Best Dosed Poems
Please tell me there's a healing anodyne,
some kind of mythical enlightenment,
a cure capable of extinguishing the flames
of grief burning deep within my heart.
It's a fire I cannot douse or smother.
If there is a balm, something known to man,
I beseech you, bathe me in its pacifying waters
before my heartache drives me insane.
Cleanse the malignancy lost love has wrought.
In the song of a lark I found a brief respite.
His voice soothed the beast blazing in my breast
but then off he flew before I slept.
My ache found but a moment's relief
then returned to plague me, smoldering again.
I linger in sorrow, without means of escape
from a life of recurring fear and doubt.
Is there no utopian Shangri La or illusive Camelot
where memories of us will not haunt me?
If not, I must endure this anguish to my grave.
In desperation, I planted a garden of herbs
and nibbled leaves of chamomile and yarrow,
but no analgesic did they prove to be.
I should've sown hemlock to end my misery.
What anodyne will succor the look of disdain
I see, when in a mirror I sorrowfully visualize
the love his eyes once held for me?
If the antidote blinds me, I beg to be dosed.
I would sacrifice sight to set my heart free.
June 18, 2022
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Categories:
dosed, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
At sunrise newlyweds wandered from camp
hiking into unfamiliar terrain.
And now they have to spend the night in the
desert despite their unbearable thirst.
The sweltering heat of the day lingers
as the sun sets just behind the mountains.
And darkness merges with inky shadows
pooling deep within the cooler crevices.
They dosed off to the mumbled whisperings
of windblown sands rippling across the dunes.
And though their canteen was nearly empty
there had to be water somewhere out there.
Her husband asleep she filled his canteen
and took the empty one to find water.
And although she swore no tears, they still came
not for her but for the man left behind.
Wakened by the searing kiss of the sun
he realized the selfless thing she’d done.
And though he looked for her she was long gone
so he followed her tenuous footsteps.
He found her collapsed, exhausted and near death
and they shared the few drops of water left.
Yet in the midst of death's dusty embrace
angels in helicopters rescued them.
Categories:
dosed, angst, death, imagery, love,
Form:
Blank verse
This wake, I owed it to you, my defining moment :
for the raw melding, of life imprisonement
and death behind the bars. The sin had
seeped slowly in the foundations. A blurred view
of the caravan passing on the shifting sand
of quarter-century; the devastation had turned
black in smug oasis, the victim will not
become virgin again. Blind dead will monitor
the course of grievers. On to her tongue
I leave the endless stars and you will forget
the bull-dosed windows and weeping walls
of incaracerated house where the daily meals
were sex and rape ; the strange shadows
of crime and pardon are breaking now
in blue sky after the defeating moon.
SATISH VERMA
• After hearing the verdict on Josef Fritzl on 19th March 09
Categories:
dosed, adventure, allegory, angst, animals,
Form:
Spiked Drinks Got Them All So Rolling Drunk
Universe spun out of control and died
The planets sputtered out and then fell
The southern boy liked his chicken fried
And preacher's young son rang the old church bell
Hope lost its heart and thus began to cry
The throng laughed away, nobody cared
High sheriff asked, did anybody die
Mike gathered rabbits he had snared
Janet put on blue gown for that night's ball
As her older brother Bill dosed the keg
While white mouse in the corner saw it all
Kelly in miniskirt showed her legs.
Spiked drinks got them all so rolling drunk.
Most f'ed up of all was the local monk.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet,
1973
"A prom night to remember"
Categories:
dosed, 12th grade, art, corruption,
Form:
Sonnet
A rebuttal to Lord Tennyson's famous lines of 'In Memoriam' ~
"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Please tell me there's a healing anodyne,
some kind of mythical enlightenment,
a cure capable of extinguishing the flames
of grief burning deep within my heart.
It's a fire I cannot douse or smother.
If there is a balm, something known to man,
I beseech you, bathe me in its pacifying waters
before my heartache drives me insane.
Cleanse the malignancy lost love has wrought.
In the song of a lark, I found a brief respite.
His voice soothed the beast blazing in my breast
but then off he flew before I slept.
My ache found but a moment's relief
then returned to plague me, smoldering again.
I linger in sorrow, without means of escape
from a life of recurring fear and doubt.
Is there no utopian Shangri La or illusive Camelot
where memories of us will not haunt me?
If not, I must endure this anguish to my grave.
In desperation, I planted a garden of herbs
and nibbled leaves of chamomile and yarrow,
but no analgesic did they prove to be.
