Poetry Stress Poems

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

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Details | Iambic Pentameter |
So bittersweet is this creative art of writing thoughts through words of poetry. So many say how peaceful is my heart that it can shape a verse that's part of me. They never see the bitter times of stress my mind goes through for every perfect word: the hunting down of them to bring success, so thoughts within my heart can then be heard. But when I reach the mountaintop, complete a gem that tells my mind it met the goal, the stress dissolves into a joy so sweet, and peace envelopes me, my heart and soul. Sandra M. Haight ~2nd Place~ Contest: Bittersweet Sponsor: Kevin Shaw Judged: 09/11/2017

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016




Details | Rhyme |
Ana
She writes her songs and her poems,
not one person know 'em.
She listens to the sound of her music,
she's stuck to it like a tick.

If someone took the time to listen,
her true colors would glisten.
She's put on a mask,
and hid everything when someone asked.

She was the type of girl who would always laugh,
making you wish it would last.
She was the type of girl who would smile the day away,
too bad it is no longer that way.

She is now the girl who is depressed,
I bet you're impressed.
Since no one could tell
that she was going through hell.

Everyone thought she was happy, 
when really, she felt crappy.
Everyone thought she was having the time of her life,
who would have guess her best friend was a knife?

She spent her days alone,
she seemed to do everything on her own.
Never once wanted help.
Thought she could do everything herself.

Then the day came,
when she lost the game.
She fell apart,
and everyone saw her broken heart.

They saw the way she overreacted.
Oh, if only you saw the way she acted.
She bruised herself, scratched herself, and made herself bleed,
no one knew what it was that she needed.

They saw her tears,
and that was what she feared.
They found out she wasn't okay,
oh, she hated that day.

Everyone found out about her secret,
and she wish they'd just forget,
but she knew they couldn't,
and that they wouldn't.

She left that town and started over,
no one knew she went undercover.
She said she got better,
when really... something else occurred. 

She secretly hurt herself,
and walked away from help.
Everyone thought she recovered,
when really, she was undercover.

She secretly wanted to get worse,
no one knew of course.
No one cared to ask,
if she was wearing her mask.

Now it's too late,
she locked the gate.
Killed herself,
everyone had forgotten she needed help.

Goodbye cold world,
this was a story of a girl
who once loved everyone
then feared who it was who won.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Heard through the office grapevine the boss will now resign. Have to beat the deadline or that position won't be mine. I need to work and sacrifice no sleep tonight, a wink's just nice. Your Red Bull in my coffee I drank, now look at me! Thank you Lyric Man and FJ Thomas for the inspiration. Reminds me of those days of endless coffee and antacids. :-) Acknowledgment to flckr for the image of a Philippine tarsier Kim Patrice Nunez 26 June 2015

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015




Details | Acrostic |
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

Details | Free verse |
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

Details | I do not know? |
Anger, pain and dramatic stress 
The 3 things that I possess
Me, Reggie is okay at times
I sometimes choose to confide in my rhymes
I express my feelings through a pen
Just like some women get satisfaction through men.
This isn’t a poem because this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast, just too fast to be caught.
I hate being stressed
Just like I hate being possessed
I don’t mean to sound evil and mean
But I am different from the other people you have seen.
This is not a poem…this is a thought
I have thoughts moving so fast that they can’t be caught.
I have it good to some…others have it good to me
Some don’t realize how hard it is to be
A poet…it’s hard writin’ poetry with a lot of feeling
You feel forced to write something appealing
You break down cause cus’ you feel an obligation
To write good poetry that there breaks your concentration
I found a solution that my mind’s fighting
Maybe I should stop all the poetry and all the writing
These are fast ideas too fast to be caught
This isn’t a poem this is just a thought

Copyright © Reginald Sellers | Year Posted 2005

Details | Rondeau |
My mind is racing. 
My dreams are defacing. 
Everyday is the same,
Every night is a shame. 
I need to continue bracing.

My nightmares and fears are interlacing.
My heart needs a gracing.
No one can take blame,
My heart is the only one guilty.

I need a sad songs embracing,
Or an artist’s tracing.
I need something soothing for me to be tame,
Except nothing can take me away from my grame.
Nothing in this world has been the cause of my souls aching.
My heart is the only one guilty.

