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Best Sick Poems

Below are the all-time best Sick poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sick poems written by PoetrySoup members

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WORLD IS ALWAYS SICK by Devnath, BL
Ever Again Get Sick by Horn, James
Sick Feeling Quite Moribund by Horn, James
Sick Days by Patrick, Autumn
if the gods aren't sick, then crazy they must be by sage, white
Santa is sick by munn, Craig
LoVe SicK by Alexander, Christian
Water makes me sick by Joe, Sloppy
Memory Sick by Elizab, Felicia
Love Sick by Only, Member Area

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The Best Sick Poems

Details | Sick Poem | |

Sleepless Night

Sleepless Night

Pillowed feathers,
Caress a precious moment around my tender skin.
***
Teardrops, bagged eyes, a way of sin
The mirror reveals a lost eternal soul
A conniving move against tonight's phantom glow
Voices circle the insomniac moon
Like magic and beauty, "I'm Gone With the Wind."

The idea of love, 
broken like yesterday's wishbone.
She is leaving today
her arms, my shelter
Her wings were immense
teardrops, gone forever. 
Never will she suffer-
Never will she return-
All I have are lost memories,
tracing what is left.
One last deep breath
tequila vice
washing away the pain.....

At Last Now I See!
Under the drunken stars 
Yesterday I had an epiphany 
Falling like a match
A sunken treasure 
At Last I Knew
You don't belong in there,
you were there for the taking
Frail and sick, no longer sane.
Memories lost, no longer - her
My Mother! 

What has become of her since? 
You're a demon, who played us all
Made us cry, while you slowly took her aside

The way you laid waste to her body
nip nap both her legs
Fed her through a stubble

She rapidly forgot
our names'
our faces'
I hate you Alzheimer
I hate the way you took her the first time!
I hate you Death
I hate the way you claimed her final moment!
***
Sleepless nights and pillowed feathers,
Caressing a precious moment around my tender skin
Pretending my mother tucked them in
Anything to help me get past my sleepless nights.

By: PD
7-08-13

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

More great poems below...


Details | Sick Poem | |

FINALLY

Finally 

Doctor, it's been 7 months 
The MEDs aren't kicking in

My dreams are getting stronger, 
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed 
Dark images keep taking place inside my head 
The voices - The voices, are not all right!

I no longer lay laughing 
The screaming never stops
In irons,  my mind rattles 
Theses thoughts are all I got
In slow motion, my mind plans the perfect plot

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Counting every single second on the clock 
At first I could not breathe 
I felt, I was left alone, 
Broken down --- Incomplete  
In your eyes, the schizophrenia spoke loud
In my eyes, everything is dark and gray

Doctor, now listen closely, open your eyes
While the walls slowly close in on you
I have my hands around your neck
Finally, I feel my arms, the needles are gone

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
The tightening of the chest is clearing
Today I possess a little more than yesterday 
Knowing exactly what needs to be done.

DOC YOU AREN'T LISTENING!
Was it all for nothing, the bloody wrist?
The faucet constantly dripping every night
The voices I call my friends

Deep, deep down,  
I'm still a child, painting  bedroom walls
Setting fires after my mother's death 
A crazy peril in its most threatening state

Doc, here you are again,
No longer will I allow you to waste my time
With your fetish lies, trying to make me better 
The problem is not me, it was always you!
Painting pink butterflies and white skies

Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Don't you understand  she's dead!
Pills aren't going to bring her back 
Padded rooms aren't going to help me,
Help myself --- grieve  the proper  way!
Straitjackets aren't going to restrain me, 
--- from wanting to hurt badly!
Psychologically, I'm perfectly sane 
Expressing my emotions a different way.

Doctor, you're not saying nothing 
You're not moving, 
You're just sitting there pretending to care.
Doc, I hope you aren't mad?
The voices explained it had to end this way
How else could I make you listen?

