Best Panic Poems


Premium Member Blind Panic

Blind panic

There was a warning came one day
It said disaster’s on its way
An old volcano in the distance
It could erupt in any instance

The molten ash came pouring out
As neighbouring village was in doubt
Folk were running to and fro
It seems they had nowhere to go.

Buildings were cracking one by one
Blocking out the golden sun
This thing did turn our day to night
As everyone was filled with fright

As the Earth did turn to lava
Many prayed to the holy father.

Vera Duggan  16 August 2014.

Premium Member Love Grown Fears

For Kyle, My Darling Son

When four, I knew my soul had claustrophobia in it.
More than once it has caused me public panic fits. 
Once, I declined a job located in a super high rise
for fear it would sway or rock me to an awful demise.
As cures I plan no coffin, avoid full planes, tight spaces,
roof edges and elevators with terrifying glass faces. 

Often before sleep, I think the devil visits from hell.
He attempts to solidify my fears of sorrow that dwell 
on my Mother’s death which is a normal eventuality
and my treasured love’s death which none can foresee.
I can bid the devil to depart back to dark fairly easily;
changing my head's channel is a successful remedy.

But I cannot grasp, shake, rationalize or compromise make
a fear that causes my angst to quake, my emotions to break.
I turn to God in constant prayer, seeking my answer there.
I ask God for His soothing and a solution He will share.
Thoughts of my challenged son’s life after I am gone
grow my despair and tears from the worry they spawn.

Who will hug him good night and then again each dawn?
Who will love him to ensure his self-value dwells on?
He will need a loving touch and acceptance to lean on.
I fear and hurt, knowing such blessings are not foregone.
I would rather be sealed in a coffin on a roof way high
than my precious one be love abandoned after I die.

Premium Member Don'T Panic, Don'T Panic

For loo rolls some shoppers are vying 
and people are seen panic buying
The shelves are now empty
When once there was plenty
Stockpiling - there is no denying!

I panic when I need the loo -
I’m hoping its wee wee not pooh
Cos I’m sat on the seat
and we’re down to one sheet
Perhaps torn newspapers will do!

3/10/20


Panic Attack

It always starts with chest pain 
Sharp pain that I can’t bear 
It radiates down my arms 
First thing I always think 
I’m dying 
My heart begins to beat 
Faster and faster 
I feel like just a little longer 
And it will fly out of my chest 
Like a bird trying to escape its cage
My hands begin to shake 
My head starts to spin
Like that boy you always see at the amusement park 
His mother says no but he continues to 
Ride every roller coaster he possibly can
Pumping his adrenaline like it’s a damn game 
I feel like I’m drowning and everyone around me knows how to swim
Every breath I take is harder to bear 
I feel like I’m gonna drop
I sit down and suddenly it stops 
I can breath 
It’s done 
I feel relief 
But then I realize that there will be more oceans to swim and roller coasters to ride 
It’s not over 
And I never know when it will happen again

Panic Attack

Heart pounding,
Confused and disoriented,
I cannot breathe.
There is a tightness in my chest
And butterflies in my stomach.

Vision blurred,
Weak and dizzy,
Nothing feels real.
There is tension in my muscles
And numbness in my skin.

Body aching,
Cool and sweaty,
I am shaking.
There is a panic in my head
And fear within my being.

The Power of a Panic Attack

The powerful palpitations pounding in my chest,
Will my heart with stand this test,
Another attack has just begun,
Abracadabra out it sprung. 

Piercing pain constricting my chest,
My ribs collapsing, the attack conquering its quest,
Each breath harder, sharper, shallower than the next,
My fingers hastily clawing at my chests raw flesh. 

Panic awakens my pale plain face,
Every gasp leaves a lingering lifeless taste,
Time is of the essence, prayers wont save me now,
The devils claws run deep and are dragging me down.

Awaiting me, a fiery hell of tortured terror,
My lungs burn is my soul to be condemned forever, 
Just one deep breath to save my soul hear me saviour,
I beg of you I am not ready to meet my maker. 

Finally the attack releases my air way, 
The fatal fear and fantasies begin to fade away,
I have survived another panic attack today.
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.


