Best Deteriorated Poems
Lying in bed..
In my deathbed
Don't have much time..
I am filled..
with nostalgia..
Memories of which I will always cherish..
Within my deepest thoughts
I imagine I am a child again
the child inside me..
Such joyful memories ..
Memories of running so freely in the grass..
Holding hands with my playmates..
Sharing secrets
Laughter..
The innocence of it all..
Years progressing..
From childhood..
To adolescent
To adulthood..
Being a curious teen..
Having major crushes ..
My first kiss
My first love..
Living as an adult..
Major responsibilities occurs..
Finding the love of my life..
Marrying the love of my life
Having children..
Living a blessed life..
Years progress..
Often wondering..
How my body is frail..
How these wrinkles..
Gave me character
How my health deteriorated..
Within a blink of an eye..
Now I have reached my final stage..
Sadly I am..
Slowing waiting for my own demise..
How shall it feel ?
Shall I embrace the unknown ?
My beautiful family is gone..
They all have made their final departure..
Before myself..
I have lived a long and full life..
I feel alone now..
Alone in my deathbed..
Awaiting my transition..
Perhaps when one door closes..
Another door opens..
Going from one state of being
To another..
Energy cannot be destroyed..
It only changes form..
I do not fear death..
It is dying I fear..
Fear of the old door..
Entering into a new door..
Which is fear of the unknown..
Categories:
deteriorated, death, deep, fear, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
Sometimes to no avail
You struggle to be different
Like snowflakes you fall
Believe you are vindicated, distinct and exclusive
With innovative design and crystallized mind
Attempting to impress everyone with the hand you have
only we all have the same cards
Razor sharp edges and frosty images
We are slush after a too many Sunday afternoon
Deteriorated with a warped spinal column and a stone-washed mentality
Liquefied by last season's snow boots and plowed to the side most of the time
Human quality is overstated and overrated
the world is far too over populated
we are all the uniform
snowflake
with carbon bonds, hydrogen and oxygen
I doubt my DNA complexity is what makes my soul mine
We are all hypocrites, benevolence is only to benefit ourselves
When you come out of the cloud your eyes are misted and your judgment’s
twisted
With age it doesn't get better only you assume you grasp what you require
But really you've been programmed and proselytized until you do not know what
you desire
We come out with different intentions and modifications but I’ll see you in the end
Still that damned snowflake condemned
Categories:
deteriorated, nature, science, social,
Form:
Free verse
The red bucket in my bathroom
suddenly one day broke.
Day by day it deteriorated
till it was revoked.
I needed some plastic
to melt for some work;
the red bucket was chosen
being already shirked.
Little by little, in few days,
the red bucket was cut.
From being a proper bucket,
it was not even its butt.
It sits there in a corner
waiting to die some more.
Unwanted, rejected,
it's not a bucket anymore.
Categories:
deteriorated, abuse, angst, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
I EMPTY the night, you RISE the sun,
remembering all the things that made us...
f a d e away.
hollow is my heart and barren is
my soul,
for I have been bound by all things
that exhaust desolation under the
moon.
your essence has ascended into
the morn glory that reveals the
uprising of creation’s first light-
for you have been bound by all
things that surge into love’s
tenderness.
the constellations used to call my
name yet you arrived without
hesitation.
stardust used to fall upon my
smile because I was looking at
no one else...
but YOU.
the sun used to rise in your eyes
and I was forever lost in memories of
passion and affection,
I thought we shared a rare connection.
diminishing into the soft
silhouette of the eventide sky,
we said goodbye.
we deteriorated and evaporated
into a languish of nonexistence.
I EMPTY the night…you RISE the sun,
you have been redeemed-
I've come undone.
July 9, 2018
Categories:
deteriorated, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
f a d e d and jaded,
complicated and aloof-
I've been created
and replicated,
with no living proof.
I'm nothing but
dilapidated,
left alone and
deteriorated.
washed-out and
colorless.
few is more,
nonetheless-
shabby and faint
a life full of
complaint,
I must confess.
disappearing into
the night,
eyes left blinded
by mere sight-
crowded rooms with
dissolving fabric,
living a life so tragic.
no wrongs can be
made right,
when your deteriorated-
living a life so jaded and...
...f a d e d.
