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.
Categories: All Poetry, Medical Poetry, Medicine, Poetry by Phoebe
Have enjoyed reading your poetry this morning Phoebe. Great images. Thank you. And thank you for liking my blog.
I’m glad. Wishing you the best! 🙂
Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Amazing artwork and words. Please read the work of the talented writer.
This is amazing. Artwork and words. A perfect journey.
Thank you, John. 🙂
You are welcome my friend.
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!
Thank you for your kind words, Jim. 🙂 Best, phoebe
So well done Phoebe! Happy to read your creation again 🙂
😉 😀
I enjoy the rhythm, rhyme, and assonance…you took the extra time to craft the words…
This is excellent! I really enjoyed it. Thanks.