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Metaphor Health Poems | Metaphor Poems About Health

These Metaphor Health poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Health. These are the best examples of Metaphor Health poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Rhyme | |

Not another day


Impulsive or compulsive

Either way it's not conducive

Living with this disorder

Can't be good for my liver

Obsessions, when do they stop?

Compulsions, when do I stop?

Let me illustrate and reiterate

My demons make me infuriated

To the point, man, I really want to escape this

Live everyday like your last?

These hours go by fast

Trying to obliterate every ounce of the past

Always with the imagery and self coping insanity

That broke me and continues to break me.

Another day, no not another day

I just got out, please let me stay away.

Copyright © Stefan Cote | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia

Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

Coming From Where I'm From

Coming from where I’m from
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears


Coming from where I’m from
Every day is a battle to survive 
War is in session 
Right before our eyes

Each day we battle lessons
Just to be in the running for blessings
Coming from where I’m from
We move rapidly on missions

The dead is alive with every walk of the lifeless 
Limited income withholds wealth
The living is near death
Spirits are stripped of guilt

Coming from where I’m from
Deprived wealth
Creates bad health 
In occurrence to this 
Good feelings are killed


The worst gets exposed 
As times get worse
Financial situations become a disaster
No man on earth can rehearse
 
The world is broken
Hunger brings harm
Coming from where I’m from
Dictatorship is not fond

The environment brings the need to shoot
These activities loosens the roots
We’re grounded by values as thin as a pin
We lose ourselves at falling rates like bowling pens

No free passes
Prisons filled in masses
Separated by classes
Coming from where I’m from.


Copyright © Nate Spears | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

StepSister Princess

No! Cut this piece here!
No! Not there!
Why didn't you cut it right?

says Princess StepSister's
hyper-ventilated syndrome,
jonesing for her next pork chop.

I would have finished
but you bellowed me away
in your Ugly StepSister voice
demanding from open refrigerator door
that collard greens must stop evaporating
behind your eyes.

Ugly StepSister?
Did you just call me a StepSister?

I'm just saying
you think you're a Whatever Princess
but you don't act like one
because, as you know,
princesses are always kind
and say please and thank you
and not whatever,
and seldom if ever bark and bite 
at the hands created to lovingly feed them
for the next several years;

while Ugly StepSisters
act like whatever bullies,
talk like ballistic assault weapons.

Which is why
Cinderellas are selected to dance
with Prince Charmings,
and thereby become kind Princesses,
rather than stuck in Ugly StepSister roles and rules,
harping at Prince Charming Dads
to cut their pork chops faster,
and better,
and now,
if not yesterday.

Oh...
Would you cut my pork please, in smaller pieces,
and not take your usual gimpy time, thank you?

Why of course my Princess,
I love to live your Prince Clumsy.



Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

The Boy Who Smiles at the Sky

There he sits neither brazen nor too shy
The boy who sits and smiles at the sky
He is not moved as those who pass him by
He sits and smiles his head up to the sky

There seems to be some peace to it
Something for us that doesn’t fit
But nature is subdued admit
Admit you couldn’t, wouldn’t thus smile and sit.

Mindless sightless people passing by
Dare not notice it smiling at the sky
Just move on faster doesn’t matter why
There is nothing to smile at in the sky

Pray what is it he’s smiling at
I wonder is It smiling back
He seems to hold something we lack
We lack yet couldn’t, wouldn’t live like that

Some things taught should really make you cry
Not like the one who smiles at the sky
Who lives in reasoning like you nor I 
Is there something in smiling at the sky

What do his eyes now truly see
Is his mind completely free
Does he recall you and me
And me we couldn’t, wouldn’t friends still be

What meaning to time gently passing by
I’d just be that boy who smiles at the sky
As all my treasured memories sweetly die
I turn my hopes and smiling toward the sky

Copyright © Martin Kloess | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

TAX BABY

Hospitals slave trade
give us the baby’s name
they will not RELEASE the baby
unless we give them the baby’s name
operating on fear
we give them the baby's name
certificate of sale, contract
they own our baby’s name
slavery 
nine digits becomes our baby’s names
zeros  after  zeros
taxing our baby’s names
hospital slave trade
give us the baby’s name
they will not RELEASE the baby
unless we give them the baby’s name
birth certificate of sale
  contract
tax I.D. the baby’s name

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Man With No Face

Hark!  It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.

No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.

The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!

His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.

It is but he!
No! Tireless;
designed to be.
It is but he!

Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
a perfection, 
designed to be. 
Shrug the abyss.

Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.

Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.

Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.

It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.

Copyright © Adam Lefaivre | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quintain (English) | |

Death, Wealth, Health

Deaths cunning mind
  for Health’s projects
  and its systematic touches
  on Wealth’s health, makes
Wealth, death's health.



