Each month, write a new collection.
The hardest thing I ever had to doWas tunnel my way out.From ethics driven angstImprisoned Black and whiteBoring sedate companionsAlienation proneBeing right, doesn’t matterIn ego driven hellBreak out, so elusiveTo know the other sideCatch knee jerk reactionsEngage 3rd party viewTediously reworkSuper-glued repeatsSubtle shift suddenTunnel end in sight.
God, that sounds so soul-eroding. I'm glad there are honest and good people doing the work though.
Dear diary, Joe's funeral was today. It didn't actually hit me until just a few minutes ago. The Army Sergeant turned retail clerk was so much larger than life. I never imagined that something so cowardly as cancer would take his life.Yes. I think cancer is nothing but a dirty coward. It slinks in, then fools you into thinking it's something that it's not. By the time you figure it out, it's too late. I went to the funeral, and was moved to tears when the bag pipes began to play. Two young officers came forward and commenced with the folding of the flag. Then another stood and began to play Taps. When the priest asked for people to speak, I was the first one to the podium .I was Joe's superviser at the store, but first and foremost, we were friends. I stood before dozens of fellow employees, customers, and military personnel, and paid homage to a good friend and a great patriot. I spoke of his ability to spin a good yarn. I wish he had had the foresight to write them down. I spoke of his work ethic. I wish more people had it. I spoke of his devotion to his disabled wife. I wish more folks had his compassion. A bright light has been shuttered in this world. I miss my friend. I miss his advice, the stink of those huge cigars he smoked on breaks, and all those Army-isms he overused.Thankfully, I was able to stand strong and professional. I never broke down. Never allowed my lip to quiver or my eyes to tear. Joe was a pillar of strength. Even in death, he encouraged me to stand strong and do my best. He deserved nothing less.I would rather have done anything else, than to say goodbyd to the Serg. But in the end, I'm glad I did. Better to say goodbye than to live with saying nothing. Besides, I will see him again.
Beautiful Molly. Really powerful!
Understanding The most difficult thing,Is to be alive.Despite the Grand fact,That it is one of the most beautiful things,To live.Every moment, second, minute, hour, day,week, year, decade and eraThere are trials pulling at one'sSoul and mind,Tearing at the conscious brain.So the hardest thingI've ever had to do was survive.Daily.Milisecond by milisecond.To go on,Persist.Carry On.Continue.Despite heartbreak, disappointment, and misfortune.Beyond tedious,This life Is quite possiblyTorturous.For the struggle Goes on forever Without reaching an endAlways giving birth To painful beginnings,Never asking permission Or allowing for breaks,Like the dreadful duties of one day's work.
Great poem! I loved working with you this week!
Why, thank you. Ditto absolutely!
Pete Tilson10/18/74Dad didn’t like to flyhe missed two ofhis flights from Japanwhen our sister Judy diedin 46 - only four days oldthose two flights crashedDad worked with Pete Tilsonat Ray Watt and Peteleft before Dad didPete was Dad’s boss at theHome Builder in Torrancea year or so after he losthis job a Ray Watt in 64the plane Pete was in, flyingout of Long Beach Airportin 74, crashedI never got the chance to sitwith Dad, ask him how he feltour relationship was toodamaged by then
That last stanza is amazing man!
The squeaky wheelOne patientneeds meTwo patients makesmy time importantThree patientsbecomes more of a bind and fourputs the pressure onFive patients and I haveto decide high yield prioritiesSix and I am starting to get overwhelmedSeven stretches me beyond my means and Eight makes the jobseem impossibleNine patients creates chaosand ten puts me into a panicBut, I remain calmI must be there for themeven when it means theywill have to waitI always think the patientwho gets the most and the first priority and is usually is high maintenancebecause of the old adagethe squeaky wheel gets the most attentionThen, they call a code blueover the intercomThe priority shifts to the emergencyMy ethical response is togo see if I can be of assistanceThen, it is going back to the jobarriving true to my wordwith all ten patientsclean anddry,hygienelotion, massagerange of motionfeeding and dressingexercisinggetting in their activitiesbed bath, showers, bathroomprivileges and the most important dutyreport all pertinentinformation to the charge nurseincluding wounds and soresalways in detailwith chartingobservationsbefore, during and at the endof each shift
The tension of this really comes through the page man. Great poem!