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Age Pain Poems | Age Poems About Pain

These Age Pain poems are examples of Age poems about Pain. These are the best examples of Age Pain poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

over and over agin

sometimes i talk to myself, 
my mind is racing,
i dont know what to do...
so hard to explain.
depression isn't a stage
or a faze some kids go through
it shatters you...
i saw it all. 
she cried silent in her bed,
blood stains covered her favorite jeans,
her every shirt,
long sleeve ofcourse...
she suffered through it all with few people to call friend
and more to call enemy
even more to say where quite dissappointed....
her first name in school,
not started by a bully
or a mean rival,
but by her sister, 
and it echoed through her soul,
repeating in her mind... over and over again,
like the ripples of still water
when a pebble is dropped
flash frozen in time
over and over again...
It was the first name they gave her,
millions where created over the years,
some unique
some repeating again, just as the first had..
gothic they called her,
emo, fat, ugly....worse things.
but in her mind, things where worse.
everything was repeating,
over and over again,
finally she believed it. 
she asked for help, from everyone
tried to explain to parents she wasnt well,
got called a psycho for asking to see a theripist,
not from a teacher,
not from a class mate,
but from her own father, who wouldn't, couldn't,
believe there could possibly be a thing wrong....
finally, crying, she confessed her bloody secret to a teacher.
rather then giving her time,
she is sent back to class crying her eyes out, as if she wherent going through enough...
she is sent to the principals office a few minutes later, after breaking down in class...
the princlipal says she needs help,
sends her and her dad for a risk evaluation,
her dads crying as she shows him her cuts...
they walk into a hospital room, 
it smells of chemicals and hand sanitizer,
the lady at the desk gives her a smile.
then she goes into a room with a lady,
her cheeks are sunken in and shes wearing way too much makeup,
the girl is gaging on her perfume,
and she looks really intimidating....
her dark brown hair looks dead and flat
even though its a bit wavy, 
and she wears somewhat of a mocking frown.
asks her all these questions,
is mommy beating her?
is daddy raping her?
is she doing drugs?
not alot
is anyone beating her?
did anyone molest her? 
oxcarbezapine, trazadone, citalipran, clinazapam, colonipan,
valium, lithium, more.......
and thats what they gave her,
some numbed the pain
some brought it out
tearing through her organs,
she became an addict by the time she was fourteen....
over dose after over dose
some for pleasure
some for pain,
gashes on her legs getting deeper,
this time she didnt tell a soul,
not even those she had come to call friends....
wakeup she screamed in her head over and over again
as she dropped weight like it was nothing....
you cant controll it she argued as things became worse. 
at age fourteen she attempted suicide,
she didnt quite succeed.
the medication took away her aappitite....
she liked it
she hated her body
hated herself
felt out of controll
found a new way to cope
as she shoved tooth brush after toothbrush down her throat
to keep her body from nuitrients...
as she whent weeks and weeks spitting food into napkins and making excuses 
I ate at my friends house....
spoken as a whisper
heard like a sentance
echoing in her mind over and over again,
along with that word, all the words,
ugy, anoying, stupid, fake, worthless, nothing...
one bite she would say
rocking back and forth
craving nothing but food
her body racked with hunger pain
one bite and there she was again
over and over and over again
back to a toothbrush
this time she sees blood
she saw her ribs
she saw her bones,
it wasnt good enough,
she almost died, again....
choking on this deep dissappointment in herself,
gaging on everything they where pushing down her throat, 
their words, and their insults, their criticism.... their drugs
all shoved down her throat like candy
and just as she was was trained to do she swallowed despite the bad taste
or the hurt
or the fact that at the rate she was going she would be dead soon...
and you know why? 
because daddy yelled 
and couldnt accept what was happening
not because he wanted to hurt her
but because it hurt him,
and she let him believe,
because she could take the hurt if it meant he didnt have too.
because mommy didnt want to sit in her room all day
smoking weed
doing nothing,
practically having us raise ourselves,
she didnt mean to take anger, or frustration or hurt out on her daughter
she suffered everyday in her solitary confinement,
and from a young age she accepted her bedroom was the cage
 her mother had created for herself.
because sister didnt want to effect her the way she did
she was just frustrated
fed up with the way things where
scared, she needed someone to take her cruelty
and to help heal her pain...
because people in school
who where so cruel
had to have learned from somewhere
and she wasnt going to play into their games,
and they knew she was an easy target
because she would never attack someone so weak
and she accepted her suffering was a sacrafice
to help all these people....
to help her dad,
her mom,
her sister,
every person who was beaten abused or hurt
 and felt so weak at home they wanted to feel strong in the one safe place they had.
because depite the fact she had died inside,
and almost passed away on the out,
it was a saccrafice she was willing to make
so that no one else would have to feel that kind of pain,
and they all inflicted it and broke her down'untill there was nothing left but a shell
of somthing that could have been
and never had the chance
and why? 
because she would take it and wouldnt strike back,
because sometimes "just taking it"
isnt so much about the weakness not to do anything
but about the strangth not to hurt others the way they hurt you...

