I've reached my prime,
I'm kicking and punching I will find a way,
In here I'm restricted so I don't want to stay.
Together we've made such a wonderful team,
But my quest for freedom is now so extreme,
Nine months of this is more than devotion,
But suddenly I hear lots of commotion.
What is going on I'm feeling much hotter,
The strange thing is I'm no longer in water,
This feeling is intense I need to get out,
From outside my confinement I hear a shout.
Breathe deeper they're saying you're almost there,
Who are they talking to this just isn't fair,
Just then I see what I think is a light,
The feeling though frightening really does excite.
I'm almost there but I won't be rushed,
The fact is I feel like I'm being crushed,
My lungs are bursting I can't last much longer,
Suddenly the momentum is getting stronger.
At this point I look up and what do I see,
Bright lights and strange beings at last I am free,
There is to-ing and fro-ing as I make lots of noise,
They're saying it's the same with both girls and boys.
At last I can see that person I've heard,
My Mother with whom my life I have shared,
They separate us now but we'll never be apart,
Forever more she'll remain in my heart.
After they've cut my umbilical cord
Together we go to the maternity ward
This feeling of freedom is driving us wild
There's nothing to compare with,
'' The Birth Of A Child ''
But how odd that in this heathen nation of empty pews, where churches' bare, ruined choirs are converted into luxury loft living, a Labour government - yes, a Labour government - is deliberately creating a huge expansion of faith schools.
quote by Polly Toynbee
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't know anyone who enjoys going to the hospital. To help remedy this, I got an idea to create what a Laugh Room in the pediatric ward of hospitals.
quote by Joseph Barbera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Madman - His Parables and Poems
You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in
seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
'Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.'
Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear
of me.
And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top
cried, 'He is a madman.' I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed
my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for
the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I
cried, 'Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.'
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in
us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail
is safe from another thief.
poem by Khalil Gibran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Labour was the most short-sighted, self-serving, incompetent, useless, and ineffective government that Britain has ever known. Make no mistake, Labour's economic policies were a national security liability.
South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Near Non-sense Poem
When Michael Jackson did his debut,
A Donkey cried, 'Ho, Hee, I can do much better, pal! '
And I'm more child-friendly too,
So, children tie an empty tin to my tail and I run with fright,
Faster than the hare!
Just then an Wood-pecker, walked upwards a drumstick-tree
And pecked a hole in a trice with a few quick shots of his pointed beak,
And said, 'pea-nuts, who can do better than me? '
And flew onto the Cherry-tree.
And Jimi Hendrix eating pop-corn,
Was working on his key-board on his lap,
No, my buttocks hurt when I sit so long,
trying to concoct a new number!
So does my stomach too with the cheesecake, fruit-loops,
Crabs, Apple-juice and Sphagetti-O's!
And my ears hurt by the Amplifier noise,
Take revenge on me by destroying my sleep!
The Bumble-bee that buzzed past by
had a deja-vu after sucking on the glue!
'Happy flamingo, 'he said, 'With all my experience,
This is much better than a cream-pie! '
But no one cared about Weiner, the villain,
Admitted in the General-ward
of a Hospital with an abdominal binder,
Except for eleven Flying purple Monkeys
Who popped through the window
And stole away his bat-mobile,
finding nothing to eat near-by!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-05-2004
(a contest poem based on an array of unrelated words)
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Welcome
Under the wintry skies,
Sundered from home and kin,
With patience and love in her eyes,
Mary is journeying.
The angels keep watch and ward,
And Joseph is there to guard,
But – ‘there is no room at the inn.”
No room in the inns of Life,
No place for Christ the King,
Through the Heavens with joy are rife,
Where worshipping angels sing,
In palace, and street and mart,
In the worlds great pagan heart
There is no welcoming.
But in far cathedrals dim,
Where Christmas lilies bloom
‘Mid incense and holy hymn,
And tapers lighting the gloom,
Where the Christmas crib is laid,
And children come, unafraid
His own are finding Him room.
Here the humble ones of the earth,
The poor, and the sorely tried
Are waiting the dear Lord’s birth,
And their arms are open wide,
And Mary will find them grace
Who makes for Her child a place
In their hearts, this Christmas-tide.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Vox Clara
This here's his assignment
Solitary confinement
He doesn't feel great
Being ward of the State
In his cell
Ya know he's mad as hell
But he ain't goin' down
For bein' no clown
He's a soldier
State says he's a holder
Ward of the State
'Les he takes the bait
Givin' up no one
It'll never be done
He's a soldier
May never get older
Say he's full of hate
Got that straight
Used a gun
Made a short run
He's a soldier
Couldn't be bolder
If he popped a cap in you
They'd put dirt top you
As a soldier
Couldn't be colder
Still ward of the State
Don't feel great
He is a soldier
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visits to St Elizabeths
This is the house of Bedlam.
This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch
that tells the time
of the busy man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is there, is flat,
for the widowed Jew in the newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
waltzing the length of a weaving board
by the silent sailor
that hears his watch
that ticks the time
of the tedious man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to feel if the world is there and flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances joyfully down the ward
into the parting seas of board
past the staring sailor
that shakes his watch
that tells the time
of the poet, the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
This is the soldier home from the war.
These are the years and the walls and the door
that shut on a boy that pats the floor
to see if the world is round or flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances carefully down the ward,
walking the plank of a coffin board
with the crazy sailor
that shows his watch
that tells the time
of the wretched man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Marketing
Fruitful marketing strategy
Is crucial for any industry
And service-provider
Everyone loves beautiful thing
So the packaging of products
Must be eye-catching
Advertisement
Should be in such an way
So that the potential consumers
Are attracted
To the product or service
Quality of the product or service
Should be of international standard
So that it can survive
In the competition
Of open market economy
In this way
An industry or service-provider
Can become successful
poem by Asif Andalib
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Stand In Line
Ten men stand in line
At the gates of the cemetery on tuesday morning
Theyre not open today
And ten moms stand in line
At maternity ward
Theyre not bringin no babies out to play
Anytime today
Whats a nice girl like you doin
Walkin around this part of town?
See you sometime tomorrow
And ten men stand in line
Waitin for some personality to be put out on the corner
Today aint garbage day
Aint no grabage taken today
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Xezel
Woe to those who plot evil upon their beds!
For she who was in labour has now given birth;
And they coveted fields and homes and oppressed the poor.
The flower of Lebanon wilts and i cannot find my lover,
And like flaming torches in the day of preparation!
But they entangled like thorns and they are drunk like drunkards!
The seductive harlot is with Xezel,
And many are ready with their axes at the big tree!
For she who was in labour has now given birth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A Night In Hospital
I had a vague discomfort in my chest
So I was admitted for a cardiac test.
In the heart ward the machines go beep.
It was somewhat difficult to get some sleep.
That night was dark and seemed too long,
Beep, beep, beep and an occasional bong.
I stared at a monitor on the opposite side
Attached anonymity the dark did hide.
Across his screen are jumping green flashes
An irregular rhythm of dots and dashes.
Each minute was a hundred and five beats
On this line balanced his life and feats.
There was a golden line that also jumped
His chest controlled by an autonomic pump.
Up and down that continuous line goes
Twenty per minute he continually blows.
So how many dreams were in those lines?
His life-time shown through digitised signs.
In the shadows she came dressed in white,
Seductively came the lady of the night.
Beep, beep, beep and an occasional bong
Then silence, the siren sings her sweet song.