Best Worse Poems
(note: picture is essential to the poem)
POTD 11-25-17
Teacher said my decisions needed consequences.
I have to write a million gazillion sorry sentences.
Billy was stupid to tease me, call my family poor.
I had to kick Billy so he wouldn’t say it more.
Just like Dad does, I laughed when he hit the floor.
Dad would say I was strong, teach says I was wrong.
I don’t understand any grown up stuff.
They don’t act the same way enough,
or Dad is right; I’m so stupid, I can’t keep up.
I’m trying so hard to stop my eyes.
Things always get more worse when I cry.
Even when I’m quiet and being haved
my tummy hurts cause it feels afraid.
Everyone’s at recess, but cause I made an upset,
Teach said there’d be no play time for me yet.
I don’t know what she means by classroom policy,
but it seems like a plan you grow up and forget.
There’s no sorry policy in my family.
Dad never 'pologizes when he kicks me.
x You,
the one who hurts me.
x You,
the one who chains me.
x You,
the one who controls me like a puppet.
x You,
the one who has my strings tied to your fingers.
x You're making my choices yours and I've gotten used having no say.
x Weave the webbing you create,
Trap me like a fly.
x Everytime you hurt me,
I manage to pretend that I am blind.
Im clearly not but I lie and tell myself
"She cant be that bad!"
... Can she?
x To me you're like a cigarette,
Im addicted to your love despite it being the thing that's killing me, I don't want to stop but this time I won't let myself answer your calls.
x Instead,
you fill up my head.
Memories,
Cravings,
Feelings.
Withdrawal drowns me.
x I should burn every excuse I made for your abuse,
But I don't.
x Keep promising myself I won't go back to you,
But I've never quit successfully.
x Halfway through another cigarette,
I promised it'd be my last 3 packs ago.
But I knew I'd likely never quit.
I don't even get a buzz anymore,
I feel nothing for them.
x I feel nothing for you.
Pain is fuel for frustration,
Because I don't have a will to quit.
x You lassoed me and pulled me in,
just to tear me and my everything apart.
Thoughts of you flood back any time I leave,
a voice of silk whispering to me.
Claiming one more time won't hurt.
I'm not strong enough to ignore it and it senses my fear.
x I said it was the last time last time. x
x I know the damage even a tiny taste can do.
I swear it's the last hit I'll take of you.
x I don't wanna be alone.
I tell myself your toxic love is like cigarettes or drugs.
Addictive, deadly, and damage can only be seen with the eye of time.
x I need to find a way out of your faux love web,
but I can't see through the fog your kiss leaves.
x You're like a cigarette. I'm desperate to stop but at the same time, I don't wanna quit.
PersephonesPain
Info
Entry #1
Date
Wed. x 00:30-06:10 x 26-1-22
Inspo
Nicotine, P!aTD.
WORSE THAN DEATH
Calling for you.
Reaching with my hand.
Reaching out to feel...
for finger tips, yours.
No one there!
Where is that grasp?
That bouquet of warmth,
one hand tucked in another.
Ice cold, cooler,
freezing, I call for you.
Call out in confusion,
the name of our child.
Ragged hard breathing.
Then hardly audible...
whispering the names,
I let go of living .
In the void but nowhere...
I’m gone from here now.
My fingers still move,
reaching for you.
-Edlynn Nau
© April 26, 2020
Dedicated to Covid-19 victims that die without the farewell or affection from their spouse or children.
Have you ever met those kind of blokes who get upon your nerve,
when they quote continual references that most think should deserve
a threatening confrontation that if they make that quote again,
then the punishment that’s handed out will give them heaps of pain.
A gang of us were working down along the Main Drain stream,
clearing blackberries and willows on a governmental scheme,
and as usual on a Monday morn, weekend glitches are highlighted,
that are full of doom and gloom, and mostly are ‘beer blighted.’
For Clancy, Joe and me, we sort of blessed the doom and gloom,
as it transgressed into humour, and so there wasn’t any room,
for the likes of workmate Charlie who only saw a brighter side,
when there wasn’t any bright side; just a great gloomy divide.
Charlie is the eternal optimist with no matter what is said
in the ghastliest of circumstance even if someone was dead,
and Charlie only had one quote that we’re sure he did rehearse,
and so we heard it every time ‘It could have been much worse.’
So after work one evening in the pub we had some beers,
with ‘it could have been much worse,’ still ringing loudly in our ears,
and with Charlie being absent we devised a cunning plan,
to rid him of that bloody quote and then praying that we can.
We thought that as a perfect subject we would use our good mate Ted,
in a steamy sordid untrue yarn to get inside of Charlie’s head,
and have him shaking in his bootstraps, plus gulping in his throat,
to avoid us hearing one more time, his annoying bloody quote.
And so ‘it could have been much worse’ is about to get the chop,
as we cut and piled the prickly canes, of a large blackberry crop,
so when the time was ready, with Charlie well within ear shot,
Joe babbled out the sordid tale that was really ‘Tommyrot.’
