Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

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

Search for Sick poems, articles about Sick poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Sick poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Sick Poems
Read Sick Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Sick Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Sick poems are below this new poems list.

Sick With Pride by kriticos, Kyle
Sick love by Hopper, Anna
sin sick soul by Nicole, Sabina
sick and tired by Duffy, Alex
Sick n uffing tired by merritt, eddie
Don't get sick by Ngoma, Thabang
Love Sick Ashes by terry, misty
Sullivan was sick by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
SICK THREE POINT ZERO by De Castro, Jesus
SICK HANDS by Thajudeen, Muhammad Safa

View all new Sick Poems

The Best Sick Poems

Details | Sick Poem | |

Sleepless Night

***
Pillowed feathers,
Caressing 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 AM" gone with the wind

The idea of love, 
broken like yesterdays wishbone.
She is leaving
her arms, my shelter
her wings
her teardrops gone forever. 
Never will she suffer-
Never will she return-
All I have is one last memory
tracing what is left
one last breath
tequila vice
washing away the pain.....


At Last Now I See!
Under the drunken stars 
I had an epiphany 
Striking like a match
A sunken treasure 
At Last I Knew
you don't belong 
you were there for the taking
Weak and sick, no longer sane
Memories lost, no longer -her
My Mother! 
What has become of her?

You're a demon, who played us all
made us cry, while you slowly took her away
the way you ravaged her body
nip napped both her legs
fed her through others
the way 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 took her that 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

More great poems below...


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

Details | Sick Poem | |

SANTA'S SICK

Santa's hurting
head to toe
Santa's moving
kinda slow
Santa's sore
between the buns
Santa's got
the Christmas runs
Santa says
he has the flu
Santa's afraid
he'll give it to you
Santa should have
washed his hands
Santa needs to
change his plans
Santa needs
two bags this year
One for vomit
and one for cheer
Santa says
in spite of this blight
Merry Christmas to all
to all a good night

Contest: Jerry's "What's Up With Santa"
Date: 11-30-14
Poet: LyricMan

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

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!

More great poems below...


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


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 

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....



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.

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     

Details | Sick Poem | |

Dis-order

I sit here twitching, shaking, in a panic
I don’t want to do this again, I hate feeling frantic
Don’t let this happen, don’t let me slip away
Into the darkest depths of my mind, nothing to say

At first these experiences seem inviting
But here there’s no such thing as deciding
The light is so bright and luminous at first
Until its’ quickly dimmed and the pain it causes hurts

The darkness creeps in like a predator
With the dim light as it’s’ competitor
Who’s going to win this time, this fight?
Who’s going to give the hardest bite?

Stuck between pure happiness and sadness
There is no explanation to this uncomfortable madness
Waiting, waiting; for this too shall pass
While the emotions in my head encompass

My heart surrounding the insufficiencies of my head
The feelings so heavy as if my heart is fashioned out of lead
Like I’ve got shackles on my hands and around my feet
In this state of mind everything seems obsolete 

Details | Sick Poem | |

Internal Flora

Gabriel, 
blow your trumpet in my ear
so I may hear
the rise of lilies
Marching down my throat 

Naked ladies and daffodils
King proteas and petunias
Spinach, celery and rocket

For the venus fly-trap has lost her teeth
in semi-nation feasting --

My gut is a gaza-strip:
holier than seven maries
times eleven matzot, squared

Who would raise the dandelion and the khaki-bos, 
Who would shield the cornflower and the joseph's coat 
in semi-nation trepidation

My gut is a gaza-strip
My nerves: a dead sea . . .

But Gabriel,
blow your trumpet in my ear again
so I can see
the significance of shattering


14 August, 2014

Details | Sick Poem | |

Feelings Shared


Some could live a thousand years 
and never dare admit,
we all share feelings of loss and grief
and some find joy, though it may be brief.

Today, tonight, I’ll shed my dread
coursing through guilt’s lonely bed,
squeezing clouds of pouring tears.
Gathered for the hours I’m down,
upon a sobbing, shaken ground -
to feel embraced when my love dies
to cry until my brown eyes dry.

I’ve reproached God when bowed in prayer;
my heavy heart poured out till bare.
I know He understands and cares 
for me more than I love myself.
I’ve hidden under blankets smothered 
in childish uncertainty.
I’ve covered my loss with deceptive smiles;
for clustered stars, I’ve reached for miles -
to cower in anxiety, to wail in my frailty.

I’ve lately walked a darkened path, 
echoed from my hollow steps.
Heavily slumped on an ailing earth, 
in an ailing mind, I hurt.  
When a new day comes again, I’ll try to overcome my dread
remembering how much we share -
all broken hearts have bled… 

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.

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 .

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.

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

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, bended 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
Em torn apart and bleeding
You see the the beauty on the outside but I'm dieing 
within. 



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!

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

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.

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

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!

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

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--- 8:41 pm, April 04, 2015