Long Sickness Poems

Long Sickness Poems. Below are the most popular long Sickness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sickness poems by poem length and keyword.


Fear Not For Behold I Bring Tidings of Great Joy

In this time the cloth is unwoven, the threads laid bare.   
Most of the dung removed, cleared, given no fare.
Massive steel plates hold back the uninvited from boarding the train.
Going and coming returning from far, how special the precious Saved Ones are!
Not as many by count, as expected to be, go only the accepted glorified in He. 
The One by name Jesus Christ is He, by birth our Savior, God’s only Son.
The rapture has started transformation begun!  
“Multitudes Missing” is what is said both of the living and of the dead.
Glory shone at the uniting above as Jesus ascended taking the Throne.
Angels and Saints at the table were there, celebrating the beginning 
As promised by some, in the Book it is written the time has come. 

To those uninvited still sinning below Tribulation unending they endure
Because death is not given for the unforgiven there is no cure.
Now that The Holy Spirit is gone replaced by the unholy one.
Three and one half years his reign will be before his anointment as 
King of the land, then after another one half and three
From his throne he gathers his forces to make his stand.  
In Jerusalem, after the Temple’s complete, is the place Armageddon has come. 
Many the forces pressing the land foul and dirty sinners are they.
Angels from above sweet music they play, as their swords slash, many they slay.
The rest are all gathered sorted like sheep the wicked on the left and thrown into the deep
Where welcomed by him unholy for sure cured not forever burning in hell.

Be it certain, known for sure, Jesus has returned all hail the King.
For a thousand years he will reign all living forever no sickness or pain.
He is my God the only pure one born of a mortal, Spirit raised, God’s Son.
On the cross our sin debt He paid glory forever so easily gained
Not by good works impossible to do only in accepting as Savior, our Lord, King.
In living and doing such a small little thing why do so many risk certain despair?
Is it that we tangled in our lives, mundane as they are, have little care
For those less willing the truth to be know spread the message they must be shown!
Think now of forever the price they bear become an ambassador in Jesus’ name!
Hot is the pit with its flame burning bright engulfing a loved one what a terrible sight.
The time is at hand the cloth becoming bare; Jesus is the answer show you dare.
© Rick Magee  Create an image from this poem.


Of the Common Seas

OF THE COMMON SEAS
  "We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice."  ** 

Truth need not be found
in philosophers' musings,
or complicated by thoughts bound
with theorems and words, fusing, 

nor within the intricacies
of mathematical proofs,
as one and one may indeed
not equal two; un-truth is truth.

Truth becomes vast in life,
and like the pearl, can be found
as beauty captured, in seas rife
between the common oyster's gown,

Or found within the common leaves
of books written by common men,
discovered by those literates who read.
 Truth is simple, now and ever been.  

I stumbled on such a prize
In Dana's autobiography;
of common men on common seas
living truths of common humanity.



** Dana, Jr., Richard Henry, Two Years before the Mast, World Publishing Company, 1946, p. 283
1

Like a moth to a candle flame
I pondered the perceived right 
of those of wealth, culture, piety and fame
to control and lead the common blight -   

(the average, struggling and forsaken souls);
yet have never descended to the lowly station
to learn the culture of these earthly ghouls, 
their dreams, their pleas, their damnation.

As gods atop their cloud draped mountain  
how dare they, in their empiric quackery
force the masses to their impure fountain 
to drink of the laws and life that they decree,

yet having not trod the tracks of the plebian path,
having never felt the sordid plebian passions,
but worshipping instead their comfort and wealth,
adorned in decadence and richly clothed fashions,   

how can they govern those they do not know,
minister to anguish they have never felt
or heal their sickness of body, heart and soul?
How can they play the cards, to them never dealt?	

Are they leaders, statesmen, kings and lords,
or simply counterfeit men full only of themselves,
vainglorious peacocks, strutting hordes
deceiving not a common man, only just themselves?

We have them here, in this land of the free,
politicians, preachers, corporate men and judges.
None have suffered and worked, you see
yet dare to rule, when by common men begrudged.
Form:

Premium Member Jesus

He was born in a shelter for animals,
Meant to keep off the wind and the rain,
For there was no room for them in the inn,
So it was here that they came.

His father did the best that he could,
To see to His mother's comfort.
"Please God' he prayed, 'take care of her,
For she is no king's consort."

"I cannot give her all she needs,
And now her time draws nigh,
Please see Your Son into this world,
And watch them, lest she die."

So He was born in Bethlehem,
Jesus, The Nazarene;
And Joseph taught Him all he knew,
And He surpassed their dreams.

Wise beyond His years was He;
So thoughtful, good and kind.
Search if you will but you will see,
One like Him you won't find.

