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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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Definition & Discussion of Stress Poems
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See also: Best Famous Poems

Details | Stress Poem | |

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 behing,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...

Details | Stress Poem | |

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

Details | Stress Poem | |

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!


Details | Stress Poem | |

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




.


Details | Stress Poem | |

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

Details | Stress Poem | |

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!"

Details | Stress Poem | |

The man who speaks the truth

The man who tells the truth

There’s something about those fearful folk
There’s many of them too
They hate hassles of any kind
When another says what’s true
They cringe, and hide behind the door
Cause maybe he is right
And if there knowledge gets tested
It gives them no delight

If someone should question them
On beliefs and all that stuff
Even though the words are wise
The truth becomes too tough
They have to have their Teddy bears
To protect them from the night
And when somebody differs from them
It gives them quite a fright

Though the truth might lose him friends
He knows one thing for sure
He’s spoken from intelligence
He’s looked into the core
And because he never follows
{Self-reliance is his way}
He always will respect himself
In all he’ll do and say.

11 October 2014.

Details | Stress Poem | |

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.

Details | Stress Poem | |

That Stalker


He strolled.
He paced each day.

That Stalker!

Details | Stress Poem | |

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.



Details | Stress Poem | |

Sequence

Tranquil
holidays
Avoiding stress
while pocketbooks are stretched
Desired

Lost are
the reasons
Gifting frenzies
trying to top last year
Engorged

©Debra Squyres  

Details | Stress Poem | |

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







Details | Stress Poem | |

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

Details | Stress Poem | |

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.

Details | Stress Poem | |

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.

Details | Stress Poem | |

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.

Details | Stress Poem | |

Still In Progress

How can I be selfless without being used? 
How can I be demanding without being so rude? 
How can I open up without closing back down? 
How can I speak if you don't hear a sound? 
How can I trust without being betrayed? 
Yet how could I leave... even after you stayed? 
But how can you love me when I won't let you in? 
So many questions.... where do I begin? 
-------- 
Memories now blurred, flying through my mind…… 
Now, I’m trying to repress the days of being youthful and blind. 
Every morning I pull on my armor, right from within, 
Preparing for a war, that I intend, to win. 
If my heart is my comrade and my mind is the enemy, 
Then in the midst of this battlefield, 
Life is the remedy…
 --- 
Trying to stay sane, knowing that although this is temporary, nothing is vain… 
Learning that there is always a purpose and people will try to corrupt us, and bring you great shame… 
Being told that ‘Victory isn't given to he who starts the race the strongest, but he who endures until the end.’ 
Trying to suspend you from learning to depend... on yourself, 
instead making you depend on the wealth, 
Of someone who doesn't even know who he is, 
while you’re grasping the stealth of your true identity, in your right hand, in your heart, the knowledge…
Never been withheld 
… 
.. 
. 
Feeling the world come crashing down on you, compacting into a mist of air so cool, 
The breeze passing right through, right into the depths of your pores, to ensue, 
The burning and broken and fragile pieces of the inhabitants of the earth from your birth til' now.. 
Physically becoming everything that you breathe, touch, conceive, munch, perceive, every aroma... 
And every great or insignificant trauma, reflecting off your skin oh so temporarily, the mark so paper thin… 
Physically, THAT is what you are… 
Because we only see the physical, right? 
Yet, behind every movie is there not a director… a cast? 
And behind every painting is there not an artist, combining colors and lines so vast? 
And behind every child is there not a journey, a past? 
...
That you did not walk, yet you know that it’s there, not by sight, scent, taste, touch, or hearing... But something inside you, that says it makes sense, KNOWS that all of that is there, 
KNOWING
...
..
.

Details | Stress Poem | |

GREAT HEART

It takes a man with fiery guts
To stand the heat of the spiteful lots
Of little greats still untamed
And future stars still unnamed.

The sweat never ceased to fall
And the stress really took a toll
But success came out after all
Making the stress worthy of all.

Though no thanks be said or showed
And no hats be tipped or bowed
Always remember you are beloved
By those hearts you ploughed and sowed.

Details | Stress Poem | |

WHAT AM I

I hurt so bad, yet I feel no pain;
I've grown so numb, I must be insane.

Is anything real, Does anyone care?
I'm lost and alone, flooded with despair.

I have a hole inside, there's so little hope;
I'd scream and cry, if it would help me cope.

What am I, is this what life is?
I can't deny, I'm angry and confused.
Kept alive, with food and shelter;
What a lie, why my soul rots away!

This isn't my turf, in this small courtyard;
Horrible things take place, everyday is hard.

Spare me your moral standard, I hate excuse;
The unseen torture, and the mental abuse.

If God had a people, they'd fight for my escape;
Not slam hope's door closed, until it was too late.

What am I, is this what life is?
I can't deny, I'm angry and confused.
Kept alive, with food and shelter;
What a lie, why my soul rots away!

*I AM AN ORPHANED CHILD THAT WAS TRAFFICKED INTO SEX SLAVERY! 

Dirge Poem of Bitterness and Distress

Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: WHAT AM I?



Details | Stress Poem | |

Treasures of my soul

Treasures of my soul

One day I had an old age moment
My world went kind of crazy
I really wasn’t thinking straight
My mind went kind of hazy
I gave away all worldly goods
And left loved ones behind
Looking for that greener grass
That most do never find.

I spent a year just hanging there
In  a  nowhere kind of land
What had happened in my mind
I did not understand
But soon my soul was called on back
To the wife I’d left behind
My darling one let me return
She was sweet, and she was kind.

That night I held her in my arms
As her tears just fell, and fell
My heart just bled, my soul screamed out
I knew I loved her well
This lady who would die for me
She cried into my soul
That day my world was born again
My being felt more whole.

Now as I write these words, the tears
Are streaming down my face
And yet these tears come from my soul
These tears are filled with grace
Because that day my lady cried
My life was turned around
I live now just to love that lady
Through this such joy I've found.

27 July 2013 @ 0405hrs.

Details | Stress Poem | |

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?

Details | Stress Poem | |

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. 

Details | Stress Poem | |

Home schooling

Home schooling

My Grandson Jakob lives with me
He’s quite intelligent
Now he’s a ‘one of’ kind of lad
He’s deep and he’s intense
He used to go to the local school
Where bullies did abound
And though he’s such a peaceful lad
No peace for him was found.

So we took him out of school
And his mum, she teaches him
He’s showed since she has started this
That he’s anything but dim
His grades have shot up very high
Since he left that school
And no one bullies him no more
Or treats him like a fool.

And yet I hear so many say
Home schooling is real bad
So I do say to all these folk
‘Well you should see our lad’
He’s happiness just shines on through
He’s getting brighter ever day
I think home schooling is the best
In every kind of way.

18 May 2014 @ 0940hrs

Details | Stress Poem | |

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

Details | Stress Poem | |

Idiots like you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Idiots like you,
belong in a school'
Don't get upset,
I went there too,
I passed all my classes,
cuz I was smarter than you,
But hey don't you worry'
You wont be one for long'
Just pass all your classes,
Go on what you waiting for,
an invitation?
No I don't think so 
go right now.