Anxiety Abc Poems | Examples
These Anxiety Abc poems are examples of Abc poems about Anxiety. These are the best examples of Abc Anxiety poems written by international poets.
Mister Alfred
Mister Alfred
Alfred, the pianist who is also my father
although he denies the paternity vehemently,
was in Hawaii and played the ukulele with
Had little success and returned to Europe.
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, could
get the sweetest tones when he played and
women swooned in other men’s arms,
was when not playing of a rather sullen nature
He spent the day walking around town with
In an alpaca jacket and a French bonnet, he looked ever
artistic, and I followed him around, once when I fell
A bollard got in the way; he did help me up and
I`m not your father!
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, got to be
ninety-two, and in the last years of his life was glad
to have a son, even if it was a fake one, as Alfred
was fond of pointing out
Published Poet
I wrote a poem 24 years ago,
I have forgotten it now,
but I was paid twenty quids
and my plan was to frame it
for anyone doubt
I was truly a poet,
My wife was sarcastic about this
paltry sum, she didn’t get it
I had joined the rarefied
of a poet who had been paid
for his work.
I do not do poetry comps
anymore,
The excitement of winning was
too overwhelming.
Gaza Sonnet
A doctor`s house with two daughters came under artillery fire
while he who worked at the hospital in Gaza
Trying to save life after yet another Israeli attack, lost both
His children, the military late apologized.
After the funeral, the good doctor did not seek help for his
Immense suffering , but carried on working while
grief unburdened was eating him up.
One day he went to the beach the sea was calm and blue
He undressed and began swimming he had to get away
A strong swimmer he swam long before an Israeli gunboat
blew him out of the water, red turned to pink and then
ack to calming azure as the warped thinking of the occupiers
said go he should have sought psychological help
For sorrow so deep that no well-meaning words suffice
The Upper Wealthy
It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
Always remember to pack the essentials,
Bat, Bottle, Bag, Boots,
Cut down anyone who tries to get in the way,
Don't look them in the eye, it only makes it harder,
Enemy, everyone is the enemy, yes, even them,
Find what you can, anything, you'll need it later,
Get up, you don't have time to rest, not yet,
How have you survived this long?
Imagine a better world, running water, safety,
Jokes are the only thing keeping you going,
Kill or be killed, even when its all over,
Like an animal, lose yourself in the fray,
Most of them aren't even people anymore,
Notice how they don't look you in the eye,
Only you are left, Only you can rescue them,
Persevere, soon it'll all be back to normal.
Quick, you have to run, to escape,
Run, run, doesn't matter to where or why,
Stop and you are dead, run, run,
Today is the day, its all over, you can't escape-
Unless you remember the ABCs,
Very good, recall everything I've taught you,
When the end finally comes and its all over,
Xenial little thing you are, listening to me.
You will be safe from the onslaught,
Zealot of the new world order.
The colors of flowers
You see, it was about the flowers, a few people
know that the colors of flowers can be mind
altering like dark blue can bring on nostalgia
or a hankering for the good old days, which you
when not seduced by red roses, can instantly
recognize it as a traffic stop, wait for the amber
light to soberly drive on
The flowers I think of have long, sturdy stems
that has dew drops on it, since it is morning
A mark mouse sits on the pistil of a lilac flower
Smiles and waves to the audience, so perfect
a scene like a little girl's dream
every day and a sweet shop
On a plateau in the middle of nowhere, there was
a shop selling chocolate and week-old newspapers
I had no money, but in exchange, the man
accepted a hail of hay, the farmer gave when he
told me to go make my own bed, I had slept with
The milkmaid he had wanted for himself
as the evening gently fell over the desolate landscape
A horse came walking to the sweet shop that
also sell crossword puzzles and mouth harmonicas
It was the owner's transport, and he didn't like to stay
all night, asked me to take the shift, his main
The problem was all the rats that tried to break into his
shop, I could sleep on the kitchen table to avoid
being bitten
Nine, the next morning, he was back riding his steed
The Italian language
I would like to immigrate from Portugal to Italy
After ten o'clock at night, I switch on the TV
and watch an Italian soap opera
I don't understand a word of what the actors
say, but it is the way they say it, no hard
Consonant, no one is asked to stand to attention
For a comma, a full stop is a mere bagatelle
Not understanding what actors say is not
important, it is about facial expression and screams
So many pleasant surprises, last night's program
about a man who looked scruffy, he looked like
an evil character, but as it turned out, he is a police
inspector and arrested the man who looked like
