Short Regressed Poems
Short Regressed Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Regressed by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Regressed by length and keyword.
Regressing to the mean
Mortality seemed "out there", a long climb;
A somewhen to think about another time,
A cloudiness too distant from my prime.
Too quickly have I regressed to the mean
And my end time no longer a dream.
Copyright 2021 Paul Thomson
I don’t know how to write this poem;
I’m nauseous and depressed.
Instead of moving forward,
Seems this country has regressed.
I’m fearful for the future
And I shudder at the thought
Of a leader whose demeanor
Such divisiveness has wrought.
There’s a black cloud that’s descended,
Filling half of us with dread
But we have to keep our strength up
For the battles still ahead.
Death of a loved one changes the lives
Of whom is left behind
He may not understand what is left for him
His direction, path, focus has been fogged
His mind has regressed to escape his stress
His actions become childlike as he seeks
Attention, connection, touch
But only in his form, his way
Not considering other feelings
No awareness of!
No respect for!
Disregarding sensitivity of!
You're an empty old man now.
Wisdom fell short of your doorstep.
People are supposed to come to you for advice
, but you're still a mercury-headed fool, so they don't.
You've visibly and emotionally regressed.
Your once lush mind island is shrinking.
Overrun by rats of pig-headedness.
You dedicate every breath to yourself and nobody else.
A one-acre burning hurricane
island
of
death.
And He
my dearest
maturest mate to date
has bitterly regressed
to a child irate
from man of logic
to impish state
a hexer vile
filled with hate
while I don't believe
I've changed a bit
he thinks me evil
my mother split
as saccharin
as the Harpie race
bewitching temptress
evil face
necessity
I do suppose
for his childish fit
to so dispose
Dug out of an old journal for John Lawless' Go Ahead I Dare Ya!!! Contest
Drenched from head to toe
soaked and soiled.
A victim yet again
to my own self doubt.
The drive in me is gone
my desire vanished without a trace.
Yet this is only the start of my,
self induced drought.
The circulation of self hate
the arterial decay coupled with,
veinous collapse.
The childlike tantrums have increased again.
It's but true,I have regressed.
Perhaps I will survive this plight
for its only 3 days til daylight
I was a young mother
had just put the baby to bed
laid down on a couch exhausted
my eyes closed
I regressed to another lifetime. I was dressed like a flapper
maybe the 1930’s, I knew I was in Chicago
I was running in heels, my feet hurt
if the car chasing me caught me I was dead
Someone yelled and jumped out of the car
I turned down an alley without an opening
They caught me and threw me down
I felt the knife cut my throat
and the blood drip
It's tough to pen those first few lines
It happens to me all the time
Anew I start idea-less
With pounding head, internal stress
I often yearn to just resign...
It matters not if sun does shine
I need some rules, some fixed guidelines
To launch a verse into process
Those first few lines
You may suggest a glass of wine
To help me find my inner rhyme
I tried that once, my pen regressed
Out spilled an alcoholic mess
Which sober judged as asinine --
Those first few lines