Poetry

A virtuoso concert pianist and psychiatrist's "play" on the role of music in healing and the influence of psychological and medical factors on the creative output of the great composers in music history.

In this series of recitations, Dr Richard Berlin will present a poetry with special meaning for all of us, as we cope with the COVID-19 crisis. He continues the theme of praising our nursing colleagues with Dorianne Laux's poem "Nurse."

Beethoven’s baton, the genius "gone mad," deaf to criticism, his joy as he conducted, all the notes he trusted the orchestra to play . . .

A poem titled Loves by American poet Stephen Dunn inspired me to write a poem about everything I love about my work as a doctor.

Why poetry? As the great Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai said, “When words fail, that’s when poetry begins.”

Nurses are on the front line in the care of COVID-19 patients, and for many years Dr Berlin has admired and resonated with the poetry of nurse practitioner Cortney Davis. Here: a recitation of two of her poems.

Richard Berlin, MD, recites "COVID-19," by Dr Chris Fitzpatrick. It is a series of haikus strung together to highlight the many moments in hospitals that are happening everywhere in the world. This. Very. Moment.

His widow sues. Five night-sweat-years later, our colleague wins in court, because he has good documentation.

Slipping out of quarantine, we walk hand in hand. Comforting words that this, too, shall pass.

I read Dear Provider in a letter from a health care company. Provider is a fine word, and I’ve always felt proud to provide for my family-but the company doesn’t know guys from Jersey are sensitive.

My hacker stole my identity crisis.

A phone rings on stage like a flashback and we return to our fantasy that characters can die and revive, that the show must go on . . .

The past is prologue riding close behind. Give up your practice? And do what instead? Psychiatrists are not the retiring kind!

Our daughter’s first day of Med School ten years ago, computer charged, a career choice . . .

I imagine Emma on a winter night, an eight-year-old curled fireside in a wing chair, proving her skill with weeping willows...

What is more concerning? The voices in his head or not being able to decipher them without a hearing aid?

They sulk and swear when I say, “Sorry, no Jollies,” tune out when I lecture about sugar, acid, and tooth decay- they’ve known sweetness and want more....

My musician patient in a fetal curl, Tchaikovsky’s “Meditation” plays an endless loop against this climate controlled conspiracy of monitors and machines...

Laziness or disease? You decide.

The moment the maestro flicks his baton, an orchestra thunders and the pianist suffers a stroke. But everyone plays on...

Congratulations and kudos to Dr Richard M. Berlin, whose poem “Eye Contact” was chosen to be included in the 2019 Hippocrates Prize Anthology.

A ghostly glow frames the face of a man with nothing to hide...

Always ask the name of their dog.

Winter had not yet fallen. A crimson tide of red leaves rained down from the heavens...

Occupational hazards in the world of a doughboy.