We Let the Illness In
At first, we both make contact
With mucus membranes,
And we let the illness in.
The fevers we may contract
Fester in our brains,
And we let the illness in.
We won't know how to react
While writhing in pain,
And we let the illness in.
Yet, such is the fate we pick,
Choosing to be sick,
And we let the illness in.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Union Cures The Illness
For any illness,
The symptoms and signs are within oneself, but
The cure is obtaining medicines from source outside;
Whereas,
For the illness of a well jeweled mistress
Who is longing for union with lover,
She herself is the medicine,
Union cures the illness.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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The best doctor prevents illness, an average doctor visits when the illness is imminent, and the unskilled doctor treats your present illness.
In my thoguhts i am alone
In my thoughts i am alone
where i fear no one understands
the pain the illness the sadness
the nightly terrors i handle alone
this experience i cant handle of this illness
they call bipolar the way im defined or labled that
one can not see past to see who i am beyond the illness
who is scared of herself who is caring for others more than herself
who will do anything to make another happy
but for one to meet someone who is 'bipolar' thats what they see
unstable depressed manic angry mood swing mess
but what they dont understand is how stable is not in our world
and it doesnt define us it makes us who we are
this illness we battle alone cause unless you have it
you can never fully understand and even if you do i dont think
we can fully understand it...
alone in this illness
alone in these thoughts
alone is how i feel
i cry alone when i feel alone
i sleep to be alone to feel nothing
to feel nothing or empty is what i need
it would be better than the saddness and hurt and
the feeling of alone
my tears fall alone
i enjoy being alone but the feeling of alone is
something i can not handle
to feel like there is no one
to feel like no one can truely understand or care
i only ache with this fear
i try to cry and scream for help but no one seems to hear
so lost in this illness and how to not feel alone
poem by Juliana Willsey
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Cure For Me
I acquire the cure for my ills,
The solution is final for my illness.
It is death that resides in the middle of life,
I ignore when I am like a fortunate man.
The illness will be cured due to beasts,
They enter the planet through the vacuum.
The illness is again discontinued.
My Satan is conquered for all those watching
So that ill men who see can nevertheless find
The very soul to be complete.
poem by Naveed Akram
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After An Illness
AFTER AN ILLNESS
After an illness
The feeling of being alright again
Is a special kind of happiness -
Gratitude and a sense of Blessing
Hope and the feeling of Beginning again-
I have been sick and troubled in my sickness for days now
How good it is to feel I can walk out into the fresh air again
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fear is a question: What are you afraid of, and why? Just as the seed of health is in illness, because illness contains information, your fears are a treasure house of self-knowledge if you explore them.
quote by Marilyn Ferguson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fear is a question What are you afraid of, and why Just as the seed of health is in illness, because illness contains information, your fears are a treasure house of self-knowledge if you explore them.
quote by Marilyn Ferguson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I still when I wake up hit the ground running; and having an illness, I'm only one of hundreds of thousands of people that live with an illness, and I'm just in awe of the bravery and dignity of the people I see at the hospital.
quote by Karen Duffy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They have been deprived nutritionally, or some illness has not been picked up, or they have not been screened for vision or hearing defects, or they have not had some kind of a chronic illness or error of metabolism picked up.
quote by C. Everett Koop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Depression Is an Illness
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You cannot eat
You cannot sleep
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You cannot cope
You have no hope
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
You always cry
You want to die
When you’re feeling overstressed
Depression is an illness
You don’t just feel depressed
Please seek advice
It could save your life
When you’re feeling overstressed
poem by Donna Caldwell
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We Battle To See Acts Of Love
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
You can fill you mind with terrorists...
That keep your fears endearing.
But the fact your battles fought have no love.
And don't you know that you...
The giving up of anything,
Will return.
So why not battle with the act of love.
Burdens carried on one's back,
Seem to be attached...
'Cause they don't do their,
Battles with love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
If there is love,
There is a battle...
But the battle can be won,
With a love that's felt in everyone.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
You can battle any illness you wish...
But,
Battle with the act of love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
Those who pick their battles,
Pick their battles without facts.
'Cause many have no protected love.
If we pick our battles,
We must be matter of fact....
That we battle to see acts of love.
We battle to see acts of love.
Let's say we do it...
That we battle to see acts of love!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Are We Ill?
How many men are against us when we are ill?
Illness desires you as a last resort, when ill.
The magnificent and the abhorrent ailments
Need both cures, again and again in the hospital.
The hospital is for doctors who care,
And the nurses are fearful of you.
Patients need patience to adore the health
Of a nation in pity for their condition.
The pities are seldom seen in youth
As they are in public or private.
May the men who are against us be quiet
Now that illness is the past.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Gaping Holes
A single thread of illness,
One has in mind...
And accepted over time,
Will eventually fray what has been sewn...
To be shown and detected as problematic.
But the effects overwhelmingly seen...
Will never correct or mend,
Those gaping holes...
In a family of assorted fabrics.
All waited too late to make attempts...
Pretending a nonexistence in its making,
Had begun a slow unravelling.
Thinking the occurrence of this illness,
Was something to dismiss.
However,
Allowing just one piece of thread...
To pull them 'consciously' apart,
Becomes apparently obvious when viewed...