Copyright © cassie hellberg

Details | Couplet | |

Jenny Butler

Hour upon unending hour, day upon unending day,
quietly, in her prison, our dear Jennie Butler lay.

No curses did she utter, never once did she complain,
though hands and feet were gnarled, swollen, and burning with pain.

Instead, she smiled, told us jokes, those she often would repeat,
and sing to us the old songs, in tones pleasant and sweet.

Down the hall outside her room, other voices mingled there,
mumbling and babbling or calling out in despair.

No one came to visit her, no one that we could recall,
though she waited patiently, no one ever came at all.

  Published in Art With Words
 Poetry Quarterly, Oct., 2005

Published in MSPS Anthology
 Life on the Edge, Dec., 2005

(Aunt Juanita's roommate in the Nursing Home)

Copyright © Cona Adams

Details | Salaam | |

Yeh khaalipan

Jab Meri Bechaini Mit Jayegi
Jab Mere Dilko Sukoon Mil Jayega
Yeh Khaalipan Mit Jayega

Do Pal Ki Chandni Ke Liye
Aj Bhi Zinda Hoon Main
Meri Khaamoshi Ke Ageh Aasmaan Bhi Khatam Ho Jayega

Kehne Ke Liye Toh Roz Marta Hoon Main
Thoda Aur Marne Ke Liye
Yeh Deewana Kal Phir Ayega

Copyright © shadab shaikh

Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Elegy | |

Raindrops and Teardrops

Copyright © David Whalen O Haolin in ancient Celtic

Details | Carpe Diem | |


Broken,beaten,blind and lost
All but a spark of hope left to keep warm
But dig and claw on bruised muscles, on broken limbs
Until the light day fills your sight
Left blinded no more
Until the soft fresh air blows the spark to a flame and ignites your will
Until the ground beneath is solid enough to stand
Walk,until the pain is mastered and stumbling ceases.
And you can say:
This will not be my grave.

Copyright © Gillian Brown

Details | Concrete | |


A poem wrote by me, based on Person who is a deserving icon but still struggling hard with his career life and addressed as disturbed creature.

DISTURBED CREATURE--> Am I ??       BY Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

Am I so insane, Am I so mad,
Dramatic mood of mine is so die hard.
Destroyed my peace, Shattering my dreams,
People call me as disturbed creature.
As like mounting the pain, attenuating the drain!!

Digesting my feelings lying inside me,
Strangely nobody cared, call me sick.
Teasing me lavishly and my heart is pricked,
Hurted me like hell when addressed me as stupid.
As like showering rain, missing on the lane!!

Time lapse in journey of life,
Can hamper anybody on its path.
When I see innate reflex of mine,
I always use to brightly shine.
Though possessing every job attributes of mine,
I never thought the authorities will ditch and hamper my career line.
Falsely acting bloody swine, making my image as fade as wine.
As like affecting harmonious divine, my soul was, as is transparently pristine!!