January 10th, 2018
Categories:
deteriorated, loneliness,
Form:
Rhyme
An arthritic flesh
Hesitant wipes off deteriorated lens
Every exhale,
Another tragic sulk unto morrow’s pit
Flaunting suicidal fallacies
Off-white flag motions
Signaling mercy under liar’s duress
Muted pride
Cracking dusty knuckles
Penetration’s decrepit vowel
Slipping in between faulty, stamped licenses
Just to belong
Another back-handed waltz
Bordering beggar dialects
Untrue
Towards paradoxical epiphanies
A faceless identity
Converging amongst unwelcomed hymns
Tainting hallelujahs with discolored spit
Worming their decapitated fingertips
With equilibrium massages
Back to a barricaded oasis
Deciphers from a slanderous heretic
Proclamation of syllabic want
As arthritic flesh
Scribbles out expendable nickname
Manipulating good intentions to be sadistically validated
From their rendered nether
Nameless never inscribed a verse to call their own
Struggling to swim
In the rivers they cried
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
deteriorated, life, sad, society,
Form:
Free verse
The village where my father was born.
After many years
Still has not changed
Except that electricity has arrived ,
The road blacktopped has deteriorated,
And thatched-roof houses are hardly seen.
Yet what I wonder is
As I saw in my childhood long ago,
The village road today is still lonesome,
Cactus and wild bush plants ,in that quietness
Are still growing here and there by the roadside.
And the sprawling paddy fields are as calm
And beautiful as they were seen from the road long ago.
The aged banyan tree standing in the meadow
At the roadside is still in its grandeur.
Under it, I saw my grandfather cremated,
Consigned to flames
When I was a boy of about 10 years old.
My grandfather during his youthful days
Sometimes might have been resting
Under that banyan tree
Tired of wayfaring or working in the paddy field.
Sometimes he might have been waiting
For somebody he loved beneath it
Wearing kurta ,dhoti,and clogs .
My father died six years ago
And I today am an old man
Yet whenever I visited the village
And see the lonely old banyan tree
I remember the days I spent there during my childhood
Particularly the day my grandfather died
And cremated beneath it.
The old peepal tree ,
Growing at the gate of my residence
By the busy road ,
Often I collect its fallen leaves with a broom
In the winter mornings and burn them.
Yet never ponder about its long past.
12th August 2012
Categories:
deteriorated, nature, remember,
Form:
Free verse
‘Out’-discipline!
“Teacher, beaten by student.” “Student stabs another in squabble.”
“Teachers found without Lesson Plan.” “Noise level unbearable.”
Unfortunately, these would only be a few of the sordid headlines;
To duly ‘captivate’ readers, if every school had its own newsletter.
The very fabric of our beloved society has become deteriorated;
Because our homes and schools have failed to function effectively.
The consequences of this failure are dramatic and far-reaching.
Therefore, immediate redress for this chaos, we should be seeking,
Teachers frequently liming; the nation’s youths, we not educating.
Usually unprepared: for work, at work; and, not completing work.
The students are not: studying, doing home-work, nor assignments.
All busy; yet, finding time for gambling, hustling, surfing ****, etc...
The school surroundings depicting ‘pollution party;’ absolutely nasty.
Manners no longer, “maketh man...” nor woman, much-less children.
This is every school’s catastrophe; total, complete, present-day anomie.
Bending/breaking rules, norms, morals or ethics - ‘perfect’ indiscipline.
Indiscipline! Everyone fed-up: teachers, students; even the parents.
Who is now responsible? Corrective measures must make statements.
‘Heads must roll’ for incompetence; ‘butts should burn’ for laziness.
Neither students nor teachers must be ‘late for school,’ or ‘bussing a lime’.
Punishment must definitely be meted out for disrespect to teachers.
Actions must be taken for insubordination, and also for instigation.
Indiscipline must be addressed immediately and harshly, to redress...
We fed-up! We taking absolutely drastic measures to ‘iron-out’ this mess.
End
By: Dion Penville
Categories:
deteriorated, education,
Form:
Narrative
Just Call Me Mr. Spy
Hello,
I’m from an ancient world, and we have never met, and never will.
However, much like presently, in my day, people lived for the thrill.
I experienced that world’s greatest tragedy, and lived to tell the story.
I am not the bravest, smartest, or most beautiful; but I made history.
People of old loved and laughed, and also ate and drank to the fill.
They bought and sold, not worrying about who would pay the bill.
