Best Sickened Poems


Winter Solstice

You are
 the shortest day
but longest night
within a memory
of my four seasons

Every cell in my body
remembers you

It remembers
Your amorous glance
Your ardent touch
Your effervescent kiss

and even your last whisper

a careless whisper
which sickened my thought
and pained me with grief

Every breath from my lungs
remembers your absence

How can I forget it

I live with it
I die inside of it
It surrounds my existence

Your absence

Bitter!

Dark !

Darker
 than death
 itself

You -Solstizio D'Inverno

Where is your promise
of new beginning

Where is the light
of what was pure

I know you!
I know you
 enough to know

You still feel me in your bones

I know you!
I know you
 enough to know

You bury me in your soul

Then you dig..
You dig crazily
beneath poured dusk
which fills the hourglass
beyond your veins

You dig deep
to find  me
 again

You find me
You hold me

I know you!

I know you
 enough to know

You hold me
 to your heart

I know you!

I know you
 enough to know
I'm still
 your life-line

Your love travels 
as far as the stars
as distant as God
and undiscovered orbits

But was that
 Yesterday's illusion

For how long 
should this candle shine

How dim its glow now

Low is the voice 
which calls the sun
to rebirths prisms
 from droplets'dew

Weak are the footprints
which mark our path
 on moonlit snow

I should stop walking

I should stop calling

Stop believing
Wanting,Needing

The sun sank
 in the stillness
of a crimson horizon

In the solitude
 of the tide

never to dawn 
in these eyes again


Winter Solstice
You are
 my coldest verse 
of silence
My longest night
 of rain
Categories: sickened, how i feel,
Form: Free verse

----Occupy: the Soup -------

Infuriated by greed
so we Occupy city streets
tired of being lied to 
divided by tyranny 
of the Elites
sickened by offshore banks 
ran by gangs 
known as the Fed
while political infidelity 
shakes the White House bed

What happened to the basic foundations 
for which this nation was built?
maybe the people’s aggravations 
will identify our leaders’ guilt

No justice lies within this 
“heads they win; tails we lose”
so now we take a stand 
against their scam
because we’re through with the abuse
Categories: sickened, peace, people, political, social,
Form: Rhyme

The Moon and I

Goosebumps and all
I lay
Under a bed of stars
Sparkling across the night sky like a diamond mine

Chinese Lanterns in the sky, hanging far from my reach
To guide me through the complexity of the darker night

The solitary moon and I Gaze at one another other
Parallel in nature, we hang back from the rest of the world
She, plagued by her cyclic nature, 
And I, sickened by the cynicism that only a broken heart can bring
She pulls at the ocean, wishing for affection from the shore
And I, push away any attempt at sincerity
But she must fall as the day grows young,
And I must rise to the possibilities


My chest wall aches, as it fills with hope and the cold night air
This must be how a second chance at life, and inner peace must feel

Then the wind blows through the willow trees
The crickets  move their bows together in symphony.
They made an overture, for the performance of only one

This is my song, 
my new harmony
© Laura Hew  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sickened, hope, life, love, nature,
Form:

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Rekha - Trigger warning

Standing upon the roof top,
watching her brothers walk to school,
Rekha reminisces about her playground,
full of childhood innocent smiles.

A sole kite decorated in orange and red,
floats in the morning breeze,
Rekha feels her soul tug at her heart strings -
yearning for such freedom to roam.

A martyr to dowry, a casualty of sacrifice.
What Rekha's parents thought 
was an escape from poverty,
has made her a prisoner of brutality.

Scolded for too much sugar in chai,
water being too warm, 
chapatti not being round.
Cursed and beaten like a stray dog,
for being unable to work fast enough,
because she can't walk nor raise her arms,
after being repeatedly raped last night -
by a man old enough to be her father.

Sickened by flashbacks of how
his saliva dripped on her like rotten fish.
Extreme nausea from his strong touch 
felt like cockroaches and beetles 
were crawling inside her flesh,
but no one heard her screams.
They just shut their doors, bolted their windows,
as he grabbed her neck with his dirty claws -
she wished he would have choked her!

Suffering in silence, the pain is too much,
her parents cannot rescue her.
Rekha wishes she could sleep forever,
because the bleeding won't stop and
her bruised body is slowly breaking,
like a porcelain doll with cracks, 
living in an endless nightmare.

Her mind in a state of arrested development,
questions the purpose of existence.
Rekha stands on the ledge,
waits until her brothers are out of view,
waves the world goodbye,
she is fragile like a kite, 

but cannot fly.