Destroying me and testing my patience, Never wanna give up.
Transformed deviations, wanna rightly screw up.
I wanna raise up, I wanna shake up.
I wanna wake up, Tranquilize my mind.
Unzip the professional life compressed by the culprits.
Wanna explore myself, driving the motivated heights of journey.
Lastly waiting for the optimistic opportunity.
Cuffing the suspect ,I wanna rejoice by my pattern of life!! 

with Suyog Pagare

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |

just breathing

        When life takes hold of you no mercy given  
        Foreclosures popular , the new age to walk ..driven
        When your nerves are shattered 
        The home you live in seems scattered 

           Just breathe ~

       children don't understand why you can't give money on the daily 
       life feels cold and The bills are unbearable to open it seems
       When there is not enough food in the pantry for all
       you feel you are losing as you begin to fall , loose sight of dreams 

            Just breathe ~

     All these things are a test , every breath that counts.
     It's the faith,  and will to live , as anxiety mounts
     In your darkest hour just call on his power  
     with the help of God above , you will surmount.
           just breathe ~ just keep breathing

      "  Just another day in paradise Contest "

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Rhyme | |

My Sins

My Sins – Zamreen Zarook

Oh God you are so gracious,
Am a guy who have done since in capacious,
At times I have being as a carnivorous,
But it charged ages to identify as dangerous.

Since are being committed behind the screen,
Even it started at my thirteen,
Mirrors used to say that I am evergreen,
Whereas my since were always unseen.

In enormous number I have executed,
But for every count, high privacy was aborted,
Simply because of your blessings we are bracketed,
If not, we are already being quoted.

Oh God, I understood your kindness,
Here after I won’t commit since in others absence,
However much chances I get to access,
I will always have heaven as my address.

Copyright © Zamreen Zarook

Details | Blank verse | |

parting is such sweet sorrow

you feel like you’re
falling apart
it’s part of the
aging process
you will be  falling
until there are no
parts left

day by day
part by part
is such sweet sorrow


Details | Nonet | |

The Old Age

when I was young I could run a mile
now I watch the track with a smile
these legs are not like before
in fact they feel quite sore
folks say it's a stage
it's the last page 
it is called 
the old

Copyright © john beharry

Details | Blank verse | |

Mommy You're Gone Now

when I as 7 and would hold mommy's hand
everywhere I went, I
thought nothing bad could ever happen.
mommy's here, you're safe.
Mommy, you're gone now and 
I'm not safe anymore 
Where are you 
you never told me that you were leaving 
and that my own brother was capable of hurting me.
what am I going to do when dad comes home drunk 
and gets violent again? 
Mommy you're gone now
I'm not safe anymore

Copyright © Bobbie Jo Price

Details | Ballade | |

Great to be old

Great to be old

Old age don’t mean a thing at all
It’s great to be alive
Each new day it gives me joy
To know I still survive
My body might be filled with pain
But the sun still shines above
And the birds up in the trees 
Still sing their song of love.

I’m seventy one, and just a bit
And I don’t give a damn
I’m growing up, not growing old
Although I’m not a lamb
My heart is young, I sing my song
With so much melody
Each day that comes to touch my soul
I am so glad to be.

I don’t believe in death at all
So that don’t worry me
I’ll live until my shell does fade
And then my soul will be
Floating in the deep blue sky
Cause I’ve finished with this story
And then another one may start
May bring me grief, or glory.

21 May 2014 @ 0810hrs.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | ABC | |

Grey Bird

On that cloudy weekend in June 
I hear a soft and graceful tune 
from the grey bird on the tree 
Singing sweet lullabies felt 
blessed in the moment 
My body tingles of joy at sight 
Gazing out through 
my open door,
Letting thoughts fly free
Releasing love out into the horizon 
Heart filled with emotion came 
over me 
Grey bird stood playing its tune 
for awhile and on the wings of 
letting go
Then as the rain fell from the 
sky the grey bird flew away 
I blew a kiss to the clouds and 
utterd these simple words of I 
Love You father ( who's now in 
heaven ) and yet I hope to hear 
that grey bird sing again once 
more for me 
Farewell, love your son

Poem contest for Debbie -referential

Copyright © Brian Otoole

Details | Rhyme | |

The man who cherished me

I wish I didn't stop to think,
about the man who cherished me.

