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Best Stress Poems

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

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New Stress Poems

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

The Poetic Stress Releaser by McConnell, Gordon
Days of Stress by Wright, Tom
Killer Blade of Stress by Makama, Funom
Relieving one's self of stress by Duggan, Vera
Digest the stress pill by Tripathi, Prateek
A poem a day keeps the stress away by Frank, Mark
Stress Factors by King, Shuntae
Advice: How to Handle Joy, Burden, Stress by Zozulya, Arthur
THE STRESS OF SHOPPING by Ashton, Darryl
Stress Free by Cranney, Damian

View all new Stress Poems

The Best Stress Poems

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Frozen Noose

Anxiety    (The Worst Noose In Town)

-- like flooding waters, creeping in
I count 30, seconds, holding my breath again
Drowning in agitation, overwhelmed by fear
I try to hide the pressure in hopes I don't pass out
My pores are soaked, from all the perspiration
I feel the pins and needles pushing in
My skin is ruined from all the peeling
At this point, I can't seem to win

Washed out by dead hope and desire 
My soul is lost searching for a shore
leashing, grasping and ripping the chest wide
I count 40, seconds, once nausea can't be blocked
Everything about this moment is driving me mad,
I need to escape, however, my knees are too weak
I tremble while losing control to the emotional distress
My knuckles are pale, detached from reality,
wounds forced with further embarrassment.
Guaranteed failure surrounds my day
Numbness strikes my very essence - I can't move!

Lost in a room, 
Therapy - even so I feel singled out


HAPPY VALENTINES (it can get the best of us)  
---------------------------- love Linda


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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I Need Your Help Daddy

I’m tired
I’m Physically and Emotionally tired
I don’t want to be the strong one anymore
I can’t this time
I don’t know what to do Daddy
I need your help down here

I can’t get back in control of my emotions 
I’m having a hard time dealing with your absence
I’m having a hard time standing by myself
I need your help Daddy

I’m broken and lost without you Daddy
I need your will to want to carry on
I need your strength to over come this
I need your strength to stay standing
Your courage to fight back again
I need your help 

Please Daddy I’m at a loss
How am I suppose to do this
I need your guidance 
I need you to guide me back
To whom I was before
I need your help Daddy
I need your help








Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013

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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 | Year Posted 2013

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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behind,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

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Stressing

Stress is starting to overwhelm me;
It’s certainly wearing on my health.
To many stressors all surround me:
Lack of time, lack of wealth,
Adult children always sponging off me…
Are pushing me into early death.

My landlord is not helping;
He’s forcing us to leave.
The mess my children made
Is something nobody would believe.
I’ts too late for cleaning.

I’ll be changing occupations
If interviews go well.
The uncertainty amplifies frustrations…
Certain Purgatory, uncertain Hell.

Hoping for tomorrow,
A better day…
Beg, steal, borrow.

I’m stressed.
I’m stressed!

Help!



Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

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LOVE, ANGELS, and MUSIC

LOVE God is always love Forever seek the kingdom; Praise the creator Keep giving what you can give Please endure until the end ANGELS Beautiful Heavens Protecting the meek ones earth Watching over us Helping us to cope with life Comforted with hope and trust MUSIC When you find rhythm You find your hearts inner core Celebrate the times Make them better than before Reminisce and dance all night


Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2013

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A Perfect-

A perfect crime.
The paper the victim,
the weapon a pen.

A perfect time.
The thoughts in my head,
a prayer, I say, amen.

A perfect day.
The mood is right,
it is time to begin.

A perfect way.
So I write, Father please,
forgive me for my sin.

A perfect start.
The liquid poison,
slowly kills the page.

A perfect heart.
Slowly breaking,
from all the rage.

A perfect death.
Please go in peace,
Your soul to keep.

A perfect breath.
For it's the last,
please don't weep.


Copyright © Sienna Ethylpen | Year Posted 2013

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The Effects of Stress

Stress
My hearts pounding
A steady thrum
That's drawing closer
A pain in my chest
With every single breath.