“Did you hear about our old mate Ted, and what went on last night?
He caught his wife with Jimmy Hale, and there was a shocking fight;
he shot ‘em both and then himself!” But Charlie stayed quite calm but terse,
as he rolled a smoke and muttered out, “It could have been much worse.”
“Much worse!” We squawked as one... “How can it be worse than that?”
And the answer Charlie gave us… well it really knocked us flat,
after dragging on his cigarette, he sniffed and quietly said,
“If it had have been the night before, it’s me who would be dead.”
Nurse for Better Or Worse
Had married my wife for better or worse.
And she ended up becoming a nurse;
Not only that became an Registered RN;
On general floor is where she did begin.
With others her each ability did share
Became part of Neonatal Intensive Care
When she put on each nursing shoe
Would always end up going to NICU.
Each morning when sun would rise
She was an angel in her disguise
Back in those days a person knows
All white were all of her clothes.
Of course now must start to admit;
Love all her patients could never quit
Each day more in love with her fell
Hearing stories she had to tell
Jim Horn
This is all true with no fake news.
Despite the thorns I hold on to my rose - we bleed together.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Roses Are Red
Sponsor: Alexis Y.
Placed 1st
Less than twenty-four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the anus of this guy
which bout with rectal obstruction
found me doubled over with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil, which akin to Drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent to cease LivingSocial would try
humph enjoining this lvii year old married male
to cede victory to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this Uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered out five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction of former thought to cease existing
though a non-bull lever in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes his recurring pain in the ass jagged torture
and asks a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
She lays there alone
Looking at the sky
She thinks of that saying,the one about sticks and stones
And says softly to herself "Thats a lie."
That day she had been called a pig,a *****, and a mutt
She had also been told she was fat,worthless,and scary
She wonders if she really is a ****
Soon she became ever so wary
Then she slowly sits up and draws out her knife
She thinks about that little trophy wife
Who muttered the 6 words "She should take her own life"
Slowly that girl puts her knife to her chest
As the words "Kill yourself" run through her mind
She stabs the knife into her chest just like the rest
If only one person had been kind...
Now she falls back into a lay
Wondering how long it will take for someone to find her
A year? A month? A day?
Everything fades into a blur
She takes her last breath
Then finally she reaches her death
Somebody stepped on me once
and I was angry enough to swear.
The hardest game comes into play,
kill them with kindness or fight back.
Soon after I came across words that
forever changed my attitude toward
human confrontation:
"Treat me good and I'll treat you better, treat
me bad and I'll treat you worse"-Freedom, Credos from the Road
Nobody took advantage of my overly giving nature since.
~ Doctor Save Me ~
Help me aging got worse they say
sources of problems are solutions find one
my beauty is wrinkled
my heart stopped blinking
don't shrink my hopes
I`ll sink hurry think
& Save Me.
Therese Bacha
24/4/2013
Steve was hoping that on Valentine's Day
That he’d be lucky and he’d get a lay
He thought very hard
And purchased a card...
‘In loving memory’ it did say!
His girlfriend hit him over the head
She ordered him - get out of the bed!
When she read the sad verse
Her anger got much worse
Silly Steve now wished that he was dead!
13th February 2016
Why did she do such a thing
How much pain it brings
It feels like I cant breathe
But she does still love me
And I love her
Though it is hard to
It could be worse
Because now she is free
Villanelle: No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
There where you first blink your own coffin you have to nail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Hounded by carnal goals and bound fast by your fate innate
The hammer that pounds the nails in your blood without fail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
The long arm of fate can reach you through the friendly state
The Wanderer has no place he calls home but the un-walled jail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Neither lust nor love can spare the place’s trap or fumigate
The quick flaming grass that traps you on the mountain trail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
You may nurse the cow in you be not gruff never joke nor prate
Nor vie with otherland hosts where other unjust ways prevail
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
Nor claim the imported god incarnates the only Law in the State
Sack burn pillage and plunder the recumbent host’s Holy Grail
No curse worse than the place and name you inherit to hate
The exiled wander aimless in the throes of never-relenting fate
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
I heard a saying long before
Too many cooks spoil the broth sure
I think it proves right
With one another they fight
The man dodges or they little to share.
-------------------------------------------
Ninth Placement
Contest: To die for Limericks
Villanelle: Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
How many would give their lives young to be acclaimed
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Burn Rome to the tune of fires surging from a lyre lone
How many Caesars seek Cleopatra’s arms to be proclaimed
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Remember Kennedys risk turns with a beauty home-grown
To recall a king forfeit his throne for a woman twice-maimed
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Yearn for a name to keep from gnawing marrow-less bone
Seek solace striving to escape the stifling that’s ordained
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
While others don thick-skinned masks in search of renown
Contort their insecure senses in complexes unrestrained
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
Who among the living can claim to have produced the clone
Genji Monogatari Monkey Quijote among authors maimed
Is there shame worse than that to be caught dead unknown
Sell their souls deceive connive plagiarize unbeknown
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014