Best Sickeningly Poems
I fear for you,
much as I fear for me
or for others like me
who may be here
for longer than I’d like to be.
But more than that,
I fear for you
nearly as much as I fear you.
The world so big
and overpowering and cruel,
and you so small
and young and exposed.
We’ve ruined you, I think,
and all that we’ll leave you
is just as badly ruined.
I fear for me
as I fear for those like me,
and I fear for you,
but more than that,
how sickeningly I fear you.
15th Match 2019
Categories:
sickeningly, future,
Form:
Free verse
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field
Fragmented timelines intersecting by the call of the Barker
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more
Saturating replicating stands with insidiously sticky omens
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl,
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by moustachioed men of game,
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Categories:
sickeningly, dark, death, gothic, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Big black room,
No physical presence around,
Only shivering cold in the air.
The scent of fear and anger,
The lingering feeling of loss,
Feeling of abandonment and despair,
The madness floating around.
Love, there is love in a small corner,
Devotion pushed against the wall.
The naive little giggle of the child,
It can be heard if you listen closely.
Sweet, sickeningly sweet stench of pleasure,
Of guilty addictive pleasure lingers,
Engulfing everything,
Its fumes poisoning the air.
The mortal soul lives in here,
With all of this it lives.
It still breathes it all,
melts in it.
Waiting for the end,
Hoping it will come soon,
the eternal rest,
Till the end will come, will end it all
Categories:
sickeningly, addiction, anxiety, death, fear,
Form:
Free verse
She once painted a picture of a girl who wanted to fly,
Jumped right off the canvas and took to the sky.
Her brush nothing fancy just a dull chipped blade,
nothing more to do now than watch her paint the page.
She's an artist...
Ink swims through her veins.
She could paint forever because she controls the pain.
She's a natural,
watch the way the canvas comes to life.
peels itself from the fabric as the blood begins to dry..
its beautiful, sickeningly so.
looks just like water color as the paint starts to flow.
relief crawls over her skin as her painting takes its shape,
blurring at the edges and her hands begin to shake..
She's dizzy now and her painting begins to fade,
this is her masterpiece and shes no longer afraid.
She's ready,
it all started with a paintbrush, a simple dull chipped blade..
nothing left to do now.
Just to clean the mess she made.
Categories:
sickeningly, art, beautiful, death, hurt,
Form:
Your touch kills
Your voice deafens
Your sight blinds
You make me sick!
People like you should be shot
Yeah, I've heard that before
Infact, I've heard it quite a lot
You can't claim me as yours
And after that escapade
Im done with you furthermore
Im not property
Im not a toy
I dont belong to you
Im not here for your "Joy"
So sickeningly sweet
You make me sick
So disgustingly fake
You make me sick
You think its all a game
You make me sick
Will you get bored
When its all played out
Another word, another nail
With all your lies
Your words have gone pale
Seeing through your eyes
I know now, its all a blur
Do you know what you're doing
Or is everything on a spur
Dont pretend to be human
It doesnt suit you
Nor or you beast or alien
You have no kind
So sickeningly sweet
You make me sick
So disgustingly fake
You make me sick
You think its all a game
You make me sick
Will you get bored
When its all played out
Categories:
sickeningly, angst, me, me,
Form:
Lyric
A cocooned cacophony of crickets serenades overgrown fields,
drowning out the creaking of rusted cars long since abandoned.
Maroon and sable tents blot the dilapidated ground—
bloated and weathered,
strips of fabric flapping in the harsh elements.
Legends of wraiths wander,
replicating whispers of infected insanity.
Laughter lingers in suspect echoes,
Rippling from pasts reborn in presents: futures to be later replaced by the past.
The smell of burnt sugar crackles with the purr of buttered kerneled corn: invading the nostrils with senses whose stimuli feign belief.
A faint humming of Entry of the Gladiators creeps in loudening crescendos, adding to the cacophony deigning dormancy in the field.
Fragmented timelines, intersecting by the call of the Barker.
Stained cotton candy melts, reconstitutes, melts once more.
Saturating, replicating, stands with insidiously sticky omens.
Ghastly sickeningly sweet mori mementos.
Resurrecting the dead from preternatural slumber.
Within fractured milliseconds, the cycle of the tormented deceased rise.
From the ashes of unburnt airwaves,
Rippling through screaming minutes yet frozen in the midst.
A varicosed bearded woman floats aloft grassy overgrowth.
Reanimated tigers lurk and phantasmal elephants howl.
Rings round the air in gaseous hush, like cigars puffed by mustachioed men of game.
Insufflating smoke with striped suits in candied reds and white.
The air rises to the resurrected show,
Cries confused for laughter tickle cochlea of the living.
Categories:
sickeningly, analogy, dark, death, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
I was forced to write about kittens and butterflies,
but truth be told nothing came to mind
(envision myself feline? really? I'd be coughing up a storm!)
For sure not a poem to change your world-view.
But truth be told nothing came to mind
(though I still keep form with this crazy write)
For sure not a poem to change your world-view
(unless you were expecting something cuddly --- sickeningly sweet)
Though I still keep form with this crazy write
because pantoums are enjoyable.
Unless you were expecting something cuddly --- sickeningly sweet,
I'm sure you could feel the same,
because pantoums are enjoyable
... and mine come with less hair balls --- less wallpaper that took flight.
I'm sure you could feel the same
(were it not for the LOL cat memes that infected the world-wide web)
And mine come with less hair balls --- less wallpaper that took flight
(envision myself feline? really? I'd be coughing up a storm!)
Were it not for the LOL cat memes that infected the world-wide web
I was forced to write about kittens and butterflies.
Written March 14th, 2016
For the Kittens & Butterflies Contest Hosted by Eve Roper
NOTE: I don't expect to make placement, but I hope I managed to lighten the mood, nonetheless ... ha ha.
Categories:
sickeningly, cheer up, fun, funny,
Form:
Pantoum
I make a cup of coffee, and bathe in its perfume
And add some chocolate cookies til my diet must resume
I pray the photographer doesn't see that I have gone food rogue
Cuz like he said, "Chubby chicks will never grace a page of Vogue."
I'm careful because my Chanel gown is white and never sold
In the kind of stores where I can shop, or any shop, I'm told
And very soon they'll call me back to set to vamp and pose
Hair perfectly coiffed, make-up en fleek and Louboutin on my toes!
"I've chipped a nail," I mumble and three stylists all jump
And while they're at it one applies some hairspray with a pump
A gorgeous man in best black tie approaches me and grins
"I am your partner for this shoot. Cheri, you are so THIN!"
He takes my hand and helps me up, I teeter on the heels
He holds me close and says he needs to take me for some meals.
He bends his face and parts his perfect lips to plant a kiss
But instead I feel a liquid spilling and wonder "What is this?"
Loud noises filter in my brain and break my daydream's hold
The liquid was my coffee spilled and sickeningly cold
I grab a paper towel to wipe it off my kitchen floor
But being nine months pregnant makes it hard to do, for sure.
I refocus on the noise I hear and realize it's my boys
Two-year-old triplets ready to trade a nap for toys.
I pass the hallway mirror, see my hair a mess, I'm round
Not the model from my dream, but it won't bring me down.
I walk into the boys' room and all three reach out to me
And the hugs and kisses given no French model could exceed
I love my boys, I love my life, even in a cheap stretch jean
But still and all, I did enjoy my lovely little daydream!
1/13/2017
Categories:
sickeningly, appreciation, body, day, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
I transcend this battle.
Let these chains fall from my wrists,
May they disintegrate and gather dust.
I am no more a slave to that impulse.
Sighs, this aching soul;
Soon, freedom.
I purge the hunger.
Clawing the sickness out,
These parasitic thoughts find no host in me.
Voices, in the back of my head; whispering to me in the night.
Demons dance within my belly.
Yet, this aching soul;
Home to only me.
This darkness I carry, does not control me.
No longer ill and somehow brave;
These eyes drown the past.
I fight to rise above.
I deactivate these addictions inside.
Overcome, this aching soul;
Now carries liabilities.
Lost in phantasms, I, prodigal daughter.
Alas, the mire; moral ambiguity.
Crawling my way to the surface,
In remembrance of once unyielding faith.
I breathe again, a sickeningly sweet west wind;
Cloying zephyr.
Patience, aching soul;
I metamorphose.
Dawn ‘till dusk.
This fragile heart,
Beats evermore.
Eyes now open.
This quest demands all.
Reaching deep inside my chest,
I salvage hope.
Me, Again.
Heal, aching soul;
We’re found.
I transcend this battle.
Let these scars ‘round my wrists,
Chronicle where I have been.
I am no more a specter in this war of shadows beneath my skin.
Rest, my aching soul;
Now, freedom.
Categories:
sickeningly, abuse, addiction, courage, dark,
Form:
Free verse
Once a year, for one week straight,
A beer I will decline.
Instead, I will indulge in
Manischewitz kosher wine.
If you have never tried it,
Well, your life is not complete,
But you’d sure surprise your taste buds
‘Cause it’s sickeningly sweet.
Since it’s part of my tradition,
It’s a habit I can’t break
And from childhood sips to current times,
I’ve stuck with Concord Grape.
Though I’m not at all religious,
I’m nostalgic for the past
And at Seders* long ago,
The Manischewitz die was cast.
Certain connoisseurs of culture
Call me out and say, “Enough!
Now it’s time to climb the ladder
And reject that sweetened stuff.”
But a creature (me!) of habit
Thinks that Manischewitz wine,
Like the macaroons and matzoh,
Fits the holiday just fine.
*Passover meal
Categories:
sickeningly, holiday, wine,
Form:
Rhyme
The fog of dull moist clouds cloistered Earths hills
rolling slowly quietly assured with December’s presence
uncovering the steal bleakness of chills
the grey fox sought the superlative time stalking
hunting, one catch, the hare eating thorns, is captured
~
All rests except the fox, and the hawk that swoops prey
and beautiful it seems to carolers that dream
pictured on Christmas Cards sleighing coupled in hay
but the hunted sigh as the singers pass by
ignoring the innocent life in the forest by night
really wintery rest is not what it seems
~
The white witch cursed the greens for 3 months
laughing, she pointed t’wards the fox and the hare
the hawk she invites on her evening animal hunts
while the fox, hiding and embarrassingly shares
dear rabbit if only there was another way to convey
my condolences and my fondness, for you, today
~
The fawn born in grey thicket that night
a hunter was on track for a meal, of the carnivores type
deep in silence, bitter coldness, that eve less bright
their faces showed meanness, sickeningly alarming
hungry for killing the innocent and without any lament
the damp floors lined with twigs and leaves sent
~
warning there are trespassers entered our forest
and without invitation, the hawk soared forewarning
the dove in turn echoes cooing which entered space
of ears the fox alarming, the furry rabbit crosses into the thicket
noosing the doe and the fawn warmed coddling
stay within this eve the thicket safe from guns
~
the hunter’s love winter’s and the innocent blood
And the white witch carries on until spring
stay here little doe while your mother brings the cud
the sleet drizzling rains seem never to bring
peace within the forest it seems
and life circles around the fox and the hare
and the buzzards that hunt the carcass from the air
~
©2016 Bonnie Jennings. All Right's Reserved
Categories:
sickeningly, earth, imagery, life, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Oh Younger Self!
Don’t be behind at saying what you want,
Just because you never did have the font,
Regression exists in us if we fail to specify,
Objectifying later, our questions to quantify.
Believe only in the people you trust and obey,
Don’t quantify because you’re in the minority,
Remember what you’ve got, media and friends,
Treasure your relationships to make your own ends.
Just be short-sighted, only aware of the now,
Don’t aspire to be godly or sickeningly high-brow,
Crimp what you like but is wrong multitudinary,
And don’t equate true morality with the binary.
Exclude yourself to discuss your mind and trueness,
Freshness is in people who flow with goodness,
Be rejected, make do and accept low facilities,
Happiness is in your real desires and proclivities.
Categories:
sickeningly, future, life, me, strength,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
“Yellow”
I pump the liquid
soap in the bathroom
How Sickeningly sweet it is
and although now it’s gone
I will carry it with me
as I drift off…..
Yellow
is the smell of an
old woman's room
Plastic flowers everywhere,
windows shut tight
It lays like a fog
as a reminder
of whats to come
Death lingers
In the funeral parlour
Clinging to the heavy velvet drapes
settled in corners
like a blanket
Smothering me
Yellow
roses everywhere
in the air
and painted on the walls
Nothing moves here
time stops
Yellow sun filters
through darkened blinds
Hides the inevitable
in contrast
to the rotting flesh
propped up with formaldehyde
in crisp and crinkle fabrics
devoid of all life
Yellow flower petals edged in brown
drop slowly onto tables
Even sound doesn’t live here
This is where the dead
say their last goodbyes
And the living get stuck
in rose-scented memories
dancing on the wall
In the haze of Yellow
and the inescapable scent of roses
The incongruity of the two worlds meet
In the thick silence
Sticky like yellow syrup
I am reminded that
He is nowhere anymore
But I will take that scent
That feeling with me
Forevermore
Categories:
sickeningly, absence, age, bereavement, farewell,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
I sit enveloped in a fog
That never breaks but for the rain
Of salty tears and oozing blood
I've loosed from yet another vein.
While all around me lovers kiss
And mothers give their babes a change
New love, new clothes, each a fresh start
I see as sickeningly strange.
I crave the putrid and the shunned
The dusty corners webbed and dark
A bottom dweller, fetid form
Cast out from every patriarch.
I am not fit to walk this earth
Indwell this body I sear in
I am ruined, unfit, unclean
My bulging middle screams my sin.
If I had the strength to end it,
But Evil bids me to stay on
And face the shame I cannot speak
Birthing my brother and my son.
8/22/2016
For contest: Five rhyming stanzas and five only
Rhyme scheme:
ABCB
Categories:
sickeningly, abuse, dark, depression, evil,
Form:
Rhyme
The sun rose slowly over the horizon and fell,
We are the giant of Africa,
Relying on the neighboring and international dwarfs for economic and socio-political development,
A situation for the angels to weep over.
Corruption, marginalization, favoritism, nepotism and insecurity hung like wet blankets,
Families are crying, children are dying,
The government remained silent as the sheeted dead,
A total impression sickeningly pathetic.
All that's beautiful drifted away like the waters running downhill,
No one is talking about poverty eradication and youth empowerment,
The valorous activists that once voiced out where assassinated,
The gutty and lettered are currently on the run.
Anxiety and uncertainty hung like a dark impenetrable cloud,
The only people feeding fine are those who can lie and steal,
Religious groups, correctional agencies and the leaders have lost their worth.
We are doomed.
All our thoughts, hope and future are running into tears like sunshine into rain.
Our lovely mothers are now competing with whores on the streets,
Just to make money to support our visionary, jobless and hopeless fathers,
The youths have resorted to crimes for survival,
Our citizenship has turned to a curse in broad daylight.
Choked by a rising paroxysm of rage,
We advocate for a revolution.
Categories:
sickeningly, africa, poverty,
Form:
Epic