Yet another hospital test
It seems that when I was youngWhen I was just a lad.
All bullying that I had,
Really wasn't in reality very bad.
It prepared me for a life,
The best I ever had.
I've aged a lot since then,
But now I'm feeling rather sad.
Because my wife and children,
Are supercalifragilistic to me,
As are all my friend's that write,
Such wonderful poetry.
Mary Poppins popped inside my head,
As I looked at my hospital notes,
This is what it said,
I had;
Sepsis with diabetic-ketoacidosis,
Even though the sound of it.
Had me buried within a bed of roses
It definitely wasn't no supercalifragilisticosis.
As I contemplate my fate.
I cannot find an answer,
As I'm waiting for one more test,
Just to see if it's pancreatic cancer.
My back is killing, Think that I'm willing.
To give up, know that I sound insane,
A life time of being bullied has left me,
With an acceptance of a life with pain.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Written on 2026-06-18 at 01:21
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