I should've sown hemlock to end my misery.
What anodyne will succor the look of disdain
I see, when in a mirror I sorrowfully visualize
the love his eyes once held for me.
If the antidote blinds me, I beg to be dosed.
I would sacrifice sight to set my heart free.
Previously posted by Jenna Logan, aka Lin Lane 2020.
Categories:
dosed, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
WHEN I WAS LITTLE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
When I was little everyone was old or tall
An innocence that spiraled into free fall
Most everything then was black or white
Most everything then was wrong or right
I trusted anything that was dosed to me
I thought all ideas were given motive free
Then as I aged the white inched into to gray
The black wasn’t as inky like on the first day
Only natures action are faithfully true
Veracity depends on “ what’s in it for you”
The truth can be skewed to suit any end
Omissions make deceit easy to comprehend
The truth isn’t as clear as best I can recall
Depends on the author, is it factual at all ?
The truth can be hazardous to ones health
It gets in the way of accumulating wealth
Scams and shams should be an olympic sport
Like sworn testimony in many a court
Those guarantees that never will expire
Save the certificates for starting a fire
I am cynical, doubtful about any narration
Fidelity is now a figment of my imagination
It’s especially sad when the government lies
No regard for the impact on peoples lives
Those that are trustful keep close to you
Force all others to prove they are true
It’s easy to be honest, but easier to renege
What the hell happened on the road to big
Categories:
dosed, allusion, analogy, confidence, feelings,
Form:
Rhyme
A Letter to Granddad
I remember the last moments before you passed away
Walking out the door, and hearing you say
“I can’t remember his face, I can’t remember his name”
I could hear in your voice, your suffering and pain
It truly hurt to notice, what you had become
Seeing you so fragile and physically numb
They dosed you up med’s so you didn’t hurt
But it all did was drain you, make you less alert
You became more and more fragile every time I would visit
I had to keep telling myself , you were terminally hit
The night you finally passed to the other side
There was no one with me, no one at my side
I had to stand there, as the guy that was strong
Not just for myself, but for everyone
Because of my ways, I had no time to grieve
Which made me push friends, to the point they would leave
I started taking my pain out on the ones that was close
They knew I was hurting, but I hurt them the most
For years and years I kept it all in a bottle
Until one day, my foot hit the throttle
I started to lash out, I’d scream and shout
I wouldn’t tell anyone what it was all about
Then I met some special, I know you would approve
She would have melted your heart, without a point to prove
She made me realise, I had something to do
That’s go to your grave side, and talk to you
I hadn’t done that, since the day you were rested
I should have gone off my own back, not when suggested
But the longer I left it, the harder it was getting
I didn’t want to lose my strength, didn’t want upsetting
I know it was selfish, and being selfish isn’t me
Thankfully that special one, made that clear to see
I had a lot of grief, that I held for so long
When I visited you, it all came out as one
Now I feel I have finally had that chance grieve,
I can become stronger, and I can start breathe
I only have one thing, that I have left to say
I love and miss you granddad, each and every day
Categories:
dosed, bereavement, best friend, cancer,
Form:
Rhyme
Charcoal tar and gold brown tobacco
are both packed into a paper stick pressed
firm and trusting to the lips of a modern shaman
inhaling a cloud of harsh, strong, bold, and bitter barbs
that caress the tongue and prick and stick to pink organ flesh.
Disorientating nicotine is potentate in his scheme
it's purpose similar to black coffee; smooth and polished
blended beans for those late nights and early mornings.
His baked euphoria is living a constant maximum dosed out
and measured into separate jars of aromatic herbs.
Some for brewing, some for burning
each action acting in different ways to bring forth the contained mystic
hidden, shackled, held bare within his copper frame
conducting the currents of living, learning, thriving emotion
and like alchemy the chemistry
is solid.
He is the sum of all his parts.
He is the sum of all his senses.
Jolts, bolts, and shudders are
controlled through clever use of contraband
to establish simultaneous fluidity of thought and action;
Thereby soothing the soul and softening the daily struggle;
bluntly unnatural to every one of us
simple lovers of peace and passionate emotion.
He chases the dragon
He chases experience
through vistas both brief, and limited in scope,
to gain a sense of things
Great.
He is rounded at the corners
He is the sum of curved edges
smoothed and polished
(like coffee beans) in composition
balanced
by talented influence.
He is the stone worn strong
by paving a path where none is present.
