Who Makes Money from Diabetes?

Given the enormous upside of type 2 diabetes remission for patients, I’ve been wondering why the idea is so slow to catch on. Here’s a poem that just might explain it.

Note: The poem is based on an early medieval poetic form as found in Gerard Murphy’s book, ‘Early Irish Metrics.’

Who Makes Money from Diabetes? 

Drug purveyors, corporations,
pill for every complication,
physicians, their receptionists,
dieticians, nutritionists,
technicians for dialysis,
blood and urine analysis, 
the nurses and the pharmacists
nephrologists, neurologists,
for eyes, the ophthalmologists,
optometrists, chiropodists,
for joints the rheumatologist,
of course the cardiologists, 
the gastroenterologists,
orthopaedic technologists,
occupational therapists.
No feet? Please see the prosthetist.
Managers, administrators,
life and diet educators,
nurses trained in diabetics,
ambulances, paramedics,
surgeons, endocrinologists,
intensivists and internists, 
for X-rays, radiologists,
the anaesthesiologists,
urologists, oncologists,
podiatrists, pathologists,
the dentists, gynaecologists,
psychiatrists, psychologists.
When stressed, a massage therapist, 
a sleep disorder specialist -
snoring? Buy a respirator.
Shoe and wheelchair fabricators,
physios for exercises,
strips and lancets enterprises,
monitors, logs, magnifiers,
bandages, syringe suppliers,
tracking apps and injectables, 
accountants chase collectables.
Have insurance? Compensation 
keeps the cash in circulation.
Academics, statisticians,
lobbyists, and politicians, 
people writing regulations,
those supported with donations,
fundraisers, associations,
drug purveyors, corporations.

by K. Fionn Murphy

Ancient Irish Poetic Form:
Ollchasbairdne *

Form: 84 84 84 84 **
Rhyme scheme: A B A B 
Dúnad: First word, phrase, or full line (considered best) is repeated at the end of the poem. 
Úaim: Alliteration where possible. The poet in the example below alliterates every non rhyming word with the previous rhyming word.

Example: Rí Achaid Úir ibardraignig/ crathaid in lúin lethanmerlig/ ocon maigin muiredruimnig/ Laigin ina lebargemlib.
* Meaning (perhaps): great bardic craft
** I wasn’t able to manage it completely…  

Source: Early Irish Metrics, by Gerard Murphy

Be Kind

I’ve decided to write a poem on health and diabetes for each of the 84 early Medieval Irish forms given in Gerard Murphy’s book, ‘Early Irish Metrics.’ If you’re interested in trying to write one yourself, see below for the rules of today’s poem. 

Be Kind

Be kind. Too quickly we accuse

our hearts, ourselves, impose pain.

Blind, ashamed, confused, we excuse

self harm as certain, see stains

as lasting when they wash away

like waves. Absolve yourself. Wind

down, let go, watch a doorway

open. The world waits. Be kind.

by K. Fionn Murphy, © 2021

Ancient Irish Poetic Form: Sétnad mór *


Form: 82 71 82 71 **

Rhyme scheme: A B A B 

Dúnad: First word, phrase, or full line (considered best) is repeated at the end of the poem. 

Úaim: Alliteration where possible.


Cráebrúad Chonchobair meic Cathbad

Clár día cingtis curiad cath,

is mó éirned réimned ratha 

asa téiged macha i-mach

* Meaning (perhaps): great treasure poetry. 

** 8 syllables 1st and 3rd line, ending in 2 syllable word, 7 syllables 2nd and 4th line, ending in 1 syllable word.

Source: Early Irish Metrics, by Gerard Murphy

Poem: Goodbye, Honey

A foodie’s poetic lament upon the breakup with carbohydrates for health reasons


Goodbye, Honey

by kfionnm

Goodbye, honey, love of mine.
More mysterious than wine. 
Sweet as sin, sticky fingers. 
Even gone, your taste lingers.

Bread, my comfort – glum farewell. 
I get lost inside the smell 
Of your baking – instant lust.
Oh to bite warm crunchy crust.

Wholewheat loaf or French baguette,
Sourdough is better yet.
Warm and fresh or next day’s toast
Magic. Bread, I’ll miss you most.

Ice cream – it seems so unfair.
You and I – a perfect pair –
Spoon in hand, smiling, dreamy
In the mouth, melting, creamy. 

Topped with golden caramel, 
Fragrant fudge’s chocolate smell,
Tart sorbet and crackly cone,
All gone. I feel so alone. 

Sugar: sorry. Can’t be friends.
Pack up, leave, no loose ends.
We have loved in varied ways – 
Best of all – the dessert daze. 

Crème Brûlée and chocolate mousse,
Marmalade, jam, apple juice, 
Porridge bubbling on the heat, 
Corn flakes, muesli dropped – too sweet.

Millet, semolina, rye,
Barley in my soup – goodbye.
Ciao, dear pasta. Rice: so long.
How can good food be so wrong? 

Sad to jilt the curvy spud.
Mashed, you make my heart go thud
Like the first time I was kissed. 
Baked, boiled, fried. You’ll all be missed. 

Couscous and I once were close.
Beans and tacos: adios.
Goodbye, naan and breaded fish,
Pizza, no!!! My favourite dish.

Ramen, udon, any noodle,
Spätzli with an Apfel Strüdel,
Maki sushi, Chinese dumpling,
Hard to stop my legs from crumpling. 

Crepes and croissant, charlotte, choux,
Mille fuille, macarons: adieu. 
Chocolate truffle, cake, and tart
All ensnared me. Broke my heart. 

Cookies, brownies, candy, pies –
Something deep inside me dies
When I know that we are through. 
Sorry, all. It’s me, not you. 

Still I dream of dark honey,
Warmed on toast, turning runny,
Taste that made the world divine.
Goodbye, honey, love of mine.