Best Worrier Poems
I know that I have called this a sonnet, and I recognise that it falls short of such an esteemed form, but it is my first attempt, please forgive me.
in SUPPORT of GOOGLE'S SELF DRIVE CAR
a black tarmac warrior
a technology killing humanity worrier
plotting a course at one hundred kilometres an hour
his fatigued mind begins to wander
they want to take away his freedom
to replace his skills and wisdom
superseding his brain with one of silicon
technology supplanting humanity beyond his reason
Isaac and I Robot showed the way
when with technology protecting humanity we will rue the day
while his mind remains resolute, his car begins to sway
because humanity in control is the only way
then in his old age, his is the first generation
with no licence, but independent automated motion
Categories:
worrier, anxiety, betrayal, car, judgement,
Form:
Sonnet
Facing facts was never where he excelled:
avoiding them, he flitted, like a blind bat
guided as by sonar past obstacles
crowding the dark cave of his existence.
Still, some sight sifted through his shuttered eyes.
Onlookers might have guessed
he was merely another smug fat cat
forever grinning at the luck
that put him where, secretly,
he wished he would never have arrived.
Appearances aside, he was terrified
by his own fragility and that of those he loved --
a worrier, he merely masqueraded,
a graying rabbit with a nervous nose,
cowering in corners into which he heavily hopped
at the drop of each and every hat:
his mild pink eyes as tightly closed as any bat's
against the sight of hatchets
which might be flashing through the black
toward his hairy, cringing neck.
Categories:
worrier, allegory, angst, sympathy,
Form:
Free verse
For better or worse...
Ever the thinker, ever the worrier
Brooding like the dark waters of the deep
Restless, wandering, tormented soul
Undying urge to answer the unanswered
A need to solve that which is unsolvable...
Return me to the seas where my answer lies
Yes, let me swim those dark waters...again
Birthdate: February 26, 1949
Contest finalized: 4/30/2016
Date written: 8/11/2015
Categories:
worrier, birthday,
Form:
Acrostic
Looks like a lonely smile, just maybe a only child
As my days go by, as my hour’s blossom
At times in this open space I’d rather play possum
In your presence my glass is full
Half and hour later your past in nearly consumed
Like concrete my emotions extract and expand
And when I’ve become more that we could bear
My life lead contract is what you demand
Looks like a lonely child, and could be the only smile
Perhaps we could throw time into reverse
Relax and undermine this unforgiving curse
If nothing at all seems any worse
Then we shouldn’t be privileged to hurt
Life, lice, more of timely disease
A worrier finally at ease
An escape requires the keys to theses haunted seas
The only pleasure that taunted me
Looks like a lonely smile, just maybe an only child
Should this daylight torment or burn my eyes
Would you pay to see my lessons learned through lies?
Should this carpet decide not to warm my feet
Then I shall prepare to watch my health swarm in defeat
Categories:
worrier, life, music, mystery, song-lonely,
Form:
Lyric
I lost my appetite for delicacy
My pleasures got me angry
Nothing was even making sense.
Mama got so worried
And I got worrier
The moon sang me loneliness
And I could not catch
The glimpse of the shooting star.
The ranch got bushy
The horses got infested
My poor mare got weaker
From short of tours...
Alone in spring and summer
In my cowboy attire
Heavy sighs ran my veins.
Fever got me on
For she's far away.
Categories:
worrier, cowboy-western, me, me,
Form:
Free verse
murky fog descends
around constant worrier
faith less visible
NOTE: According to fellow PoetrySoup member, Charles Henderson, "Haiku is a serious poem in that it is a true mental picture projected by one or more of the five natural senses. It is considered Objective when written as though the writer were outside of the poem looking in. All the words are self explanatory, in the sense they are words which elicit a reaction in one or more of the reader's five senses, see, hear, touch, taste, smell. The reader has no other obligation in the poem. Only to read it and have one or more of those responses."
My original was revised with his help to make Lines 1 and 2 connect easier and to make poem objective. Haiku has 3 lines and 2 statements. I kept the 5-7-5 syllable count because I prefer that. I cannot thank Charles enough for his lessons and help.
Categories:
worrier, anxiety, faith, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Warm winds of change swept past my door,
I turned my back and moaned, No more!