Stress
My hair is falling,
It pulls out in my hands
I cry as it wraps
around my fingers
with every strand.




Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2014

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THE LAST DAYS

The days seem to go by so fast. there is a void in the air, the birds have lost their vibrant beat, the ocean has lost its luster, the soil feels solid and dry.
 
My soul feels as if it has left my body before my death, my dreams haunt my day, the tears stain my steps, my doctor says that it is depression, I say that it is reality, I am intoxicated by society,I am numb by perscriptions.
 
Why do I feel so isolated within myself? is there no one in my painfully tight shoes? can anyone understand my pain? can anyone melt in my sorrows? why am I this way? why is the world so cruel? why can't I be normal?
 
Wait! I am normal, what am I saying, I know now, the veil has been lifted, humanity is my enemy, the sins that drip from their sweat, the dread that follows their shadows, their souls of black, their intentions of greed pull a shade across their eyes.
 
They are destined for doom, they will not be saved, they will not find salvation, they belittle me, they curse me, they shame me, but they are right about one thing, I am different, unlike them, I will be saved in the last days.


Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013

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Her Masterpiece Is Her Story-part two

(please read "Her Masterpiece Is Her Story" before reading the second part. It'll make more sense and probably be more enjoyable!)

The girl who has beautiful scars,
And the boy with marks of strength,
Are now separated by distance,
And that is causing some teenage angst.

The girl wonders how the boy is doing.
Her paintbrush calls her name.
The two can't talk right now,
And she feels she's to blame.

The girl's best friend is lonely,
And she isn't much better.
The only way honesty is revealed,
is through a heart felt letter.

Her scars are fading away,
Everyone knows her secret, so she can't add to the art.
She's wishing she could draw more cuts,
At night the voices in her mind take over her heart.

Her masterpiece is disappearing,
Her artwork is going away.
"What caused you to do this!??!" her family asks.
"I...I hate myself." is all she can say.

She's trying to be okay,
If not for herself then for her friends,
If there's one thing she can't take,
It's their fatal ends.

But she doesn't know how the boy is,
She doesn't know his feeling,
Her mind is going crazy, 
Her sanity is reeling.

Since she doesn't know how the boy is doing,
Her anxious mind is filled with worry,
Her demons have told her something.
They're telling her the worst horror story.

Her masterpiece is fading, 
I've told you this before.
Her scars are going away,
She wants to make more.

But she doesn't make any.
For the sake of those she loves.
She restrains from her paintbrush.
Even though it fits like a glove.

Her story is continuing, 
Her painting isn't dry.
But her canvas is even more,
down upon her thigh.

Maybe she'll erase some drawings.
She's trying to be okay. 
She actually doesn't want to get better.
But what am I supposed to say?

Be honest and say she doesn't want that?
Be truthful and say she doesn't care?
Because in her life right now,
Having no motivation? She wouldn't dare!

She misses the life she had before.
She didn't mind hiding her own part of her life.
She would just cope her own way.
She'd cope by using a knife.

Maybe one day she'll draw on an actual paper,
Or paint with an actual paintbrush,
But right now with her anxiety,
She feels that there is no rush.

Don't worry about the girl.
She just cries every night.
But she has to keep going,
Her best friend is in near sight.

It'll be alright everyone,
I'll keep you up to date,
The girl's painting will continue.
If that's the artist's fate. 


Copyright © Madison Marie | Year Posted 2013

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Seed Of Friendship-A dedication

L-iving in a world of vast 
souls formed from 
another voided world,
E-ntering thru portals 
from their world to earth.
O-ozing spetacular smell 
and wail when the chips 
are down.
N-urtured from cradle to 
adulthood-independent
entity with a new world 
to face.
O-rganizes oneself for the 
task ahead,passing thru 
hurdles of life unabased 
and unabashed.
R-eaps the fruit of labor 
with joy or heavy heart.
A-ge sets in,mission 
accomplished or not will 
dawn on the entity.