My childhood so fun and fair,
I remember your cologne drifting in the air.

The days we went to the Space museums,
showing me pictures of your trips to new Zealand.

The greatness achieved when in the service,
giving lives a better purpose.

Just thinking of your voice is hard enough,
I wish that I could be more tough.

It hurts to think that now your gone,
Grandpa I just can't be strong.

That day in the rest home I hit my peak,
the fear so bad I couldn't speak.

I had to leave because I just cried,
and cried, and lost my chance to say goodbye.

I wish I could have let it out,
and now I have to live without.

I know your looking down and see,
this pathetic thing I've grown to be.

I just want to be like you,
but I could never amount to you.

Please help me through this pain I'm in,
and help me to feel alive again.

I miss you so much I just want to scream,
I hope you visit me in my dreams.

I love you Grandpa with all I have left,
there is not much there but shame and stress.

I want to honor you and become better,
find my peace, if I can ever.

I hope on day again I will see,
the man who truly cherished me.

I love you so much Grandpa and I am so so sorry.

Copyright © Del Cammack

Details | Ballad | |


I am not made a full blown beauty..
Nor I live a life of purity; charity & piety..
All I like to do is to live with identity..
Not of being a witty but a life of humility..

I tried to be a more social person..
Cracking out the shell I have put up..
Breaking from my own weakness..
Doing best in my found strengths..

I have craved to reach out to people..
Widening my horizon, increasing my knowledge and awareness..
Learning to acknowledge fellow human beings..
Regardless of who they are and where they from..

They said: "I must not do this as it is dangerous.."
but I stand to what I know: "Inside all human beings is the reflection of God.."
I give due and equal chance..
As my God have freely given me opportunities too..

We people are living in same earth..
Different are we because of status, faith or race..
Let not this be the reason for us to be divided..
Rather we must come in unison conquering divisions..

By: olive_eloi

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | Rhyme | |

Candy Made Of Cotton

You were born and raised as a dream,
That someone else liked to keep.
Run me like a river,
Currents can’t keep us from sleep.
You were raised like a flag. 
So sorry so forgotten,
You were left at half mast.
A tomato in the sun not dried but rotten. 

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Turn me like a table.
The only stories I ever heard were fables.
So now all I tell are tall tales. 
Something about cats in cradles. 
I wanted so much from life but I was afraid to reach.
Now hand in my pockets tangled up in sleeves.
My dreams have stayed just dreams.

Candy made of cotton.
Dreams are meant to be forgotten.
And I’ll forget with help from smoke and ashes.
Alone here we lie between the sounds.
Don’t we all think our lives could be profound?
But my genius only comes in flashes.

Copyright © Ag Ki

Details | Free verse | |

Flat Canvas

Flat canvas;

Bubbling brown ridges strike 
The confining dimensions in a hostile yawn: 
Upwards, Outwards.

Walk the world no longer, an ending beckons, 
A precipice builds moments where swallows wager wings 
On new seed: New breeds.
Falling buys the assurance of seconds
From a sinking well. 
Oh well.

Remember us when the globe begins to slip,
Bang drums for our pity:
Our crescendos mean less than meaningless.
And then, when spheres crack, continue 
On the whorl of a thumb, 
Stretching hope to nothing.

Copyright © Dan Keir

Details | Free verse | |

little pale lies

sometimes, i get a wave of sadness over me.

i love you, and i want to be with you,


you deserve someone

a little less neurotic


a little more normal.

someone who is honest when she whispers, “I’m so happy”

under the covers.

you make me happy.

but you shouldn’t have to change me like that.

Copyright © Morgan Tate

Details | Couplet | |

The Feeling

From deep within a silence grows
Vastly spreading, yet no one knows
No one knows of what's to come
The Feeling is sudden, then it's done.
Often with pain, fits of sorrow
The Feeling leaves nothing, not even a morrow
With much haste, take one last breath
We all succumb to The Feeling of Death.