matinee idol for the murder of the girl
All this happened in a modulated language where
crass consonants, dare not enter
A Fable
I was spending an afternoon with a billionaire
On our walk through town, we came to an art salon
on its wall, a painting I liked but could not afford
The billionaire offered to buy it for me, but reserved
The right to take the artwork back should I die
because he is an art collector,
The salon refuses to sell to the billionaire, who buys the salon
and everything in it, at a price no one can afford to
refuse; my rich friends hand me the painting
that I no longer want, because I liked the idea that
something costs more than I can afford
The wealthy man shrugs as he has made a good deal
This afternoon, later that day, he paid for a burger
and coke, and I don't mind him paying
To love your enemy
I should not say this, but there is no way to hide
I had a wonderful childhood when our country was
at war and occupied the mighty German army
walked in and out of an army barracks, riding on their
enormous horses, dark chocolate, drinking morning milk
until peace broke out, and it was back
to stark poverty that felt as if the daylight had been
switched off by an unseen hand
Headlong into communism, almost a humorous, but
That, too, had its sell-by date, and a cold war began
As seamen, we were in demand moving American
made gods around them had moved their industry
abroad and only exported wars
Once upon a time, I loved the USA, and I still have a pair
Of the jeans bought in New York, the jeans have shrunk
But I keep them as a memory of a glorious past
The Pleasure Remembered.
I saw her in a cafe yesterday; years had not been kind to her
her hair was matted, her skin was dry, and her lips were a sullen grimace,
not quite hiding her miss- coloured teeth.
Once, we slept entwined. I kissed the body and often burrowed
my head in her honey pot and drank her love juice like divine nectar.
She was sitting there, a lonely woman, thinking of her youth,
lost in thought, and her tea was getting cold.
It made me think of the nature of love; there must be a physical
Attraction first, loving the person comes later.
If I met her for the first time today, there would be no physical
attraction, but perhaps she would have had something interesting
to say. I just heard her cooing and sexual rapture.
The thought of sleeping with now was depressing, and for doing
that...no. But we did fly on wings of passion too high for us, and
we burst into flames, only ashes left.
She looked around but didn´t
Recognize me, why should she
A fat, bald man reading a paper?
A-bsent, but caring
B-ound by social anxiety
C-ontinuing Christian charity
D-elighting in incognito
E-nthusiastic in spirit
the accident
When crossing the street, cars had stopped
to let him cross in respect for his age
He was thinking of death; he hoped it would be
sudden, no sentimental last farewell,
no lies
about seeing you on the other side
Should there be another side, he wouldn't
He liked to meet people he had met in life side
A piece of a Russian satellite that has fallen to the ground
days, hit him with utmost precision
And he watched as the ambulance people
scrapped him off the street, the witnesses
We were in awe, thinking it could have been
We have to be nicer to our nearest
Now he was a soul drifting about, trying to
Find an opening back to life
At the hospital nearby, a woman struggled
to give birth, she was 38 years old, and
Therefore considered elderly for giving birth
The soul saw its chance to become a soul
for the unborn, well aware he would not be
able to know about his former life
Great jubilation, he didn't share as he was
too young to know
to a vegan be
We humans can be good for wild animals
Their life of surviving hides hearts of love
by showing empathy and understanding
They can change and show utter devotion
to a human who loves them back
and lessen the struggle for survival,
to be on their guard where there is aggression
is the only emotion allowed
When an animal feels that way, its love
is timeless, you are a liberator
A question remains: how can a man eat
burgers when knowing a cow was killed
to sate our appetite for meat.
A Little Fish
I opened a tin of sardines in olive oil for my evening meal.
Headless and nicely packed they were, except for one that
had a head-on was alive. I filled water in a jar.
Put the sardine in and fed it bread crumbs.
The headless sardines in the tin, so still and dead, I could
not eat them, put the tin back in the fridge.
My little sardine grew too big for the jar, and cats were circling
The house, looking for a way in, so I took it to the empty lake
that once had Bluegills fished to extinction,
set my sardine free to feed on rotten vegetation-
I don`t know how fish reproduce, but a year later, a school
of sardines were swimming around, except for one that
swam the opposite way- Bonanza! Grilled sardines and
The people rejoiced, thinking it was going to last forever,
And then there were none except one, my sardine in oil.
I went down to the lake when the sardine saw me
was glad, jumped up in the air, and was caught by a bird.
Empty lake, a dead eye in the wilderness, tells no story.