Here it was He spent His years,
And grew to be a man.
When it was time He left His home,
To teach and walk the land.

So much sickness, pain and sorrow,
Jesus saw and grieved.
He brought them out of the darkness,
And all of their pain relieved.

He spoke to them of The Father.
Taught them what they must know.
He went where The Light was needed,
To places the priests would not go.

At first He was cheered, they received Him,
As one receives a great king;
And the priests were jealous and feared Him,
As to their old laws they clinged;

So when the fullness of time had come,
They brought Him before the courts,
And He was tried as a heretic,
And He suffered their jeers and retorts.

At length Jesus stood all by Himself.
Not one man stood beside Him.
His followers wept and were gripped with fear,
As they waited to see what betide Him.

Our Lord knew fear and lonliness,
And heartbreak cut like a knife;
But He was strong and withstood it all,
To end our personal strife;

For we'd been banished, cut off from God.
Our portion was certain death.
He was tortured, bled and died,
And forgave us with His last breath.

"Forgive them Father!' He cried aloud,
'They know not what they do!"
And then He hung His head and died.
He died for me and you;

But that's not all my friend, Oh No,
He went into Hell that day,
To reclaim those who waited still,
And led them all away.

Then He returned to show us all,
He is The Father's Son,
Come to reclaim us as His Own,
And save us one by one.

He conquered Death, He conquered Hell,
He IS The Conquering King!
All Hail The Mighty Son Of God!
All Hail The King Of Kings!
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

"nobody"

Nobody Listens. Nobody Cares.
 Nobody asks if Im OK.                                           
Nobody knows that Im scared. 
Nobody knows where i am at. 
Nobody knows where i live. 
Nobody sees that Im drowning down here. Nobody wants to forgive...
Nobody hears my silent screams. Nobody to Quiet the storm. 
Nobody knows my list of Dreams. Nobody wants me to come home...
Nobody knows the secret of my desire. Nobody believes that Im totally alone.
Nobody to put out these smoldering fires. Nobody sees how the hurt has grown...
Nobody wakes up with me everyday. Nobody holds me when i sleep.
Nobody ever wants to stay. Nobody sees the shadow as he creeps......
Nobody wants to play with me. Nobody knows the water is way too deep.
Nobody knows the pain is really too steep. Nobody tells me Im going to be alright.
Nobody tells me when to go to sleep....
Nobody knows the yearning I hide. Nobody sees my tears. 
Nobody sees whats brewing inside me. Nobody TO SEE my tears.
Nobody sees him trying to get my attention. Nobody knows he's here.
Nobody hears him tell me he loves me. Nobody to calm my fears...
Nobody to stop him from getting inside me. 
Nobody knows, that inside him, he offers me a Home.
Nobody hears my heart pound like a drum.
Nobody stops the adrenaline that pumps through me- 
Nobody knows where it comes from.
Nobody to stop me from going to him. 
"Do They see the Darkness come?"
Nobody knows how his sickness draws me to him- I feel No Soul... 
Nobody knows his eyes, so hypnotizing, and inside them I'm no longer alone. 
His LOVE screams violently all around me- His emotion spinning me out of control. 
His darkness calms all that is crazy....
His Love is Terminal......
Nobody sees how his Power soars through me.
Nobody  feels my heart bleed as its torn. 
Nobody to suffocate the intrique that has lied dormant inside me.
Nobody to shed a light on whats real anymore......
Nobody to stop me. A new Storm is Born.
Nobody to remind me, another power inside of me exists....
A true undenied Faith in my Savior.
A promise made with unclenched fists.
Nobody sees how I've waited here patiently- Riding out this life & Im finally tired.
Nobody feels this weariness... The heaviness... The weight of my Soul......
Im longing for this torment to take all that is left......
The pain that is never denied me....
Form: Bio

Premium Member Handle With Loving Care, For Fragile Contest

Born with a complex like a tormented fugitive in a constant flight from a life of acceptance, his Life is filled with questions and complexities. There is no room 

for blame. In a secret place, he was crafted skillfully; non are the same.*
Stored away in my garage are many items of relative values. Some have little 

to no value and are pleading for me to  tossed them. Others are just put in containers relative to their size and shape. Some totes contain various items 

with distinct labels of identity. Some are boxed; some are in totes; some are very clearly 'marked'.  Fragile people are Like boxes of beautiful jars and 

choice pottery. Such ones must be cushioned  and shielded, with postings, signs, and markings, less they be broken in a thousand pieces. There is a                                                                   