Written between 2000-2003 
Just the young thoughts of the young mind

Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Emotional Hole

I did not find myself to be so important
So I ask my friends do I seem distant?
When I ask the question I had received an answer, Yes
So I think that made it clear that I had been not the best
I am a friend of a friend that talks so many things
That friend talks to much it is insane and insanity it brings
I do care, about my friends they are all good people
They tend to stand on their high steeple 
Today I find myself not so aware
Disbanding my fear of regret and care
Walking many different paths I see that I have found holes
It is the path that people choose to use to fuel their rage with coals
Coals are partially burnt wood or fossils a piece of fuel
It is the source of burden and fire a rage of emotions that stands cruel
It can be warm and caring, but it also can be baring
I just start to feel so low, below the ground I keep on staring
I reach for my friends so many times I feel so ignorant at times
Just once I feel I should not rely on them when feeling I can not find 
I dig my hole deeper and I can not climb out
For some reason I am just full of doubt
I care about so many things and what I have is confusion
One person should be all I should think about to get out of that illusion
My battle in my heart and mind is not at all so pleasant
I feel so alone in an island that is shaped like a crescent
My emotions is like coinciding with a diameter of the semicircle
Not a full emotion that is complete like a circle
My feelings is circular full of incomplete thoughts, so much deeper
I feel it will wake up my evil half a evil soul that is a sleeper
What question should I ask myself? to believe that I am not so alone
As I feel like a person who is deteriorating to the bone
I ask my friends the same question once again
I figure I should do it, to know what kind of feelings I should end
So many thoughts that come out of my feeling
I feel like my friends take, an emotional trauma of stealing
They ask me questions and I answer theirs
But when I need mine answered I feel burning inside like a flare
Are they even friends when they do not take me serious in anyway
Just put me in my hole cause I feel nothing in their will be getting in my way
It's just so simple to answer someones problem
I answer friends with beauty of a rose, but when they answer mine I get the stem
I know the stem is very important in life, with out it how can a rose be a rose
With a hole to put the root and stem in how can it grow
The words we speak I guess is like all natural things we reap and sow

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

The Line Between

O God, the pangs are crushing body, soul
And spirit—working deaths where sunlight fades— 
My arms are trunks of pain and taking toll, 
While tortures, stings, and sickness hauntly raids
To close the Gates of Hell to shut me in,
And heaven bows to greet while Hades seeks
To send The Reaper with his failing grin.
And illness ruins lives while havoc wreaks
The squalored throes of daily living on—
While body wastes away and breath remains
To sing your dirge while I still carry on…
Like trampling cattle trodding broken frame,
I live between the sunshine and the grave—
Like flowers cut and dying in the vase

Copyright © J.R. Dawson | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Anatomy of My Disgust

A stoma and a scar 
like the Grand Canyon
form a conspiracy 
against my body. 
The stoma--raw and 
fleshy--looks like a red 
and beefy barnacle on 
my side that constantly 
oozes and drains feces 
and waste like an 
overflowing, backyard 
cesspool. It sickens me.

Near the red and moist 
stoma lies a huge, 
crooked scar on my 
stomach and abdomen. 
It is like the Grand 
Canyon of Arizona--an 
immense displacement 
of the local landscape, 
only instead of earth 
and rock and soil it is 
my skin and muscle 
and tissue that has been 
gouged away. Like my
stoma, it sickens me as
well. Because of them
both, my body now
feels to me like the 
raw anatomy of 
what's disgusting.

Copyright © Ngoc Nguyen | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? | |

Port of Call

Port of Call


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace, ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,

and dips.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,

feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.


Barefoot on a talcum beach,

alone, not lonely,

I have found, at long last,

my final port of call.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Awake at Midnight

Awake at Midnight

sleep retreats
into tunnels of dewy thoughts

teasing the worn mind

awake at midnight
dreams recede

into caverns of mist
to brew their hazy potions

awake at midnight
weariness seduces the being

seeking to slip away
thirsting for solace in
the numbness of slumber
awake at midnight

still.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Raised Shore

Deep breath in slowly let it out
Don’t forget the ten count
Nausea begins to rise
From some depth unrecognized

Churning into anger 
Blatantly right before my eyes
This deceit has no problem being spied
No longer can I hide

Seeping out of control
Is the mind I use to own
Tepidly tells the lie
Truly have I been so blind

Realization is so forlorn
As the reborn tail tells the map
To leave behind such an after math
Of the less fortunate triggered decisions

Oh so trapped 
Snapped, Cracked
Lacking the ability to freeze frame

What is not mine in shame
Just mine to blame
Competing for

Raised Shore

Copyright © Christy Burns | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

Sailing Alone

Sailing away from shores all alone
Angst, can't she be wrong 
The Moon lit the waves as the boat disappeared 
Into the black of night

Winds of change; tides of the moon
Causing a way, where non
Making the storms: subside to commands
Providing safety from harm

Sailing away from shores all alone
Angst, can't she be wrong 
The Moon lit the waves as the boat disappeared 
Into the black of night

©2016 Bonnie Bonnie Jennings K??
All Rights Reserved
Art by Bonnie

Copyright © Bonnie Jennings | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

AMOR

She is kept sacred for him
Elohim
my virtue
it belongs to him
a spiritual agreement
found my Right through him
spirits says
share the mind and soul 
but keep the body holy for him
growing whole with Amor
keeping the body holy for him
our love is sacred 
my body is only for him

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

BIPOLAR

Folks says I’m bipolar
my mind is split
I say I'm insane
the imagination is limitless
haven’t lost my mind
I’m here to master it
still have faith in the earth 
but there’s a climate shift
folks say I’m bipolar
but that’s just it
may not think like most   
doesn’t mean I’m sick 
they teach us duality
then tell us our minds are split 
my mind is holy  whole
I'm not buying this bipolar shit



Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

ECSTASY

Monogamy rules the heart,
polygamy governs the body,
I am in between the king and queen 
of the body,
two hands caressing me,
playing notes,
arranging the body,
a master knows its needs, 
a general masters the body,
end wars,
create internal peace
understand the desires of the body,
understand the meaning of ecstasy,
understand the functions of the body

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016