Copyright © Don Davidson

Details | Bio | |

Coming of age

He was 11 when his first scars began to appear
In the beginning his scars were small and not very deep
Originating at school his hazing began
This boy was bullied
He was changing and his friends didn't like it
They teased him
He was a twig and had a squeaky voice
He had no one to help him
So he turned to the blade
He cut daily to escape the emotional pain
His body continued changing
His scars became deeper 
He couldn't handle becoming a man
He couldn't handle the stress in coming of age
As he developed he gained responsibilities
The world expected more from him
he wishes he could go back to the boy of his youth but knows he can't 
His body growing bigger
His shoulders broaden
The weight in becoming a man is heavy
He wants to stay this little boy
The thought of being a man terrifies him
Now has mood swings 
He's not happy all the time like he used to be
He angers easily and
Wish to remain that little boy
Then he realizes
He must learn who he is as an individual
He must endure the changes
He must push on
Listen to advice
Stay fit
Be patient
These scars are symbolic
A badge of honor
Decorating your self-identity
Transforming you into the man you wish to become.

Copyright © Nathan Leatherwood

Details | Free verse | |

A Blue Boy's Death Wish

A fragile mind breaks 
Wake upon the rock laden shores
A muffled heart begs to echo
Whispers lost among a velvet chamber

Dusk comes premature time and again
Dropping the curtain on an optimistic sunrise
If you never witness dawn
There is no tomorrow

Always the dreamer aches
Never awake to make real what he desires
The restless corpse walks blind
Dead ends seem fitting for one of the kind

Lost in the labyrinth of strangling vines
Love is the motive and the weapon
Taking root in throats dry from weeping
Sprouts of amnesia in place of smiles
A garden called heartbreak holds onlookers captive
The comfort takes hold, sets in the bones weary of searching
A plea for rest lands on deaf ears

The hollow boy tires of himself
The last request he will ever make
"End me"
Lost and tired
He wishes to be weak no more

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz

Details | Free verse | |


A challenge all of mankind faces, but yet I feel so alone. 
How am I supposed to deal with this?
Is there a book written that tells me how I can face the omnipresent calendar, who judges my character when I fail to meet his deadlines?
Because when I slow down I have to remember. 
The world doesn't stop with me.
It continues. 
Seasons and people change and go. 
They don't wait for me.
I am moving forward, trying to evolve into a butterfly. 
But to this fat caterpillar, it seems impossible.
The world never stops. 
It doesn't give me a chance to breathe. 
A chance to worry about the person I'm becoming.
A chance to change my ways and realize what lies ahead. 
A chance to look up into the skies above.
Above me, what is above me?
Is there a god, mocking me, preventing my transformation?
Or is there a glass faced clock, ticking slowly, begging me to bide my time.

Copyright © Ursula Black

Details | I do not know? | |

Change In Me

Oh lord I'm changing,
So rapidly and drastically..
I know not what i'm doing.. 
I try to find myself in me.

Don't exactly remember 
who I was and what I am now..
Time passes as it does
But this time has let 
this change to reality

Times there are that I wonder
Why am I surrounded by so 
Indifferent people around me
Or am I the the alien one

Can't live my life through with 
Can't change myself for 
That I never was and never will 

Every day i wake up
Look myself in the mirror
'Disgusted' utters for the vision 
Oh, such is the pain i'm living 
Most people choose to move on
Well i wish to stay, 
To keep a hold to myself.. 
To be my own guardian angel.
I'm so lost that when i look 
I cannot remember 
When I was true to myself.

The road i'm in right now
Is so long that i don't see a 
better future
Fed up of all the worldly 
I'll be happy when this is all 
When i'll find myself..

Copyright © Raybam Waage

Details | Nonet | |

old age nonet

Fatigueability,a wrinkled mass
Or a time for exploration
Learning, adventuring so
One discovers truth
Existential strength
Pouring in bulk – 
Masses come

Copyright © Euginia Liapich

Details | I do not know? | |

The Difference Between Survival And, Your Pain

Reading about mommy's little poochie
Hnaging out amid the early morning in her
Pacifica aside spring times sea: greeting lovely
Creation not a care in this world perhaps then suddenly
While mother was watching through her sunrise's kitchen window
Serenity abruptly being interrupted for the two of they: startled hearts a coyote
Carrying away their prey surreal as helpless she gazed fade to black it's tiny life today....
Turning about his babylon; east to west north and south everyday, these priceless babies, swept away.