Divine Mandate requiring us to be sensitive and protective of them.                                                                       To do less is to be a lesser human.  Always present is that inability to stand                                                    

up to conflict and withstand insensitive people.  He cries easily and hurts                                                       badly.  He requires  special touches of love and human kindness. The 'marked 

ones'  are so designated, not because he is more important; but rather, because he is so very fragile, and must be handled with care. The one who 

would dare to bully or mistreat him will himself be uncovered and revealed as one with much disfunction and sickness. No elasticity; No bouncing ability; No 

flexibility; as if crafted in a sea of glass. He is entrenched with fragility. Finished and matured glass is highly useful, but is very vulnerable and easily 

cracked and broken.  Some of us are strong and solid like a rock. Some of us are weak and vulnerable like sheets of glass. We all are made in God's image 

and likeness. You and I have an intrinsic worth of high and equal value. May we be as HE who notices every falling bird**, and embraces us as HIS friends.
10132017 PS Contest, Fragility, Hamilton,5P                                                                                                                                                                     *Psalm 139:15, **Matthew 10:39
Form: Couplet


Life

Begin at the beginning is a good place to start
It makes this poem less tart 
sliding from oozed cocoon box
the lions have dens, the holes for fox 
screaming is the first noise issued 
followed by the orchestra, snap of tissued 
help, first comfort, live source 
growing, crawling, helped by guiding force 
noise, turns to speech of understanding 
running with friends, heart finding new palpating 
severed from Mother, put into class 
many hours of sunshine day passed by glass
innocence and imagination creeping 
in Mind, sponge of perpetual learning 
Ten, innocence flirting with early romance 
ending child-like state, maturity dominance 
father gone, replaced by foreign rule 
never seen someone so cruel 
Middle and High, progress to Schools
thrown into pens with some fools 
many friends, smorgasbord variety 
some try maintaining sense of piety 
learn more about self but not all from schooling 
secret meetings of passion, extreme heat, then cooling 
growing both physically/mentally 
stress where to go, what possibly 
JC, CSU, UC?
sometimes they don't let you see
more to life then this madness 
never seem to reveal or confess 
Robe, with tassel hat and gown 
some stand up and some go down 
scattered pearls among swine 
some go far, some stay close, all fine 
some going here and there 
some make it with bruises, some skin fair 
becoming adults, transitional line 
hardships or smooth sailing we will fine
working and schooling 
but who are we fooling 
it can be hard, stressful for sure 
sickness, flu season, try to find a cure 
death, taken without warning 
all of these memories consuming 
had to get this out to you all
before my brain-kept fall 
seeing life and all its glory 
all its pitfalls, sometimes gory 
side, summarizing here 
shell-shocked there and there 
flowers all in a row 
my mind will grow and grow 
internal struggle through Academia and depression 
the world, external, reflecting recession 
we will pull through, hope 
Don't let them simply say, "Nope"
life, roller-coaster up 'n' down 
spin, spin, Dervish gown 
everything turns this way and that 
skinny, bloated and fat 
but Joseph crawled from the well 
after being pushed and fell 
light returns after cycle, night 
sometimes we must throw-done, fight 
don't give up, keep going 
keep doing what your doing
Form: Rhyme

Mental Victoms Part I

Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it 
or not
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy

the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know

Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains 
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me

Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows 
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down

Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness 
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers 
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss

Premium Member Jesus

He was born in a shelter for animals,
Meant to keep off the wind and the rain;
For there was no room for them in the inn,
So it was here that they came.

His father did the best he could,
To see to His mother's comfort.
"Please God,' he prayed,'take care of her,
For she is no king's consort."

"I cannot give her all she needs,
And now her time draws nigh.
Please see Your Son into this world,
And watch them, lest she die."

So He was born in Bethlehem,
Jesus, The Nazarene;
And Joseph taught Him all he knew,
And He surpassed their dreams.

Wise beyond His years was He,
So thoughtful, good and kind.
Search if you will but you will see,
One like Him you won't find.

Here it was He spent His years,
And grew to be a man.
When it was time He left His home,
To teach and walk the land.

So much sickness, pain and sorrow,
Jesus saw and grieved.
He brought them out of the darkness,
And all their pain relieved.

He spoke to them of The Father.
Taught them what they must know.
He went where The Light was needed,
To places the priests would not go.

At first He was cheered, they received Him,
As one receives a great king,
And the priests were jealous and feared Him,
As to their old laws they clinged;

So when the fullness of time had come,
They brought Him before the courts,
And He was tried as a heretic,
And He suffered their jeers and retorts.

At length Jesus stood all by Himself.
Not one man stood beside Him.
His followers wept and were gripped with fear,
As they waited to see what betide Him.

Our Lord knew fear and lonliness,
And heartbreak cut like a knife;
But He was strong and withstood it all,
To end our personal strife;

For we'd been banished, cut off from God.
Our portion was certain death.
He was tortured, bled and died,
And forgave us with His last breath.