Finally, the impulse is gone 
Finally, I'm going to be alright 

       ***For Contest
       ***Trashed #2, 
       ***sponsor, Broken Wings
       ***9-8-15
       ***Pd

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

Near Death Experience

Lying silently on my bed, eyes open wide.
Watching as darkness moves in like a heavy fog.
My breathing seems to echo against the cold walls
And my heart beats rapidly as I’m plagued with thought.
Prayer like questions, if I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take, will he take me?
Instantly thoughts go to grandma, surely she’s there,
Surely her open arms will be there to greet me.
Harbouring such thoughts bring to me a peaceful smile.
I start counting all the loved ones I will soon see.
I count them as others count sheep in darkest night
They have become like soft comfort blankets to me
They make my nights less scary, should it be my time.
Soon my weary body gives way to pure darkness 
I slip into a place of total nothingness 
Time stands still and now I am neither here nor there
I am nowhere, floating helplessly forever
Then far off I see a light shining so brightly 
Now I feel once more as my aching body hurts
I moan and roll toward the window lit with sun
Realization sinks in, I’ve made it……one more night.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.01.2014
Anthony Slausen’s Contest:
Near Death Experience
5th

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

Bleeding Love

Introducing: Jan Allison & Poet Destroyer

Pierced by shards of shattered glass 
Deeper and deeper you stab me 
With lies and venomous words 
Dissecting my heart piece by piece 
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose 
I’m dying … 
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul 
    Drip 
       Drip 
          Drip 
Into pieces and a bloody mess 
I sacrificed secrets; 
Secrets you tore and tore, 
Gracing a fake friendship, 
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel 
Now karma a poisonous snake 
You plea ... 
To be on death row, decomposing 
Dripping into the night -- Silently 
fading and fading 
Stung by my viper lips, 
     smiling 
        grinning 
           laughing 
Until you are no more


~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

Laughter, the Best Medicine

We live in a world where sickness abounds, Sometimes stumping the best of providers. Symptoms and tests almost always expound, While the emotional costs grow wider. The travel and care and expenses we bare, In dollars and tears for a healing. Pale when compared, with the voluminous prayers, Our reverence and humility kneeling. Seeing through to the end, great strength we must take, And the position that attitude matters. A stiff upper lip and a smile sometimes fake, Anything less, and fragile hope easily shatters. Yet until we’re called home, to streets paved with gold, Or abodes filled with love and affection, Widely known in the hearts, of the young and the old, Laughter remains, life's greatest healing medication!
(This poem is dedicated to my wonderful Sister Cindy, whose strength and positive attitude throughout her struggle, encourage all who cross her path) User Name: Wedge Motif: Philosophical

Copyright © Michael Wegman | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

The Great Swan

"Who's woods are these anyway' .

Who's woods that I  dwell .

The house of Usher I know so well.

I seek to skate on the frozen lake.

These's woods are deep, dark, weak.

Though I would dance like a swan if I could.

The lake is always frozen this time of year.

How I love the night woods that covet me.

Under the bulging night skies of death.

Beyond the place of wrath and tears.

I would dance upon the lake till not.

Alluring ,always caressing in gentle touch.

I would be remembered as " The Great Swan".

Though here I sit in my bed chamber of death.
And wait for God to call my name.  



1pm wed.  7 / 24 / 2013,,,,,  " house of Usher" stands for death,,, " right"   the woods are a metaphor for the sick body .

Copyright © Debbie Duncan | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

Heart and Soul

I see…
red splotches on her night gown
still oozing down her face
“I fell again.”
She looks at us
with that same wobbly smile
“I’m Ok! Don’t worry. I’m OK!”
I can’t see
a clear liquid oozes down my face

I see…
Mama is dazed
clutching her face
Couldn’t light the stove fast enough
An explosion
We thought a bomb had hit the kitchen
War time years
Everyone running around 
Mayhem
Mama burned her face
“I’m Ok…I’m fine.”
She tries to smile
I scream
I can’t see clearly
watery haze of tears
covers everything
along with the smoke

I see…
Mama gasping for breath
Mama going red in the face
“Mom, are you ok?”
Another coughing fit
Can’t get the food to go down
I pat her on the back
I pray…
Will this be it?
Will she choke this time?
Muscles that don't work
I see
I see
I cry
I scream
Raspy voice
Tears streaming down her face
I’m…Ok…..I'm OK now."
That lying smile
Her hand goes up
I can’t see
Double tear vision
Life is unclear

I hear
I hear
“You’re afraid I’m going to die, aren't you?”
I see
Kind brown eyes
Looking into mine
They are filling up
the wobbly smile is gone
she lets her tears speak
Oh….to talk to talk about it
Release
What can I say?
What can she say?
We feel
We feel
She crushes my body to hers
Neither of us can see
Blinded by tears

I see
Clouded eyes
She’s in a place I can’t reach
I shake
I shake
“Mama, can you hear me?”
She tries
I cry
I scream
ANGRY
I SCREAM
“Mama, listen to me!”

“GOD?
God…HEAL HER!!!
HEAL HER!
NOW!
A miracle
For ME!"