They fell in love and married; and separated, adulterated, and fornicated.
They detoured from their ancestors’ standards, and greatly deteriorated.
Yes, they were civilized sometimes, but also immoral and very violent.
It’s predicted that your world will be just like mine, before the Second Advent.
They were liberated, sophisticated, and also educated in their own way.
They were warned, but never bothered to change, until a deluge came one day.
There was an old man with a wife and three sons, who also had wives.
They worked hard and loved everybody, but also lived good and clean lives.
I know all these things because I was there, observing and raising my family.
That is, until the old man brought me and others into a big boat he built for his family.
You see, I was Noah’s raven, and was blessed to go on that world’s greatest trip.
And you can call me Mr. Spy, because I was the first one to leave the big ship.
03042016 PS Contest, A Tomb of Ancient Bloom, Justin Bordner
Categories:
deteriorated, adventure, analogy, animal, bird,
Form:
Personification
I'll always remember the day you bounded into my life
Cradling you in my arms I wouldn’t let go
I buried my head in your soft brown fur
Then cried with happiness at my first puppy
I’d dash home from school so eager to see you
You were always waiting for me when I walked through the front door
Your tail wagged so fast I thought it would drop off
You’d fetch your lead and sit waiting impatiently
How you loved going for long walks
Rain or shine we would always be together side by side
The muddy puddles fascinated you -
Oh, you couldn’t wait to splash and play just like a toddler!
You were my constant companion for many many years
Over time your health deteriorated
Our walks got shorter and shorter…
I'll always remember the day you were leaving my life
Cradling you in my arms I couldn’t let go
I buried my head in your soft brown fur
Then cried with sadness as the vet put you to sleep
FICTIONAL WRITE
Contest - Goodbye
Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
04~20~16
Categories:
deteriorated, dog, goodbye, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
A Lament--On The
Quality Of Life
Those homes made
of wood and mud!
Mud would in winters
keep cold away
In shivering
summers heat
And wood would give
them an artistic
appearance
The tin-roofs and
fenced verandas.
My mouth would
water with the smell
Mom often fried at
school time
The eggs were laid
by the healthy hens
We raised in our
open yard.
Those potatoes
were hard, and had
a different taste
Although sliced and
fried the same way.
Those village-
women would bear
Every year or two
bear-sized babies
And, with ease!
In the woods, fields,
or orchards
Or in frozen-winters
at home.
Similarly, Love too
was true and pure
When people fell not
in
What the letches call
love,--
So effortlessly and
frequently!
When phones were
not there nor any
dating site
And horses were
used to ride.
(people of developed
nations can't relate
their thoughts and
feelings with the
poem!
But machines,
artificiality, genetic
engineering have
deteriorated for
example the taste of
vegetables; and
destroyed our
emotions.
Hope it's agreed.
Thanks
Categories:
deteriorated, life,
Form:
Free verse
I sat and watched as you stood and cried,
you laid and pondered on why she lied.
For too long we noticed her health decline,
oh please God, why couldn’t it be benign?
For all the moments as we started to look back,
I recall forgetfulness, though it’s hard to keep track.
A mother so strong, how can she have a tumor?
Causing dementia; her memories were fewer.
I show her scrapbooks with pictures of yore,
but I see she doesn’t recognize us like before.
Only sixty-five years old, too young to die,
surgery isn’t an option there’s no reason to try.
Contemplating a home with proper treatment,
but our family keeps discussing in disagreement.
My wish is to keep her here with family around,
but it may be too scary for her to be confound.
We watched her trip and fall and lose her balance,
reaching for help and grabbing onto the valance.
Loss of intellect and personality integration,
so sad to see her struggle with severe frustration.
Slowly she deteriorated and dwindled in weight,
it was only a matter of time, we had to sit and wait.
Delirium and delusions were her greatest symptoms,
all the medical bills added up with loss of income.
She was terminal with irrevocable brain damage,
the mood swings and anger fits were too hard to manage.
It was a cool sunny day when she closed her weary eyes,
I sat and watched all her innocent grandchildren cry.
A beautiful relief was her last breath to be seen,
finally healthy and happy, peaceful and serene.
Date Written: June 2, 2016
Categories:
deteriorated, death, mother,
Form:
Couplet
After all of those times, they don't understand.
The devil in them just wanna kill you man.