Panic Room

Here in this room again 
mind’s racing 
the fan on low…

and I’m not to be trusted 
can’t be left alone here
with shot gun temples 
and a soul full of fear

no worse place than now
I can’t yell it more clearly 
I beg for your attention  
but I can’t stand you near me

contradiction swimming
in the blood of my veins
I’d cut off my hands
to send toxins to drain

I’m gutless
yet I’m too gutsy for action
say that in public
imagine the reaction

I sit in whirl pools
but I’ve always hated heat
and claim to take a stand 
but I’m lazy at my seat

and I’m always on time
as I miss the bus again
I lie in your face 
with a devilish grin

I’m harmless 
and swear I didn’t mean it
I talk about my conscience 
still I’ve never seen it 

in a world of swirling confusions
I’m stuck on the spin cycle
madness,
creating contusions
 
my game’s not over
I need a fresh start
I’m begging for new blood 
cus’ I’ve got a good heart

Premium Member Panic Cattack

Labored breaths echo throughout the bolted space.
A doom sensation overtakes the place of solace.
Her eyes scan for any exit. 
Light scrambles through a cracked door. 
A window glows, ajar.
Too far away for the taking, her body immobilizes.
She strives to breathe... even that threatens to cease.
Silent screams gasp for life,
as if trying to turn a door with breath.
A wave of wet beads seethe from her skin,
like lakes between boulders.
Her shoulders rise like hefty mountain weights
summoned to a stomach of scrambled sand.
In a kaleidoscopic instant, from the perceived exit,
enters a tuxedo hero, donning sporty socks,
flaunting a solid strut.
Up, he jumps upon her lap, like 
the reward of a clapping audience.
His constant fur coat would be a king's boast.
Like melted butter on toast, he spreads his warmth.
A reverberating purr becomes the mender of broken emotions.
Hyperventilation fades to mimic his oceanic vibes.

2/26/2019

Premium Member Winter Itch

a winter sun plays hide and seek
odd shadows chill my bones
reminding me of annual constraints
i crave to escape instinctively

a caged animal an inmate
itching for the taste of freedom
i feel a desperate panic
seeking latitude by longitude

An urge for trekking cruising
globetrotting and jetsetting
a deeper innate hankering
to recharge spent batteries



AP: 2nd place 2020

Submitted on May 21, 2020 for contest BRIAN'S CHOICE O sponsored by BRIAN STRAND  -  RANKED 3RD

Originally posted on December 26, 2018

Premium Member Working Things Out

Worry wonders and doubts
It speculates on the hopes and habits
It ponders all the thoughts and misgivings
It deliberates on the joy and kindness
It even questions the peace and serenity

Worry seeks a heart to attack
A calm to disturb with turbulence
A happiness to disappoint with sorrow
A light to snuff out with a dark thought
Worry drains souls of their pleasure
Pierces the dreams with murky shadows
Destroys the embrace of sweet grace
And sends discouragement into the spirit

Worry is a tool of the devil
Who came to seek whom he might destroy
With his lies and his doom and his despair
Worry is his device, his utensil
The instrument he uses to bring us down
So that we can’t find the faith to reach out
Toward the One who knows all about our worries
And brings us encouragement and reassurance
The inspiration and enthusiasm to refocus
On the promises He gives with His mercy and compassion
The love that arises out of the darkest moments
Love that assures us He will restore and rebuild
Despite whatever the worries might foresee

Worry is blind to the fact that
His love can diminish every doubt
Relieve every pain, erase every cloud
With the rising of His Son, His light
The One who will always work things out




Matthew 6:26 (KJV) Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

Premium Member Panic

nostrils flare smoke sensed

  creatures panic white-tails turn

    wind whips flames ~ wildfire

   



          January 24, 2021
 Syllables -- 5/7/5 -- PS checked
    A Moment in Nature Contest
        Sponsor: Tania Kitchin

Premium Member Panic Attacks - Irrational Me

Rational me is capable and whole
Irrational me has complete lack of control

Rational me is happy and relaxed 
Irrational me panics and cracks

Rational me views life in a positive light
Irrational me battles crippling fear without hope in sight

Rational me makes the most of every day
Irrational me wants to sleep the day away

Rational me is clear...has clarity
Irrational me is afraid…engulfed by anxiety

Rational me sees beauty and light
Irrational me faces a darker plight

Rational me lives life on the right track
Irrational me suffers debilitating panic attacks
© Deb M   Create an image from this poem.

Don'T Panic

Do not fear the coming tempest;
See our God with faithful eyes.
He will care for you with interest.
This won't take you by surprise.

Do not worry that you'll perish.
He will raise you if you do.
By Jehovah you are cherished.
Our great God will rescue you.

Do not mind our persecutors-
those who strive to bring you doubt.
Let the Spirit be your tutor.
With our God your gait is stout.

Panic In the Vegetable Garden

Panic In the Vegetable Garden

By Elton Camp

The carrot turn from yellow to pale
“Danger!” it called out to the kale

The tomato gaped in great fear
“Caution broccoli, they’re here.” 

Mushroom whispered to the squash,
“Beware for they’re here to nosh.”

Pumpkin felt of his hard shell
“If they touch me, I’ll yell.”

“Oh horrors!” said the peas
“How we hate such as these.”

Why did the veggies begin to shout?
Because vegans were roving about!
© Elton Camp  Create an image from this poem.

Panic

I feel sorry for my good mate Billy,
Who chewed on the hottest of chilly.
His mouth copped the blast,
Now with body parts caste...
His wife frantically searches for Willy.

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