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Alliteration Stress Poems | Alliteration Poems About Stress

These Alliteration Stress poems are examples of Alliteration poems about Stress. These are the best examples of Alliteration Stress poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Alliteration |

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



Details | Alliteration |

The Sound Of Suicide

People, looking like ants scurrying down below
Nobody see's me, nobody knows
The pressure I feel, and how I'm alone
A whole world full of people, and not one notice me
On the edge of a skyscraper, Right on the edge
As broken as one could possibly be
The sound of suicide is silence
It's as simple as a jump or a click on the trigger of a gun
Suicide, silent, if it's done right
Here I go, lifting my foot up high
Losing my balance upon the edge 
I put my foot back on the ledge
I close my eyes
Take a deep breath
I open my eyes for one last time
I say goodbye
And then I jump.

Copyright © Caitt Mason | Year Posted 2016

Details | Alliteration |

TREASURE TROVE

Lock down the LIMPING GROVE.
PIRATES have stolen the TREASURE TROVE.
I know all about the garden shed, how you
Hide and make your bed.
Watching with a whimsical stare he replied
I know nothing of these TRAVESTIES.
HERE  are SOME FACTS you MAY not know:
Tedious TEASING TUSSLES to taste the
Truth.
Merciless MUSING knows what treasures
You have stolen, then you will not 
Continue to repose
Tell where you have roved lest I'll 
Lance YOU  WITH  this BLADE, to get the JEWELS YOU have
Sought 
Real, EXCEPTIONAL TREASURES 
Can not be BOUGHT. Drop your sack where you stand, do
This as I demand. A search of the sack revealed
Nothing familiar. As he made a hasty EXIT a telling
Jingle was heard.

PRICELESS GOES the NINES WITH
FEARLESS YOU IN MIND.

Copyright © VAL BROOKLYN Rogers BLK PANTHER | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration |

My Love

My love I can not find you anywhere, 
I feel like I lost my soul somewhere, 
because you are my soulmate, 
and us being apart can not be fate. 

You did not leave because you wanted to, 
It just was just something you had to do. 

I was not right, All I wanted to do was fight, 
and knowing you was the love of my life, 
yet I would not make you my wife. 

I know that's what you really wanted 
and now I am feeling haunted, 
by the things I should have done, 
and you being the only one 
I ever loved and will love forever, if it was'nt for me we will still be together. 
 
But you are gone 
and I can not go on, 
so I must say good-bye, I'm leaving myself to die.

Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration |

Hope Drunk

Hope Drunk
Kenneth Alexander

It’s harder, than ever, these days to see the bright side of life, what with reality the way it is.

Suffering imminent, never ending pain, reminiscent, expand a good plan some evil is collected. 

All is well in love and war, child victims, seniors - sore no more, snuggled in bunks, hope drunks.

It used to be, expression is free, disappointment, now the price to throw the dice, and nothing left but breathe, from God, hope drunk.

For the best candidate a bullet bump, in secret, hope drunk.

Benefits, saved for a few, who knew, insistent, demanding positive thinking order of the day and those in a slump, hope drunk.  

A golden watch, a fish dinner, a thank you for support, and with nothing more, shown the door.  A life insurance policy, satisfied, died in a dump, hope drunk.

In reality the same way, celebrate defeat on the seat of dismay.  The problem before was not the score, a punk, hope drunk 

Copyright © Kenneth Alexander | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration |

Salvation for a Stranger

The streets are busy with silence,
And Sammy is in his own little world,
Focused on his own private route.
His own secret place,
Private, it’s a funny word,
A funny word just like, secret,
Sometimes we fail to realize how we carelessly carry our secrets on our sleeve.
Sammy wants his feelings, emotions, his life to be hidden away,
Still, in the silence of the streets, 
I see the sadness and stress all over his stance.

The shops are packed with stillness,
And Sammy is doing his job, keeping stands tidy, 
Keeping customers happy,
Making his manager proud,
Happy, it’s a strange word,
A strange word just like proud,
Feelings for ourselves that we sacrifice for the satisfaction of strangers.
Sammy thrives on the temporary moods of others to determine his contentment,
Yet, in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets, 
I see the sadness and the stress all over his stance, 
In each fragment of his face.

Between the shops and the streets, 
Sammy finds a place that he can refer to as home,
But in the silence and the stillness of his slow beating heart,
He understands that something greater than his being is missing.
And Sammy needs a friend, a friend to show him the truth.
A friend to show him that in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets, 
He carries sadness and stress all over his stance, 
In each fragment of his face, and in each shy shift of each shoulder,
For one reason, and one reason alone. 
He’s missing one more word oozing sibilance, 
The one word that completes, this poem and will fulfill his life.

Salvation.

Copyright © REGINA OLADIPO | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration |

Energy Engulfs

Embracing an empath's emotion
Inflicts instant inherit intrustion 
Beckoning beast, begging beneath 
Decaying defenseless delusion.

Copyright © Katie Miller | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration |

THE TUMULTUOUS TRAVELER

Travel Time Tropics Trip Tepid Temperature Tourist Town Tunnel Toll Ticket Taker Taxi Token Transit Trail Transport Truck Tractor Trailer Train Track Trouble Test Terror Turf Tribal Territory Tender Trap Tricky Terms Tete-a-Tete Try Translate Think Talk Tongue Tied Timebomb Ticking Tamper Temper Trinket Trade Twinkle Tax Theft Taken Treasure Total Thoroughly Trounced Twice Thrice Twine Tie Tight Together Torn Trousers Tree Twig Too Thin Trusty Tool Thundering Typhoon Tempest Temblor Titanic Turbulence Turbid Torrents Twirling Twisting Trembling Threatening Thrilling Thriving Thirsting Throbbing Thirsty Throat Twilight Terrace Tecate Tavern Two Tequilas Tres Tacos Tasty Tortillas Three Tequilas Ten Tequilas Table Tab Tip Tina Tawdry Trollop Tattoo Taboo Toe Tap Tickle Tease Trumpeting Tunes Tenor Tones Talented Troubadours The Texas Tornados Topsy Turvy Tick Tock Tardy Time Tiresome Testimony Tall Tale Thankful Thoughts Totally Transgressed Tumultuous Traveler

Copyright © Warner Baxter | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration |

Innerself

He swifts on by like a moon lighted night. 
He shines bright for a moment in time. 
His arm's always open with warmth. 
His smile always bigger then everyone elses. 
His heart of rage and fire. 
He swifts on by, he swifts on by. 
Who will know the true man within. 
The man thats full of sin. 
No one can, no one can, for we are all just man...

Copyright © stephanie hanvey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Alliteration |

She Goes Back

She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey


Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop

Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids 
her younger brother, childhood ends at five

She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor 
shares food scraps with dogs 
wounds yarn slow they say 
checks muskrat traps in marshes 
barefoot in icy waters she looks 

Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns 
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles 
her mother helps nurse her back

Rented to take care of a baby, clean house 
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen 
pig fights for potato peels




Her stomach empty, rumbles, she 
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.

Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt 
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold

Her master dies, the new master 
rents her to a local builder 
the builder permits her to rent herself 
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.

Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom 
doors open, slips of paper lead her way 
through the Underground Railroad, 
a network of shifting safe houses

Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.

Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family




The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back, 
helps her family, friends escape, escape 
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps, 
around hills, she never losses a passenger.

A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere 
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back 

Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape 
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses” 
for her fearless bravery, 
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.

Copyright © Lillian White | Year Posted 2017