He said
calmly, professionally
without bamboozle;
You won't know a thing
until you recover in the
I C U - twenty four to
forty eight hours later.
They'll take the tube
out of your throat, the
one that kept you alive,
and make you cough.
Jesus, I thought - cough,
with my ribcage stapled?
He must have a sense of
diabloical humour - cough?
Problem is, he doesn't......
this is very cleaver work - so little to bind it together as poetry and yet it is has unity and an charm. Very good work
Jerry, This is a great poem. The last two lines of the first stanza sound brilliant. You use a simple alliteration to great effect there. That this is (?) autobiographical, shouldn't detract from the univeral appeal of the narrative. It is great that the old guard is still here battling it out!
Mr. Hughes, I solute you! I love your writing, it is so real and so amazing also Thank you so much! Blessings. Love and Light
Reality is so hard to face and you have gone through heaps jerry and thank God for your sense of humor. It's like a lucky or unlucky dip picking out the prize of suffering in our latter years. Just hang in there with your wonderful Alison, your humor, your talent for writing (even if you only just look at what great stuff you have written) oh! and how you can read other poet's work! love Karin
Wow, the experince is so real, and the wry humour in poem. Better enjoyed this way.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good, many times a clinical thing when said can sound like a morbid joke; like perhaps if you were suddenly told that you were about to put the pill in the wrong end of the elephant.