Nurse poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of nurse poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on nurse are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
she’s all alone again just a moment composing herself without a mirror tremors in her chest her rib cage trying to collapse upon her heart the first one – years distant was her grandfather on the carpeted steps next to
Hurried steps from room to room, bed to bed, Too many wounds and bandages soaking red. She has seen the ugliest of wounds, and her mind echoes those desperate cries, Yet she will always greet you, wearing her friendliest, warmest
You study so hard for a nursing career Sometimes knowledge doesn’t replace fear The job of a 12 hour shift Registered nurse, Some- times feels more akin a curse. Telling my loved ones goodbye And leaving home for the night
In the psychiatric hospital, angels have fever blisters because of too much powdered milk, swollen still hot from soft plastic cups as pink as their fingernails lacking calcium, Their wings hidden under dressing gowns made of felt, they grow beyond
Good morning and welcome, this is the day, Your life will change, we’ll show you the way, We’ll work together to help you through, So you can do what you’d like to do. So many areas of nursing to choose,
Built to perfection, designed for comfort Polished warm brown, with cushions floral.. Often, admired a while, by those on road I waited a keen eye, to take me home… And then came in, a dainty inquiring lady Ah, but look
When all the sounds that fill the air die not, And for a little rest, my ears do crave, The joys of loneliness that I forgot, In silence lie, the hallmark of the grave; What little time for solitude is
I remember the day that they stopped the clock, The day they told me your time had been bought, “We’ll make him comfortable”…those dreaded words, If there’s a “comfortable” way to die it’s absurd! I’d armed myself with so many
Smoky dingy café, workmen shout and curse, she floats among the tables, tending like a nurse. She pauses when she sees me, breaks into a smile; skips behind the counter, lingers for a while. Chatting while she’s serving, shedding all
The ugliest woman that ever was born was called Margery Pilkington-Brown. If a monkey was born half as ugly as that they would certainly have it put down. Her head was as bald as a billiard ball, yet the hair
The stem cells coaxed to become a kidney or a trachea failed to ask the Himalayas, why were not, they gathering the ice for glaciers! Some sexual jealousy? The naked darkness will nurse the roses to rest on the barrel
The cloak of night is on me Comforting in its envelope. The gloom helps me mask, for a while, The pain I nurse within. Dark purple skies And faint silhouettes of clouds. Lightning heralds the distant thunder The macabre outline
we spoke for the first time at last all my dreams of her body heat spearmint breath came true sometimes people talk tilted away but like two flowers hungry for light we grew together there are cruel stories of lost
Cu-sith roam and howl to the moon Venting their anger in audible form Across the woods their voices roam Sending chills to those in their home. Spoken of as legends and myth The Cu-sith chase and hunt Magic in their
At Sarnath the deer park where Gautama the Buddha first taught the dharma FROM THE HEART –A BHIKSHU’S SUPPLICATION Enlightened lord your wisdom is our knowledge , sufficient is that knowledge to ensure our covenant with wisdom in its turn
Please make me the one Your lucky one and not anyone’s Thy lifetime best friend and not just a friend Your forever companion in every situation Thy forever cheerleader because you’re my champion. I want to be the one Who
I wonder why a little girl, could never be her daddy’s pearl, She wanted love and care, which to her was never fair, Girl child born was a curse, why was she without nurse, I thought every child born was
‘The Cry of our Children’ is simply a marvelous collection of poems, full of emotions and feelings in one book by poet Ruth Andrews. Though the writer has dedicated her book to motherhood and child- mother relation, this book has
My last hour, my brightest day; My last walk with the living, in my coffin of regret. Ah, joyous Delirium; weep for me not, for once I loved my arrogance of life, my wine of alloyed memories; now spilled upon
Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.
I was travelling once again, Hoping I could refrain. With many thoughts in my brain, Travelling all the way to Maine. My thoughts were drawn to the smell of the rain, And that refreshed my brain. Thats when she got
How to begin the journey of truth? it was moving away from all paths. No concrete answers were there, questions loomed large, a moaning confusion reigned. I moved inward, to open the door, I had to talk to my poems.
It was a domestic pain, when we came apart in boots and helmets. Taking the shine away, moon gave up the fight on lake, against the clouds, a sniper intuitingly, started a homicidal blasting to start the rains. An ode
We meeting each other by chance signalled the romantic feelings to one other and we realised undoubtedly we were made for each other We are sure to be re born many times We are sure to fall in love each
One man against A mountain— Steep And, inhospitable! A man called Nelson Mandela— And, a mountain called The Pretoria regime! He was determined Like the proverbial spider… He was not one To give up! His crusade against Injustice Landed him
Pander to the broken once more shall you see, the changes made, Above the mighty Stereo Surrendering, only to ignite streams to pour From the fountain of the Infinite Well. Oh! allow such splendor to splash upon a page Aplomb!
Ideology of life For every husband and wife Is to be sincere Direct and clear As simple as give So that children live Grow and endure With minds so pure Righteously think right Stars of the night Spreading light to
Wearing a skin where flesh had melted in blankness. The moon was sitting on window parting the curtains The sunset accepts the death as final verdict Small scholars will find out the pain of molesting. Estrogen untamed on street rises
Dying piece by piece in shock – a life without a mutiny. Walking amidst blue kraits you never raised the stick. Of extinct possibilities in the night of unmanned crossing- the blood streaked globe goes on revolving round the blazing
Lighter than a feather, when weighed on you though, never heavier, Rain in the storm, blown away I’m torn, open up, it’s not like the norm Adored but not shown, praises that become worn, Show me the love, where’s the
Effectively in givenness; stranger in one’s own house you search the detritus for a lost face. Stay closer to me, O walls I am catching fire. Draw the blood from my veins and taste me. The otherworldly glow of the