PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

         "Primum non nocere," oft misapplied,

Not absolute, but a principle to guide.

In Hippocrates' time and modern day,

It's context and intent that hold sway.

The Greek, "ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν," rings true,

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," anew.

A nuanced approach, not black and white,

Balancing risks in healing's light.

The caduceus twined, with wings so bright,

A symbol of commerce, not healing's might.

Asclepius' staff, with serpent alone,

The true emblem of medicine, long known.

In modern clinics, where science reigns,

Ethical practice carefully maintains

A balance 'twixt benefit and potential harm,

With patient's values central to this charm.

Open communication, a cornerstone strong,

Where patient and doctor, together belong.

In shared decisions, they navigate

The complex paths that health dictate.

Some may twist ethics for selfish gain,

But true healers strive to ease pain.

With evidence-based practice as their guide,

They stand against misinformation's tide.

"To benefit, or at least do no harm," evolves still,

Not perfection, but good faith's will.

From rigorous study, and trials so keen,

True healing emerges, complex yet clean.

In healing's art, there's no guarantee,

But ethical practice sets conscience free.

With care and skill, and wisdom's light,

We navigate health's day and night.

Πρῶτον μὴ βλάπτειν, a principle misunderstood,

Not black and white, but shades of good.

Where healing's art meets science's light,

And ethical minds must choose what's right.

The caduceus gleams, a symbol misconstrued,

Where commerce and care are often viewed.

But Asclepius' staff, with single snake entwined,

Represents true healing, carefully refined.

In modern halls where choices weigh,

Doctors and patients find their way.

Through risks and benefits, they navigate,

Shared understanding they cultivate.

Some peddle cures with hollow claims,

Exploiting fears for selfish aims.

But true healers, with knowledge sound,

On evidence their practice ground.

"Primum nil nocere," a guide, not chain,

Encouraging thought in health's domain.

Balance sought 'twixt act and pause,

For healing's not without its flaws.

In research labs and by bedsides too,

Ethical minds seek what is true.

Through trials tested, their wisdom grows,

A beacon bright as knowledge flows.

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, the call remains,

For those who heal, not those who feign.

In partnership with those they treat,

They strive to make care more complete.

          Primum non nocere, a guiding light,

Not rigid rule, but wisdom's sight

ὀφελέειν ἢ μὴ βλάπτειν, in balance true,

Weighing risks and benefits anew.

In halls where healers ply their art,

With science, skill, and caring heart

They navigate the complex maze,

Of modern medicine's intricate ways.

Some twist this creed for selfish gain,

Exploiting fears, causing pain

But true healers, with ethics sound,

Engage with trust,  solid ground.

Caduceus coiled, a symbol pure,

Of commerce now, no longer sure

Asclepius' staff, the truer sign,

Of healing's art, both old and fine.

Shared decisions, patient and physician,

Together they assess, talk with clinician

Of risks and hopes, of fears and dreams,

Charting a course through health's extremes.

In shadowed corners, whispers grow,

Of cures that science doesn't know

But evidence-based practice stands,

Against the lure of charlatan's hands.

Primum non nocere, evolving still,

Not perfection, but good faith's will

To strive for best outcomes always,

While minimising harm's dark haze.

From trials rigorous, knowledge flows,

Not from deceit or cunning shows

The path of healing, nuanced, true,

Leads through care, both old and new.

In the forest's heart, where shadows play,

Woodpeckers thrive in their unique way.

From Picus viridis, green and bright,

To others that grace the woods with might.

European Green Woodpecker (Picus viridis)

In emerald hues, the green woodpecker,

With rhythmic beats, it marks its sector,

pü-pü-pü-pü-pü-pü-pü,

A melody both wild and true.

In meadows lush, it hunts for ants,

With probing tongue, it takes its chance.

It drills for prey in hollowed trees,

Where insects dwell, it finds its ease.

Downy Woodpecker (Picoides pubescens)

Small and spry, with a gentle call,

Its tiny beak, a tool for all,

*pik* it cries, with whinnying fall,

In suburban parks, it stands tall.

It flits through trees with nimble grace,

In orchards sweet, it finds its place.

On suet feeders, it will dine,

In winter months, a lifeline fine.

Hairy Woodpecker (Picoides villosus)

Larger kin with a bill so long,

Its drumming fast, a rapid song,

*peek!* it calls, a sharp, strong tone,

In deeper woods, it finds its home.

With powerful pecks, it drills for prey,

In towering pines, it spends its day.

It scales the bark to find its feast,

In beetle larvae, it finds peace.

Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus)

A giant with a crest of flame,

Its powerful peck, a forest claim,

tap̚tap̚tap̚, it carves its niche,

In ancient trees, where secrets stitch.

In forests old, it digs for grubs,

With mighty force, it splits the shrubs.

Its laughter rings through wooded halls,

In courtship flights, it swoops and calls.

Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus)

With spotted belly and a bib of black,

It forages ground, no need to hack,

kyü-kyü-kyück, it calls with grace,

In open fields, it finds its place.

On grassy plains, it seeks its feast,

With ants and beetles, it finds peace.

It drums on ground in rhythmic dance,

In courtship's spell, it takes its chance.

Three-toed Woodpecker (Picoides tridactylus)

In northern woods, where spruces stand,

It scales the bark with skilled hand,

Removing strips to find its prey,

In beetle galleries, it stays.

Its quiet taps are soft and light,

In snowy realms, it finds delight.

Each species, unique in form and song,

Evolved to fit where they belong,

From beak to call, each niche they fill,

A testament to nature's will.

With varied beaks and feathers bright,

They've carved their paths in day and night.

In dappled light, where leaves entwine,

Woodpeckers dance, a sight divine,

With every tap̚, a note of grace,

A symphony in nature's space.

So let us laud these feathered sprites,

In morning's glow and moonlit nights,

For woodpeckers, diverse and fair,

Bring music to the woodland air.