Cypress Hill was right. The devil won't let,
Go. He always fights an unfair fight. Because
A child of God got the juice now. He walks,
In the spirit realm and has this protective,
Film stronger than the deteriorated ozone,
Layer. The devil is a fake wannabe player.
He'll pistol whip you, and you'll get up, and,
Fight more, you'll open the door and bullets,
Fly at you and you dodge all of them dude.
That fake punk devil will run away and cry,
And say that crazy fool didn't die. What's,
Up with him? We'll ,you got the juice now.
You study the Word of God. You are just,
Odd. You know his game. You were on my,
Team. He's wondering:
Why can't I get him back to being,
A fiend? Why can't I get him back to selling,
Dope? Why can't I get him back to thinking,
He has no hope? Why can't I get him back,
Into kissing butts of folks? What?
What? This dude is crazy. He's making,
Me tired and lazy. I had that juice. Man,
I used to be the head man under God,
But I just had to be Him. That dude got,
Power. This is some of the things that,
The devil will say to you when you when,
You live the life that's true. He'll be sad,
And blue. All you have to do is continue,
To walk in the spirit, and your very presence,
He'll fear it. Read the Word of God,
And apply it. You got the juice now.
You a child of God. You got the juice,
Even when you may fall short, the devil
Will be out of sort. You will play him out
Like a sport. YOU GOT THE JUICE NOW.
SO TO NO SATANIC SPIRIT BOW.
1-10-11
Categories:
deteriorated, inspirational, lifechild,
Form:
Rhyme
Bullets scream above my head
Rifles pointed in all directions
Earth and shrapnel pound my helmet
My gun is hot and almost empty
The trench has deteriorated, it's vulnerable
We all desperatly crawl for safety
Heading towards the big oak tree
Minutes are an eternity in the merciless mud
While being picked off one by one
I'm almost there my oh sweet haven
Refuge is only feet away
Everyone made it to the big oak tree
As fellow soldiers cheer the way
Assuming i'm the last and almost free
Then i hear a cry say help me please!
Not too far there sits a man
Surrounded by gunfire in his direction
Tears are flowing down his cheeks
Turning around i swiftly crawl
I grab his hand and yell lets go!
Preparing myself to face it all
Grenades are thrown and knock us down
I stood him up and we begin to run
Ignoring the metal in our legs
Our eyes are locked on the big oak tree
Yet in the distance i see a gun
Pointing at him the guy in front
I push him down into the mud
A powerful noise pierced the air
We both go down with a thud
He rolls me over onto my back
Applying pressure to my chest
And drags me to the big oak tree
My vision blurred i faintly see
Everyone is surrounding me
I feel someone grab my hand
Covered in shades of red
My mouth is filled with the taste of iron
I struggle to breathe i cannot swallow
With my final breath i softly say
"I finally made it to the big oak tree."
Categories:
deteriorated, war, me, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Life on earth is a large platform where people show the highness or lowness of spirits of their lives. A queue in time bargaining for the much-awaited satisfaction in life. Just like in litigation, we all undergone proceedings in order to determine our unalienable rights --from conception to birth--judgment has been made whether to preserve or to abandon a life. Is it the longest day of waiting to be born on this earth? Not until we begin to crawl and cry weakly; run and stumble many times; stutter while trying to express the feelings, and get the needed fostering from parents that we realize all these as part of the stages of life. Is it the longest day of molding life inside the house? Not until we are brought up learning under the doctrine of the school to get further knowledge that we see a brighter future. We struggled hard to the academic discussion--from shapes, numbers, reading and into writing, we learned and been guided coherently. Is it the longest day of waiting for commendation? Not until we stepped out from our alma mater and into the challenging workforce that we feel the test of life. We faced many setbacks and blows but determination made us choose to get on it until we gradually climb into the targeted rank. Is it the longest day of the tiring effort to make a living? Not until we retired from work and have seen the fruits of our effort that we begin to feel good enough. As growing old is inevitable, it is about changes in yourself and life. Eyesight begins to dim and hearing fails, agility has turned into weakness, and health deteriorated until you sigh, “It is time to lay all worries to rest and maneuver myself into an open fluorescent green field.”
For all we know, it is still not the end of waiting until we see our next generation coming into being and deserving to be treated as such.
Noel N. Villarosa
12 February 2013
Categories:
deteriorated, day, journey, life, time,
Form:
Prose Poetry