hadows by Jordan
It's dark, the camera is in.
There is nothing to see
except
shadows on the propofol
These numbers are our prison
Red; bound by ninety, over sixty
Eighty-eight for blue
Until
Revolt!
The numbers break free!
Blue tries sixty
White tries twenty
Where are you going? Come back here!
Oh, he is blue now
then gray
then, strangely, pink again
I'm sorry ma'am, the numbers...
run away.
Now, they've left me too
except time.
She makes it better, worse
Takes them away, brings them again.
Jordan
It's great honey!
I like the way the poem ebbs and flows. It's almost tidal, like
breathing. Is that what you intended?
I love the last stanza. It really speaks to the relentless nature of
your job...every day different, but yet essentially the same- always
the numbers to watch. I was surprised to realize that when patients'
pressures and sats drop, they turn blue...grey...it should have been
obvious I suppose. Maybe it's one of those things you have to see with
your own eyes. I guess I imagine things happening so fast, and being
rectified equally as quickly, that there wouldn't be much of a change
in appearance. Too much TV?!
Janna
Amy
Suggested topics for your next poem:
1. Viagra
2. Love - (just kidding. Already been done, like, a million times)
3. Ball point pens
4. The circus leaving town
5. An ode to duct tape
Justin
I loved it.....just like everybody else did. and i was so inspired I wrote a poem about my job too. I'm calling it "rainbows and cotton candy"
work monkey work.
give us more.
work monkey work.
you're becoming a bore.
work monkey work.
is it time yet?
Kristi
It's dark, the camera is in.
There is nothing to see
except
shadows on the propofol
These numbers are our prison
Red; bound by ninety, over sixty
Eighty-eight for blue
Until
Revolt!
The numbers break free!
Blue tries sixty
White tries twenty
Where are you going? Come back here!
Oh, he is blue now
then gray
then, strangely, pink again
I'm sorry ma'am, the numbers...
run away.
Now, they've left me too
except time.
She makes it better, worse
Takes them away, brings them again.
Jordan
It's great honey!
I like the way the poem ebbs and flows. It's almost tidal, like
breathing. Is that what you intended?
I love the last stanza. It really speaks to the relentless nature of
your job...every day different, but yet essentially the same- always
the numbers to watch. I was surprised to realize that when patients'
pressures and sats drop, they turn blue...grey...it should have been
obvious I suppose. Maybe it's one of those things you have to see with
your own eyes. I guess I imagine things happening so fast, and being
rectified equally as quickly, that there wouldn't be much of a change
in appearance. Too much TV?!
Janna
Oh, he is blue now then gray then, strangely, pink again Great poem. I love this line.
This is a great poem, Jordan. I love your literary self--insightful and eloquent.
Amy
very nice, Jordan. Thanks for sharing. Write more. Write one about the fire.
And I loved Janna's assessment of the poem. I agreed with her. I like the last two lines and loved what Janna said about it.
jenni
I will write more. It takes me so long. Maybe an essay about the fire, except I haven't found any profound insight into it yet.
Jordan
Suggested topics for your next poem:
1. Viagra
2. Love - (just kidding. Already been done, like, a million times)
3. Ball point pens
4. The circus leaving town
5. An ode to duct tape
Justin
I loved it.....just like everybody else did. and i was so inspired I wrote a poem about my job too. I'm calling it "rainbows and cotton candy"
work monkey work.
give us more.
work monkey work.
you're becoming a bore.
work monkey work.
is it time yet?
Kristi
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