Copyright © Courtney White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Sonnet |
Teacher, shall I write a sonnet? Must I?
When I’m not so sure of my poetry…
Shall I write a poem of fourteen lines?
In iambic pentameter –by me?

What shall I write about? What can I say?
In this sonnet which I must jot down now?
My sonnet should be about what today?
To write a great sonnet I’m not sure how…

Teacher, can I write this sonnet later
For I’m not sure of what to write about?
The teacher then takes my simple paper
And “you already did.” my teacher shouts.

‘Detention’ my teacher says, ‘for lying,’
‘But thank you,’ she adds, ‘for at least trying.’

 © Mariam Mababaya.

Copyright © Mariam M. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Because I'm Ready To Grow Up

I have had enough 
Enough with the happy times

I'm ready to take on the stress
No more playground or bubbles baths please
Enough with the piles and piles of mess
I'm grown up now ready for change

I had it with being a baby bird
I don't want to be fed I don't want to cry
I want to get out of the nest, spread my wings 
I want to take flight in the sky so high

I had enough of the princess dresses 
Get rid of those Barbie dolls
Throw away all those plastic high heels
And bring on the teenage texting of Lols

Don't u get it I've had enough
I'm ready to grow up to break out of the shell
I'm prepared to take on life's earthquakes 
Waiting for the day when I'll have stories to tell

Princesses and fairies will never be real
There is nothing in the world that's free
You don't magically have a happy ending
All i can be in life is me

So I'm ready to grow up
To escape the magical world
For you have to earn whatever you want
Nothing comes in a pink sparkly twirl


So I've had enough
Rip my childhood apart
I'm happy to face the impending future
drown the happy memories in my heart

Copyright © Sapphire Williams | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 

Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
So I have some things, that I just have to say,
but please do not take me in the wrong way,
I have this tiny little problem, inside me you see,
and its called trying to live with ADHD.

These thing's that you say, they way you behave,
drive me insane, and inside me I crave,
to tell you your wrong, and look like a mug,
I cant stand the thought, of you being a thug.

If I see you pushing and constantly thrashing, 
my friends whom are weak, intending to bash em,
I will have to stand up, and defend with my heart,
Say it to me if you really wanna start!

Ill tell you the truth, don't you threat about that,
I'll never be scared of you, swinging that bat.
I've been through worse times, than you can inflict,
you can laugh and say that I am just a (b)witch.

I've taken many a beating, from one's harder than you,
you're a joke, you're clown, do the best you can do,
you will not like me, cause ill tell you the truth,
it ain't all about being a spoof.

You're a book that's been read, from cover to cover,
Predictable, laughable and not the best lover, 
you're as see through as cling film, but before its too late,
get a grip you sad person, before they will hate.

you can change the future, if only you'd try,
stop accusing and blaming, and questioning why?
look around you and see, you have a great life, 
but if you don't see before you, lose a possible wife.

So I'll tell it like it is, I wont mince my words
right there, right now, you got an incredible bird,
she loves you and would never hurt you, never make you cry,
but you spit and you hiss, and you don't even try.

You're straight out the book, the tactics you use
we know the next step, we know the short fuse,
The questions, the timing, the jealousy of friends,
its all a plan, for her social life to end.

There's really no need to hate and to follow, 
trust isn't really a bitter pill to swallow.
Life and love is really OK, 
don't be an idiot and throw it all away.

when you have a good woman be happy and proud,
get on that roof top and shout it out loud.
don't toss it aside, cause  your angry inside,
give love a chance, her on your arm bursting with pride.

I'll be honest, and truthful, and hope you will find,
the problem within, ill try to be kind,
but ADHD just makes me be true
I really mean no harm, just giving you a clue.

You can hate me, detest me, I really don't care, 
I know what your about, I'll stand and stare,
see if you have the balls,  to really be true, 
when you stand say 'hello, and how are you?' 

Been there, and done it, its really no big deal,
2 faced coward is what i do feel.
thing is it really, you don't need to be like that, 
but too proud to say, 'yeah OK I been a prat'

No need at all for the mess that is made, 
drag yourself out of that neanderthal cave.
there's more to life than fighting and hating,
you only get on shot, so love and stop wasting.