I beg
I plead
I demand

“Mama, do you believe?
Jesus can heal you!
Do you believe?”
“Yes,” a whisper
Almost inaudible
I pray
I can't see
Eyes of mustard seed faith
Shut tight
“Forgive our sins!
In the name of Jesus
Be healed, Mama!”
Eye lids fluttering open
I see
I see 
Mama is still on the wheel chair
She’s bound…not free
I don’t see anymore
My head drops to my knees

I get dizzy
I drop things
In the shower
I fall
Cracked ribs
I cry
I scream
Alone
I hear
I hear
“You have MS TOO!
It has come for YOU!”
I can’t see
Shower water mixes with tears

“God?!
GOD?
Do you SEE?
DO you HEAR?
DO you FEEL?
GOD?
I’m here!
I’m….here!
No wobbly smile
No one to be strong for
I'm not alright!
See me!
SEE....ME!"

Eileen Manassian
In dedication to her MAMA, Angel Manassian!

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

New Stars Are Formed

Strange colored skies climb northernly this night
Calling our future with wild deamons eyes
Abscure as the creatures who answer the call
Wild are the answers of the reasons and the faults
Certain as the well swept winds
Alluring in it's grasp fought negatively through single wins
I pray twords the skies and it curdles and swims
Thoughts twords the sun and it scorches my rims
Carry me far enough I can be within your sights
Stash us away and the sun will be bright
Motors may break but oceans will be light
I will stay on the coast and wait 
The award I will do is make the evening a minute late
Parched is the gulf as the single minute breaks
Great is the second docks a seperate mans gate

The Earths crust slowly begins to crumble
It quivers, then quakes, it slowly opens, the rivers break
A star is born somewhere, a beautiful new star
Great is the struggle, born from the heavens a small light it makes

The new star pulls, it turns, then it feeds and it's fuel it burns
Gently it orbits following all things it understands
The new star bends it dances it stands
Tancing outwardly as creations comprehend

A continient wavers as the new star binds its brand
It feeds off of our oceans as our tides wash in
It goes just as softly forward and back
As the rays of its placement barrow up to the sun
We watch very carefully because it's damages are already done

Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

What's up with Santa

                                             What’s up with Santa
                                            He's acting like a child.
                        Santa Claus is upstairs in his big red sleigh bed, 
                           warm and cozy in his red flannel comforter, 
                           wearing his red dropseat pajamas, and hat
                                               sick with the flu, 
                                       constantly ring that darn bell. 

                                          Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                                             There it goes again 
                             Yessss… Dearrrr… I know you don’t feel good,
                           your throat hurts and is sore when you swallow 
                  your body is in pain, like a herd of reindeer has run over it 
                 A warm cup of hot cider and a cinnamon stick to give it flavor
                                               will ease the pain.

                                  I should have never given him that bell  
 
                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                       Yessss… Dearrrr… I know your frequently, coughing 
                       is making your rib cage feels like it’s going to break
                          I will get some milk and chocolate chip cookies  
                                  so you don’t have to get out of bed

                    I wish Santa would quit constantly ringing that darn bell.
                          If he hadn’t shoveled the snow off the sidewalk 
                  and let the elves do their jobs, he wouldn’t be sick right now

                                            Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                     Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… I’m sorry your head is stuffed up, 
                              nose is red, hurts, and won’t quit running
                                 Reading the Naughty or Nice List 
                      will help you not think about what you're going through

                                 What came over me to let him have a bell

                                           Ting-a-ling, Ting-a-ling … 
                Yeessss… Deeaarrrr… You’re running a fever, freezing, and shivering
                               I will go inform the elves not to dawdle
                            keep making the toys in Santa’s workshop 
                           and make sure they take care of the reindeer

                 Oh! My! I hope Santa gets well before Christmas gets here, 
                                 so he’ll get better and out of my hair
                                or I am going to hide that dumb bell

                                                
  
 
By Eve Roper 

Sponsor: Carol Eastman

Contest Name :Story poem about Santa Claus 

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

Broken

I cut to see if I feel how it's like being human,
I cut to see the pain relinquish inside,
I cut for all the memories that remain to drain down in the sewage
What symbols life runs with death in that rusty pipe.

A slash here and a slash there,
What happened in the past?
A slash here and there,
Soon the memories don't last.

Scissors, knives, razors and sharp edges
keeps a bloody smile, no more weep.
Slice and dice, trim more than the hedges
And I don't care if I go to deep.

