All Poetry


Tendons, vessels, muscle, bone-
little more than its sum, alone.
Without life, alone.

A heart upon your fingers,
fibers smooth, firmness lingers.
A pump sleeps, alone.

Nerves, severed and denuded,
shimmering, taut, function diluted.
Pain without feeling, alone.

A lung, delicate sponge, blackened,
absorbs an essence, greyed, maddened.
Vacant sacs, stale breaths, alone.

The cerebrum, split, its valleys and mounds,
embodies a soul, full, without bounds.
My lifeless being is nothing alone.

12 replies »

  1. Very well-crafted poem. Rhythm and rhyme contribute to the general texture and meaning of the poem. I like the refrain lines and the repetition of the word “alone.” You have a great gift which, together with your skills as a doctor, make for very significant poetry. Thanks for sharing!

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