(If you've never read "The Raven", then this won't make any sense at all. If you have read "The Raven", this still won't make any sense at all! <img src="i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif" border="0"> It's just for fun...)
The Maven
[Never published - and probably shouldn't be]
My apologies to Edgar....May The Raven take flight....
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I waited weak and weary,
For the head nurse of the night, to change my infiltrated site,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping now upon my chest
`'Tis some therapist,' I muttered, `tapping now upon my chest -
Only this and nothing less.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was late in bleak September,
With each separate drip of tobi, left me sorrowful and lonely.
Eagerly I wished the last; - that this pneumonia now was past
From my IV's surcease of saline - saline dripped into my vein
Throbbing still, and now the soreness, never ceasing is the pain
Throbbing ever in my brain.
Tis the sudden and uncertain rustling of my private curtain
This backwards gown has all but ridden, has not my barren buttocks hidden
But showing now a sudden vision - displays to all this circumcision.
`'Tis some therapist entreating for a pounding 'pon my breast -
Some late therapist obsessed with pounding 'pon my weary chest -
This it is, and nothing less,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, I implore let me sleep and nothing more;
For the fact is I was napping, Till you came and started rapping,
Disturbing me by sleepless nights, Awakened by your sudden lights;
Baring all to which is certain, As I draw back this private curtain,
For a shot of colistin.
Back into the chamber turning, and my butt within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely, there is someone waiting, waiting at my private door;
Rapping waits the Therapist, with their nebulizer mist
Waiting at my private door; -
'Or 'Tis the nurse and nothing worse!'
Open here I flung the drape, stood a troll with rolls of tape -
Syringe in hand this stately maven, robust with strength yet legs unshaven;
Not the least of sound she made; not a moment stopped or stayed;
'Tis not the respiratory therapist, 'tis now the damned phlebotomist
Pounced upon my inflamed wrists -
Vampires all and nothing less.
Then this leach began beguiling and turned sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest unshorn unshaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient maven wandering from your nightly tour -
What detains my therapist, you wandering wild poltergeist!"
Quoth the maven, `Neverless?'
Much I marveled this ungainly when to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevance is seeming;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing their own forearm poked and bleeding -
Waiting still and ever needing one last therapeutic beating.
From such a name as `Neverless.'
But the maven misanthropist spoke not of this my therapist,
Not one word, as if her soul in that one word she would outpour.
Nothing further till she uttered - just one word she then muttered -
The maven night noctambulist; spoke not a deipnosophist -
'On the morrow will he see me, as my hopes do turn and flee me.'
Then the maven spoke, `Neverless.'
Startled at the stillness broken by his name the maven's spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it speaks implores my interest now is piqued
What of this acephalist, masquerade's a therapist
Shall the morrow see me fleeting without this therapeutic beating?
From this the maven states 'tis missing, the state of whom I do obsess
That of this one "Neverless"'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if maid or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here to bore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, in this hospital enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I request -
Is there not a therapist to beat upon my weary chest?
Quoth the maven, `Neverless.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, fiend or friend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the hallway to the laboratory doorway!
Take the vials this demon's drawn, leave my presence before the dawn
Breaks bright without an evenings rest, no visit from my therapist.
Take thy syringe and then regress, the therapist shall not egress!
Quoth the maven, `Neverless.'
And the maven mocks my madness, of albuteral left breathless,
Lest the hypertonic saline would yield me coughing then serene.
And her eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is scheming,
Secrets held upon her lips, tales about my therapist
Will she yield, spill forth a list, her lips are parted, now a hiss -
'Neverless replaced by vest!'
<img src="i/expressions/beer.gif" border="0">
The Maven
[Never published - and probably shouldn't be]
My apologies to Edgar....May The Raven take flight....
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I waited weak and weary,
For the head nurse of the night, to change my infiltrated site,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping now upon my chest
`'Tis some therapist,' I muttered, `tapping now upon my chest -
Only this and nothing less.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was late in bleak September,
With each separate drip of tobi, left me sorrowful and lonely.
Eagerly I wished the last; - that this pneumonia now was past
From my IV's surcease of saline - saline dripped into my vein
Throbbing still, and now the soreness, never ceasing is the pain
Throbbing ever in my brain.
Tis the sudden and uncertain rustling of my private curtain
This backwards gown has all but ridden, has not my barren buttocks hidden
But showing now a sudden vision - displays to all this circumcision.
`'Tis some therapist entreating for a pounding 'pon my breast -
Some late therapist obsessed with pounding 'pon my weary chest -
This it is, and nothing less,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, I implore let me sleep and nothing more;
For the fact is I was napping, Till you came and started rapping,
Disturbing me by sleepless nights, Awakened by your sudden lights;
Baring all to which is certain, As I draw back this private curtain,
For a shot of colistin.
Back into the chamber turning, and my butt within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely, there is someone waiting, waiting at my private door;
Rapping waits the Therapist, with their nebulizer mist
Waiting at my private door; -
'Or 'Tis the nurse and nothing worse!'
Open here I flung the drape, stood a troll with rolls of tape -
Syringe in hand this stately maven, robust with strength yet legs unshaven;
Not the least of sound she made; not a moment stopped or stayed;
'Tis not the respiratory therapist, 'tis now the damned phlebotomist
Pounced upon my inflamed wrists -
Vampires all and nothing less.
Then this leach began beguiling and turned sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest unshorn unshaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient maven wandering from your nightly tour -
What detains my therapist, you wandering wild poltergeist!"
Quoth the maven, `Neverless?'
Much I marveled this ungainly when to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevance is seeming;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing their own forearm poked and bleeding -
Waiting still and ever needing one last therapeutic beating.
From such a name as `Neverless.'
But the maven misanthropist spoke not of this my therapist,
Not one word, as if her soul in that one word she would outpour.
Nothing further till she uttered - just one word she then muttered -
The maven night noctambulist; spoke not a deipnosophist -
'On the morrow will he see me, as my hopes do turn and flee me.'
Then the maven spoke, `Neverless.'
Startled at the stillness broken by his name the maven's spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it speaks implores my interest now is piqued
What of this acephalist, masquerade's a therapist
Shall the morrow see me fleeting without this therapeutic beating?
From this the maven states 'tis missing, the state of whom I do obsess
That of this one "Neverless"'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if maid or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here to bore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, in this hospital enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I request -
Is there not a therapist to beat upon my weary chest?
Quoth the maven, `Neverless.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, fiend or friend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the hallway to the laboratory doorway!
Take the vials this demon's drawn, leave my presence before the dawn
Breaks bright without an evenings rest, no visit from my therapist.
Take thy syringe and then regress, the therapist shall not egress!
Quoth the maven, `Neverless.'
And the maven mocks my madness, of albuteral left breathless,
Lest the hypertonic saline would yield me coughing then serene.
And her eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is scheming,
Secrets held upon her lips, tales about my therapist
Will she yield, spill forth a list, her lips are parted, now a hiss -
'Neverless replaced by vest!'
<img src="i/expressions/beer.gif" border="0">