He is the sword forged strong
through temper and tradesmen excellence.
He is man standing tall against the landscape
held up as a bastion of collected worth,
with marbled walls all round in a carved statue of constructed rock
aged fine by the time and the wind of the element opposition.
He separates the skyline,
the layline,
the landscape,
and delegates the elevation of the land beneath his feet.
He moves, builds, crafts, and dictates
(as the spider to the fly)
to bring his titan pen to the white page;
empty and inviting.
Categories:
dosed, visionary
Form:
COPLA 90 INVOCATION: This Bad Guy World
The more you’re Yang the more the Yin
Will seek to plague you : that’s the Law :
Must mess such mean
The consummate Yang does not win
Asceticism’s outside the Law :
Golden’s the mean
If you think you’re the Son of God
The Yin will plan your end by Cross :
Die not extreme
The genes so dosed none’ll be Lord
Even incarnated good’ll be loss :
Is Justice seen
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
dosed, conflict, creation, god, good
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
She who holds a seamlessly symmetrical silhouette
so supple to the touch
coupled by hips on sticks of tango, that inimitable set of pins
simper at all that you clutch
Bob nearer the eyes of delight
now attune and bound for that which you pine.
sweet quarry in search of marvel, of unmoved bliss
of skin against skin and devoid of the wine
Posture within posture you exude the line
that this foreplay is vessel to where
and piece in arriving where you began
tender so to flatter the tips of foothills
and the tally of the gentle man.
He fastidious with his touches and the gather
Dosed with melodious songs of time
that dance inside a stone-solid nightstick
making shape of fervent ferry
perfect in rhythm, poignant in rhyme
Edging toward frenzy, blinded by light that cuts athwart
He in whisper, you in shiver, ever-soft, all through the night.
You embrace and clutch that which you won.
Two mere afloat - amid sugary scented, tepid milk
and silk of a tensile strength higher than the foil.
Both in concert but as one.
Revel inside the puff and wail delight
bask in pallid threads of all heavens
and darkle with enchanted angels.
Blush, preserve the sevens and elevens
Yelp at the moon and talk in tongues
assent to leer toward implosion
Near slumber now, etch precious
beside the scent of the richest of teas
and bouquets of nomadic autumn
Sleep over leaves that are green
and kaleidoscope-vivid
enhance your reverie and tempt the pungent perfume
of the tenderly-parented Pinot
Categories:
dosed, passionautumn,
Form:
Free verse
I’ve learnt to understand that….
A prohibitive degree of inner freedom –
Not a caprice but a strain.
Up to the end it will remain!
I’ve learnt to understand that….
The tales we dream up
We write out of our own head.
And…. we should cherish that!
I’ve learnt to break up the rules,
So that no one should be hurt.
Using my own tools,
I would like to avoid the dirt.
I’ve learnt to believe that….
There are no ideal relations.
They can be sometimes brief,
Very often with a frustration.
I’ve learnt to feel that….
Striving for harmony I love disharmony.
Loving in everything the truth
The lies sometimes sooth.
I’ve learnt to be patient,
Though not everyone knows it.
It’s better to be absent
Than to throw a stone into a ****.
I've learnt not to be afraid of any competition,
There is only right or wrong choice,
There is only someone's ambition,
There is only strong or weak voice.
I’ve learnt to understand that….
Love can't be found where it doesn't exist,
Love can't be hidden where it is.
And... always has it’s own sound .
I've learnt to accept that....
I feel comfortable and relaxed,
If someone rules the most,
Only when I want it myself and it is dosed.
I've learnt not to argue
And ...to say 'adieu'.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Categories:
dosed, life,
Form:
Couplet
Together, we should fly away –
leave behind our average day
Let’s break from mundane routine –
inhale exciting to exhale serene
Our daily sameness lacks changes ~
let’s peak inside spontaneous exchanges
Imagine waking to momentaneous outcomes ~
shaking time’s ill-dosed humdrums
Not knowing life’s daily sum
would defuse our everyday numb!
... CayCay
April 1, 2019
Categories:
dosed, change, happiness, happy, life,
Form:
Rhyme
Fear not for i hold you in my heart
I was not bought but was made
In the perfection of the image of the maker
My heart smiles to you all for your good wishes
You sang melodiously to me in tribulation
To calm my dying soul which seek help.
I won't forget your kindness in the dark
But your warmth enduring smiles will last
Forever in my smiling heart of hope.