Peace did not come, an urgent nudge—
designed to move this lazy fudge—
kept popping up inside my head,
until there remained not one shred
of pride, or joy, nor serenity.
I came to doubt my identity
as God's own, a Christian warrior.
Instead, I became a common worrier.
Still he sought to call me near
with urgency and love sincere.
All it took was one sentence,
sent in a prayer of repentance;
"I'm sorry, Lord, I will obey."
Heaven's breath blew in to stay.
Categories:
worrier, change, prayer,
Form:
Couplet
Thousand words cannot praise,
Million hugs showing gladness,
A gift for the hero I will raise,
No word can describe her zeal,
My unsung hero I hope to praise,
Strength to strength she grows,
A woman my hero she rise high.
Woman strength is unmatched,
From dawn to dusk her tenderness,
Love that raises many generations,
In the lands tilling she never tires,
Raising children alone she fights,
Struggles, her dreams benefits more,
Yet my hero they never sing about.
Pains she bears for her love,
A protector she is a fighter,
A worrier wining all battles,
A queen she stands to protect,
A mother she natures with love,
Standing tall even when deserted,
A conqueror my true hero I praise.
In honor of mothers of the world,
Sisters we never care to celebrate,
Street mothers we abuse and refuse,
Young girls we subject to cruelty,
Traditions a weapon to weaken,
Let’s fight the evils in societies,
Grow strong generations of women.
Categories:
worrier, woman,
Form:
Bio
50 TRILLION CELLS
50 trillion cells,
I hold within my skin
And I am the governor
As to what state they’re in
Like fractals they are mini me’s
They have my every function
What I think and how I feel
They act on that assumption
My very own community
That I am in control
I’ll guide my little worrier cells
With my heart and with my soul
You see, what ever thoughts I hold
My cells react, and do exactly as they’re told
If my mind is in a state of war
My cells react and fight the more
But when I’m thinking with a loving heart
My cells will act and play that part
Man is master of his thoughts
Yes you are in control
What you’re thinking to be true
Makes you up as a whole
Your environment causes your perceptions
What is it that you’re seeing?
If it’s not good, change it now
And you will change your very being
Let love, happiness, health and wealth
Dominate every thought
And every single cell in you
Will act exactly as they ought!
50 trillion cells in you
Awaiting your command
Govern wise my friend believe
And reach your promised land!!!
Categories:
worrier, inspirational, change,
Form:
Rhyme
Alisha
Writer, worrier, sleeper, cook
Daughter of D’Anna, Scott, Paul, Mitzie, Steve
Lover of anime, poetry, free will
Who feels isolated, alone, surpassed
Who fears failure, loss, wastefulness
Who would like to see unity, tolerance, Japan
Residence of my own little world
Groves
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Categories:
worrier, daughter, introspection, life, sad
Form:
Bio
Yes, I have been privileged to be a Good Samaritan, but I prefer to share about other Good Samaritans. Most friends and acquaintances that I have known have been and are 'Good Samaritans'. I take great delight in speaking of four of them who attended the wounds of others as well as my own.
I was a wounded worrier for having lost the house keys of a business client. I was more than a bit consoled after describing the awful day I had before the keys were recovered. He made my day when he said to me, "That Day Is Gone". I shall call him Mr. Forget It who became my Good Samaritan.
I was wounded in confidence until one Sunday morning in the church lobby a young teenager asked me if I was still hanging in there. His question gave birth to a response that shifted the confidence of my entire being and certainly changed something deep inside of me. I replied to him, "No, I'm not hanging in there; I have got the bull by the horns, and he's going down". I shall call that inspiring teenager Mr. Hang In There who also was my Good Samaritan.
We had secured a contractor to perform some work on our home. At the time, we were frustrated, disappointed, and barely recovering from a world wide economic collapse. We had a price agreement for the repairs; and when the contractor finished, I handed him the check. He refused the check by saying, "I don't want this check; I don't need this check. At that point I was overwhelmed, because he had donated all his services, both parts and labor. I shall call him Mr. Surprise, who became my Good Samaritan.