"Forgive them Father,' He cried aloud,
'They know not what they do."
And then He hung His head and died.
He died for me and you;

But that's not all my friend, Oh No,
He went into Hell that day,
To reclaim those who waited still,
And led them all away.

Then He returned to show us all,
He is The Father's Son,
Come to reclaim us as His Own,
And save us one by one.

He conquered Death, He conquered Hell,
He Is The Conquering King.
All Hail The Mighty Son Of God!
All Hail The King Of Kings!
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Withdrawals

Trigger warning ??????????

This was a pretty hard piece to compile, and definitely a personal piece to post but my hope is it may reach someone who needs it. 

Withdrawals 

The pain is indescribable, but with my words I can but try,
To describe the hell on earth that withdrawals will supply, 
It covers every single miniscule molecule of every one of your bodies cells 
From every hair follicle to each tip of every toe, your head rings like orchestral bells 
You can't concentrate in fact you simply can't think as your skin begins crawling 
You want to cry but your eyes cannot even weep, you cry out but no tears come falling,
While the sensation of an infestation begins to infest you under your skin, 
Your every muscle has lost its strength and then the sickness and diarrhea begins, 
Beads of sweat trickle down from your face, 
Yet your bitterly cold, no matter how many layers the shivers continue to play chase 
They penetrate right down to the bone and you cannot hide the inevitable shaking 
Try as you might because of your body's unbearable aching, 
It's like a baseball bat was used to literally batter you, 
Nothing helps to sooth any of the pains your being subjected to 
You find yourself contemplating things you'd never thought you'd do, 
This poison is like the devil himself whispering in your ear he's cunning acting like a saviour 
But it's evil plotting conspiring against you talking you into failure, 
Just one hit and you'll feel so much better, don't suffer he repeats and replies, 
While the people who love me my family are the angels shouting loudly rallying I hear there cries
And it's now a game of tennis my head is the tennis ball, back and forth you can't construe 
You contemplate continuously, do I have the strength or the willpower to see this through,
Or will the devil on my shoulder finally conquer and prevail taking my soul back with him 
Back to the depths of hell from which I came which was grim, 
But failure would mean I would never be free of this addiction of this disease, of this affliction,  
Therefore failure isn't even an actual option? 
The weeks of hell you endure of withdrawals comes with the greatest reward you could ask for
Freedom, of the mind, the body and soul, withstand the biggest test of your life because for sure, 
You've got so much more to live for!
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Crime and Punishment

Not a day passes by, not 
thinking about you, 
believing in my love, which I 
know is true.
Waiting for you, to come back, 
with a lot of hopes, but no 
regrets, which I lack.
I sit down crying, hurting 
myself, 
praying that you will realize, my 
love, by yourself.
What did I do wrong, that you 
left me? 
Isn't there anything pure that 
you see in me? 
What happened, when you 
hugged or kissed me? 
What happened, when you 
wanted to stay by me? 
Was I not, a wall protecting you? 
If not, then tell me, where I 
screwed? 
I can change, the tides of time, 
even with blood, as I write this 
in rhymes, 
waiting, breathing, bleeding, for 
only one day, 
standing wide eyed, for a single 
ray, 
of hope, to see you return, 
and give me a chance, to show 
my concern, 
for you, and only you, whom I 
love, 
ready to even battle, the gods 
above, 
with a power, to bring heaven 
and hell as one, 
for, the only one, 
who is you, my heart, 
without whom, my life is torn 
apart.
Is this betrayal, or just a phase, 
to watch me suffer, bleed and 
phrase, 
my pain, my blood, my inner 
happiness, 
that has turned me cold, to 
numbness.
My tears have dried, crying for 
your return, 
as I have turned hollow, and 
started to burn.
Think about, the good times we 
had, 
the love, the smiles and the 
bond we shared.
There was not a single day, 
when you did not call me, 
only to hear the words, 'Love 
you honey'.
Every day, and every night, 
I hold on my phone, really tight, 
waiting for a ring, or just a 
message, 
which was my beating heart, 
and my life's passage.
What is it now, that you detest 
in me, 
that you chose, to just leave 
me? 
I am in despair, which I dont 
show out, 
for this is another battle, a war, 
a bout, 
that has brought this, sickness 
in me, 
awakening, the demon inside of 
me.
Now I stand deadly, with rage, 
transforming, even as I age.
But all through this, it does not 
conquer me, 
for there is something that lets 
me be, 
in a way, that you wanted me to 
stay, 
filled with love, and a question 
that makes me pray, 
oh god! ! Please bring her back, 
to me, my love, 
please dont punish me, with 
your wrath from above, 
and all through this.....I 
continue, to ask this question 
that would be, 
dear, 'Why did you leave me? '

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