Long Cure Poems
Long Cure Poems. Below are the most popular long Cure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cure poems by poem length and keyword.
Dedicated to my Dad who lost his short battle w/ Colon Cancer on June 18,2013
I hate you Cancer
Your vile evil and cruel
You don't care who you hurt
I'll never forget that day
I'll always hate you for it
Your heartless Cancer
You took someone important from me
Someone important from others too
Took people who didn't belong to you
I hate you for it
You disgust me Cancer
You had no right to take him from me
He mattered more than my very own life
I hate you for taking my Daddy
I hate you for taking others too
I hate you with a passion Cancer
You took part of my heart with him
You took part of my soul that day too
I hate you for it
I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hate you with every fiber of my being
Go back to Hell where you belong
I hate you, others hate you
Your not welcome or wanted here Cancer
I hate you more than his doctor's
I hate you more than God
I hope I get to witness that day
Witness the day you fall
And you will fall Cancer
You're gonna lose the battle one day Cancer
I'm gonna laugh and dance around your grave
You'll finally get what you deserve
And you'll never be able to inflict your disease on another soul
Sabrina Niday Hansel
______________________________________________________________________
Placed 8th in Poet Destroyer A's 2013 "PINKTOBER" Contest
Please Support a Cure for Colon Cancer & every other type!
As new cases slowly begin to grow,
A strange disease threatens our existence.
All across the globe, fear begins to flow,
As updates now grip us with persistence.
From public places, people start fleeing,
Unable to enjoy the open air.
Now, we look all around ourselves–seeing
Loneliness, isolation and despair.
Venturing out, we keep a safe distance
To try and protect our own well–being.
Trapped inside, we fight a fearful feeling
That makes us paranoid and insecure.
We all hope that the world will start healing,
As doctors endlessly search for a cure.
© 2020
Throughout the day of torrid heat
As twilight draws its curtain down
Cicadas make music pulsing beat
Melody of summer throbbing sound.
Together chorus of seasonal refrain
Resonance through midnight air
When summer rain soaks their domain
Insects will hide who knows where.
Where do they shelter from downpour?
Crawl under green leaf it's not forever
Music is silent sun is the cure
With patience, they wait on kindly zephyr.
However, when clouds have rolled away
All is clean and blossoms bloom
Cicadas are ready they begin to play
Age-old music their summer tune.
My mothers death shattered me- she was mom and friend,
I lost my anchor and became a cloud floating alone;
I watched mom, the most beautiful girl in the world,
according to dad, fade away with an illness with no cure.
She fought for years with bravery and courage,
at the end she was in a wheelchair and totally dependent;
she gave unconditional love and now it was time to pay it back.
Mom took a turn for the worse and was transferred to a hospital,
the doctor there told me she was dying within a few days;
what do you want to do, he asked, (Like what did that mean!)
he came to me after she started having convulsions with concern.
Saying, he could give her a medication to stop them but,
it would put her in a coma, (I hesitated cause mom could talk to me.)
but at 5 pm decided to let them give it to her to stop the convulsions.
My sister left weeping- I sat at mom's bedside waiting,
I felt her touch my hand and I looked at her and smiled, hi mom;
in a weak voice she said, I love you ____ and went into a coma,
I told them to turn off the machines and she flew up to Heaven.
We gave her a beautiful funeral- if a funeral can be called beautiful,
me, my sister and brothers united as one for mom to do that;
I held myself together, smiling, talking- but I was wilting inside my soul.
Then, at the cemetery, I was handed the ashes of my mother, my mom,
the most important person in my life reduced to a small box;
I broke inside, unseen and silent and never would I ever be the same,
have been told time heals, NO, that is a lie- we push the pain back.
It dwells within like an open wound ready to start bleeding over and over,
I function, I write, I put on a mask of happiness but I am hiding;
for the real me- is still screaming at the unfairness, shouting, WHY!
____________________________
June 16, 2019
Poetry/Narrative/Most Beautiful Girl In The World
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1156-554-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Torn are the pages of a callow poet’s scripts and poetry
whose temperaments in intensity brews, obscurity he owns
this lad of seventeen summers, by deluges done in,
unfortunate understanding and s
u
c c o r beyond his reach
Could it be his fiery red hair complements his fiery despair?
Flames of passion forged and fashioned from fragments
of wholeness denied blamed
Treacherous wrath resilient with bounds
and a harsh fixation that poison can cure
A martyr of poetic unjust, starved wooing words
spurned disdainfully by ruthless curs
O the valor oft times dons the mantle of resign,
sobering, despairing leap away, away
from the s c o r c h i n g i n f e r n o
internal, and into the great expansive beyond
Alas, at Sir Wrens St Andrew’s,
there lay the flesh of a premature eternal rest
and then, to bones yet destined to become fully-fledged
w p o i s o n t
h h
y y
t s
h ? e
e l
n_ _f
an arsenic end,
steel grey runs through veins
conscious elements eminence
Farewell to his anguished soul,
for his is a romantic eternal g’bye
fiery passions, temperate, b’fore him
an endless sorrowful slumber
A forger’s legacy
Elinoure and Juga Rowley works
War irks, such irks
Scarlet drips his corpse
O beloved knight in shining armor,
sisters’ pleas _/\_ raven’s mimicry
What war brings is not bright
“Virtue’s race
Is run in paths of pleasantness
and peace
though narrow, yet sufficient for the few
who have this Pearl of Price
alone in view”
—Thomas Chatterton
The tongue is a real danger
if used when out of control
it needs to be held so very firm
for truly it can damage your soul
Scripture says tongue can't be tamed
a deadly poison that takes no rest
for it blesses God and curses man
it needs a bridle to hold it in nest
O to have a tongue in my control
making every word true and pure
sending forth goodness and mercy
to make every ear receive its cure
But the tongue's evil starts within
deep down in our inner heart
there it originates from Adam's seed
from where Satan flings his fiery dart
So for my tongue to fit my temple
Jesus needs to cleanse it by His blood
so only then can God receive it
wash it clean in His crimson flood
˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜˜Love and compassion will win in the end, sure,
Truth and honesty are always pure,
Like the sun at summer noon,
Or the brightest moon,
Or the stars,
Hearts
With no bars,
Like dune boon soon croon,
Never by storms of snags strewn,
Or like the Zen body and mind cure,
Love and compassion will win in the end, sure.
.
18 January 2023
During the great hunger many were forced to roam
They settled in far off lands, that they now call home
But they missed Eire and to connect they found a way
With fellow Irishmen and women on St Patrick’s day.
All over the wide world you’ll find an Irish diaspora
Mainly in the USA , England, Scotland, and Canada
They start off with a colourful parade on the big day
Usually led by a pipe band and they lead the way.
Many will wear shamrocks and something bright green
They're so proud of their heritage and love to be seen
Many will wear leprechaun hats and a false red beard
They look quite menacing, but they are not to be feared.
Many march behind the banners of their home county
Emblazoned with their county crest it's wonderful to see
But the Irish are welcoming and anyone can join in the fun
Colour and religion matter not and it's open to everyone.
After the parade has ended there's music and song
And even if you're not Irish you'll feel that you belong
The Guinness will be flowing along with Irish whisky too
The Irish know how to celebrate, and they'll welcome you.
I urge you to join in the celebrations and enjoy the craic
Once you've had a taste of it next year you'll be back
Everyone becomes honorary Irish on Saint Patrick's day
So, pray for a bit of sunshine and for the rain to keep away.
But the next morning you might wake up with a fuzzy head
And it might be a great effort to get out of your warm bed
A full Irish breakfast the next morn is the cure and that is so
You'll be up and running in no time because I’ve tried it I know.
When people ask me
“how are you”, I say “fine”,
a short reply but a huge lie,
because I am a walking hospital
where in every corner disease lurks,
from head to toe the list is below.
The head splits in hypertensive headache morning till night
One eye’s vision is hazy with AMD, the other’s with cataract
The red nose runs the whole winter with spells of sinusitis
The ears are blocked to near deafness by obstinate hard wax
The aching shoulders have been frozen long by spondylosis
The blocked heart paining in angina has two stents though
The stomach secretes burning acid more than necessary
The liver sends artery-full of LDL to the stenosed heart
The sluggish kidneys have built bags under the eyes
The bloated prostate breaks sleep thrice at night
The knee joints abrade painfully in osteoarthritis
The big toes swell red in ceaseless bouts of gout.
I am still walking my hospital,
searching for a patient doctor (GP)
who will take charge and cure me.
July 29, 2019
Contest : Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
Sponsor : Dear Heart
Get well Soon
As it is a Well known saying
Prevention is better than cure.
Damned thoughts keeping me confined
Enter inside lets see what you can find
Plenty of negativity always haunts my mind
Repressed memories about mistakes
Emotions I can't express because of the stakes
Sexual thoughts roam amuck with no breaks
Starting to wonder what inside me is broke
Is it I or is it life that's the joke
Ostracized by myself that's irony
Not even wanted by myself I should fire me.
My heart hurts
my head hurts.
And crying about it
only makes it worse.
Nobody can ever
truly understand.
And unless you've went through it
you wouldn't stand a chance.
It's just anxiety
Another day of black.
This is the truth
And to become normal again
We should accept the wisdom of our all illusions & optimist”s Prediction.
Then you have to Get dressed, love.
You're going to be late.
You look at yourself in the mirror,
The one you really hate.
Put it down, love.
It's caused you so much pain.
You're going to do damage.
You don't want to be called insane.
Stand up, love.
Your tears make you weak.
Wipe off that black mascara,
Proof of sadness upon your cheek.
Take your pills, love.
You must try your very best.
Forget about your dizzy spells,
The tightening in your chest.
Chin up, love.
No one can know your thoughts.
You must act like you're happy
While your heart just sits and rots.
Smile a little, love.
Let me see those pearly whites.
No one has to know
What you thought about all those nights.
Breathe for me, love.
Your pain won't be forever.
Take my hand, and I'll take yours.
We'll get through this together.
By Aliza Kashmala Kiran