Let people in, let out your fears,
or cling on to em tight, for another 30 years,
hold on to trouble, grip tight onto hate,
lets these years pass you by, and then its too late.

look at yourself, are you really ok??
want another day marked off, with only hate to say?
we want to make you smile, and assure you its fine, 
hold glasses of wine up and clink with ' lets dine'

So I suppose the point, I am trying to say, 
with my ADHD, I'll just say it this way, 
My words come out 'hectic' and not make much sense,
but I'm trying to help you, I make no pretense.

If you think this is about you, or someone you know,
I hope that this poem will help someone to grow, 
Just ask and I'll tell you, I wont hide in the forest,
I don't have two faces, you know ill be honest!

So I bid you goodnight, and tell you I'm grateful, 
for Tony, my love, I can trust he'll be faithful,
He treats me with love and respect, don't harass me,
two way trust, with my man, means the world, I'll never judge he.

Shame on you wasters, throwing real love away,
it will spring up on you, you'll realize one day, 
you had it right there, in the palm of your hand,
but crushed it and blew it away like the sand.

Copyright © Maxine Jones | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
Poetry is about faith, a song, and sometimes a checkup.
It’s about that girl on the other side you want to linkup. 

Poetry is about the beauty of life when you want to grow up.
It’s about a lost love and now all you want to do is throw up.

Poetry is about the frustration that makes you want to blowup.
It’s about all those things you just said and you want to backup.

Poetry is about a good night of sleep but you struggle to get up.
It’s about the time it takes you in a rush to put on your makeup.

Poetry is about being stuck in traffic because there's a pileup.
It’s about realizing you should taken your car in for a tuneup.

Poetry is about the spring fresh air in the morning when you getup.
It’s about enjoying a breakfast together with hotcakes and syrup.

Poetry is about being at your local bank when there's a holdup.
It’s about the police showing you all of these people in a lineup.

Poetry is about family reunions when you don't want to show up.
It’s about all of the gossip you hear while sipping on your teacup.

Poetry is about going to the doctor’s office to get a workup.
It’s about finding yourself at the local gym counting a pushup.

Poetry is about all of these emotions inside that need to letup.
It’s about writing things down balancing your life to shapeup.

Edward J Ebbs - September 13, 2014

Copyright © Edward Ebbs | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
There are times, doing something, you think is good, can simply back fire, on you.
And I took Dragon to watch a movie of The Grand Canyon, yes, flying thru.
Just to be safe, we sat in the back, you know, way up, in the nosebleed, high!
And it became such a thrilling ride, such scenery, constantly passing you by.

You could almost reach out to touch the views, mouth watering photographic art.
But Dragon started to tap his feet, as his hands flew up, to cover his beating heart.
I’ve never seen him, so excited, over anything, EVER, in all, of his life, so bold.
Now I began to worry, as I noticed his wings began to twitch and want to unfold.

I gently put my hand over his, as I gently tried to calm him, with words, to interrupt..
He wouldn’t turn away from the screen, as ‘Do Not Interrupt!’ Did soundly erupt.
I recognized that comment, I’d used it a time or two, on him, now on myself, recast.
Now, here came my comeuppance, I did realize, for I was getting nowhere, fast!

Next, I rubbed his back shoulder muscles gently, to soothe the twitching, that arose.
You know, the ones that allow him the power, to take off and fly, yea, you got it, those!
Now this was not going to end well, from my point of view, as he shrugged off my touch.
At least, a beautiful sunset began slowly falling, near the end of the movie, as such.

By this time, I was, totally, trying to shake him out of his mesmerizingly total trance.
All we had to do, was last a few more minutes, but now he was beginning, to prance!
He was SO impassioned that he wouldn’t let me interrupt. I began to panic, oh, so well.
For the life of me! I couldn’t see any way, to break the movies, very, rapturous spell.

All I could begin to see; was that this was not going to end so very well, gently put!
So I begged him, to not try, to do… what he wanted to do! As I stomped on his foot!
In the end, all I did was piss him off, as the soared off, so impassionedly, into the view!
Well darn! That hadn’t worked out well! I sighed! As I watched the inevitable, come to!

