Poetry

"Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes, Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes."

"...yet all the passengers filed out saying, “Thank you! We didn’t know a doctor would still help in an emergency.” But I was like the heroes on the evening news declaring, “No big deal. Just doing my job,” and meaning it..."

"The night is swallowing Daylight. We sit down to eat."

"The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing, For thy delight each May morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love."

“The wind has donned your hair...

“The fundamental act of medical care is assumption of responsibility.”

"Otherwise it's spring, and everything looks frail; the sky is baby blue, and the just-unfurling leaves are full of infant chlorophyll, the very tint of inexperience."

"I pulled my scuffle hoe hard through the clay’s crust and heard the blade scrape metal and earth."

"And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold."

"I shall forget civilization, I shall forget color, caste, I shall move in a fantastic world of raceless men and women..."

"rescued from the filth of paradise, hosed off, shining, my cracked fingernails caked with dirt."

"The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters and the diameter of its effective range about seven meters, with four dead and eleven wounded."

"The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters. Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape, the label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt."

"...seeking and longing for the garden of cherry blossoms..."

A psychiatrist reflects on the importance of time... and living in the moment.

"We were three men alone in a ward room built for fifty, dust film on the floor..."

"I can smell the aroma of spring tulips filling the air-spreading peace and good cheer..."

"For we are a healing and a growing greenhouse..."

"For you and I, know that this space, this pace, this race is a gift to be shared, craved, and loved."

"In the corridor, he demands a confession: Who peeled back his bandage? Who let him look?"

“In the realm of psychiatry, the therapeutic value of poetry lies in its ability to transcend the limitations of prose, offering a space for the unsayable and the ineffable.”

"He’s dying on dialysis—I’ve known him since my first days as a doctor, and now he wants to quit..."

As Martin Luther King Day approaches, a psychiatrist shares his thoughts... and hopes we are in within reach of those dreams and ideals.

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world..."

A psychiatrist reflects on a new year and anticipatory growth.

"Spray the perfume of your smiles on the incision. Inject the song of life into my veins to wake me up. Gently beat the drum so my mind may dance with yours, my doctor, day and night."

Here are some highlights from Frank A. Clark, MD’s, Poetry for Inclusion from throughout 2023, as seen in Psychiatric Times.

"...my eyes searching for the one skater in every crowd who glides graceful as a god, like my father years ago in his black leather racing skates..."

"This letter I write from the heavenly ashes wishing that ebony and ivory twirl as one into the arms of divine humanity."

"My black cat sprints through the kitchen door, a glassy-eyed cottontail hanging limp from his jaws."