Short Alcoholism Poems
Short Alcoholism Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Alcoholism by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Alcoholism by length and keyword.
dying grandfather
child of hot rods and whiskey
unsure bellowing at nurses
defines a life of loudness,
cargiving and alcoholism
he staggers out
after beating wife to coma...
cirrhosis is near
Contest:" Single senryu-No Nature poems please" sponsored by black eyed Susan
Alcoholism, the pariah
feeding on the collapse
of self-control
befuddling the brain's sensibility;
transforming intelligence
into ridicule.
finds comfort in a bottle
escapes to a faraway land of illusion
abandons everyone who loved him
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
she’s finally out of options
In short... relationship gone south gone sour
bad taste like whiskey sour
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
A masquerader, masquerading so.
As though a fellow friend, fog of pretend.
Ourselves we must first apprehend so.
Personal battles, freedom earthly end.
This thing called
Alcoholism is
One hell of a beast
I’m fighting the urges
All day every day
It’s so strange
I don’t want to drink
And I want to drink
At the same time
Its maddening
“Sometimes too much drink is barely enough.” Mark Twain, on Alcoholism
05 July 2015
Poem of the Day - 07 July 2015
Write With the Wit of Twain Contest - 4th Place
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
I feel sorry for every
Alcoholic in this world
because I know how bad
Alcoholism can be
I am happy for every
Aloholic in the world
who is trying to stay
sobe because I know
how good being sober
is for me
SOBER-:-
teetotal
sustainability
abstinence
nonfermented
sobriety
rewarded merits
a CLEAN BILL OF HEALTH
unmalted
dealcoholized
balancing
restart
recovering
SEVERE DIPSOMANIA
anonymously
attends
powwows
shared
stories
he asked for so little
kept looking for the signs
just enough to show
she cared
and loved him
he kept looking
his heart
let down
sinking with every miss
he finally had to
admit defeat
she loved the bottle
and he just couldn’t compete
AP: 2nd place 2021
Written by Gail DeBole
on July 7, 2015
Updated Feb. 22, 2023
At first...
Cheerfully shared for liquid celebrations
For all of the right reasons.
And then...
Abruptly emptied to become a whine bottle
For all of the wrong reasons.
His game of choice
Russian roulette
The vodka bottle
In one hand
Shrugging at danger
Laughing at warnings
Then it was too late
He hadn’t thought things through
Death would have been
An outcome most welcome
He wasn’t quite so lucky
He hadn’t thought it through
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
In this river we drown in light
A doorway blocked from me
Yet open to dry eyes
I can only hear your hands
Clutching that splintered wood as water
Rushes to ears like war
I cry at the notion
Of you stepping through that white door
Frame as you sip whiskey
In the next room over from me
Tv mumbling comforts
Things you cannot sugar coat: LIST POEM
Child abuse
Sex trafficking
Killings
Murders
Rapes
STDs
Illegal drug use
Alcoholism
Cancer
9/11/01
Automobile wrecks
House fires
Natural catastrophes
Tsunamis
Earthquakes
Volcanic ash
Bullies
Pain
Anger
Rage
Unkindness
Disrespect
Ugly dogs
Dentists
Math
He was thrown out by the evils of a wanton loose woman
who had stolen him from his family weeks ago,
The contrite father reluctantly returned home
begging forgiveness from his disillusioned wife
The children were relieved when she said no
because he refused to reverse his alcoholism
or change his gadabout, heathen-like behaviors.
She sat there
Reaching for another
A third a fourth a fifth
She’d lost count and
Wasn’t keeping track
Thought no one else was
She didn’t care
No one else was drinking
There was no difference
Between her and
Her alcoholic brother
Other than the opportunity
The one within her grasp
She chose to throw away
AP: 3rd place 2020
Alcoholism is a family disease, my friend.
But, the onus, sadly, falls on the drinker!
Cocktails make him a big man, while we sit, righteously by.
Denial by family and friends, the hallmark of this disease.
Ending up dead or with avwet brain or may gets sober!
5/20/2019
9:15am PST
Can’t function without it
The conjunctional life
And punctures confounding
A subjugal strife
My endurance depleting
My inevitable fallacies
Determined to beat this
Chemical malady
but
Deep down in the ditch
Is where I feel safe
Weak in the grips
Of insanity’s embrace
You can’t lift me out
Try as you may
Insipid, I pout
Is this where I’ll stay?
(Written 09/17/2018)
He tried to drown the pain
Demons from his past
Voices from his childhood
Mean drunks in an insane world
Feeling unsafe and
Never good enough
A casualty in hot pursuit
Chased through the years
Malicious demons
Bent on his demise
A vicious cycle of booze
Disintegrating his mind
Tried to stop the voices
The hurt and pain
And make them go away
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Once a proud man
standing tall
with youth and
invincibility running
through his veins
A fragile boy hidden
in the closet of his heart
psychologically abused
tucked away in a corner
abandoned and forgotten
Only the taste of liquor
dulling the shame and hurt
drowning the pain
till it got the best of him
victimized all over again
a wasted life
a damaged boy
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Dearest kitty, you drank my wine last night.
No wonder, you avoid the bright sunlight !
I shall make a small ice bag, for your head,
Your petite, waif-like body, feeling half-dead.
To Felines Anonymous you will now go.
For you see, my Kitty,…….I do love you so!
7/28/2023
A God to those amidst their life crisis I am
Leaving behind all their life worries to me
Choosing to hide in me than face reality
Other can cope to depending on my help
How in their times of despair I hear them
Only I give them glancing respite not help
Life isn't found looking through the bottle
I just mask your life problems not resolve
Sometime I take you to your rock bottom
Make you look up to those who will help
Aunt Ruth came to the door in her housedress and hairnet.
Her dark hair cropped short allowing only the smallest curl to float free.
It was right in the middle of her forehead. A spit curl I think they called it.
We would visit her weekly just so see how she was doing. Ruth was said to have bad nerves, a term used then to mean all kinds of things from anxiety to alcoholism.
I never really knew what it meant.
I think I do now.
An opened fifth of hangovers
rests beside his dried driveled arm
(drug used by underachievers.)
Out cold, head resting on forearm
Unconscious in a dreamless world,
a portal often frequented:
an alcoholics netherworld
and mind most disoriented.
A parched throat forces arousal
And miasmic exhalations
rekindle once more pitiful
repeated, inebriation.
A morning swig begins his day
and ends the same as yesterday.