Nursing poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of nursing poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on nursing are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
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,
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
The train has already departed, From the country that they call yesterday, Into the territories uncharted, Leaving behind the remains of the day. Leaving behind the sobbing hills and churches, And nurseries full of sighing, And forests of ashen pines
She remained firm facing tough times They remained cruel, forcing her to surrender She remained stable, drying her tears They remained hard, multiplying her sorrow She remained strong, trying to hold on They remained brutal, destroying her from inside She
If erupts again – the eternal hate of caucuses. A pipe bomb detonates in a gulley. Death glides as a superman like a mutiny in the bowl. Night stumbles against the kissing moon on the shore of waning hope. I
Trampling the borders, he started losing his vibrations. He was asking for the perpetual forgiveness for his bandaged ego. The new incarnation. For the broken homes he refused to admit his side of guilt and jumped into the frozen lake
A dented version of an old grudge, blackened lips with an elite song, your relentless search ends in a terminal shock, nursing a green wound. That anguish was still there, and the wild anger sprawled on hidden fractures, false teeth,
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
Have I been born of a curse; Rehearse The station just burst, A hole through it first; So it is like to be at the mercy, of this jury decided on perjury. A trial without annihilating the evil inside me,
finding ways of running from the one force was getting harder everyday, with no night coming up the hill like it used to. rain still came only enough for plants to make out a week’s menu for those who had
Putting the fire in mouth as a last rite he readied himself for the onslaught of questions, who will attack like leeches, the blood sucking parasites. It was a bizarre coalition of love between kissing cousins. The knifing will continue
About the book: These poems happened to me at random, insignificant moments. They are still damp, from loss. They manifest wild ways to look at ordinary things. I am picking up pieces of life And handing them over to you.
‘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
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
One minute, I took a deep breath. Two minutes, I move my head left and right. Three minutes, I began closing my eyes. Four minutes, I started thinking of all your lies. Five minutes, tears falling down my face. Six
The flesh was putting up a brave dialogue. I was willing to play the game. Stunned, shocked, pleasantly sore basking in heat of silk throat, I asked the needles to go ahead and stitch the wounds without loss of blood.
A state of matter Observable in everyday life One of four, each distinct Solid state one Stoic and strong denying the pain Resolute against sorrow Tears form liquid Matter state two shed as the pain crashes like waves over the
Open that closet of wishes And rub away the wrinkles. Remove that frilled window curtain And bookmark the sunshine. Feel the warmth of the breeze And let it superimpose the coldness. Watch the dance of the sparrows And record their
Being a mother… That path that is sometimes taken, that path that sometimes reaches you, and that you, even as a companion, always walks. That road full of efforts of pains and struggles but pregnant with joys, with teachings. That
Was that a non-devil effort to hide the language from cultural onslaughts? The anger splits the opinion about hurting goodness. An isolated insult will spur the words against the flight over the answer, before the brush with picketing fear, showing
We, You and I, Are individuals. As individuals, Regardless of how steadfastly We assert individuality, We’ll either blend in Or be drowned in a sea of Excessively passionate individuals; Each uniquely manufactured to personify Their respective soul. We, You and
See here came again Independence Day with pain. This day says that we are free From bondage of British decree, They troubled us with tyranny And looted our mind and money, Much blood was stained And Our freedom was regained,
Power reserves forest land, wild aboriginals lose teeth and claws people enjoy them on magic carpet. Dams Reserve water, like lachrymal gland of eye woes overflow as tears. Reserved category once lived in gigantic palaces, now museums preserve grand air.
A tribal fear was lurking, behind a surge of emotion. The sun was looking black. A sexual abuse of a quaint flower aborts the fruit. This year we will go hungry. A nascent seed stripped on road- cries for water.
It wasn’t that she was weak-willed She was just jaded of being stout-hearted Blue of breathing on aspirations Blue of breathing on unreal affirmations Emptiness inside her Makes her feel so forlorn The only question is – If pain demands
Money too much, children’s laughter; Fall apart beneath the moonlight. Make me cry tears of blood, ever after; I think I want to die tonight. Dog bite scar puts pain to skin; Leave it out and let me in. Kiss
The storm shall surrender and harmony would prevail Shackles of the mind Would break free! Shadows of the past Fade away for better Lost memories.. Engulf newer moments Shattered dreams Lighting up future streams One fine day The day of
My heart is always running It’s always on a rough path And I always hope it doesn’t trip and fall It already has fallen so many times But always getting up Always running Because it’s a heart that doesn’t stop
You had an aura of mystery that captivated my heart, Even in my sleep I was allured, indicating your start. Whether it’s the water droplets or ice or snowballs, All bring an immense pleasure, when water falls. Oh Rain!! You