In the most inappropriate of places.
As this illness decays with intention.
'Wait a minute!
So what I had been told,
Was not true? '
~What you had been 'told' to believe,
Never existed.~
'Well...
How did all of this begin? '
~That should be easy for anyone to detect,
NOW.
A squeaking wheel ignored claiming to be victimized,
Has a way of getting louder and louder...
With a gaining of momentum as time goes on.
And all knew from the beginning,
Where the noise was coming from.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scary Illness
Had a man walked the lane so prized
He would have noticed specialists agonized
By the scene too complete, too sacred,
We scared them with our illness hinted.
My walking out of bed carried weight
Of a body in time with dates and ready to accelerate.
He the man of utter distinction called his own,
His family forgave the illness of a lifetime alone.
The men of the women called nurses gathered
In the hospital, taking over the job afterward.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Hate Schizophrenia
I hate schizophrenia-
Spending months in a locked ward,
Pacing up and down low piled carpeted halls
Between therapy groups, and those nothing to do weekends.
Oh, how I hate schizophrenia.
I hate having schizophrenia,
Having to take at least seven medications
To get me through the day, and to take Ativan
To assure me a normal night’s sleep.
I hate having schizophrenia.
I hate this illness I have called schizophrenia.
Taking the Seroquel and Abilfy that make me ravenous so
I feel that I must spend the day vigorously exercising to
Keep my weight at a normal range, and to live on rabbit food.
How I hate this illness called schizophrenia.
I hate my terrible illness, schizophrenia.
If I don’t take multiple medications,
I hallucinate, get paranoid and delusional,
Have sleepless nights after nights, and
I have no motivation.
I have schizophrenia and how angry it makes me feel.
Nurses, so called friends and therapists half my age
Treat me as if I were a child.
I am ill so I cannot be trusted.
I have schizophrenia and how angry it makes me feel.
I hate schizophrenia.
It is an illness that has a stigma attached to it, and
It has a grip on me.
It impairs my functioning and
It mars my relationships.
I hate schizophrenia.
I despise and resent having this terrible illness.
All of my relatives are well adjusted and highly functional.
I was born the black sheep; Why am I this way?
It’s so unfair!
When I think of it tears stream down my face.
I must have removed my glasses a hundred times today to
Wipe the tears away, yet
They keep on flowing.
I despise and resent having this terrible illness.
I don’t like being diagnosed with schizophrenia.
Even in the darkness of the night on heavy medications
Voices haunt me.
I just want people to leave me alone.
I want to run away from the world and
Escape to a world of my own.
I don’t like being diagnosed with schizophrenia.
My name is not “schizophrenia”.
It is the name of this illness I was cursed with.
I am so angry now I could scream and hit the walls.
But the staff would come and grab me and throw me in seclusion, if I did.
Yes, that empty room with a hard mattress in a corner on the floor.
I could destroy myself.
I suppose all of us who have schizophrenia feel this way sometimes.
I suppose what upsets me the most is what
People say about me:
“She is schizophrenic.”
I am not “schizophrenic.”
I am a human being, flesh and blood with an illness.
I am a person, NOT an illness.
It is a constant struggle for all of us who have schizophrenia, to
Be a label, not a person.
That is the biggest problem with people in this world.
They label us, who are ill,
They don’t see us as just people.
And people we are, inside and out, not diseases.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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The secret of learning to be sick is this: Illness doesn't make you less of what you were. You are still you.
In Riches
Abounding in riches, the inquisitive man
Is at ease with ample, as destruction looms,
Adding construction, asking a never-ending plan
To cause an epidemic, that fed the world with booms.
This sound came from illness, the disease confronting
Expulsion never ended due to the liars,
They spoke the truth at first, abducting
Us at night, with their illness as hunters.
The rich do not suffer from the bugs,
The blight is bigger than milling bacteria
That richly convey disease like drugs,
Not knowing how to be the academia.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Heavens and Earth
Again I stood at the rising moon,
A deep bell rang from the summit of honour;
I laughed too loudly at all that exists,
The moon was silver and the sun was gold,
And I was bronze due to the illness I attained.
A narrow road meanders through the illness
I have procured, this voice speaks to me innocently.
Soon the admission was cancelled,
Soon bravery overtook and the moon’s weapon
Fell towards the ground, like a missile
Or a sword to catch.
Again I understood him,
The man I understood was him
Who saw the wealth of the Heavens
And the Earth.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Your Illness...
Is like the opening of the shell that
encloses natural pearl of knowledge
A bulb too underneath do show
Yet, an illness you must know
Fills your heart with wonderment; breathe
in cherry blossom's scented air; just dare
whenever pessimism enters your mind
Your illness liken seasons of year, without
dread, accept the winters of your heart and
come to your winter grief, then you'll
know that spring brings beautiful flowers in May
Too, accept your- physician's bitter portions
Only, then, you aid healing to yourself
It may feel heavy-handed, yet guided by tender
hands of the unseen; His drinks may taste bitter
and sting your lips; bringing His sacred eyes to tears;
Moistening clay of wellness from His healing tears.
Almedia Knight-Oliver
April 2,2011
A poem for my niece, (Yvonda) my herione of illness.
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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