Rekha was only twelve..
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sickened, abuse, child abuse, poverty,
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Scars

How they laugh and they point as they whisper ‘bout me
And they only can see what their shallow eyes see
Though my surface is not picture perfect for show
How this heart bleeds with purpose they never could know

Of the horrors and trials my soul has survived
Of the hell and the fury that killed me alive
I’ve been stripped of my honor and burnt at the stake
Made to live in a nightmare but could not awake

The atrocities bared on my face in display
Oh they cause you to cringe as your eyes turn away
And the truth is my scars are much deeper than face
Just a trace has been left of humanity’s grace

As they came in the dead of the night whilst we slept
Through the house down the hall they so silently crept
I was tied to a chair and with sickened disgust
Made to watch as my daughters defiled with their lust

Oh my sweet baby girls who I failed to protect
Now your innocence lives in my heart where you’re kept
As the flames and your screams took the last of my peace
Melting skin joined my tears as your souls found release

________________________________________
Written 1/2/2017 for Anapestic Tetrameter Contest
Sponsored by: Craig Cornish
© Judith S   Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sickened, allegory, dark, horror,
Form: Rhyme

Love, the Illusion

There's a rehearsal in the castle, cult party masquerading on the dance floor latin verse sermons the words heard will entrance you, transfix you,
The devil advances towards you and sits you around the marble table where we talk about our carnal instincts and every situation that we find ourselves deep in. 
Morning star calling from the depth of his evil pits where I sleep on bed of nails just to hammer down my dreams with something more uncomfortable than standing on ya steep cliff.
Cold and lonely only having ghosts here to speak with about the meanings of life and the lies that we keep hid.
Within controlling moments of emotions that we sink in and sync with relations on a basis of us needing to create a status where were being with each other cos we're linking and we discover that we break it...... now we're seeing our relationship sinking it sinks to the deep abyss 
My vision is impaired by unclear scenes I'm witnessing and feeling sickened to the stomach from the butterflies in flight when my gut instinct senses some lies from bad vibes I'm like 
Am I jumping to conclusions straining to think straight brain becomes a nuisance
Am I jumping to conclusions the illusion of love is still just as intrusive.

And I'm tryna figure out what to do brain doing figure eights tryna draw up clue to this mad moment
I feel clueless in bad moods, usually I'm living as if I've something to lose 
And now I'm tryna figure out what to do blaming you isn't saving myself from the truth proving our pacts broken..... 
......Will I think logical or act on emotion when I'm tryna figure out what to do brain doing figure eights tryna draw up clue to this mad moment
I feel brutal in bad moods, cluelessly now living as if I've nothing to lose 
And I'm tryna figure out what to do thinking of a better way to proceed to see all this bull through re-evaluating recent events judging my errors bearing in mind I'm civil and often couldn't be fairer 
Anything I tell you isn't out of a conscience I'm conscious but I'm hurting inside and this stomach aches constant
I've put up with this nonsense dealing with ghosts
Like sometimes it bothers me and sometimes it don't
Categories: sickened, confusion, deep, feelings, hip
Form: Rhyme


Fickle Sweet Heart

Love
A sting of devotion
It's wild emotion and smiles
It's being so caught up in the moment
Wind lifts up caution, your guard down for miles
You can't sleep, you can't eat, you can't stop to concentrate
You're constantly lost in your thoughts and perpetually running late
The world is still wildly spinning but for you it's stopped, until one day the bubble
of all bubbles does pop.  Did I forget to mention you're young?  About sweet sixteen now
Your heart is so gentle and just learning how, to hold hope.  When suddenly it does a number on you
The butterfly feeling sinks lead in your soul and your stomach turns over in a sickened
death roll.  You feel like you're trapped in a water filled cave, you must get
out quick if your life you will save.  You push and scratch while your
heart you snatch back.  Run with the wind at your heels!
So scared to look back so you shout out, attack
with uncommon inflection and zeal
This wild emotion and pain
A sting risen shame
Hate
Categories: sickened, lost love, love, passion,
Form: Diamante

I Like Muslims

One man, one bomb, packed with rusty nuts and bolts
He bides his time, picks his spot and halts
Then detonates a foyer, full of mums and dads and kids
Who are blown apart, blown asunder, blown to little bits
Manchester, England, 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream

Two men, two knifes, a soldier walking home attacked
Beheaded on the street and with machete’s hacked 
Calmly, two men wait and joke with stunned passers by
Behind them, on the floor a headless man did die
London, England, 2013, do I like Muslims or do I dream

Three men, a car, with pockets full of knives 
Stabbing indiscriminately, eight people lost their lives
The police were quickly on the scene, the men shot dead, where they stood
Another brutal terror attack and the streets were stained with blood
London, England, 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream

Three examples, horrible but are all Muslims full of badness
The answer simply No, they shared the grief and sadness
For those that lost their lives from the few with bombs and knifes

Now Hammed and his children are scared to walk the street
With abuse and scorn hurled at them, from everyone they meet
Mohamed took no part in this, he is sickened just like we
But a few have hardened life for the Muslim community
England 2017, do I like Muslims or do I dream

Leave the people alone, let the people be
They believe in their god, just like you and me
© John Scott  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sickened, conflict, faith, religion,
Form: Rhyme

Pointing Back

Pointing back

From where I sit,
this crowded street of frowning faces and lying eyes
meander past the mom and pop facades with kids in tow…
tethered by their wants
and constant whining

now glaring at me as if,  
I am the problem

I wave them off in my best oceanic gesture,
casting salty aspirations to the ground around my feet…
all the while keeping my fitted 
thoughts to myself

For opposite this asphalt divider 
of pot holes and swept debris
she sits, twisting her chocolate hair around her finger, 
staring at the clock, waiting

Wearing her favorite dress,
glistening crimson nail and lip paint 

The violent sun finds my shoulders
scattering grey clouds 
between the concrete and neon
folded on the structure facing my perch

A single drop of sweat rolls down my cheek,
on this day more will come

Mixed, blended, hidden or defined
by tears held back, losing the battle
I take in the second story window,
shade slightly drawn and I imagine her

Jumping excitedly at the knock, 
a quick mirrored touch up and fanciful bounces,
as smiles lead her to 
his rugged features and fat wallet

The engine idles, I can smell the fumes
dancing across my nostrils, sickened

Floating the steps, (they) she looks happy, then at me
her head drops, sad or thankful, probably
Engine revs, my eyes fill
as thunderstorms erupt on my face, (they) she disappears

My heart near death, beating slow
it reels on this day,
while others, in their mindless pandering
and nose followed directions, stare and point

I spit, reaching our heart encased initials
carved in the stained and tiring sidewalk

My chest throbs, legs weak and nonexistent,
transparent of hurt and glass filtered wishes
Pointing back at those who would judge, I shout…

Yes, I am the problem!
Categories: sickened, lost love, sad,
Form: Free verse

Permission To Mourn

It is okay to mourn
the rapid speed by which this treacherous virus
caught us off guard
Now we cope, we survive, some better than others 
And for so many, too many
the dignity of dying has been denied
After a life long-lived, you were left to meet the great beyond alone
cut off from those who were in your precious circle
We grieve for you
We grieve for lost moments and time that cannot be recaptured
Crowded malls, movie theater lines, standing sweaty shoulder to shoulder
in packed concert halls and bars
nodding simultaneously to familiar tunes
We grieve the mundane, predictability of our former world
Crammed in trains with intoxicated hockey fans en route to the big game
We mourn the cold we braved together 
the obnoxious fans of the other team
the homeless percussionist banging out beats for bread
on their white, plastic bucket snare drum
The fairs and festivals
The planes and anticipation of travel and adventures to come
I miss you deeply
my flawed, beautiful human society of the pre-virus days
I am sickened by what this virus has done to us
You made us divided and filled our heads with wild conspiracies
You kept us trapped in our echo chambers
You drove us apart when we most needed to stick together
You wore out our battle wearied soldiers of the front line
risking it all to keep us well
to be a last connection to the human world before fading into eternity
We can never forget what you have meant for us all
It is okay to grieve my beautiful people
We will
one  day
be given back some version of our former world
it will look and feel different
We will have lost great people along the way
there are more days to fight
God speed.
Categories: sickened, hope, strength,
Form: Free verse

Faces of Terrifying Demons

Faces of Terrifying Demons


Some look into the Demon dark
And are engulfed

Crushed and torn apart
These poor souls
Descend to the narcotic escapes
Or turn to face the world
In return 
With violence, anger and hate
Or fall at last
In the suicidal ends of life

Some prefer never to look
At all

Into the blank black stare
Of their mirror
They remain willingly
Oblivious to the monsters
Of the past
They reflect dumb
Silent hearts
Shrouded in casual attachments

Some know the faces
Of the ugly experience

And embrace it
Suckered into the apparent meaning
Of living on the edge
Of self torture
Predisposed they become
To feeding the evil
Once done to them
Lost souls they become

And some
Walk with trembling fear

Walk right into the deeper
Black scared shadow
They search the creepy threat
Of their night
Though sickened by the sight
In the memories
Of what had been done

With faltering and unsure steps
They shiver
Barraged by a choking terror
Though cowering still
They search
Until they find the lonely battered child
And take its poor frail hand
And lead it back out
Into the light

Some have with such compassion
And with such unwavering fortitude
Found existent despite their weakness

They emerge
The braver and more courageous
With such a gentle strength
That holds them steady
As they step from the foul and pitch

Made stronger
By the darkness
And the faces of
Terrifying Demons
Categories: sickened, life
Form: Free verse

The Pain of Depression

I tried to lose my deep ebon shadow, 
it resounds as I hold onto my dark woe-
            releasing all my fears brings more,
I am always just as hopeless as before. 
    Shall I close my true and helpless door...
or start to fight my one internal foe.

         Depression creeps and I cannot sleep,
I’m sickened by this secret that I keep-
  Emptiness gathers and fills my soul, 
I wither as heartache has taken its toll. 
            My heart is as black as diamond coal.
I know in the depths I must take the leap. 

       Put to shame with only myself to blame,
for I am a pitiful dame without a name-
         I longed to be quenched by love’s thirst, 
but I always ended up being the worst.
  When will I begin to put myself first?
        Without self-love I shan’t be the same. 

                                 I am saddened daily from hell’s breath,
                                 I fear that soon I shall find my death. 




1.) LATE FEB 2018 STANDARD CONTEST,
ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,
UP TO A MAX OF 20 LINES Poetry Contest


2.) Depression Poetry Contest
Lewis Raynes
February 26, 2018
Categories: sickened, depression, loneliness, psychological,
Form: Rhyme

No Angels In Foxholes

There aint any angels in foxholes,
Jock Grey once said to me.
He was looking at a different scene
Than what we could both then see.

Just tension and maybe boredom
And expectation among the boys,
Just waiting for the action,
Waiting for the noise
That soaks into your being
Once it all kicks off again;
Then it’s all action and panic
Shouting and screaming men.
There’s no glory down in foxholes
Ask any man who’s been there
God and King and Country, no
Let me live is all you care

And whether it’s hot or cold
Dry or wallowing in mud
Only one thing is certain
You’ll see lots of blood.
There ain’t no pride and glory
Just a sense of desolation;
If there is a god he aint gonna
Just back one lot of nations.
He’s probably packed his bags
Closed heaven down in haste,
Sickened by the carnage;
The awful bloody waste.

Perhaps that awful god
Hangs his head in shame
That they dare to do this killing
In his honour and his name.
Let the fountain pen warriors write
Of war’s glory and war’s pride
How many have seen a foxhole
Let alone been down inside
I could see his shoulders heave
See the blankness in his gaze
Feel the raw emotion before 
He came back from those days.

No there aint no angels in foxholes.
I wish they’d get that right.
Now whose round is it lads?
The beer’s bloody slow tonight.

R.I.P.  Jock - survived WW2, died in a train crash late 1960's.
We enjoyed many Mess Nights and beers together.
Categories: sickened, dream, memorial, military, soldier,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Misused

Inspired by Deep Purple's "Mistreated" 1974

Misused, so misused I have been by you.
I can’t believe by you I was so smitten,
but now I am a poor bedraggled kitten -
one that has been nagged
and then through mud been dragged.

Nagged and pestered,
so bitterness has festered 
inside me, for with my love you toyed,
then you turned around and said 
I made you annoyed.
Oh babe I was so true to you.
But now I don’t know what to do.

With love for you I had been stricken.
But misused by you, I’ve just been sickened.
So cruelly teased. How have I displeased you so?
I feel like someone left diseased; diseased inside my mind.
Why oh why is love so blind?

I just keep thinking back; whatever did I lack?
By love for you afflicted, I became so damn addicted.
Always being contradicted, I’ve been left conflicted.
And now I am restricted  . . . restricted from 
the love for you I wanted so to show.
Why did you ever make me go?.

Misused, I’m so misused . . . abused; confused.
 And now I’m going mad -
insane inside my brain.
I think it makes you glad.

Yes, I’m going mad; 
insane inside my brain.
You’re glad; you’re glad; you’re glad,
and I’ve been so abused.
Losing my mind.
All that I can think of is
why oh why is love so blind?
Categories: sickened, lost love,
Form: Lyric

Premium Member The Bully

The venomous bite
Distant, but ever so bright
A nerve doth stricken
A heart so sickened

Melanoma like stature
A rapture like creature
Ruthless and mean
Cunning and keen

Held back three years
No cause full tears
Beatings and bruises
His torture confuses

The light now breaks
From what the bully takes
Fought back with friends
Now the bully defends


*comments welcomed and appreciated*
Categories: sickened, anti bullying,
Form: Free verse
Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetics
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
Store
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter