Best God Awful Poems
Turmoil
God awful gut wrenching
nightmare riding
turmoil.
Throat clenching
acid rising murder of crows,
False importance on the trivial grows.
A gag reflex of learned fear
turmoil roils hurricane high
calms counterweight on the psychic scale.
Taste the bitter bile of discontent.
Far fetching fowl…
fouling the content
eating the brash bits of joy
Turmoil.
Categories:
god awful, angst, confusion, depression
Form:
Free verse
Yellowstone in winter. Canyon Falls, Rutherford Park, Old Faithful. Of all the places we had ever visited, this was his favorite. Josh even named one of the elk after his mother. It was while enroute to Rutherford that we encountered the cow, along with her two calves. Blocking the road, she looked up at us as if to say, "Patience, patience." We understood. No babe should lose its mother.
The snow makes a crunching sound as I walk toward the rim of the canyon. The air is crisp and clean, the chill nips at my nose and ears. I watch the falls flowing mightily, endlessly, effortlessly. I muse to myself that eternity must be like Canyon Falls. Each molecule of water contributing to the whole in an unbroken, continuous flow. Not one is more or less important than the other. Everything in its proper time and place. Things are as they should be. The universe continues, the world keeps spinning. The sun seems so far away, as if on some distant journey far from here. Away from this miserable angst-filled planet we call earth. Who could blame it?
My God, he was just twenty-one. I tried, I swear I tried my best to be both mom and dad. But the White Lady ensnared him, seduced him, made him promises, told him she would ease his pain, make him forget. But she lied. She always lies. In the end she won. Smacked her lips, another victim. Another loss of a young life. So, so young. He wanted to be a medical researcher, to find a cure for the cancer that took his mother. Now he is with her. Maybe it was meant to be this way.
This ludicrous lucidity, like a fallen angel, keeps taunting me. Melancholy returns. Loneliness haunts my days and nights. The air is changing, the cold now seeping into my bones. Even my heart feels frozen. Frozen here, frozen in time. How I long to hear a voice. It's so god-awful quiet.
the allure of red
flaming poppy paradise
dreams crushed by abuse
Categories:
god awful, addiction, loss, solitude,
Form:
Haibun
CEZANNE STUDY – The House of the Hanged Man
Late Autumn
Buried in a hill,
Steep as descent from humanity,
A country house stands.
It’s late autumn,
Deep, sick autumn –
Deep as the plunging cellar door,
And fronting, its branches stripped, begging skyward,
This raped tree
Which no longer hides the window –
The window, like a large, trumpeting mouth.
*No E flat clarinet here,
*No Eulenspiegel, opaque humor.
No – The whole, a ground interment,
Is color of rotting flesh,
This God-awful house!
*Til Eulenspiegel was a German buffoon who delighted in playing
nasty tricks on the nobility. He was hanged.
*The E flat clarinet is high pitched, capable of sounding the pitiful
cries of Til as he mounts the scaffold
Categories:
god awful, death, house, autumn, house,
Form:
Free verse
In a little West Texas cow town years ago
There was an old doctor by the name of Hill
Little man, mild mannered, cheerful until made mad
He doctored old cowboys and drunks when things got slow
His usual cure was a kick in the butt and a pill
He had some regular people that weren't to bad
Doctor Hill had some that lived far out of town
On ranches and God awful places Doc was carried
There was one family that lived on a ranch way far out
There name was Brown
An old mother and two daughters not married
The old mother complained to hurt everywhere about
She claimed to be bed ridden, could walk as good as you and me
She fell out of bed one night, the sister did not know what to do
So the called Dr. Hill at ten
So late at night the got in his car to go see
He had been there five times before, he knew what to do
Laying there on the floor, she had done it again
Doc told them to get a blanket and a pillow and put them on the floor
He made a pallet for her and ten he said
"Let's roll her over on to the mat
Put the pillow under her head , then headed for the door
His little round face was turning blood red
Then he said, "Now damn it fall off of that"
Categories:
god awful, cowboy-westernold, mother, old,
Form:
does the process of elimination ~ make much sense by inclusion
or is mans reasoning clearly rearranged ~ by woman’s exclusion
By
David Kavanagh
hms
Categories:
god awful, islamic, rights, women,
Form:
Monoku
Someone please save me
from this God awful place,
where ever I go it's
just a rat race.
People don't care how I
feel or what I say,but
if they aren't careful
they'll be sorry someday.
There are so many people
I love that are dying,
there's times that I feel
like I just can't stop crying.
My mind is a mess,and
my thoughts are unclear,
the day of my suicide
I feel is near.