Naturally I was there for him, when he hit the IMAX screen. With a sudden Kersplat!
After all, what are families for, but to be there, when we do stupid things, like that!
And we all do, something, so strange and crazy… in our illustrious lives, somewhere.
Naturally we were banned from the IMAX! And the screen would need extensive repair.

A vet came for Dragon, as newspapermen with questions, did show up, Oh Drat! 
As I talked to the vet!  What did I say, to them? Ha! You guessed it! ’Don’t interrupt!’
Needless to say they weren’t happy and the 5 o’clock news was my wall. Kersplat!

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
She has so much pain inside of her,
she doesn't know how to address it.
So she turns the pain into anger,
after she explodes, she becomes quiet.

She goes up to her room, upset.
Why does the world hate her so?
She thinks to herself, “That’s it!”
But in reality, it isn't though.

She lies on her bed,
Pulls out her book and reads.
As she turns the pages, she loses her head,
In her mind, she thinks “This is what I need.”

A place to escape the world,
Somewhere she can run.
For it seems everyone hates this girl,
And nothing she does is fun.

She plays her cello 
And loses herself in the music
She does this when she feels low
Then she plays the song of her pick

She listens to the beat she makes,
Trying to make it sound perfect,
But oh, she keeps making mistakes,
She thinks that she will never get it.

She leaves the cello alone
And watches her shows
She then grabs her phone
And tells her best friend the show as it goes.

She leaves the TV on, 
Then she enters her laptop.
She stays on till dawn,
She just can’t seem to stop.

She loves the idea of leaving the real world
And entering an imaginary one.
That’s the story of the girl,
Who is never done.

Copyright © Ana Jusino | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Forgive me please and don't berate
My dismal voice when I narrate,
The many poems I've written well,
To bring to you my tale to tell.
 
I like to write my thoughts in rhyme
And find I have an easy time,
To form each stanza with a flow;
My words go smoothly to and fro.
 
Then comes the time to say aloud,
The words composed to a small crowd.
My voice will crack with croaks and gasps:
A rusty gate, it swings and rasps.
 
New England twang with words that clip,
Come squirming through my palsied lips.
I envy Brits posh english speech.
Their phonics cannot be impeached.
 
I practice lines a hundred times,
Until they sound just barely fine.
Then try and try and try again,
But still I reach that faltered end.
 
So bare with me in my attempt,
To narrate words in voice unkempt.
I'll forge ahead and not give up,
To spout my spiel and fill your cup.
 
In penning this, yet speaking that;
It's better left where it was at.
On pages written to be read
And not aloud with angst and dread.

Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
THE STRESS OF SHOPPING 


It's no fun to go out 
shopping
And tag along behind
The wife, no doubt,
who's leading
To see what she can
find.

It took, it seems, but
moments
Before some dress
caught her eyes,
But next, the obvious
question  - 
Did they have it in 
her size?

It was something of
a posh shop,
Words like 'Madam' 
filled the air,
My mind said things
like 'sod 'em',
I'd prefer not to be
there.

So, in and out of
changing rooms
Just like a fashion
show,
'What do you think?
Is this the one?
How am I supposed
to know?

Talking, too, of 
changing rooms,
They need revolving
doors,
The ladies then parade
and strut - 
But I held back my
applause.

And, as the search 
was widened,
I wore my fixed-on
smile,
Since in and out of
dress shops
Is really not my style.

There's one aspect of
'selection'
Which I would prefer
to miss,
It's that one eternal
question:
'Does my butt look
big in this?'

The cause was 
someone's party,
(Or, simply, my idea
of hell)
It was costing me a
fortune - 
And I never take that
well!

After trailing round 
those flamin' shops
I tried hard not to
grin,
She finally settled
for the dress - 
From the first shop
we'd been in!

BY
DARRYL ASHTON

Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
Where were you when my world fell apart?
The Sun darkened and the Moon just fled.
All had been done and all had been said.
And ripped to shreds was my beating heart.

Even the Seas began to part.
And the Mountain tops spread.
I lay there completely dead.
Even the Stars I could not chart.

