Best Stigma Poems
like a selfie
that wasn’t taken
I’m the guy in the street
I know
you’re captioning me
from your side of the road
and the shops
with their massive eyes
are making me too viral
my long grey trunk
and thick greying skin
is finally
wearing thin
nobody talks to me
and so what
if I whispered
from the rooftops
despite being repeatedly
murdered
I can clear a room
in seconds
I earned the points,
all the stares
and I'm damn sure
I'll use them
it's tricky
in a ceramic world
oh, and you're standing
on my cape
Born into this world, my opinion never mattered
Had no voice yet today my tears flow like a stream
Born into hardship and poverty, its no fault of mine
No need to ask my pains... for the fast receding of my flesh showcasing my bones tells my story
Most times I feel its punishment for what I know not... but I look around and see thousands just like me
Without food nor water
Without clothes nor a place to call home
Without light in sight... I wonder if God exists
Holy books talking of His love for us and I wonder if i have been forsaken
If we have been condemned to hell on earth for reasons unknown
If we are being punished for breathing
Who is to blame; society or poverty
In a heartless society, a few of heart still exist
Not all take delight in the sufferings of others
Where as others choose to condemn, a few choose to redeem
Giving back hope and life to people rejected by all, they go the extra mile
A father to the orphan who society abandoned
A husband to the widow whose world came to a halt, still grieving, she was chased away
The only shoulder that old woman needed before being pushed to the wicked grips of camps supposed for witches
Genuinely on the course of humanity, he invests his sweat
An investment seeking smiles as profit
A believe in the betterment of life, an umbrella of love hope and care is spread
Society can never be perfect but none deserves its Cruelty
It doesn't take much to touch lives but only a few do
Cheers to the few
Having gone days without food, I know what it means to have a saviour.
Indeed you are a man of the people
A king for all and heart for good
It warms our heart to know;
despite being an orphan
despite living in poverty
despite being widowed and the pains of accusations
Our lives still means something
Giving us hope and a reason to live, we say THANK YOU
Thank You for not making vulnerable a curse
Naa Tia Foundation Without doubt is the reason behind my smiles and shot at life
A long day…today…
A sad night…tonight…
If only I knew what was right.
Pretending to understand why you would leave me.
Pretending to understand why I let you fly free.
Considering all the possibilities you carried in your realm.
Considering all the reasons why you felt overwhelmed.
I needed you to live; you needed chemicals to survive.
I needed love to give; you needed alcohol to stay alive.
You bled yourself just to feel; I just allowed you to die.
You bled yourself just to heal; I just couldn’t say goodbye.
I can’t stop the horrid pain; you couldn’t stop your last drink.
I can’t stop trying to explain; you couldn’t stop and think.
Your beauty died in vain; my beauty died with you.
Your beauty brought the rain; my beauty has no value.
Pretending to understand why you left without me.
Pretending to understand why you made me the enemy.
A callous day…today…
A harsh night…tonight…
If only I held the insight.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: April 7, 2016
Once there was a man called stigma easy
“Take life as it comes”, his lovely policy
Blame game, strategy - dare not
Integrity, commitment - compromise not
Bloody stigma has gone crazy!
when your world is too much to bare
when your life is to weak to share
when you let yourself slip from life
when you realize there is no where to hide
when the pain continues on and on
asking others where they go when they're gone
when you lose interest in all
when all you want to do is fall
what do you do then?
There's a stigma in her heart like
A scorpion in the throat,
There's a black stain on her white
Causing nothing but plight.
All eyes think she never will be right,
So they said, "let us laugh and have
Our sight".
So the stigma claimed to be her king.
Eventually the drama began to change,
Then the stigma met something,
And the stigma failed everything.
Whiteness stands and raised it's sword,
Mocking eyes became so low,
And they cried, "had we known,
Now the wind has revealed the unknown,
Not again we ever will mock".
The heritage
went for a sale. A tree
stands denuded, after
a nudie.
An orange land hides
the broken remains of terra
cota. I wanted an earthen
inkpot and a reed pen.
There was a wounded word
on the tongue. A
dragonfly leaves the voracious
appetite and skims on milk.
Pulsating cleavage
gets a prize. The salt lakes
are full. A caged bird
will not sing.
Satish Verma
In the midst of the raging waves,
they watched her gulp the callous cunning darts.
Her crumbly heart cruelly impaled; the fate that enslaves.
So fondly she’d mask the marks.
Her soul would ache and bleed from life’s glaives.
She cried an ocean for redemption from a life perpetually stark.
In desperation, the rope ends it.
With stigma the chums looked in utter scorn,
and nattered her solitary life she so drowned in.
As a jest they’d laugh it off and know not the pain borne.
Options to content would be the faster poison to kick in.