I am always letting people
take advantage of me,I
wish they would open their
eyes,and see what I see.
I want for my life to just
be done,I am tired of
wondering which way
I should run.
There are many people
who love me no doubt,
but if they lived what I lived,
they to would want out.
I've tried to figure out why
people do what they do,
but I know someday soon
it will all be through.
Categories:
god awful, depressionlove, me,
Form:
Rhyme
I wake again, the sky still ash
Mostly soft, not quite the weight of lead
seen at five a.m; that god awful flash
of knowing there is nothing when dead
Here inside a room, trying to recall
if sleep or darkness shapes it all
Whiskey breath eats away my face
Oh good! Aubade… finally shows a trace
The afterlife sleeps in, it always does
Woken up in the usual way
Another drink, a top-up buzz
Lifts my spirits, just above dismay
I fumble around with unopened post
Get dressed, eat flakes, feeling like toast
Hope and despair make a meagre pact:
That life bears fruit, and breakfast lacked
I breathe, then sniff, try steady a hand
light a smoke, or slap on a patch
Gesture defiance, attempt to stand
brave it out past the hallway latch
Go search, or not, for what comes after
opt in, opt out, call on the pastor
Who's high as a kite on altar wine,
“There's nothing” he sobs, “or do you bring a sign?”
His eyes light up, as I offer him a line
And you know! that day turned out just fine.
Categories:
god awful, aubade, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
Somewhere out there
Illuminations still twinkle, just not here.
Lost in the absence of that God-awful sparkling light,
Everyone fighting is praying for a silent night.
Now on the battlefield a hush is commanded,
The warring factions apparently disbanded.
No one is pushing buttons or pulling a trigger,
Inside camps men lay exhausted by wars’ rigor.
Giving thanks to the almighty,
Hell will wait; so must Aphrodite.
Tears will wash away most reasons to fight.
For the Holiday Acrostic Challenge
Categories:
god awful, introspection, peace,
Form:
Acrostic
Soon all things will owe themselves to progress
and nature will neither wane nor wax
accosted by bulbs and cog-laden streams.
Children in god-awful Christmas jumpers
gather around the May-pole to watch
the leaves become what they’re deprived of.
We are taught to fear puddles, duty free
purchases, and heroes speak in slant rhyme.
Thermodynamics washes the feet
of tired old gravity, entropic
kisses to keep loved ones close; parody—
if absence does what it does, we should leave
and never return to this place of progress
where bluebells can’t frost and starlings sing falsetto.
Categories:
god awful, science, visionary,
Form:
Sonnet
It isn’t the incandescence that bothers me
It’s that anyway you spin the arrow,
Whatever goal or mission or path you undertake,
They’re all correct.
The full force of your efforts is all that matters.
A congress of pelicans came to dinner last night
While I swung scallops at the High Mistress.
The miasma! My asthma!
You’ve driven me right down Knucklehead Lane now.
My knee hurts. I should’ve taken Hertz and
Let the engine roar up into a God-awful thunder.
Jumping in and out of mosques.
Carrying news I can't interpret.
Practicing silliness under the cupboard,
Beside the space that has no name.
I am that space with a wicked haughtiness.
I am also however lofty I dare my balloon to rise,
Navigating my own slim spool.
Dr. Thumbopolis is ready for me now.
Time to stop writing.
Don’t dare bring this back to “incandescence.”
(You horrible hack.)
What bothers you if not the flooding light
Busting through baseboards, then?
Go on. Answer.
Categories:
god awful, life,
Form:
Free verse
Lying here beside you dear, I turn and watch you sleep,
So blessed I am to have you, a love so strong and deep.
You always say you love me, but I really love you more,
That is till’ I’m startled by the most god-awful snore!
The noise is so outrageous, that it vibrates in my head,
I’m shaken like a rag doll, like an earthquake hit our bed.
I know in any relationship, there’re highs and there’re lows,
But what’s that awful whistling sound coming from your nose?
I stare at you in utter shock, your mouse is gaping wide,
A sound like spaceships exploding is coming from inside.
I throw the nearest thing at you, an empty coffee cup,
I throw a plate, a lamp, an egg, but you just won’t wake up!
You told me that you wouldn’t snore, well I guess you told me fibs,
So I sharpen up my elbow and I smash you in the ribs!
You groan in pain and I believe, that silence will return,
I push your shoulder strongly in the hopes that you will turn.
Alas you are still sound asleep, although you fart and cough,
With a noise that’s reminiscent of an Airbus taking off!
Your snores renew with great force and grew louder than before,
So I kicked you off the bed and you crushed onto the floor!
I can’t believe it! What the f***? How can you sleep through that?
I’m really, really angry now, I want to sleep, you ****!
I lean across the bed to where you’re lying on the floor,
Oh, you landed on your back I see, and still I hear you snore!
I yell your name, there’s no reply, it’s like you’re comatose,
So I reach out my hand in the dark and grab you by the nose.
You splutter and you’re drooling, still sound asleep, no cares,
Oh screw this! So much for some sleep, I’m off to sleep downstairs!
Categories:
god awful, feelings, humor, sleep,
Form:
Rhyme
This what would happen in an alternate Universe
Many things would be different and oceans dispersed.
There's no such thing as hunger, water or air.
Because everyone's a vapor without any care.
C
We float around ambiguously trying to speak
Listening to the sounds of the impermeable weak
No one told you about this project ongoing
It's called X gene, selfless absorbing
R
It turns you into a gene pooled blob
Alters your DNA and pops your corn cob
Making popcorn with your soul
Seemingly making you whole.
A
This is what happens when you take too much
Your brain will end up on the sidewalk and such
Basically you won't ever come back
From smoking and smoking that god awful crack.
C
Drugs are bad mmkay
This what I say
K
Stay in drugs, go to milk and don't do school.
See what happens, now who’s the fool?
Anyone annotates astutely astounds
But baby bounces ballistic-ally brags
Can catching crazy come coining creativeness?
Categories:
god awful, addiction, analogy, best friend,
Form:
Rhyme
Kangaroos look funny in horns and underoos
Nothing like the holidays down under…
So many sweets to taste and plunder…
Mistletoe hung over head…
Sweet dreams in our slumbering bed…
The jolly man shimmying down
The hot family hearths
Not making a sound making his rounds
Asbestos underwear protecting his parts
The sweaty old boy in red
Cursing the heat of points this far south
While blimey citizens are snug in bed
Explicatives flowing from his mouth
Merry Christmas to all those down under
And happy New Year a day bloody sooner
Having no snow is a god awful blunder
The whole island should be sat in a corner!
Rlm ‘10
Categories:
god awful, funny, holiday, seasons, travel,
Form:
Honeydew on the grass sparkles with life as the Sun comes up shining.
Way up yonder the Horizon’s preparing for its glorious arising.
Purple, blue and gray radiantly come together and all stand out alone,
Way up under this great big earthly dome.
Bird’s shadows fly at distances, yet each distinct by their flocks belted,
And each disappears away in colorful misty skies where all of them roam!
Beauty in foresight is clearly seen on this perfect unthought-of day,
Even to my own likings of a surprising.
Too compelling just knowing that all days are counted by,
Each exact group already individualized by being numbered!
Foliage secretes from its many branches of trees per several hundreds.
All with there own story to make known to the unknown.
Consistently re-budding as season’s change to each one that is now arising.
All seeming to prepare for that God-awful battle called Armageddon.
Years pass on and still the Sun comes onto the horizon.
Life’s at a standstill, yet, steadily ticking with the hands of time to carry on.
Nothing can be done to stop the cycle of our Earth’s creation.
For every beginning there is and ending as it is to see
Dawning is “The Sun on the Horizon”!
Be thankful that you have this very day,
For the Sun is rising upon the horizon,
What a wonderful liaison!
®Registered: Ann Rich 2001
Categories:
god awful, imagination, inspirational, introspection, life,
Form:
Narrative
One rusty nail once pierced my hand
Salt, blood, pain, I could not bear
The cost, playing brave yet lost;
Klim and sugar my hands did steal
I was a thief not waiting for my meal.
My hands once penned god-awful words
Pointing to one I traced, one still of worth.
My hands have labored like a giant
Cloaked in child's clothing; I could not say I can't.
My hands have held new life I've borne as friend
Lord knows, I needed caring hands, and then
I crossed bridges, ocean waters; my flight came to an end.
My hands have tried reaching up
They've been misled, held by hands filling their own cup.
My hands I've clasped in prayer during rain
I've strayed, and played, could speak of mighty pain
But my hands weren't tied, never chained.
Mine were the hands taking a stand with willing feet
When on a snowy morning, the Savior I did meet.
He appeared as blessings in disguise
His smile seemed warm; something clouded my eyes
Until His invisible touch reshaped my mind's eyes.
He told me His hands were pierced, and as He bled
He humbly bowed, and bled, and died in my stead;
So that I could live anew, and share what my Savior did do.
Now, these hands won't hesitate to pen...
He still holds my hand as dearest of friend.
*
Categories:
god awful,
Form:
Bio