If only you knew,
If only you were there,
If only you had a clue!
If only life had been fair!

I’d turn the clocks back,
Still standing dead in my track!

Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
Be positive, life can be jolly
In spite of its complexities
Advised the doctor.

Mother’s Little Helpers are folly,
They won’t score any of life’s niceties
Continued the doctor.

And you wonder, does he (she) understand
What I’m saying or am I just a name
In the computer.

Perhaps understanding is banned,
You’re just a patient, they’re all the same
In the computer.

So spill it over a caring friend
Who’ll reassure you, you’re not round the bend,
Who’ll support you till the miseries end
Without a computer.

(Fortunately, my doctor is not like this)

Copyright © Elisabeth Sheaffer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
I love the weekend
I hate you week.
You demand, reprimand, and restrict me.
You order me around and poke me to move
You slap me in the face
You stomp on my feet
You sock me in the gut
You kick me in the shins
You suck the air from my lungs
And still expect me to breathe
And after all the pain I go through
For you
You tut-tut, shake you head and say:
‘You still got lots to do!’
I hate you.
I love you weekend!
You are my friend
Would that your blissful, lazy days
Would never end
You let me play
You love my laugh
You always indulge me
You let me sleep
You give me the space and time to be Me
Unlike your antagonist sibling, the week
Let me pass on a Friday night
Let me die on Saturday
Let me stick myself on Sundays
Let me stay, weekend, let me stay!
But no, you’re moving at your usual pace
Marching into yesterday
Bringing in the week with your departure
And silently murdering me
If you must
Do so
But don’t let me die in the week!

Copyright © Susan Piwang | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism |
Inspired and dedicated to the famous, to the Royal families, to the actors and actresses, and pop stars, who live lives of Uncharishable Fame.

"Fame is a struggle and the lives that surround it are not happy." - Christopher Boskovski

Fame, have you ever walked down the streets of stars?
Have you stood on a stage with a beam of spotlight on you
at center stage, delivering a sweet monolouge of peace and love?

Fame, do you know how it feels to be followed along city streets,
and bustling cafes by flashing lights, and Poperazzi?
You strike a pose, you sign an autograph, and you are late for a dinner reservation.
You grow dark, and hungry and you seem not so happy,
but yet you smile?

Fame, do you like to be famous?
Is it a fun life to live?
Somedays living in Mansions and others out of the suitcase.
Somedays eating lobster by the bay, and others, cold pizza on Saturday.

Are you misreable, not knowing the womanthat you love, loves you back, or loves your
wallet that is so fat?
Books upon books of love poems staked towers of romance that scrambles your brain,
and leaves you with tears of sorrow in your eyes.

Fame, enough of the fake smiles
and red carpet wardrobes and be true to yourself.
Stop and smell the morning roses that bloom,
walk through the parks with smiling faces on every corner,
before all that beauty goes away.
Fame you don't see color, you see black and white.
Contracts, nothing about love, only about wages.
Live life, before everything around you dies.

Be happy and true.
I ask you fame,
come away from your money and expensive cars and cell phones
and live life, instead of living a fabricated one.

Read a book of poetry,
that shows true beauty.
Stop making yourself happy, reading tabloid viewings,
in morning newspapers of yourself.
Look in the mirror and smile.

Fame, I tell you now, you are not happy.
Come with me
take my hand, and sail with me.
For Fame, I shall show you a golden dream in reality.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
We all have our stressors
We all have things that make us want to break
We have felt as though we give
Much more than we take

We have all wondering what was God doing and why
We have had our heads down to ground instead up to the sky
We all have things that bother us-things that cause us pain
Things that cause us to know that only God keeps us sane


We all have trouble in more than area
We all have trouble with money, interpersonal relations
We all have felt trapped but then we get in the Word and get revelation
Then we see no change but we know there's a plan
We know that God knows better than we do how much we can stand
And still stand tall for Him

We all  have things weighing our minds and causing fragments to our souls
We all have things going on within us which we feel we have no cry
We all cry inside-we all get sad at times
We all have emotional roller coasters
But we know that God is all in all
And He is our salvation, our fortress, and our deliverer
Praise Party

Glory to God for who He is!!
Praise His name in through it all!!
Praise His name in all life seasons
Winter, spring, summer, fall!

Praise ye the Lord
All ye lands
For all he does
He is our rock and our protector
He is our healer and provider

Praise the Lord when things look grim
Praise the Lord when it seems the light is dim
And even in dark times praise ye the Lord
For He is the light of the world
And the Creator of light

Praise the Lord
All the time
Not just when things are going well
When you need peace praise ye the Lord
When you need a dose of joy praise ye the Lord
And when you need to feel loved praise ye the Lord 
For He loved us enough to die for us!

Copyright © Shuntae King | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |
I am 'SHE'. 
The form of Goddess 'Durga' & 'Laxmi', 
I used to be. 

But where the hell I'm today? 
Where in the search of 
my own identity, 
I have to pay. 
In this patriarchy, 
my soul has been killed 
& body has been groped. 
Each & every step outside 
has become exploit for me. 
Eyes scanning my body, 
& indecent remarks for me 
everywhere,I use to hear and see. 

I am languishing here, 
living with low spirits 
& fed up of my bug-bear. 
Of being raped & abducted, 
I always have the fear. 
I'm anguished in this milieu, 
sighing and sheding tears 
in the corner of my room. 
My regular nightmarish experiences 
made me to cry over my doom. 

More than chilly & pepper sprays, 
propriety in society will help me. 
And I'm waiting for 
that pleasant day when 
safety will go hand in hand with 'SHE'..   

Copyright © Hina Saxena | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry |
She thought that he’s charming
Her friends says he is so cute
But little did they know
It’s the furthest from the truth

Her mom buys her a new dress
Because he ask her to the prom
But during the fun and laughter
He spikes her punch with rum

She wakes up in his BMW
He,s smiling with a cigarette
A morning she will remember
A night to forget

She can’t stop crying
She lies on her bed
Feeling hurt and disgusted
Suicide thoughts comes to her head

Her mom notice the changes
But she don’t know what is wrong
She use to sing in the church choir
The preacher says she stops coming around

She hugs her mother last night
Then walks out the door alone
And its now early morning
She didn’t come back home

She jumps over the bridge
They pull her body soaking wet
She couldn’t live with the memory
Of the night she can’t forget

It’s sad that her young life was ruin
By the evil that lays hidden behind a smile
Her mother life is shattered
Never knowing what happen to her child

This is happening to innocent girls
All over the world
Taking away their dignity and pride
Sucking the life out of their very soul

Another girl sits under a tree
Reading a book of poem by kaz ishmael
He said “excuse me just got to say
That you have a beautiful smile

She brushes her long hair
Think her jeans didn’t fit to right
His BMW is waiting out side
They are going to movies tonight

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2013

Details | Light Poetry |
An evil spider dropped down from behind. Help me! Help Me! She cried!
Oh white Knight… Can you save me? I’m on my tuffet trying to make a rip tide.
Where is he? Where is he? I can’t see it! He’s behind me, she cried!
The great white knight dropped every thing, to save his damsel in distress!
I can’t see it… I can’t see it… Save my bacon please…
If I try to move away from my white porcelain tuffet… he will surly get me!
A fierce battle ensued, as the knight grabbed his toilet paper sword.
Move away you snarly fiend, he roared!
Back and forth… Back and forth… They battled on endlessly.
She is mine, said the knight… No! She is mine said the spider, repeatedly
Finally, the white knight ruled supreme, with a final thrust of his paper sword! 
The white knight vanquished the evil spider, as he jumped upon the floor!
Now, you are safe my fair damsel, he decried, to continue your porcelain quest.
Then the White knight gathered his belongings and scampered away, doing his best.
With a ‘No need to get up miss’, she continued on her quest.
A blue haze eventually drifted in, as her thanks rang out, and she did attest. 
He had truly been her hero, of the great conquest…

Dated 6-8-2013

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse |

I wake up with another tear for I have again, relived the nightmare will it ever leave me with any way to see when will I again be able to see my family the past is forgiven so why is it still living my heart was so broken but soon after it was frozen let it lie and the past die for I have a life to live with but the past is still being relived how do I stop this past of torture so I can find my new future

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |
Baring of your soul
Dancing naked for the world
Deep tension is eased



Just a note of thanks to all who are encouraging my work and reading my poetry.
I so appreciate all of you.  Poetry Soup has become a bright spot in my life. :)  

May a butterfly land on your shoulder (a poem that has yet to be created)
Willow

Copyright © Willow Lawrence | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Why?
Why?
Why?

