BMJ VOLUME 333 23-30
DECEMBER 2006 bmj.com 1317
Sir Victor Horsley - an inspiration
a found poem from Michael Powell's BMJ essay
first draft: Kim Morrissey 26.06.2010
You probably know nothing
of this extraordinary surgeon,
but you should.
Cycling around London,
seeing his patients.
Unfailingly courteous
to his patients and his juniors,
... almost unfailingly rude
to his contemporaries.
A surgeon scientist, a social reformer
Horsley's powerful letters
persuaded the board to appoint
an outstanding young physician
James Risien Russell,
-- the first Afro-Caribbean
consultant in the UK.
You probably know nothing
of this extraordinary surgeon,
but you should. He is an inspiration.
ROGER BANNISTER
(by Patsy Futatsugi)
Every child
of my generation
remembers Roger Bannister
Breaking the four minute mile.
I can see him doing it.
Close your eyes.
So can you.
A National Hero.
Now picture a stethoscope.
An every day hero.
A neurologist at the National
Dr. Bannister, Queen's Square.
Helping us all
In our race for life.
This poem was written for
The National Hospital of Neurology and Neurosurgery's
150th Anniversary and first performed
with the Purple Poets at 'The Fayre on the Square'
The National Hospital's Benefit
on Saturday, June 26, 2010
PATSY FUTATSUGI
Wellcome Acts of Mercy
02.04.2009
It’s amazing how you look at things for years
and not really take notice -
I’ve seen the paintings
the ‘Acts of Mercy’
behind glass at the Middlesex,
but not taken them in
always rushing to see friends and
my father in hospital
But today, at the Wellcome Trust Library,
I saw the Acts of Mercy for the first time.
The purple shimmer
halo of the newly cleaned forms
They were so beautiful
Full of passion
And sorrow
And I wish
I had seen them
Sooner.
West Euston Time Bank Purple Poets
Written at the Wellcome Library, 183 Euston Road
on Thursday, 02.04.2009
as part of their on-going
project
to celebrate objects and art
in the Wellcome Collection
ISLAM MOLLA
How Not to Cook Chicken:
Cooking for One
13.05.2010
Sometimes
I cook chicken but
it is not very tasty
I cut it into pieces
or get the butcher to cut it
and then put oil
onion, ginger, chilies
garlic is a must
all those good things put together
The only thing is:
I take it out and it is dismal
I am hopeless
I cook only for survival:
boiled egg.
boiled rice.
boiled egg.
How To Play Carrom
by Islam Molla
15.01.2009
'an ordinary middle class game
of Indian sub-continent'
First time I played Carrom
My sister hit me on the head
Because I could not pocket the counter
At the first flick.
It is a relaxing and competitive game
The winners are rewarded with money or a trophy
I was rewarded
With a hit on my head.
I still play Carrom
But not with my sister.
The Existence
of Love
by Islam Molla
26.06.2010
Love has no language.
Who says this is a liar.
Call him. I want to see his face.
I want to tell him:
Love makes you great,
Magnanimous and honest.
Without it, you are nobody!
Without Love, Life is barren
And useless, good for nothing.
Without Love the word 'Life'
Has no meaning.
Because of the existence of love
The world is still wonderful.
BITHI DAS
Doctors
(first draft 26.06.2010)
Doctors and nurses are saviours
In the form of human beings
Full of Compassion,
Love and Care.
And Hospitals?
Here people come
To breath their first breath.
And their last breath too.
Happy to hear baby's first cry
But so sad to hear other people crying.
This is life
And we must live it.
From cradle to grave
We need doctors and nurses.
Hospitals and doctors and nurses
Go hand in hand
Like cradles and graves
Inseparable.
BITHI DAS
MY GARDEN
If you say:
I am too sick
To do my daily duty
I must say:
I will give up everything
But I won't neglect my garden.
My Garden needs me.
All the flowers are blooming
In multi-colours
Attracting wild insects.
Honey bees, bumble bees
Taking nectar from my flowers
And going away to make honey
In their home.
It is spring and I am proud to see
So many wild things living in my garden.
My Garden is a Garden of Eden
Everything Grows There.
Even me.
REBIRTH
by Bithi Das
21.09.2006
If I die this winter
My body will die but I shall be alive
and come back to your garden.
You will see the white snow-drops,
the first blossoms in spring
after the harsh snows in the winter.
The snow will melt
but the snow drops
will be everywhere.
As the spring brings new life and hope
you will hope that the garden
will be alive again.
But you won't know I am there
and it is me who has born again.
The bird will sing and I will dance.
You will smell the fragrance of mine.
But you won't know.
I am there.
I am born again in this beautiful world.
Bithi Das first performed this poem with the Purple Poets atThe
H-pod Cumberland Market Square on
International Language Day February 22,
2007. This poem was selected for inclusion of an exhbition of poets in summer
2007, in Kingsbury.
A NATIONAL TREASURE
by Bithi Das
I know a doctor.
You all know him.
He is a God
Because he was born
On Christmas Day.
Also, he is a Hindu God - Nandi.
Nandi is the bull
that God Shiva rides on
Always happy to serve.
Paul is kind, loving
Always there to help others.
Heal their pain.
Because he never forgets
He is not just a God
He is a doctor.
This poem was written for
The National Hospital of Neurology and Neurosurgery's
150th Anniversary and first performed
with the Purple Poets at 'The Fayre on the Square'
The National Hospital's Benefit
on Saturday, June 26, 2010
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