Best Wrenching Poems
I’ve perfected the art
Of withholding a fart
I tighten my buttocks and clench
But when no one is the vicinity
I let rip with a dreadful stench
A silent secret fart released in a confined place
To some folks I guess it’s an utter disgrace
If I fart in a lift
To me it’s a gift
I can leave and I’ll not be red in the face!
If a fart is dropped in our house
I secretly wish we had a dog
I could toot with the noise of a bullfrog
but I would have someone else to blame
and could then say poor Fido’s name!
Contest That’s why I love …. Sponsor Lewis Raynes
A fictional write (well I have to say that don’t I … and I don’t have a dog lol)
First stanza is taken from my poem ‘the art of farting
06~05~16
Categories:
wrenching, body, humorous, wind,
Form:
Rhyme
There was a diner cook in South Hupper
whose food was bad from breakfast to supper.
Tried to make it right
sadly lost the fight
when shot dead by a poisoned up-chucker.
Categories:
wrenching, food, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Five years ago he joyously visited the maternity ward;
now it is the oncology floor.
Kindergarten will not be in the cards this year -
just lots of tears.
She has the same bald head she bore
when he coached his wife through
the Lamaze breathing they both had trained for;
the ponytails she beautifully wore in between
her hospital stays are long forgotten.
Cancer made her a motherless child two years ago;
now it promises to re-unite mother and daughter.
He tries to keep up a brave front –
but fails miserably.
It is hard to believe in the Saints for which hospitals are named
when these are the same buildings in which loved ones
are taken from us far too soon.
Unfortunately, he recognizes many of the nurses who cared for his wife.
“Hello, Daddy”, she smiles weakly as he enters her room;
“I am going to see Mommy soon, aren’t I”, she asks.
The lump in his throat prevents an answer.
“It’s okay, Daddy”, the sick child reassures her grieving father.
He cannot hold back the tears he promised not to show her.
“Now, instead of us missing Mommy, Mommy and I will be missing you.
And you can pray to both of us before going to bed,
like we do now to Mommy.”
“Tell her I still love her,” he manages to say through his tears.
“She knows, Daddy.”
“And …”
“I know, Daddy.”
She closes her eyes.
He has to walk past the Maternity Ward
on his way out of the hospital to the funeral parlor.
Written and posted on August 25, 2011 by Knot Telling
Categories:
wrenching, death, sad, missing, child,
Form:
Free verse
Many regrets have their bitterness
over things dreamed up and not done,
and unable to go back and undo them as sadness,
I can forget them all but one!
Categories:
wrenching, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
On this earth, which the man beholds
As his sanctuary own, he has proved
The mightiest of all and defied
Challenges unthinkably hard,
Has taken the route of science
To go up the value chain
That shields him from disasters
And plagues but at what price?
Lives sacrificed and centuries wait,
All seem to go up in flames
As out of the blue Coronavirus strikes.
A reminder that the world is flat for all
Crowns and paupers no difference
None owing its pardon for a bribe
Coronavirus the cruel is at his door
With its penchant to attack the crowds,
And known for its savor for flesh vintage
Goes on the rampage in search
Of the vulnerable old, raring
To afflict and put him to death,
Heart wrenches as digs invisibly the pest
Into his kith and kin to reach unto him.
Fight between the man and the devil
Is heating up every second
As destiny stands with bated breath,
With the economy in ruins and so the life
The man needs to hit the devil fast
Where it hurts the most
By cutting off its wingspread
By him moving into a loner's life
A skill that's not easy on the man
But once mastered Coronavirus
Is bound to lay down its arms.
Categories:
wrenching, anxiety, courage, death, life,
Form:
Free verse
Something happened to me and it was extreme.
As I was aborting a baby, it let out a loud scream.
The scream was heart-wrenching and it was chilling.
It was terrifying and I certainly didn't like the feeling.
There were no ifs, ands, or maybes.
I decided to stop aborting babies.
I can still hear that baby's horrible scream.
I would give anything if it was only a dream.
It was an experience that I truly deplore.
I decided then and there not to abort babies anymore.
(This poem is based on a true story.)
Categories:
wrenching, baby, horror, scary,
Form:
Rhyme
Many regrets have their bitterness
over things dreamed up and not done,
and unable to go back and undo them as sadness,
I can forget them all but one!