Tell Ugonma, i am doing good now
She is not a deceiver all i know
To Ugochinyere, for holding my pen
THose times i dosed off on the table in the night
Tell Nnamdi, i forget not his tales and poems
My ears are dying to listen again without pain
Mother was there when the dreams were slippery
Away but she made my heart smiled again
Thanks to the great beholders of pen
They inspired me dawn and dusk in their books
Acknowledgement so long i wrote in absence of gut
Inspire my orders in the dawn not revised motion
Skeletal wishes from the immovable heart of a queen
To Ranyinudo, for guiding my thoughts to book
I won't forget the whispering of that lonely queen
She sang to me and showed me what love means to her
To the people of Exra-ordinary- talents(POET) warm wishes
Embraces to Mccoy, who slept every day with the manuscript
Kisses have i sent to father for his moral support
My sister showed me what womanhood stood for, grace to her
My brother danced day and night to see me through
My heart smiles to you all for your kind gesture
Register your good deeds in your heart
some are registered in my palms for rewards
I wished for my wish to become a wish come true
So to increase your worth and value
Say me well to Nwayibe, i hold her
Tight in my heart but my erudite pen will fail me in honouring you here.
TO Ifeanyi, i love your courage
TO Mbanefu, i promise never disappointing
Disgrace not fear but handle him with care.
To chimaobim, I am becoming a great writer.
To Ifesinachi, thanks for teaching me how to hold pen
John chizoba vincent cares, i cares for you all
To ifedayo, i promise to beat the drum louder.
To my ancestral home, i will write about
You when the world recognizes my voice
To my humble friend, the pen, i hold you high above all
My image maker, God, i love you above all
My photocopy, mother, i missed your love
To my carbon copy, father i am doing just fine.
My humble heart smiles to you all.
©John chizoba Vincent
Categories:
dosed, beautiful,
Form:
ABC
They like their news delivered intravenously
Nonstop drip of
horrific images pumped straight to the cortex
Ophthalmologically dosed every hour
Raw footage unedited,
fatal tragic scenes
unfiltered
on the television screen
Traumatized survivors giving ghastly, weeping accounts
Macabre absorption byway of visual osmosis
sends them into an euphoric stupor
Bad news junkie getting their daily fix,
strung out wi-fi broadcast junkie
needing another viral hit
Crashes of any kind —
automobile, train or plane
Flesh and metal wreckage
emitting twisted howls of pain and suffering
Shootings flares of societal fireworks:
gang bang related ... code blue police incidents;
chance encounters ill-fated ... sleeper cells blazing discontent
Breaking news carnage is a bonus viewing perk
Bad news is like an addiction,
some gotta have their daily fix
Bad news junkies
need another calm-the-nerves hit
So plunge the telecast syringe
into the veins of the eyeball
Orange Clockwork over time will desensitize
Blood and guts , bullets and tears
splattered and spilled on the sidewalk
Death and violence is so very news normalized
Bad news junkie
love getting their morning mayhem wake up stim
And when getting cranked seeing the evening disasters,
they nod to their self: it’s better you than them
Categories:
dosed, addiction, drug, metaphor, truth,
Form:
Free verse
The world is filled violence and there’s nothing we can do
Honestly I believe that the first line wasn’t true
We want a better world but we make it so disastrous
The fact that it’s easier to do nothing is just way too monstrous
What is wrong with us, are we really such evil beasts
Treating each other as if we’re each other’s feasts
We want less pain, less garbage and way less crimes
But we had so many chances to end these crazy times
We choose to do nothing but yet we choose to teach
But honestly I think it’s time to practice what we preach
Unless we want to kill ourselves and end the human race
These thoughts really affect my heart; just see the fear upon my face
We want to live forever but we’re causing global warming
We don’t want to die but it’s by the knives and the guns we’re living
They say the youths are the future but I see none
I looked for a place that actually had peace but I couldn’t find one
Drugs and alcohol spread faster than the truth
In fact we cover it up because it wasn’t cute
I know the truth is really ugly but it’s way much better than the world
Children of the world, it’s time to start being a boy or girl
Instead of being monsters doing all this evil
Like if we were puppets of the devil
It’s time to cut the strings and start doing what’s right
And maybe our future may actually be bright
Because unless the world does something the world will be a mess
You can’t expect for something to be clean if we’re just dosed into nothingness
Senselessness, worthlessness; the world is messing up my head
I would rather be dead than take back all these words I should’ve said
Categories:
dosed, corruption, drug, , cute,
Form:
Couplet