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After a Week Off


Sarah, new to the ward, senses
a friend in Nurse Nicole as she sits
at the end of the bed, eyes closed
and dread of the operation lessens;
she knows that all will be well
as trust replaces fear.

Some of the other nurses bitch
she doesn't fill forms properly
she only washes her own cup
but Matron squashes their cattiness
jealousy can run rampant
unless quickly curtailed.

The doctors are pleased she is back
some appreciate their task will be easier
as her soothing hands find
the place that needs reminding
it is part of the whole
and is free to join in the healing.

Karen
Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

Change

As  I stand with my feet in the ocean, and look at the setting sun, I think of how many me's, have stood in how many seas, but always stared at the same one. A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me, at various times of my being. A new version of me every single time; the same star I'm always seeing. It fills me with curious wonder, for the places that I may go; And the life that has yet to happen, and the things I have yet to know. Jess
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Ordinary Miracle

gratitude for the toothpaste pleasure at my soft mattress joy of the first sip of tea delight as my cat stretches to remember the miracle of ordinary things unhook the small mind move into the space where miracles are happening each second my body is breathing me in, out, every moment in, out in Sarah Caddick
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Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke
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Breath

All round the world people are holding their breath Is it just an anomaly or are we in at the death? Our planet is hurting that we all can see Is this blip natural or caused by you and me? We have to trust scientists to tell us the truth You are our hope and you are our sleuth Do not ignore the cynics they’ll keep you on track Retest their theories, and find out what they lack Is it a sun spot that may cause the crash Or too much abuse, and things that we trash So tell us home truths, even things that we fear Especially those things we do not want to hear So all of the plastic we do not need to use All of our assets we need not abuse Will help just a little, we hope and we pray Seek a safe path, make some headway Let the whole world return to a safer course Let saving people be a founding force Be sure to travel just the trail that is true Lies come back to bite, like an old lover’s tattoo Let’s hope with every hope we’re not in at the death And slowly, slowly ..... release the world’s...
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Let Me Play

Children at play filled with innocence, Trees in the playground where they hide. Running, shouting no cares in the world, Waves of freedom flows higher than the tide. In that playground stands a child all alone, Fraught with sadness, with nobody to play. His dejection surges as his tears threaten, Just wishing a shrill of a whistle would end the day. Being so alone is a solitary game, Thoughts of “what have I done” The shrills and screams of play, Ending a game for those that won. Standing all alone playtime is long, Children running all unaware, He stands still alone, Envy and sadness, he stands just to stare. Sheridan
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Green Swatches

My body will forget My thoughts will be Scattered Amongst Winter's Gloom. Amongst Nature’s Seasoned robes I walk and restore My broken thoughts. With widening strides I turn to the botanical essence Leaving traces of desire. To swatches of green I turn my attentiveness To refresh tomorrow’s thoughts. Jim  
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Who Is Saving The World?

The recycler, bicycler, bio-masser and solar paneller, the sustainable developer, the charity worker, the medics (sans frontieres?), fundraisers and carers, givers and listeners, growers of organics, designers of biodegradables. Genetic engineers? Surgeons and researchers, forgivers and forgetters, Billy the bug hunter, Immy the mathematician, Troy the paratriathelete, Wendy the wigwam maker. The ones who go last, the ones who smile, the ones who don’t want to argue about it, the ones who give up their seat, the ones who calm a storm, the ones who cook up a feast, the ones who sing praises, the ones who shine, Auntie Gwen and Malala…… ….and I drink water from a glass bottle. Sue Foster Image by Fernando via Unsplash .
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Ballinasloe Station

Flood plains replenished and diminished, a deceiving here-and-there fluidity and the flat statement of stubborn water. Occasionally trackside trees are stranded, littered in swirling pools that soundlessly disappear. On the horizon, tall walls and radio mast mark the far-off asylum neatly screened with its avenue of trees. The people are hidden beyond the town, their tears reaching as far as the railway lines. The train navigates the flood’s edge like logic escaping emotion, trim engineering escaping danger, holding firmly onto the rails. (Ballinasloe was a major mental home in County Galway) Pat Jourdan
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Ready to Spring

Like the gnarly springtime bulbs, dormant in the ground Your demons crouch under the skin, waiting to be found Waiting for their moment, to break through and be seen The pale face of snowdrops, in a vibrant sea of green Emmalene Taylor
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