Tell me why?
Tell me why?
Tell me why?

Was it, because I was too nice,
I was too much of a gentleman,
or was just too much to handle?

Was it, because you were young?
Was it, because you couldn't find your heart,
in all that darkness?
Was it, because you just didn't feel the love?

Why?
Why me?
A man like me, deserves no pain,
no heartbreak.
So, why me?

I pray and ask the Gods,
why!
But an unresponsive god never speaks to me.
He sits there and watches... watching what?
Nothing, but a heart being torn to shreds.

Was it, because I was too careful?
Was it, because I loved too much?
Was it, because one half of the heart couldn't fit the whole?

I ask you, because I still love you.
Come to me, my beautiful,
stop this nonsense,
I cannot make you love me,
but I sure can try to show you love.

Do not blink,
do not take a gift sent down from the Gods
for granted.
Appriciate what you have,
appriciate me, because one day,
when you need a shoulder to cry one,
you will not be able to find me, anywhere.
I will be lost,
in a fool's dream of romance and love,
that will never come on my front doorstep.
Still dreaming of the possibilities of you and I.
My heart is with you always,
but I will soon expire,
so do not wait too long.

-10/5/2013

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |
Gasping for air. . . you strain your neck; stretching..you look around, checking.
Struggling to keep the pace. . . you're movements, fluctuating; you panic, you try floating.
Screaming for help. . .  no one is around, you wish for a miracle; you're wheezing, yelp not helping.
Giving, no one is reaching. . . the waves starting to bring you down; you fight, your Will diminishing.
Vanishing. . . your light dimming; They look from afar, will they notice you're drowning?

Copyright © Jesson Rata | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Jump up and down like a jackrabbit
running through meadows
running from what?
Could it be heartbreak,
a venemous snake that hides in the grass,
hiding with fangs ready to pierce the tender skin
upon the tight, bronze flesh of everyday life?
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now!
I need a vacation a long way away from the faceless smiles
and ignorance of young girls, who don't look at you,
who don't show you love and respect.
Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye now,
as jumping spiders hop everywhere, crawling eight legs around me
my soul black like carcoal, but my heart still beating
slower this time, not like the days before
and like the jackrabbit running from anything and everything,
I run to seek love and vanish away from the empty voids
that people call, their souls.
Recording a film with no tape,
talking to a woman you love, but not having the guts to tell her how you really feel
Jump my boy, like a jackrabbit, take my advice
tell her before she leaves
turns down the endless avenues of endless dark love
the trees grow taller, taller than you
and you sit there feeling away yourself die, missing out in life.
I cannot see you lose your love.
Say it, say it, Say it!!! Tell her! Tell her! Build the guts up!
Build up the courage, tell her how you feel. Take her by the hand and never say goodbye! Never say goodnight, stay with her till the flight comes in the morning
of the first rays of sun shine through your dorm room take her and love her!
Do not be like me, the jackrabbit! I see no happiness
Reading poetry it makes me sad,
to write of others falling in love and I never finding the one.
People tell me, you'll find yours, have hope
but I am a frightened little jackrabbit
who flees from sounds of deep emotions, not having courage to fall in love,
not building the guts up to tell her how I really feel.
She walks alone, I find my oppertunity and sing my love song
She smiles and moves on,
please tell me I cannot fight anymore.
All I have to say is Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye
I need a vacation
to go to some sandy beach on an island of love
and write and write and write, the same poetry that depresses me
but makes you all fall in love with words!
Fiction about love stories, please kiss me
Blue eyed death comes, plays a game of chess with me
I bet twenty, he bets my soul
Kiss me death, the only love I'll ever get,
besides my poet friends who kiss my ass
Listen to my heart, truely, I don't write of beauty
I write for the sorrow soul, the fleeing jackrabbit
running away from love.....

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013