Sick Poems | Examples of Sick Poetry

Sickness can turn your house into a personal jail When friends come to visit you use anything as a veil The moments you lose track of the day and time If you need medicine you would spend every dime To pass the time you watch old episodes on Netflix Eating soup for dinner and inhaling vapors of vicks It feels like...

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Palestine Sins ... Israel is indeed reincarnated good Goodocide actions ...

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Someone saw me crying the other day They didn't know me but asked if I was okay I sniffled and said someone I know is dying It's not perfectly true so I feel bad for lying It's not an old family member or a friend of mine But it's the me I used to know that's dying I can't get out...

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Warm yellow light. Chilly, for indoor. Soft, soothing, piano. Music— Door slides open. A man walks in, his eyes— Rain’s wailing outside. He talks to the nurse. His voice hoarse like sand— Flash, lightening. Raindrops darken the dusty walk— Thunder. He sinks into the bench beside me. Stinging smell of cigarette butts— Another thunder. Door slides close and muffles it. Nurse says my name. I walk into the doctor’s— A muffled thunder. I don’t...

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Well I wonder If I sleep, Will tonight be good dreams? Or will the nightmares of the day continue on? And if my sleep will not come Will new worries cease to start? Or am I doomed to worry till I'm gone? And I wonder. My wife She's far away In our home that she's made From the broken timbers of my...

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Polly Pleasance was seven years old, like the decade soon is going; She had so many pretty dollies, like deep purple pansies, showing. Polly took care of her dear friends, for love's always taken seriously; Buying doll clothes with her allowance, like night, adorned deliriously! They were admired, and the envy of friends. She had so many dolls! As magenta...

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I didn’t expect this – it came quickly, without warning I couldn’t hide. It left me with no choice – but to go to war, battling the deafening poison, the affliction feeling like the deafening crash thunder raging, pouring out its fury I didn’t ever imagine this would come to be, silencing the courage that I’d once felt, giving my plans a...

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Willy the wannabee Wallaby went To visit his sweet, sick aunt Millicent He met a dingo who said, Don’t look for Millie in bed, Relish her in my belly with free rent!...

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I'm sorry for being black I'm sorry I ever cared Every moment Every smile Was pity Why be ashamed? When I'm just me Standards on standards to fit Expectations to meet People to please Now I am ashamed Ashamed that I could not fit and distort my true self for others Eight years old, on a staircase, trying to scrape off my complexion Maybe if I was not...

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I've known of a girl, young and brave Not for long, yet it's etched clear an impression she left on. Struck like a storm, came a cacodemon, Strolling through her blood Tormenting every cell it encountered. Could never gauge the depth of her agony or extent of her cancer. Therapy too left behind nasty scars Her beauty taking a distinct cast Something...

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I watched you grasp for air You fought and fought hard I felt helpless I wanted to help but didn’t know how Your hospital monitors were going crazy I wanted to cry but couldn’t It was like voices in my head saying shouldn’t Witnessed your agony and pain Tears wanted to fall I held back Your eyes and body went into a seizure I knew from...

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Bring your sick along beside Me Jesus healed the sick and lame Heal me Jesus the woman cried Jesus knew her and her name Come to me dear daughter He said Let me show you the forgiving way You touched My cloak, it moved me so She dropped to her knees and prayed ...

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A man once asked me, in the middle of a drifting conversation, “How long do you sleep in a day— if you ever sleep at all?” I looked at him, searching for a polite reply but found none that fit the weight of his question. So I simply said, “I do sleep— just like any normal soul.” But deep inside, I wondered— what does normal sleep even...

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It came like a whisper on wings too dirty for angels, a fly with no gospel— just bloodlust and fire. I don’t remember the bite— only the stories they told me— the brain-boil, the silence of a body already leaving, the baby too lethargic to be called alive, and the ice-water baths. Above the crib, they hovered— not angels, not flies, but entities without names, bodiless heads...

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You may—I might—theywill—some ‘won’t’—just say: “Living’s a walnut begging to be cracked!” And if-or when-but why-sosoon-the impact of such a soundstatement will hardly weigh? on the forget- fret- fear-ful kind of gray dispositions who dwell on the abstract (no)tion of (this)regard or a(n/a)tacked self sobbing in the corner of the day.— Re—again—jected once one final more, such spirits spurn the sense ‘security’, to cling...

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