Venison
We chat of fat venison,
of that mother the other table took.
We sin and so fall sick.
I sent my wife a pewter rose,
a venison pasty—
so much cold joy we fall sick.
Poemas sobre el tema: illness
Poemas sobre el tema «illness» en Poets.by.
Sick
This morning, a whore; this afternoon, music.
I was sick in the evening.
At night, while my lord was at supper, I went
to bed, to bed, to bed.
The Seafarer
All things go to sea;
I went to fat.
All things wash to bed,
I cold and coughing.
Treatment
I put away my head,
friend to this arson—
for I am ill—
and walk to see how things are
in his absence.
Seizure
having a fit in the garden
my whole mind against
one stone
a rabbit at the fire
Head cold
The house is pinned
under heavy snow.
My head fills with mucus.
Icy limbs strain
to reach the ground,
alternately melting and freezing.
I drip in the noon-time glare.
Let me be replenished
in nightly increments.
Sick
You lay there in a bed
At a hospital
While your loved ones visit you with your illness
And at last you pull yourself to say some words
" I Will Always Love-"
Now asleep
Forever
Illness
Blurred senses,
Distant talking.
Gentle sounds,
Of the sea.
Drowsy movements,
Barely walking.
Trying to fall,
Into blissful sleep.
Unsteady steps,
Coughing and shaking.
Reality feels,
Like a dream.
Feverish mumbles,
Stumbling and breaking.
Illness is going to be,
The death of me.
The Echo
Nightmares from when I was 6 years old
return to terrorize me at twenty
and I keep discovering little things
that might mean more.
I begin to realize the intricacies,
hearing them whispering on the streets
and a news report in my head
reporting everything I’m doing.
Specters of people invade my room,
searching, sneaking, stealing,
taunting, tormenting, torturing,
and then fading into thin air.
Tell my doctor and he sends me
where I can’t wear shoe-laces,
or smoke a cigarette outside designated times.
They pass out pills, make me forget I exist.
Against All Odds
Laying in a hospital bed,
Fighting to stay alive,
Friends and family preparing for the worst,
Odds against me to survive,
My eyes close,
Images then appear,
A multitude of memories,
As I hear my mother in tears,
Obstacles presented everyday,
One hurdle after another,
Tripping and falling to the ground,
Scraped, bloodied, but refusing to lie down,
From complications at birth,
To epilepsy at 4,
A man stealing my innocence,
A grand mal and brain tumor,
"Room Temperature"
Walking along the desert,
I feel the blazing heat,
As a smile comes across my face,
In the knees I feel weak,
The sun brightens the sky,
The sky crystal clear,
Not a cloud in sight,
Not a worry or fear,
A sudden change in scenery,
As I freeze in the bitter cold,
Gusty winds making it difficult to see,
Unable to know where to go,
I search for signs,
To find out where I am,
I cry and yell,
Not knowing what just happened,
i hate
I hate that I have diabetes
I hate that I have anger
I hate that I have medical problems
I hate that my family teams up on me
I hate that my mom doesn't help me
I hate that noone doesnt help me