Copyright © Jeremy Street

Details | Nonet | |

Youth and old age

Came to me in a frightening and realistic dream Death, with his eyes and teeth so hungry I wait, he said, and am impatient Someday you shall be my slave An old and worn hag Proud you may be Realise you not That time Flies! Someday, he said, you will be wrinkled and cracked On that day, your time will be near Just wait and watch while being passive As you do treat the old Same will you be treated So, meanwhile, do relish Youth is temporary Time flies Subtly!

Copyright © Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Details | Free verse | |

Pain Poem

Marian Kaye 2012
The Elements of Pain at Midnight
Can I be perfunctory about pain?
The sound of rain begins…
Having never had much pain
Old age brings opportunity
Why I wonder
Why explore the wonder?
It’s suspicious the way I hesitate
The cringe, the whine, the question and then
No embrace, just rejection
I sense a fellow creeper accompanying the rain
Still I haven’t come to the center of the experience
I lay there wondering about my reluctance
To be like Him
Whose presence is divine deliverance?
We celebrate, congratulate each other, revere, and even fear
And I was wondering about the character of
Small, little, even miniscule tethered and sharp teeth
Threatening more
The promise before craziness sets in
The knowledge is a pre-emptor state that shakes me
I am awake
There is no plan, no rain
There is no sacrifice embracing pain
Mom carries it floating on waves of time
She is laying there- prone and bone in place
A sweet secret smile on her grim face
We cannot fix the reminder of pain
We try to embrace
We hold her- strengthening soothing way
Yet our own pain is elusive- we hold back
Both hands out only to fall without grace
Like a child flying off a bike
We cannot tell pain to go-take a hike!
Still- I haven’t reached back to where I was in the center
Is that on the operating table?
I awoke with Domer on my mind
Wanting to erase the suggestion of even going there 
The nightmare bad guy vs our friend Jesus
There is fear and trembling even physical pain
Bleeding from every pore
Think of His choices
There is no comparison with mom or a dream 
Or the real world psychotics plotting
Another’s pain
We cannot put two arms out resisting change
And stopping the window, the well the witness of pain
Still is there a center where one can rest
Where the tunnel of darkness is absolute
Where there is trust and truth
Where assurance smells damp and one knows faith and pain stops 
Is then this the center?
Where we forget how we arrived and
We begin to believe
We see the light at the end of the day
The tunnel retreats
Our pain gives way
A child’s eyes are wide with surprise
Our delight we embrace the child of pain
The tears, the night, in the dark a tender rain

Copyright © Marian Baker

Details | Rhyme | |


I am but a living matter, with no much giving wonder
I’ve seen my birth twice, all after an attempted suicide thrice
I still weed and weave, that is, think and compose
Yet I am still but willed to be still.

Ignition in my struggle have seen my daring heart through
I still and possibly, will write with no much height
In me I see the silent child-like Emily Dickson, still doing my fiction
Still, creating, hoping, losing and breaking my skeletal friction
I know rejuvenation shall get me there
   Where the hearts grill with cheer.

I’ve crawled to the lands Far East, then Far West
                               To the North and South Pole
In my interactive intractable mind of imagination
Yet to lose but to give I’ve captured the silent mourning
    Of many unable, disabled, able-less people
I’ve coined the immaculate wealth and health
    Of many reliable very able people
And still to be real, I am but still.

Written 2006 
Just the young thoughts of the young mind

Copyright © njeri hunjeri

Details | ABC | |

No more pain

Tired going here and there,
Tired of being aware!
Sick of building useless hopes,
Sick of being on unstable slopes!
Vexed facing disappointment,
Vexed keeping perseverant!
Done carrying on,
Done being cheated on!
Special thanks to all my swains;
Those who cured, or racked my strain,
A new stage has just broke ground,
A Point of view is switching around
Only success is what I'll brace,
From today, till blue in the face!

Copyright © Naamani Badih