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Poetry About Medicine

Rx: One Century of Medicine


Body exhumed, dissected and drawn

In quest to learn more, still the study goes on

The science has grown, while diminished in size


But the problem remains, despite microscope eyes

First challenged with simple techniques,  sanitation

Purification and Pasteurization


Each milestone measured by number of lives

Vaccinations so named to memorialize

He who discovered microbes of consumption


Lifecycles, vectors, and contamination

As each is identified, new comes a strain

More deadly and virulent, attacking the range


Of the aged, with lives scientifically long

While host becomes weaker, microbe remains strong

So chemical compounds must be synthesized


And fed to the sick, with an illness disguised

To be something more toxic than treatment itself

Overdosing on journals that sit on the shelf


Expounding of lives with expectancy great

Surpassing a century, outsmarting fate

Life’s worth is diminished, microscopic in size


And blinded to ending when somebody dies

Examining cells, and their permeability

Just parts of the whole, controlled vulnerability


Perhaps in the future, new medicine vast

Will teach us to value each day as the last

While Dad’s in the Hot Tub



Solemn face, a look of gloom

Escorted to the trauma room

Tonight I saw a father cry

As he watched his young son die


A business trip, a week of fun

A time to bond for Dad and son

A swimming pool, a hotel stay

Who was to know it ‘d end this way


How can he call the mom at home

Who knew he shouldn’t swim alone

The water only 5 feet deep

We pray the Lord his soul to keep


We ran the code for one full hour

With flat line on the monitor

To stop would mean that he was dead

While our kids rested home in bed


We’re all just hanging by a thread

Health Care Crisis


They say the law of averages

Will always equal out

Tattoos the source of ravages

With all but 2 teeth out


What say you is the problem

Do you need a work excuse

Or do you want a paper trail

For Medicare abuse


That sunburn pain

Requires Nubain

The wait is way too long

You can’t afford to fill your script

But for a “smoke” you’re gone


What can we do

To make it right

We’ll just write off that bill

So you’ll be here another night

To get some other pill


They say there is a crisis

In health care, and they’re right

Who’s got the system figured out

Not I, who works all night


Dr. Mami 


What kind of mother

Cares for another

While her son is sick at home


It’s my confession

No profession

Will appease or should condone


She dreams to stay

Home night and day

And nurture him to health


But in her plight

To work all night

She does not feel the wealth


When he was small

He used to fall

And bump his little head


She’d hold him tight

To make it right

And carry him to bed


A little kiss

“Mami is this

What you do when you leave?


Hug other kids

Who come in sick

And give them what they need?


I wish that I

Would almost die

So you’d take care of me


If I stayed sick

That’d be the trick

Then you would never leave”


A mother’s nature

Is to nurture

With Mami-strings so strong


To tug her heart

Tear her apart

And tell her something’s wrong


It’s in the blood

And thick as mud

Of family whom she cares


She knows her role

Won’t fill the hole

That grows for those she bears


For it’s not long

And  they’ll be gone

The job….. is always there…

Telling the Family 



At the edge of the chair

Preparing to be tearful

Frightfully fidgeting

She and the tissue wadded uptight

Eyes darting

Looking at everyone

Seeing no one

Avoiding the contact

That will make it real

Others standing




Acting strong


Trapping her in the room

Fortress to keep out the bad news

I painfully enter

Her eyes meet mine

Now she knows

What she doesn’t want to know

Now she can feel it

And cry

Grandma Hands 


Since I can remember

They have always been there

Those heavy lines and creases

That map out my life

          Upon my hands


While other little plump moist fingers

Molded clay ashtrays

For their mothers

Mine were sculpting shapes

          Without bases


Defying nature…

Much older and wiser than me

They tailored Barbie dresses

As if anticipating

          Suturing faces


Scaling the keyboard

They would lure my father in

Baited by the music

He would pace until he’d win

          And my fingers would

yield to his


They’ve grown accustomed

To turning pages

Highlighting phrases

Carefully selected to

          Always be remembered


And while drawing soft circles

On little bedtime backs

As eyelids get heavy

They sense the same lure of music

          Alive in one son 

And feel the same hands

With those lines and creases

Small reproductions of mine

In the other son

          Defying nature…


Hidden as a child

These grandma hands

Have patiently waited

For the rest of me

          To grow into them

Poetry About Poetry

Poetic Evolution



Poems are unanticipated insights

From some secret part of your brain

Or is it your heart?