Categories:
wrenching, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Many regrets have their bitterness
over things dreamed up and not done,
and unable to go back and undo them as sadness,
I can forget them all but one!
Categories:
wrenching, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Many regrets have their bitterness
over things dreamed up and not done,
and unable to go back and undo them as sadness,
I can forget them all but one!
Categories:
wrenching, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
Affliction with comprehension,
now plain as day
predisposition to experience
(particularly abstract) cognitive
acquisition assailed at bay
posits me to suspect mental
deficiency within gray
matter of yours truly, whose
academic track record lay
in abyssal ruins, and
as three score orbitz round
the sun, yours truly doth pay
a hefty emotional price oy vey,
the voluminous, onerous,
horrendous, and analogous
moribund Atlas I cannot pray
tell shrug off from me
mental jackknifed fountainhead,
especially asper today
mainly cuz this figurative
albatross doth weigh
heavily (increasing unbearable
suffocating burden) greater quay
king pronounced effort particularly
with every passing birthday
concomitant impossibility atoll
reef used breakaway
ramping up emotional agony
willpower to live doth decay
dichotomy crashes against livingsocial
Manichean struggle pronouncedly
evincing increased dark shadowed dismay
overarching edge of night evokes doomsday
seeping into every neurological estuary
paralyzing ability to function hamstrung
hidebound hundredfold salvation faraway
sinking me deeper within troubles
steeply suffocating restricting headway,
wherein convoluted corral like gray
matter signals distress call, sans mayday
with futility, whereby
this buoy anchored away
long since being marooned,
mired, and moored since screenplay
starring yours truly launch debut,
asper this lamentable genetic craft
bereft, forlorn, and luckless fey
e'er bulwark permanently
stationed at sickbay!
Categories:
wrenching, 2nd grade, 7th grade,
Form:
Bio
I try not to cry or leave with an open sigh.
Instead I hang on tight and cry on the inside.
I pry apart my feelings and reel in my line.
You were mine and feel the need to cry once more.
My tears pour out the heart inside everytime i hear your goodbye.
You arent mine anymore so i dont need these tears to pour no more.
Your love hit my heart hardcore and you ran outside the back door.
I picked up the phone asking for more love but you shot off your hate inside.
I began to cry and scream out loud but nobody could tell.
Inside i wanted to yell, but nothing came out.
My heart felt as if i was a horse mounting in place.
Suddenly God called out and said " Grab my grace!"
After all that I soon finished the race and you were behind me.
I climbed so high and the tears finally dried and i felt peaceful inside.
I didnt have to face her anymore so i turned around and slammed that door .
She had my hearts core, but not anymore.
Categories:
wrenching, abuse, anger, anxiety, break
Form:
Rhyme
The crisis starts boiling
about the invisible foes.
The contraptions hope to recapture
the moods.
Harsh, arrogant and ritualistic.
In the stark nudity of silence
a wooden Buddha lies on the
floor crying.
“ I am not happy, I am not happy.
Why were you still a virgin ?”
White butterflies will not sit
on jasmines to lose their script.
There was a black moon to chase
the fugitive. There will be no midnight
sun. Between lips and cups
the grey fox had lighted a lamp.
Satish Verma
Categories:
wrenching, art,
Form:
ABC
It’s shameful, the way I clutch.
Like a child with a broken toy,
believing if I just hug it tight enough,
it’ll fix itself.
I know people aren’t possessions.
But tell that to the part of me
that has only known love as something
that gets taken
just when I start to believe it’s mine.
I rot with envy when he smiles at someone else—
not because they don’t deserve it,
but because I wish I was enough to keep the sun on me.
I feel foolish,
needy,
like a vine growing wild,
twisting too tightly around something
never meant to hold me.
This isn’t love, maybe.
This is fear in a dress made of want.
This is heartbreak rehearsing hope
because that’s all I’ve ever been taught:
to perform,
to plead,
to be left.
And still,
I stay—
because when he speaks,
it feels like the walls remember my name.
Because being near him
hurts less than being without him.
I know I am wrong,
but I am honest.
And maybe that’s something.
Categories:
wrenching, deep, emotions, love hurts,
Form:
Prose
Gut wrenching heartache
my heart is full of sadness
death leaves a deep void
Categories:
wrenching, death,
Form:
Senryu