The jeer and tough love, be strong. Would suicide suborn?
Yet blithely a random word alienates, even with the kin.
The loop finally tightens round the neck.
With croc tears the mates flock to condole.
“If this message would reach Mary in heaven;
life lost so young—” all will strive to console.
For what? She writhed in pain and longed for a haven,
but scornfully, her soul you shunned like a rotten pole.
Her tombstone, now a patch-spot for a raven.
World’s cold shoulders soaked in her silent tears.
Be chaste, fair-weather friend, lest you atone.
Religion and priests you’ve scorned,
while the vain fanes of pretense you adorn.
In exalted hallow worship, you plead with Him
to remold the hearts of clay to vessels of honor.
Yet in your hearts of tin you curse and vilify—
you thought it was an act and left her marooned.
For remaining Mary, my soul cries to you.
Blinded by constant flopped success.
For the media, it’d hurt not to leave a cue.
Live the sacred life, gifted as a princess.
And flout their nonsensical bleats of an ewe.
I’ll wait on the podium for a fess.
It’s never the end—you’ll ever chew the bitter pill.
I met a woman fleeing from the triad.
Crossing on a ferry, far from her home
She told me of the life she once had.
In Bosphorus, struggling to hold on.
Her hair was wrapped in a headscarf.
Dreamed about the changes coming.
with a shy smile and freckles spark
the stigma the held began revealing.
That bravest of desire to gain freedom.
Where family dignity does not agree.
That would see her being disowned.
Left to live by myself as a divorcee.
Urbanize, families struggling to manage.
Change is coming by liberal ideas.
within the institution of marriage.
Even in the vast conservative places.
Have Petty old status blowing in the wind.
Freedom has a sense of empowerment.
Familiar friends are left behind.
By subversive acts crossing the continent.
Mental health stigma within the military
Injuries you just can't see
Many sufferers have taken their own lives
Leaving behind families husband's and wives
In honour of those who ended there plight
It's time to show this isn't right
Awareness, look out for each other
Brothers and sisters from another mother
R.I.P all those gone before
With your passing opens the door
Mental health awareness is a must
Or your eyes will fill with dust
[this is about someone in my family who is suffering from PD symptoms]
They look at him but he feels
their smiles never really reach
their eyes and he senses a
kind of stigma around him.
Losing control of movement
creeps on him more often now
he stumbles clumsily on
his feet, grasping at thin air.
His tongue seems to run away
in the middle of a speech
his thoughts vanish into space
panic clutches at his throat.
This emotional minefield
carries him like a current
headlong into outer worlds
a landscape of tortured souls
He keeps a constant struggle
to ward off mental anguish
listening to vestiges
of sanity wedged in him.
The wash of fear grips his life
dreams ratchet not his misery
like wind devils not chastened
into silence, stay unleashed.
He wonders if the flutter
of dark wings in his mind will
drive him to lose anchor on
the moorings of his old life.
@jjote posted 6/9/2016
Everywhere I go
It is sure to follow--
Up and down and all around.
It does me no good to stay away
In the end it will only me betray
Grandma had a garden
that she carefully tended to
she talked to her fruits and veggies
as she made her walk through
On this particular day
my hardball went astray
landed smack in the middle
of her green garden inlay
Swiftly yet gently
she grasped me by the hand
proceeded to give me
a helluva righteous reprimand
all the yellow flowering blossoms
among the numerous rows of squash
'twas the only female producer
that my hardball had hit so harsh
My curiosity drawn to this enigma
If I wanted to eat
I learned I should take care of the stigma
My curiosity drawn to this enigma
If I wanted to eat
I learned to take care of the stigma
All the fine yellow blossoms
packed full of staunch sticky stamen
Ya'll it meant nothing a'tal
without the proud stigmas pheromone call
After that haphazard day
We often walked through her garden that May
I began to look at life in a gratuitous way
She would coax and water and sing
to that injured blossom
each and everyday
Yes that 'ol she bud began to wilt
I was filled with tremendous guilt
Stubbornly Grandma persisted
Though I was tempted to resist
Compassionately I assisted
Come morning dew
We witnessed fruit
Her squash gave birth that day
"The wilt was labor pains "
"Such is motherhood," she'd say
My curiosity drawn to this enigma
If I wanted to eat
I learned to take care of the stigma
My curiosity drawn to this enigma
If I wanted to eat
I learned how to take care of the stigma
The faceless name of stigma
with more eyes than not
go side steps and looks
there, media begot
Whose singing and slur
with stick and with stone
the backhanded harm
confiding to home
With strength that’s locked up
minds reeling to shout
the jangling of keys
to let that strength out
It’s a tentative stride
walking into the frame
those keys are our tools
to win back our name