Malnourished Poems | Examples

Eagle Rock Reverie

Written: August 06, 2025

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The traffic roars as wounded gulls.  
metal beats skated over the asphalt waves, 
each honk a fractured prayer,
fleeing the city, restless breath.

I sit beneath a twisted jacaranda tree.  
Its lavender flowers unfurl as the sun dips low 
Parrots squabble in the canopy— 
boisterous, unrepentant, and singing,  
stirring the dawn with their raucous cries,
a beauty entwined with longing. 

Their melody exists beyond,   
concrete and clocks,

I sip coffee—malnourished warmth—  
Its bitter essence wedged between my ribs,  
where comfort once thrived. 
The chipped cup, a reflection of lost trust.

Each face that passes me
is a silent question,   
I have forgotten how to answer.

Once I skated these streets  
hungry for names,  
for the echo of someone to cram my void, 
But identity remains a fog  
caught between chain-link fences  
and fragrant jasmine vines.

Yet still,  
I listen for that singular voice  
amid the clamorous parrots,  
the one that might beckon me back  
into the wholeness of myself.

The Starry Cow

One More Cow, One More Sow
Another acre cultivated
By a shining plough
The farmer’s son takes off his hat
Wiping the sweat from his brow

Their productive loans are being called in
Lives changed at the financier’s whim
To survive, they’ll work for life and limb
Yet their malnourished bones are wearing thin

The processor purchases milk below cost
And no buyers for our fields of maize
It looks like all hope is now lost
It seems, rarely these days 
That honest work ever pays

One More Cow, One More Sow
We are coming closer, acre by acre
Until we use our Starry Plough
Let’s grow a harvest from the soil
And struggle living from our toil

Don't Serve Me Anything Old and Cheesy

I've been served lots of unappetizing things 
that simply did not please my palette.
Being force fed with bitter or insincere words 
is unappealing presented as a crisp green salad.

I would rather be underfed and malnourished 
than to feast on something too briny or cheesy.
I won't feast on a buffet of regurgitated foods, 
like dill pickles offered as sour grapes... sleazy.

Nothing has more stench to me than rotten food. 
As an example, mold spores inside blue roquefort,
and don't ask me to swallow one bite of sarcasm. 
That would take far too much of my time and effort.

I'd spit out a spoon of any soup if in it swims a fly,
or if the spices were added by the hand of a hypocrite.
A warm peach cobbler would make a scrumptious dish
as long as inside there'd not be left on purpose... a pit.

Sleep writing

If sleep was a meal I’d be starving 
Malnourished despite my carving
Out a routine for sleep in my bed
Pen in hand and sandy words in head

For poetry soup soothes my soul
Relaxes my mind helps me grow
Challenging me to write all night
Since I’m not asleep may as well right

Write what’s wrong from my view
Write whats right also a to do
Finally my muse comes for me
Just as I feel the feathers of sleep

A Word To The Love Sick World

This is a call to all sufferers 
 hanging themselves in their own arms
apart from the one they desire 
tired of nights sleeping alone
restless in grave prisons of the 
 place they would rather be,
whispering wishes and psalms to the
 silence of walls that will never speak.

Seeking out their most beloved unknowns 
that which they do not know outside of sleep,
the reason for their itch to stay in bed
for its ease to dream and play on nocturnal grounds 
away from emptiness of waking 
when time is occupied by working and despair and drinking.

An escape to care and to be cared for unconditionally
 from the depths of a majestic heart, 
that reciprocates the true yearning 
between two divine animals 
to frolic and escape the solitude 
of the malnourished zoo of the world.

Worn Out Relic

O Lord,
'Tis a decade gone
Since thy curse fell upon us.
The malnourished children are no more,
The poor soil lieth barren.
Lord, what hast thou wrought upon our village?
Mine only companions be the flies and the toads.
Thy shadow resteth beside mine empty grave.
I am not wroth with thee,
Yet surely have I all the right to be so.

Woven arrows of bleakness

1.
Raucous winds sweep pristine waves 
against gods' sepulchral canvas as
stagnant, sharp wings' frames rose from malnourished hearts;
ends of elongated crosses marked beginnings
of rotten, venomous roots plugged into dead matter.

2.
Hollowed caverns invaded by calloused fingers 
coaxed bitter nectar and pellucid beads:
thus, gashed, aqueous sacs polluted by darkening crimson 
rolled down the silken passage.
With each bite, a story is devoured as 
monotonous beats of the gnawed linger in the air,
a saccharine image of carnage and raven barbs.

3. 
Rough trunks and polished branches - that reached for the fleating dark 
blended into mirrored snowy and sickening magenta -
tell stories of woven arrows of bleakness and despair,
a myriad of similar, blurring threads plunging: 
upon the lost and benevolent,
upon the putrid and vice,
nonchalantly.

4.
Yearning, bony grip interrupted hasty steps;
despite their current state,
these wane pits easily found mine
(like never before)
their intimate, lost vigor fueling my disdain as 
superficial longing clashed with a guarded soul
finally certain of similarities and your self-induced downfall.

Parasitic revolution

Most everybody can handle a few parasites
but eventually it reaches critical mass
the body runs low on flesh and laughs
it begins a slow collapse from the inside out.

America's body is infested with parasites
The rich, powerful and the thoroughly corrupted
are flaying the good people to sate the parasites
in hopes of gleaning votes from their dependence.

When they run low on good people
the malnourished and entitled parasites 
will turn on those that have fed them.
Let's call it a parasitic revolution.
From the progeny of good people 
and enlightened parasites, 
a virgin middle class will arise.
They'll replenish equilibrium....
A new age ecosystem if you will.

In the meantime, the socialist buzzards 
and communist hyenas
are moving in for a sniff.
Note that an elephant is never easy prey,
especially when wounded and perpetually played.

A Fistful of Senryu

A fading intent
Lost amid echoed voices
A blurring of lines


A meaningless word
Adrift on a feeling
Softness or sting


Her eyes lied
As she spoke her “truth”
A lover’s denial


A barb blindly tossed
An unnoticed flinch
An unshed tear


Malnourished 
When the wise lack wisdom
Un-nurtured youth

Mud

In old London
the Thames used to be muddy,
not muddy like the Mississippi,
but the mud of the drowned,
murdered, and of long lost dreams.

On gray dawns
scrawny kids would sift through
the detritus that washed up
on its stony riverbank,
small objects that belonged
to the once living.

Sometimes a good ring or wristwatch
would be fished out of the effluvium,
more often rags,
chicken or rat bones.

Those who once stood beside
these dark waters
may have looked deeply into them
as if despairingly predicting

cold malnourished hands
scooping up their dreams
to be sold for pennies.

Fiyameta

Moving silently without direction
Like an old Saint 
Quick yet perturbed
Mimicking a malnourished child 

A silhouetted figure in the dark
Slithers across the curve of the Earth 
While the dewdrops gather at their pruned toes
Just to find 
You.

~Whoever

Sister

I was locked in jail of world 
You become my spritual guider

I was unaware of worldly dealings 
You become my best broker

I got stuck in various situations 
You become my lawyer 

Growing at my age of distraction
You become my guru

At my every mistake 
You become my parent


My passion and talent were malnourished
You become my dietician

I was recognized as nayan
Because you become my sister(unnati)

NAYAN SHRIMAL

I Choose To Live Updated

For far too long I have denied myself a life of joy, prosperity, and the understanding that I too deserve happiness despite my mistakes 

For countless years it seems I have mentally digested a falsified definition of who I am and allowed my potential to be malnourished- 

feeding my mind with welcoming thoughts of unworthiness.

What of these thoughts of mine that  encapsulated me?

What of these tangled webs of self-sabotage that stagnates my growth?

You see, there's power in the mind but that power could sway either way-

dominantly viewing ourselves with a positive perception or lack thereof.

However, between the two lies a balance of acceptance-

by embracing all of who you are;including the imperfections.

So, no more will I hide within the shadows of self-doubt-

holding me hostage, unable to step into the light 

I dismiss the idea that I have nothing to offer the world

How dare me think less of who I am?

How could I be so oblivious to how special the powers that be have made me?

Of course, I'm not perfect. But who is?

Its my decision to be happy

It's my decision to LIVE!!!!

I Choose To Live Updated

For far too long I have denied myself a life of joy, prosperity, and the understanding that I too deserve happiness despite my mistakes 

For countless years it seems I have mentally digested a falsified definition of who I am and allowed my potential to be malnourished- 

feeding my mind with welcoming thoughts of unworthiness.

What of these thoughts of mine that  encapsulated me?

What of these tangled webs of self-sabotage that stagnates my growth?

You see, there's power in the mind but that power could sway either way-

dominantly viewing ourselves with a positive perception or lack thereof.

However, between the two lies a balance of acceptance-

by embracing all of who you are;including the imperfections.

So, no more will I hide within the shadows of self-doubt-

holding me hostage, unable to step into the light 

I dismiss the idea that I have nothing to offer the world

How dare me think less of who I am?

How could I be so oblivious to how special the powers that be have made me?

Of course, I'm not perfect. But who is?

Its my decision to be happy

It's my decision to LIVE!!!!

I Choose To Live

For far too long I have denied myself a life of joy, prosperity, and the understanding that I too deserve happiness despite my mistakes. 

For countless years it seems I have mentally digested a falsified definition of who I am and allowed my potential to be malnourished- 

feeding my mind with welcoming thoughts of unworthiness.

What of these thoughts of mine that encapsulated me?

What of these tangled webs of self-sabotage that stagnates my growth?

You see, there's power in the mind but that power could sway either way-

dominantly viewing ourselves with a positive perception or lack thereof.

However, between the two lies a balance of acceptance-

by embracing all of who you are including the imperfections.

So, no more will I hide within the shadows of self-doubt-

holding me hostage, unable to step into the light and dismiss the idea that I have nothing to offer the world

How dare me think less of who I am?

How could I be so oblivious to how special the powers that be have made me?

Of course, I'm not perfect. But who is?

Its my decision to be happy

It's my decision to LIVE!!!!

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