The transmission on our vehicle had gone its last mile. We were deeply worried about the heavy cost of parts and labor that such a repair would require. The repair man was referred by a friend. When he arrived to assess the situation, the first words from his mouth were, "God told me not to charge you". I shall call him Mr. No Charge, my Good Samaritan.
11142017 PS Contest, The Good Samaritan, Craig Hawkins
Categories:
worrier, christian, faith, friend, god,
Form:
Narrative
Disappointment and hurt serving as a huge barrier
subsequent sensitivity of the mind towards affection
makes the heart worrier,
converting a spot once habitable to a no go area;
overworking feelings and emotions without any wage.
The windows of tenderness’ stores, now partially damaged
just to maintain this new borrowed image.
Opening the doors is beyond the spell of any wizard
persistence on trying, attracts its own hazard
yet, falling carelessly from the wall feeling no pain like the lizard.
No matter how one resists, the heart still insists
though broken, but having greater space to accommodate more love
Categories:
worrier, emotions, heartbreak, heartbroken, hurt,
Form:
Romanticism
The room was unusually dark that tinny night,
As music and laughter replaced the light,
Toasts were given for proud glories earned,
As horrors of war exploded and burned.
My warrior father, the subject of such great acclaim,
My worrier mother forgot to bring me a plate,
And my brothers all dressed in their best Sunday clothes,
Had to act proper and do as they were told.
For the party they would roam,
While I remained quietly in my room,
...beyond the stares of the crowd,
And people in whom Dad was proud.
I was free from ties and shoes,
I was free from table manner rules,
But I missed being included,
And grew tired of being secluded.
You see, way back in the day,
Everyone knew the proper way,
To hide a retarded kid,
Especially one who looked as I did.
But I really have to tell you it was great,
I mean you didn't even have to sit up straight,
Then at seven it came crashing down,
I accidentally proved I was mentally sound.
With a simple operation to uncross my eyes,
And a few simple tests for I.Q. size,
The kid with promise grew from that kid retarded,
And that, my friend, was just how this started.
Categories:
worrier, confusion, life, thank you,
Form:
Bio
Taking her home one day, my daughter said to me, "Until then". I was expressing my frustration by questioning her ability to get along in life without my assistance. I wondered out loud with her about how long it might take her to be fully emancipated. Yes, she was divorced and on her own with three kids, but it seemed to me that her reliance on my services needed to be curtailed. Her reply indicated to me that she would be utilizing me as long as I was available. I was deeply moved and inspired by her two words, "Until then". I came to realize in a personal and close-up way that 'her growth and maturity' was greatly linked to the word 'Then". Since then, I have been more aware that emancipation is a two-way process; and I am also allowing the 'Then Time' to come more sooner than later.
Late one night after I had picked him up from work, my oldest son said, "Dad, I do not need you to be my news reporter". Those words were in response to my repeated attempts to 'remind him' of some of his obligations. In a very passionate tone, he was informing me that he was now an adult and no longer required such reminders. On that particular night, I was indeed the one being taught to 'grow up'.
"Dad, you need to be more flexible". Such were the reply of my youngest son when I questioned his inability to return straight home after being sent on a mission. He was a new driver, and I was a 'worrier'. Up to that point, I was an A, B, C and 1, 2, 3 type of person. Now, I have learned to 'Chill'; and sometimes, I might even skip B, or forget about 3 and jump to 6. I thought 'Father knows best'. Not always.
03062017 PS Contest, Younger people who have inspired you, Brenda Chiri
101317, 2nd Contest, Parenthood, Silent One, 3P
Categories:
worrier, change, children, dad, inspiration,
Form:
Narrative
I’m as certain about this, as anyone can be
Disaster awaits me, just wait and see
I’m not a worrier; well not any more… But!
You never know what knocks at your door
A positive outlook is all I need
The kind of thinking that’s guaranteed
To see me through the toughest of day’s… But!
Disaster can strike in so many ways
Things will be alright on the day?
Well maybe sometimes, don’t quote me, ok
No sense worrying, it may never happen … But!
Maybe it will, what do you reckon?
Be optimistic see the bright side of life
Pessimists worry, about all the gloom and strife
Life can be richer, balanced between the two… But!
I’m not sure. What about you?
Philip Royle copyright © 2012
Categories:
worrier, anxiety, confusion, humor,
Form: