Best Malignancy 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:
malignancy, heartbreak,
Form:
Free verse
Critically injured
How deep the cut
Surely time would heal
A river of blood
From the wounds
Her sons lay dead in the fields
Extremities mangled
Conscience tormented
From sores that festered and burst
Bloated bodies
Stench of death
As bigoted hate was rehearsed
Reluctant surrender
Her fever broke
The physical damage immense
The worst had past
Was the belief
Final outcome remained in suspense
Her body blemished
By the scars
A never ending reminder
Emotional wounds
Linger and loom
Sadly she can't put behind her
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
Categories:
malignancy, america, conflict, history, meaningful,
Form:
Rhyme
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:
malignancy, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Art from the heart, a religion of ritual,
where One summons God and glory to center stage,
your spirit enriched by the self confidence that ensues
as inspiration smells like cedar and feels like sanctity,
the physics of mystics in an eye the mind won't deny,
whence a penny is a prize with a wish
to ventilate a voice of sensitive wisdom,
sensational seeing into the human condition,
visions of vinegar in virtue, visciousness in victory, mercy in the face of malignancy,
pleasure in the panic of risk, pain in the placid avoidence of adventure,
securing an ownership in a Universe from our births unto burials
worshiping composition and the partnership it represents,
Vermeer & Vivaldi, Beehtoven & Bosch, amatuer & adept,
feeling like an angel with demon bones, fusing two atmospheres together,
a holy parade of brazen beliefs putting a new world in order for all,
a micro euphoria, a macro excitment, accomplishment ambrosia,
happiness warm and wakeful in hearts pumping for promise,
for a covenant crafted in a workshop outfitted for you, for what you were ment to do,
volunteering to be a lightning rod of a Goddess crazed with passion,
a power placed in One's fibers for maximum purpose by a trusting Deity,
raise humanity's awareness to the truth that existence is an exercise in artistry,
faith framing futurity within the purity
of knowing that I am where I belong, I belong where I am -
J.A.B.
Categories:
malignancy, art, universe,
Form:
Didactic
When Love Dies
When love dies it takes sanity under ugly
Drops it in a foreign land beneath cold sand
No rock will take it underneath
It cannot fit or breathe there with the bugs
Because it stinks of death
Lost in decay disinteresting
Rocks have better things to do
They sit there on the brink
Some are solid in their dark
Say nothing of their fate
No reason to think of culture or living things
Malignancy is not their cup of tea
When love dies trees forget to grow
They know the better part of valor
Rooted in the truth
Discretion knows nothing of the pain
When love dies the memory remains
Categories:
malignancy, absence, death, horror, identity,
Form:
Free verse
Saudade for friends I have lost
as I get older
I lose more people
every year
more people I knew
have died moving on
and I mourn their lost friendship
wished I had been
a better friend for them
and knew them better
and with the corona virus
spreading around the world
I will lose so many more
in the coming year
as the virus spreads
its malignancy far and wide
I lost my father due to cancer in 1985
and my sister
due to a freak illness in 2007
and my mother
due to Alzheimer’s in 2005
and my father-in-law as well in 2007
Demel Tucker
high school debate teammate
dead of HIV in 1995
Julian Bartley and his son
died in a terrorist bombing
in Nairobi in 1998
Jon Weber college roommate
dead due to prostate cancer
in 2000
Paul Simon friend from the visa line
dropped dead of a heart attack
in 2004
Ted Halstead
one of my best bosses
died of heart attack in 2007
Chris Richard
one of my former bosses
from my days in Bangkok
dropped dead of a heart attack
shortly before we were due
to have lunch in 2014
and so many others
I have lost
along the way
and soon there will be
so many more
as I get old in the corona era
Categories:
malignancy, anger, angst, anxiety, death,
Form:
Elegy
I will stand with mighty pen in hand,
the pen like a sharp sword drawn, waiting
to pierce calloused shell, inadequate armor of the soulless...
a crimson tide washes up on snow white sands,
flowing on a blank page as normal melds with the strange,
my truth, your truth, many truths in a world of lies.
Do not despise what you do not understand.
We each have our own voice...
Rise, stand with your sword drawn!
Even when the cold breath of censorship breathes
down your neck, chilling the bone, watching,
tainting the well, stand alone!
I will stand and fight for my love.
I will kiss every word with tender lips.
I will caress the lines and spaces,
all have found a home, reaching for stars,
united, preserved for time - yours and mine.
Indifference is a malignancy, insidious and destructive.
Our mute voices may one day cry out in vain - too late...
Censors be damned!
All who slash with red pen, all who write with invisible ink,
all who destroy behind the walls of their decency -
they are the cowards who choose to condemn.
Here and now, take a stand!
Next, your words will fall prey to the thief -
skulking, stalking, attacking, stealing -
in the dead of night, taking all you cherish.
May our words live to tell.
May we never hide.
To stand or fall? Make a choice, decide!
Written for the Stand Contest on September 12, 2012
Categories:
malignancy, angst, devotion, words,
Form:
Free verse
Smog
Nebulous malignancy
Choking the city
Threatening residence; foul fugitive
Fog
Categories:
malignancy, environment,
Form:
Cinquain
I’m back in my childhood’s home
in its dank and dismal cellar
walking warily, unsteadily down
ancient
narrow
stairs.
The old-time wash machine with wringer
stands there in the center of the gloom
as I remember well it always used to.
Above me is the hanging bulb
with my late step-dad’s makeshift switch
which once I was electrocuted by (strange current went surging
from my fingers to the middle of my arm).
My eyes are just beginning to adjust.
But still it is so black.
Something’s in this room with me.
I sense, I do not see malignancy -
It’s omniscient; omnipresent
and pressing onto me.
A bat is fluttering eerily;
I know this, and yet I cannot see its wheeling frantic wings.
I make my way
so slowly to the bulb
suspended from the low and cobwebbed ceiling.
Reaching out I grasp the switch,
and a face appears suddenly before me.
Fear washes over my entire being. . .
Satan has me!
(This was, in fact, a nightmare, the worst I ever had. Nothing else ever came close!)
Categories:
malignancy, childhood, , cute,
Form:
Free verse
For thus I am entangled in a web of despair!
A widow's orb of woven thread.
'Tis a stalker's venom that keeps me there.
A visceral poison; paralyzing it spreads.
Transformed; trampled, worn and threadbare!
Wherewith in my mind; 'tis death that treads!
Bid me this death and I shall dare!
A malignancy that carries to suicide’s deathbeds.
Somewhere in whirlwinds dreary mist;
Ruthless emotions that I’ve amassed.
O’ what of these debilitating migraines that still persist.
Of these imperishable thoughts that last and last;
Then I question; what of my youth placed at risk;
Gone like the dusk, dim and vast!
And of the fragrant flowers that no longer exist?
Withered by remorse from my past!
A lonely dispirited soul, frayed by angst, I ride on misery's carousel;
Persecuted by unquenchable blame;
Ensnared with guilt; shackled invisibly to a living hell.
Plagued, tormented; a scorching paranoia set aflame.
I've suffered and watched as life slips away, a pitiful soul, an empty shell.
What of this dishonor its tainted my name.
There in the darkest depths of the abyss where I dwell;
I’m tormented in evil’s shame!
Guilt leads the way along this desolate journey; filled with anguish!
And what of this wretched heart that keeps me stirring?
That’s perched me upon a precipice where my joy does languish;
Alone and trembling!
O’ sweet joy, sweet precious joy, I pray do not vanish.
I seek this buried treasure that keeps me yearning.
This desperate quest filled with years of dead despair, I cannot relinquish.
My eyes red, masked with anger; smoldering
'Tis a mighty river’s rush, a surging anger dwelling deep within.
A thunderous beating pulse pounds my chest,
Unbearable this terror; this debilitating din
O’ this intolerable throbbing that I detest;
Its heaven’s glorious mercy I seek while engulfed in sin,
My body quivers, I've given my all, I’ve done my best.
And sought relief, but realize that what’s to come has already been.
For it is these demons that I cannot put to rest.
Categories:
malignancy, angst, anxiety, conflict, depression,
Form:
Narrative
exclamation, which does nothing to stem dead locked high tide
proliferation of high-powered assault bazookas
manned by berserk cruel death eaters,
arch nemesis picks off life with a blip
simultaneously bipedal hominid(s) grip handily rounded dirk
as backup in case clip
misses mark, where siege mentality induces
nationwide sprinting into lockdown mode deterring by a drip
fiendish homicidal metamorphoses, where transmogrification
of generic guy wielding weapon subjugating hostages pits malignancy fill lip
mailer daemon hell bent on besieging bait (unaware
Snapchatting linkedin flickr ring beings) burst deadly quip
barrage of bullets malicious intent to spray
killing machines deliver click and rip
paying plenti deathly instagram howls amidst pandemonium,
thence funereal slip
epitaphs etched on tombstones proliferate taking souls to Hades trip.
Brutal and nasty nefarious scheme directed at humble lettered folks
(like those comprising my home town -
once evoked pastoral meme Lake Woebegone)
minding their p's and q's, when in extremis
out of the blue nightmare interrupts idyllic dream
a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings terrorist catcall
followed by red tide and river of bloodied body where caskets
rendered veneer of dark wood within lies corpse,
pistol whipped, shredded and outkast, where mortician daubs creme.
Soundcloud boom echoes, thus occurs staccato sinister sonic strafes across
freshly fielded tombstone; pearl jam gray slate, some formerly anonymous
namesake, which underling, higgs bo son or daughter blitzkrieg cross
invisible trajectories shatter (at shutterfly speed),
democratic rubric rendered dross
disposable lives of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence
pines nostalgia for Mill on the Floss
when life seemed innocent against gun metal gloss
wails of agony at another human loss.
Categories:
malignancy, absence, dark, faith, hate,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Anger does not cleanse the wounded soul;
Invites no healing to the bosom scarring
By thoughtless word or unintended scroll.
‘Tis more than hurt the mind so marring
Nurtures the malignancy that sears inside
Invites no healing to the bosom scarring—
The constant ache signals the ailing pride
Self-loathing eroding from deep within,
Nurtures the malignancy that sears inside.
More than merely misnomer’d fragile skin
One’s whole being suffers from self-defeat
Self-loathing eroding from deep within.
From crippling anger the soul must retreat
Before the whole personality is eaten alive
One’s whole being suffers from self-defeat.
One so consumed must want to thrive
Anger does not cleanse the wounded soul,
Before the whole personality is eaten alive
By thoughtless word or unintended scroll.
Categories:
malignancy, anger, depression, hurt,
Form:
Terzanelle
Mournful melancholy makes her miserable,
Murky moods move her to morosity,
She's miffed and morbid, her mind is mourning,
Moping about in mellow melancholia,
Marred in misery, misty-eyed, she's mortified,
Melting in maddening malaise of malcontentment,
Malfunctioning malignancy has made her mean,
Melodramatic memories magnify her misfortune,
This monotonous, mundane, mirthless morning,
She's a mangled mess of merciless moaning,
A mere mortal mutilated by melancholic musings.
9th May 2023
Contest: Anatomy of Melancholy
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Categories:
malignancy, cry, depression, sad,
Form:
Alliteration
Woke up to your possessor calling.
Vehement jealousy interrogating
A confrontation been expecting.
Bit my tongue.
Hesitate injecting.
Why? What was wrong?
Her complacency in the way
Toxic courtship to prolong
My indecency
A tiresome cliché
Not the first one, to sing this song
Or the last, malignancy
She passed through my gray
Shining white Human grace
Divine light
Abolished latency
Blood, time and space
Will make things right
Unfed appetite
Plight of Exigency
END.
Written Saturday November 29th 2014
Inspired write. No further explanation.
By J.R. Thornton
Categories:
malignancy, betrayal, for her, growth,
Form:
Carpe Diem
Auto-annihilation is stupid,
It breaks hearts,
And ruins lives,
I hate that I was ever self-destructive,
I rue the day I became entranced
By its shadowy charisma.
Ethanol is a thief of youth:
Poor Jo-Jo was right
To warn her cherished daughter
Of its insidious malignancy.
I was one of the fortunate ones
In that it didn't entirely destroy me;
But despite its lack of glamour,
In comparison to
Other more romanticised intoxicants,
It's among the most lethiferous of drugs,
And it stole from me,
What remained of my gorgeous youth.
Categories:
malignancy, addiction, child, daughter, drink,
Form:
Free verse