I-n retrospect,he thinks 
about his childhood and 
how life was to him.

L-iving in confidence or 
shame,he bows his head 
in victory or defeat.
O-nly the taste of time 
will tell the durability of 
his achievements.
V-oid of preference the 
aim result bears the 
foundation for his lineage.
E-njoyment or lack lies 
with the works of the 
man,for there is no food 
for the slothful.

Y-oung ones,a stitch in 
time saves nine,make 
haste while the sun 
shines.
O-iling your lamb always 
like the ten virgins is the 
key to success.
U-rging you to shun peer 
pressure and focus on 
the course marked out 
for you by fate,so a 
fulfilled life you shall live.





An acrostic for you 
Leonora Galinita.


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

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How, When and Why


According to my neighborhood, 
(All experts on the topic), 
Opinions vary, none too good, 
One called it "Catastrophic". 

Exterminators sigh, refrain 
Condolences, I'm sorry. 
At City Hall, they're shocked, exclaim
They have no such Department 
 

To know that squirrels are running wild, 
I hear them as they scamper. 
An attic is a sacred place, 
Secure, not meant to tamper. 

Their next move, chewing all the wire 
And gnawing through the rafters. 
I hear them squeak a vermin's choir 
And hear my own crazed laughter. 

That life dare heave this final ho, 
But agents know thier timelines. 
The hours when the house is shown,
Their outdoor play, the best time.

I also left the scheduled due
When freight train horns will pass through.



Gene Bourne
08-26-14




.



Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Back To Rio

Take me back, to good old Rio
Let me lie there in the Sun
Then take a ride to Capo Ferro
Dancing Samba, having fun
And the girls will all be prancing
In the waves along the shore
Eating crab and fish together
That were caught the day before
As my passion starts increasing 
Like the heat upon the grill
With all the stress now I'm releasing
I don't miss the northern chill
Take me back to good old Rio
Let me stay there to the end
No yesterdays or tomorrows
The place where night and day, just blends
Take me back.....



Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

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Don't Stress Christmas

The northern skies are turning gray -- 
Seems the sun just doesn’t linger.
Christmas is just a month away, 
And the nights are getting longer.
That Thanksgiving spent with family—
A briefly pleasant holiday—
Was forgotten all too quickly 
By pushy crowds on Black Friday.

Our gift checklist seems like old Saint Nick’s, 
But our staff is lacking Elves.
Shopping trips cause daily panics. 
I wonder how we’ll feed ourselves.
We must buy more decorations, 
So the yard looks like it’s snowing.
We fall deeper in depressions 
As our credit keeps on growing. 

Lord forgive commercialism 
For ruining every Christmas.
Lord forgive consumerism 
For dumping on us all that stress.
December is a dreary time, 
Even when little angels sing.
The irony of Christmas time 
Was that Christ was born in the Spring. 

While standing in the checkout line, 
Remember what the carols told.
Think of how Bethlehem’s star once shined, 
As Israel’s prophets foretold.
Think of the awe of the shepherds 
When they saw angels fill the air.
Coming to the stable, entered, 
To meet the Holy Family there. 

Instead of spending all you have, 
Next November and December,
Spend time with all of those you love, 
And teach them what to remember.
"A Savior born in Bethlehem" 
Should bring us joy and happiness;
And “ Peace on Earth, goodwill to men” 
Should set us free, not bring us stress.


Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

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Reality's Angel

I am Reality’s angel resting on the broad shoulders of discovery the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you there is a creator of all things He is just and patient many still have fallen into the masses of shadow wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy I have seen grown men fall like rose petals and weaklings rise into unjust leaders forever the follower of furtive evil dominating only to remain inferior the most important answers lie in the unseen regions where no sense can fully give assurance the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn grows weary because of the distance it must take and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates it is knowing we are seeking something far that could very possibly not exist, that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense it is knowing all we really think we know is meaningless and yes—even a lie all that has been written thus far rests under my wings under the warmth in which you refuse to feel can you believe in me— though I am completely unseen? how much more difficult would it be to see Him?


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

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PrEmAtUrE aGiNg

pReMaTuRe AgInG
an older woman and a younger man are a trix in between because as his love blooms he sees himself aging. _________________________|
penned on august 31, 2014!


Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

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Truth, Shines Ever So Brightly

Truth, Shines Ever So Brightly

I was once wrapped it teeth and thick fur
ferocious and ghastly beast was me.
I was a bad dog, a wicked little cur
whipping and snapping at every small flea.

One day, the sun burnt my covering hide
and exposed my hideous skin to see.
Such truth, this heart could not abide
stung me ever so sharply like a bee.

Now comes time to hold less as much more
walk a different path free and alone.
Yes, light filtered through that sad door
where my greatest folly was then shown.

I was once wrapped in thick, shiny scales
Now a deep truth destroys those tall tales.

Robert J. Lindley, 1-09-2016


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016

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Bigfoot and I

I have no cause to lie,
my memory is clear.
The night was cool, the moon rising.
Fresh scents from a passing rain captures the air.
My campfire kept me warm from the damp forest,
its light reflecting dancing shadows.
I felt relaxed and calm, stress had fled,
from my world of constant work.
My coffee was now ready when I heard a branch snap,
off to my left'
The furious rustle of branches pierced my ears.
A strong musky stench filled the air, surrounding me.
My heart raced as I stared into the darkness,
trying to see what had came near my camp.
I was alone, fire my only defense, but from what?
A sound, a low bellowing sound,
cracked the foundations of my belief.
A beast nine feet tall appeared from the thick bush
and stood quietly still.
I had no where to run or hide.
The beast consumed the space in front of my eyes.
It walked towards me hands out, palms up.
I was confused,disoriented, frightened,
until I saw from the crackling flames,
porcupine quills.
The pain in its eyes burned into me, crying out for help.
I reached over and calmly pulled each one out,
lifting me eyes to its face each time.
It seems I heard a low rumble that sounded like relief.
This beast, this huge beast looked down on me.
The silence could have sliced through ice.
It suddenly turned and walked away.
leaving me trembling with a fire and shadows.
I slowly picked up my cup of coffee,
still looking into the bush, still frightened.
My legs stop quivering as I sat on a log,
next to my fire and smiled,
knowing no one would believe me.

4/16/15
Frederic Parker



Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015

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The Wasteland -Part 1-

How can one express the baffling depths of obscurity? How can one behold to open the shafts of the mind? I have never been able to solve the mystery— Of myself. . . I wish at times that my life was no more That I could live as another and finally see things right But I am always stuck in this darkness And I cannot see this mind in light There are beasts. . .demons prowling through the wasteland Searching for any remaining life And if they are ever found— They are doomed and consumed Fear is their downfall and they never fail to smell it Their ashes remain, dancing with the imaginary breeze It is silent here—there are no answers I wish there were answers. . . But maybe there was never a reason No answers. . . Talons extend and clench around my heart They will never seek me out—they left me here It is like they knew…I had no reason—that was the answer I feel the pulse of my dangling life Alone in the dark, whimpering like a child I have scared myself, becoming this dragon-daggered youth No balm in Gilead! No eyes to see All I know will never be free I don’t need anyone! You are a disgrace—scum of the waste! You have everything, you ungrateful little nothing You are a joke. . . So swallow it all up like the pushover you are Stand your lowest and trudge right through No questions. No answers. Just . You. Or just lie back down into the mush of disease It has already infected you to the core Accept who you are, you ugly pestilence! I hate you Who are you to be glorified? Dream snatcher. . .murderer of all things bright Saturated in what you call light I see right through—even as the reflections shatter All of the dead kept you alive—they all matter… But alive you are the worst there is False savior—edited attention whore I never want to see your face again See, that’s why I hide. . . Desperation. . .desperation. . . I sob and cry kneeling in defeat For once I am right. . .I am right