One scar closer to a never ending dream,
I don't care if I go to deep.

Copyright © Miggy Lomeli | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

Just Around The Corner

Maybe the most deadly disease is just around our corner
Carried to our doorstep by an unsuspected foreigner
Ebola is lethal with a fatality rate that is extremely high
If infected you have a 70% probability that you will die
 
Incubation period can span from one to forty two days
If stricken, severe flu like symptoms will leave you in a daze
Most symptoms will appear 8 to 10 days after exposure
Bleeding from extremities will have you praying for closure

There is no cure, a strong immune system is your best defense
Why there is still air travel from Africa truly makes no sense
Predicted cases to be about 1.4 million by January next year
An epidemic like we never seen is upon us, that is very clear

If this dreadful virus makes it to your corner. beware!
If stricken with this affliction be diligent not to share
If this disease become airborne, many millions will succumb
Our world will be left in disarray and left feeling utterly numb


10/15/2014

*WHO changed the incubation period from 21 up to 42 days, be safe everyone.

Copyright © Cecilia Macfarlane | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

TENDER LOVING TOUCH

TENDER LOVING TOUCH don't fear she's dear tight clutch soft touch wears white polite too sick she's quick your ache she breaks your ill she feels one pill you still preserve your nerve correct inject your shock she blocks you scared she cares through sleeps she peeps recharged discharge "thank you" she coos ___________________________ Sponsor Judy Konos Contest Name YOUR FOOTLE POEM ---Placed1st--- O.E. Guillermo 8:41 pm, April 04, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

Oh Turn It Off



When Dad passed I moved home with Mom,
       We were roommates at first;
Shopping, lunching, gardening, it was fun,
There were some signs that began, slowly.
     A small forgetfulness,
One day, Mom said I cannot write my name;
     So, I did the banking,
Soon I was doing all the groceries.

The housework, the cooking, I did it all,
       Mom needed full time care;
She was sick and stayed mostly in her bed,
I became the Mom, the daughter gone.
     My own life put on hold,
I was her everything and this adult said;
     When all hope was gone,
Oh turn off the life support please, please.


_______________________
April 21, 2015



Verse

Submitted to Screwed III contest, sponsor, Rob Carmack,

Seventh Place


For the contest, The True Meaning Of Being An Adult, sponsor, FJ Thomas,

Honorable Mention     

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

I Feel Like Dancing

Drink me ill this pleasure still,
And cure me with your poisoned pills-
Before I lose all my strength,
But, oh! I lost that long ago!
Dreamily dancing to and fro...
With legs of lead and no feet to stand,
And a phantom partner to hold my hand
A languid trance and lulled Romance
To seize me whole in its expanse
Never I yield, though quite out of breath-
Drunkenly dancing in the Depths Of Death

*RHYME BATTLE CONTEST ENTRY
8-29-13

Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

For Mama and Kayla- Falling into His Arms

I have several poems up about my Mama, Angel Manassian. Mama died on March 19, 2000 at the age of 74. She battled with MS for most of her life. She had me at 41...a surprise!

Turns out, Mama had MS even before she and dad got married, and she didn't know it. My childhood in Iran was the best. We lived in a big compound and had lots of fruit trees, a pool, and wonderful weather to enjoy it all. In winter it snowed. My brothers would jump down from the roof of the house into the snow. In summer, we'd swim all day. Mama taught language at the school Dad was principal of. Ignorance IS bliss. I didn't know Mama was sick. She burned herself once. Really badly. Needed skin grafts....I still didn't know. We moved to Lebanon. 

During my early teen years, I had to come to grips with the fact that Mama was sick....Mama would fall, Mama would get stitches...Mama would burn her face. It scared me. It scared me because I saw Mama getting worse....She'd need help walking, then there was the walker, then there was the wheelchair. Oh...I can't go too much into this...the bruises, the choking fits, the catheters, the slurred speech, the crooked smiles....It broke me. Through it all, Mama tried to give us a semblance of normalcy. She'd smile after every fall...She'd smile to hide the pain; I'd cry to relieve the pain.

My Mama was a brave, caring, kind woman. She was well loved by her students, and she instilled in me a love for words, for singing, and a belief in my abilities. I watched a video on youtube today that reminded me of her and made me cry...again...for the woman who is no longer with me.  This video is so powerful.....It's about a young girl's battle with MS. She is an accomplished runner, but after every race...something incredible happens.