Or is it your genetic code?

That has one little Valine

In that same place as your mother’s Valine

That nobody else has

Except, of course, her mother

And her mother

And your child

Poetic Crime

I know it is

Poetic crime

But God I just

Can not

Not rhyme

I learned it from

My idols three

Frost, Suess, and Emily



A Worthy Poem


You shouldn’t have to read her mind

To understand her story

Nor have her flying at full mast

To recognize her glory


You need not be an auctioneer

To figure out her worth

Nor have to hire an engineer

To measure width or girth


You really shouldn’t lawyer up

To get your own fair share

You needn’t be an English buff

If you will only dare


To swallow inhibitions

And let the words have you

It’s not the lines, but in-between

That takes you someplace new



Enlighten Me


Although we are not so empowered

To alter the length of our lives

The depth and the width and the passion

Grow with each choice, be it wise


The tricks in our pockets seem shameless

The words in our books so complex

The languages different with sameness

The rituals we practice, perplex


Our battles reflect of uniqueness

With weapons inflicting their toll

Our prowess adept to completeness

No training, just depth from the soul


While windowless walls that surround men

Are chipped away brick at a time

By caring and unreined affection

A shield keeps the power confined


And those without walls are enlightened

They see life so clear and so bright

But would they be wise to be frightened

Defenseless from all in their sight


The choice between battle or travel

A path with its valleys and peaks

I choose to go forth and unravel

This trip, without option to cease


Poetry About Children


Inspector Maria Esther


She lines us up

All in a row

Stairstep heads

Naked toes

Tropical tile

Cold on the feet

View of the street

Would be such a treat


That tapestry drape

Is blocking the sun

She thinks it looks great

To a kid it’s no fun

And the hole’s really small

And I’m really not tall

Enough to see all

And I don’t like to crawl


Just ‘cause that hole

Is at my eye level

And the scissors are mine

That sit on the table

I didn’t do it

It must be a tear

A robber or brother

But not me I swear!!!



Kids’ Play


Childhood pirates

Adventurers of the sea

Clear vast vision

Atop the willow tree


Theatre dancers

Tapping, wearing sparkles

Balcony seats

Upon the ping-pong tables


Wilderness explorers

Catching lightning bugs

Chasing frogs from under rocks

Freed when playtime’s up


Beautiful Bride

Walking down the aisle

Pearl gown train

Marries brother with a smile


Runway models

Brightly painted faces

High heels wiggle ankles

Spinning party dresses


Animal doctors

Patching wings, wrapping heads

Velveeta cheese boxes

Caskets for the dead

Poetry About Aging



I Don’t Want To Be The Oldest Tree


Standing alone in the black of the night

With no one to share all the beauty of life

I don’t want to be the oldest tree

While others tumble, all around me


I don’t want to be the oldest tree

Branches in arms, doing the wave

Reaching and reaching for higher grounds

Searching for sun rays that I’ve never found

Hit by the tidal waves year after year

Hey somebody…I’m over here


I don’t want to be the oldest tree

Saying goodbye to seedlings of mine

Watching the lives of others go by

While my roots grab the soil in the heat and dry


Blow me on by with the leaves of the season

No reason to cry while my chosen have flown

Blow me on by and I’ll know the reason

It’s time to move on, so others can grow





The helix transcends

No beginning no end

Masquerading as memory

Or déjà vu

Meaning nothing of you

Just synaptic recurrence

Simulating what’s new

Thought of once being there

But not knowing where

And questioning when

No beginning no end

Encoded in truth

Shaping each generation

A feeling that’s real

Or imagination

Mitotic the cells

Double the strands

The helix transcends

No beginning no end





Rancid Aging


They say that men age with such grace

With salt and pepper hair

The sensitive and wise man’s face

Looks more the debonair


But women who in youth were sought

Are told in not a whisper

That they don’t age, they only rot

Like fruit does in the crisper


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