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

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Restoration

Peace to all of the inhabitants within and without the universe
Respect to all existence both stagnant and dynamic
No desire to understand only to observe and appreciate

Those who’ve sought understanding have greatly misunderstood

They intend to change (upgrade) and will inevitably spike altercation
Disrupting and forever corrupting universal equilibrium

Effort to become God the creator and healer of all is the cause of disruption

Persevering disabling efforts to be God with the determination of correction is the cause of infinite corruption – the effect of cyclical disruption




“____ heals all wounds”




No human is able to fix
We are only able to use
An attempt to restore is abuse




“____ heals all wounds”




Rest  


Copyright © JustcallMe Britt | Year Posted 2013

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Be Free

                                                “ Be Free”
                              

                           None of all the people knows me like the rest
                                     Yet they judge me the best
                                    They say bad things about me
                                      That I’m a hero wanna be

                               
                                 The truth is that they don’t know me
                                 All they see about me is negativity
                             Is it because I’m not cool like they’re hero
                             All I can say is that I don’t care about you

                     
                           They call me a thief a thug and laugh about it
                                       I’ll just get my phone and sit
                                  Turn the volume of the music high
                                       Then I’ll just sleep or cry

                                     
                                       All of the misunderstandings  
                                 People who are calling me bad names
                                  Rejecting me hurting me criticize me
             This world have rejected me but I just wanna fly in the sky and be free  


Copyright © Lance Christopher Esmas | Year Posted 2015

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Caregiver's Road

Beneath a heavy weight I labored,
misunderstood by those I love and serve,
illness raging, family demanding,
expending soul and physical reserve.
Like a thin smoke quickly dissipating,
spirit tenuous, weak upon the road,
on the precipice of breakdown trembling
feeling endurance and harmony erode.

Along a peaceful stretch of sand walking,
listening to pounding surf, the birds,
tasting the invigorating sea air,
hearing in my heart God's voice, His words,
inviting nature in to permeate
my being, soothing the aching pain . . .
spirit at rest, on God's glory feeding,
I can go home, begin my work again.

August 1. 2014


Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

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Attack

"I'm bleeding
do you think you can patch me up?
oh the ceiling is
starting to spin around
and around and
this feeling
my arms are tingling
hating and seething
i think that i am
panicking!

Attack an Attack
my body turns on me
i can't react
the world is falling all around me
An attack an Attack
my face is numb
soon i'll hit the ground
and no one's going to save 
me any how.

Breathing is shallow
much like a wave
put me on a stretcher
and carry me so far away
the thoughts in my head
are starting to race
my body is seizing
i think i'm panicking...

Attack an Attack
my body turns on me
i can't react
this world is falling
all around me
An attack an Attack
my face is going numb
soon i'll hit the ground
cuz no one's here to 
save me any how.

Panic attack
an attack an attack
panic attack
panic
attack!"


Copyright © Antonio Swider | Year Posted 2014

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Alone again

Many years have passed me here 
Sitting on this old mat
Like a speeding train 
None of who have passed, never looked back

The rising sun 
Has chased away the morning dew
And many time I wondered 
Why my friends are so few

Hot days give way to the evening mist 
Who will be by companion tonight? 
I dread when the evening cometh  
The wild dogs and I will fight again  


Copyright © Dennis Williams | Year Posted 2015

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Breaking the Chains

You tug and bend at the chains weighing down, 
struggling to even make one small dent. 
You try to burn the chains that have you bound, 
but to no avail... Not one link is bent. 
  
Cruelty and sadism are expressed here, 
in the holder of the chains who you'd trust; 
and those close-by strive to halt painful tears, 
but the chains make it all a complete bust. 
  
The chains hold strong from the mind to the source, 
causing loneliness to fill the bruised heart. 
Nothing right now withers those chains of course, 
but nothing is free from breaking apart. 
  
If all else fails and no progress is made, 
just give those tough chains time to rust and fade.


Copyright © Veronica Capo | Year Posted 2015