This one is for my Mama and in honor of Kayla.  Watch if you have a spare minute..... Mama finished her race. She had a firm belief in the goodness of God and in the saving power of Jesus. She was an ideal pastor's wife and a fervent prayer warrior. She could say with Paul, " I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing."
(2 Timothy 4: 7 & 8) I believe with all my heart that one day my Mama will be whole...body and spirit. You make of that what you want, but I believe she will be awarded eternal life one day. 

Here is the story of Kayla:

http://fbshare.sfglobe.com/2014/11/24/coach-catches-teenage-runner-with-multiple-sclerosis-during-every-race/?src=share_fb_new_20016 

It had me in tears....I hope she finds the inner strength to keep running for as long as she can....Bless God for people in whose arms we can fall....


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

I Am One Of Them

Life's Hard
It's filled with pain
And misery
My mind is stained
Stained with every memory

Sometimes I think today will be my last day
This place causes me so much pain
I wish I didn't have to stay

Some days are worse than others
I'm starving
Dying for food
I'd do anything

To many things go through my head
Will I be able to keep down my next meal?
Will I live for tomorrow?
Is this terrifying place even real?

I feel so alone
Yet I'm surrounded by people
But this place could not be called a home
There's no life in these places
Or in these faces

Everyone looks dead
As so do I
Most of us haven't been fed

My eyes have been marked
With these dead bodies that lay upon the ground
Without a soul I still look at them
Soon I may be found
As one of them

Copyright © Hope Diamond | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

Dying young

They say sticks and stones may break my bones but I 
came face to face with a wall today.
I keep on searching but I'm lost
I keep on climbing but I'm falling
I'm walking but your pulling me back
Haven't you had enough of the scars that I already have
I'm shouting with no voice 
I'm crying but the well within is dried up
Gravity keeps on pulling me back
Katrina keeps on coming back

Its dark where can I find the light
I'm chained,  trapped, binned-ed by this chains
I can't breath your suffocating me
I can't sleep your controlling my life
I'm shouting and kicking but your laughing
Im torn apart and bleeding
You see the the beauty on the outside but I'm dying 
within. 


Copyright © Asiphe Tomeli | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

Is this who you are

walked away from the sun,
and into my life,
im sick and tired of all you put me through,
im sick and tired of your childish games,
and im tired of your foolish lies,
when you talk,
i bleed inside,
i hate your disgusting thoughts,
in you stupidity flows,
your the devil,
and me your victim of evil plans,
i hate you,
why cant you understand,
you put me through hell,
everytime i find happiness,
your the devil,
and me a poor soldier,
wrap all the papers,
and put it in a folder,
case closed!

Copyright © nikta sol | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

In Desolation She Stands

In Desolation She Stands

She stands in her desolation
her wicked life a vile desecration 
dying victims stink of her perfume
sacrifice and pain fill up her room.

Hate and sin her sole wish
madness sits in her left hand
blackened blood covers each breast
she tortures , her victims never rest.

Scars lace around her eyes
dark hair flows with contempt
pain invades with her loud cry
she laughs as innocent children die.

Eyes have seen such misery
ripping living bodies apart
her lusting flesh the fatal lure
in her web, death is the only cure.

Courageous victims fight back
with fury at being so deceived
she guts them with renewed delight
as evil eyes watch the scene at night.

She stand desolate
awaiting her nightly feast
smell of rotten flesh in her teeth
her foot-claws anchored in hell beneath.

She stands defiant
lusting for putrid blood
screams exciting her rancid ardor
as she slashes deeper and harder.

Valiant heroes are her prey
she that shuns light of bright day
greater their fame more she glows
bloody ripping apart sells her shows.

None stopped her blood lust
every night-feast a new victim dies
even courage lacks the deep power
to defeat, to end forever her darkest hour.

She desires ever bigger feasts
as she increases her lusting traps
putrid blood and rotten flesh stain
her songs of misery, torture and pain.

Engulfed in vile darkness eating 
only honor stands a chance of beating
This desolation monster at its wicked game
By refusing to ever again utter its vile name.

1/30/2015




Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

Smitten Kitten

Leapin' lizards up in dem’ gizzards, something we call the creepy crawl. And her womb spew forth blasphemy, and her lips uttered deceit. Black alters in Bone orchards. Praise hell syndicate burn down this town and everyone in it. Red lights…, blood lust. Ambrosia, with her hair so fare.  Clearly obvious why the gods chose her. Devourer of subtleties... Tenderest of vittles. I know at night your bones up and come to life causing mischief. All monkey minds in devil times, chatter chatter, screechhhh... All lost, no hope. And then there was you. Burn down the temple and sing. Eyes bare witness to the rise of her. Dance to the rhythms of a free will symphony. Bleed from thyn eyes,... I don't mind. Bliss bliss and heaven. Your absence is the bane of my existence.

Copyright © Pauly Plaster J.R. | Year Posted 2014


Details | Sick Poem | |

sapna

                          SAPNA
kuchh karna hai,kuchh kar dikhana hai mujhe
par roshni nhi hai jivan me, par talashna hai mujhe
kuchh sapne hai mere,unhe pura kar dikhana hai mujhe
chahe mushkile aaye jivan me,sapno ko pura kar dikhana hai mujhe
mot ko savikar kar lege hum, agar sapne ho jaye pure
dekhna hai mujhe khush sabhi ko
shayd kuchh karna hoga mujhe
kuchh jarur karege hum aisa
ydi aisa wakt aayega jivan me

Copyright © SANGITA CHOUDHARY | Year Posted 2013


Details | Sick Poem | |

Lost To Dementia

Night of the dark soul 
demons infiltrate, 
patrolling the path
to oblivion. 

Your mind’s a fragile  
dysfunctional place,
that is under siege
and cannot be saved.

As reality 
morphs into a dream,
sanity slowly
starts to slip away.

And a part of you’s
lost to dementia,
confusion lurking
behind every thought.

Hope is depleted
only time exists,
as your lonely heart
cries out for a friend.

Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

The Devil's Cold

I sit at my bench again,
this whole scene is getting old.
Same old sinners skulking in,
same defense a trillion-fold.

Next the room fills up with steam,
then flames shoot up through the grate.
I'm so bored I want to scream.
Now the part I really hate...

Blah, blah, blah, "I beg you, sir,"
"Tell Him there's been a mistake..."
Ugh - stop drooling on my fur!
YOU'LL be burning at the stake.

I've been doing this so long,
I forgot when it began.
Sentencing the endless throng
of the very worst of man.

NEXT...!
Come on, don't hold the line,
I've got legions more to see.
Quicksand. Sharks. Nice white strychnine.
Punishment is up to me.

Used to be I really dug
civic aspects of this job,
now I just want to unplug
from this whole unholy mob.

What if men just acted right?
What if more went UP, than down?
Maybe I'd take off a night,
or perhaps go out of town...

Wait - did I just HAVE that thought??
Oh my goodness, I'm not well...
Feel my head - am I still hot?
Guess there ARE cold days in hell!

==================
07/29/2015

Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015


Details | Sick Poem | |

Girls Like her

Pieces of my mirror crash to the floor
As I throw it against my bedroom door
I’m sick of seeing what I see
I know that other girl just can’t be me

She looks so ugly I’m not surprised 
To see the loneliness swimming in her eyes
That girl just doesn’t know when to quit 
And quite frankly I’m getting sick of it

From head to toe she’s just a mess
To lock her away would be for the best
I really don’t think anyone would care
If she went to her room and just stayed in there

For girls like her there is no hope
Just trying to find different ways to cope 
Girls like her don’t get the cute guy
No matter how hard they try and try

Girls like her grow old and alone
Never will there be a child in her home
She’ll die one day but no one will care 
They’ll just put her in the ground and leave her there

No one to bury her in a proper grave
Just think of all the money that they’ll save
With a nameless headstone and a coffin made of wood
Won’t even use nails though they know they should

Girls like her have no future ahead
Girls like her know their better off dead
As tears fill my eyes so thick I can hardly see
I realize that the girl in the mirror really is me

Copyright © Christine Portwood | Year Posted 2007


Details | Sick Poem | |

Indignant

Indignant am I,     
My Life on the Line.
Through self inflections of my       
Dope sick addictions.
Raping my soul.
Unable to recover.
Failure as a mother.
Spinning out of control,
No place to go, 
No one to hold.
As an abuser,
I have no hope for the future.
Needing a hand 
But I have not a friend.
My hateful demise has pushed them aside.
Ashamed of my choices,
I'm riddled with guilt.
My children at risk,
Hurt and broken,
Loving me still.
Oh, what I'd give to be free from of all my Ill's
For the Love of God to find his way 
Back to this dope sick mother
In desperation of his blessings
To be forgiving
For I am his child, and I need him to come into my life.
For I am not ready to die
Just to recover!

Copyright © Latisha Jacobson | Year Posted 2007