"worrisome" poems
awakened by the
offsprings cry,
baby powdered
morning dew
showers the room,
coffee stained smiles
shine about
cheerio blanketed
kitchens,
so worrisome
for office tardiness,
the carseat won't lock
into place,
tire marks on
fresh paved driveways,
to daycare tears dry not
she's on time,
fatigued she plants
her seed to the office seat
to grow even less
awaiting to see the smile
of her child and say
her prayers before
falling asleep
-
awaked by the
offsprings cry,
gun powered
morning dew
showeres the village,
rotted teeth smile
amongst the
body-blanketed township,
so worrisome of finding
a slain mother
sister
brother
just like father,
the gun won't lock
into place,
they never will,
tattered couches
paved with the
***** of
slaughtered buildings,
mother's dead
tears dry not,
fatigued,
hands of
grungy drainpipes
plant beside,
holding stagnant
a somber sibling,
tremors ripple
crimson tides,
planted to
grow even less
awaiting to see
the smile of
his mother
his father
his sister
and say his prayers
with brother
before laying down
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 8:29 PM UTC
Today, I am gardening my life,
I'll root out worrisome weeds,
Those thoughts that trouble me,
Cast them aside, those I'd never need.
I'll cut the grass of discontent,
Layer it even, soft, green and sweet,
Smoothen the furrows,
So I can run content, bare feet.
I'll water seeds planted with love,
Of friends made this year,
Friendships that bloomed,
That make life special, worth living and dear.
I'll welcome butterflies,
And make homes for nesting birds,
With them, taste sun's ambrosia,
Soar and see the world.
I'll bask in the rainbow of colors,
Of blossoms brilliant and bright,
And keep them sheltered,
When they sleep at night.
I'll capture the scented essence,
Of roses, jasmines and lilies
Place them in a jar —
As fragrant memories.
I'll love, rest and spend more time,
Under the shade of the family tree,
Cherish every moment, every minute,
Beneath its precious canopy.
And I'll buy new saplings,
Sow them all carefully in a row,
Of hopes, promises to me and mine,
And tend to them, make them grow.
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
I have lived long enough to see the best and worst in ones self.
I love the shape of my eyes,
I love the curve of my lips.
I hate the weird mole on my cheek,
I hate the crease in my chin.
I love the shape of my chest,
I love the curve of my hips.
I hate my toenails,
I hate my brittle bones.
I love my ouward confidence,
I love my unconditional love.
I hate my worrisome ways,
I hate my anxiety.
I love my near perfect smile,
I love my xylophone ribs.
There are days I want to love anyone but me.
There are days when loving myself is harder,
Than getting out of bed in the morning.
But I am done feeling sorry for myself.
I am strong.
I am powerful.
I am radiant.
And on some days,
I am exquisitly beautiful.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
smoking like a chimney
exterminating the negativity within me
each **** relaxes my worrisome bones
each stroke relaxes the perpetual unknown
from this vice to that
from peace to combat
the contrasting colors within me
is why I'll smoke like a chimney
until cheap thrills **** me
Apr 10, 2023
Apr 10, 2023 at 12:14 PM UTC
It's coming again
I can barely hold this pen
My hands are shaking so hard
And I can barely think straight.
What's wrong with me?
I don't know anymore.
It could be my anxiety
Or just my lack of self control.
What's wrong with me?
I should be able to keep my thoughts in check.
Cause those worrisome thoughts
Are what has brought me here.
Blame it on my anxiety.
Blame it on my lack of self control.
(a.d)
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
ruminating
cogitating
pondering
thinking
the subject matter doth
put the mind into a thought seat
is there sufficient verbs for me
to place on the paper's sheet
verbs by definition are words
which have an action
they on the reader
do have an impaction
so let's explore a topic
worth a thousand of them
how I'll express this piece
shall test my mind's stem
here is the matter I shall discuss
without any duress or manner of fuss
all over the globe there is much trouble
our planet is not as a carefree bubble
the inhabitants often observe strife somewhere
our corners of four not of an according air
were there to be peace and calmed relations
no concerns would beset our world's many nations
yet a propensity for war doth ever prevail
what sane men shall see the wrongs of this pail
verbs shall never explain man's idiocy
as he's ever involving himself in armory
yet a man who did advocate cordiality
lived with his brothers in true harmony
he was a meek man of the Indian land
a message of non-violence he did band
the lessons of history are never heard
man seemingly ever in the warring herd
the middle east is a tinder box of hell this day
exploding bombs and munitions all spray in affray
verbs of dialogue aren't put to good use
an ongoing lighting of the fuse doth suffuse
few statesmen of Gandhi's ilk now exist
so the torture and torment of war shall e'er persist
diplomacy has lost its edge around the globe
our planet shall remain bound in worrisome lobe
the count of verbs in this piece didn't quite reach a thousand
yet deaths in conflicts outdo that number by the thousands
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Truth makes me weary inside
Troubled, lonely and cautious
Do I trust their muffled mumbles?
Let the syllables make a home atop my body?
And create a whole new me
Within a newfound story
Nothing stands taller than the truth
Planting its roots so perfectly
Upon my right arm
O, I quiver
Sing the words,
Trouble me with desire
Let me sink into a tainted reality
A tainted mind,
With your worrisome tongue
You capture my innocence,
My emotions spill roughly
Along the steps leading nowhere
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
*
some times I miss
being the shore
constantly smoothed
by the froth caressed
by the whispering
waves to find myself
in the soft morning light
cleaned up reordered
from all the creases
of worrisome days
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
i think the reason
we have such dark,
worrisome thoughts at night
is because the empty silence
found right before sleep
allows room for anxiety
to creep in and fill the spaces
between the floorboards
and peeling wallpaper
of our bedrooms
that may be why
when i haven’t spoken to you
in awhile, i forget
all the good mornings
and five page letters
filled with words
that make my heart melt
like candle wax
i allow doubt to dwell in my soul,
along with thoughts
like how pitiful it is
for me to be vacant
because you’re not here
to occupy my confidence
and reassure me that
time nor interval
will change
how you feel
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
Snoring gangling giant,
Slumbering away on a snowy
night.
Spoil of war unprotected,
Opening ways for ingress of
worrisome infiltrated
interlopers.
Remember the lord of Philistine
Samusini,
Who returned not from the
seductive antics of his
mistress,
Perished in the furnace fire of
frustration,
And drowned in the Laguna of
no return
Slumbering hindered the move
of the water.
Howling of devourers enclosed
your shack.
Heterocercal caudal fins of
sharks prevented the sailing
of ships.
Wolfished wailing of tidal waves
consumed the anchorage
ground.
And the apparition of foes
lurked-up in darkness like
the foehn on the Alps.
Awake before the devastating
night owl.
Awake from the abyss of deep
slumber.
Awake before the cockcrow,
When darkness of defeats
Controls the reigns of night.
Snoring gangling giant,
Awake unto light.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
You've only ever seen yourself twice:
once in a reflection,
the other in a picture.
You've never truly seen yourself,
so I'll take the liberty to devote my entire life
to describing the extent of your beauty.
The first thing everyone notices about you is
that smile of yours, dear. It's dazzling. It's distracting.
It's absolutely lovely,
and no mirror nor picture can ever replicate its splendor.
Your warm smile melts the ice, while casual chit chat merely breaks it. When you smile, the edges of your eyes crinkle just the right amount, beckoning amiably.
Your laugh is a waterfall
and I want to spend my days letting it crash down upon me,
I want to drown in its bliss. Your laugh is a lilting balm
to the horrors these ears of mine have heard,
a soothing caress to my worrisome heart and mind.
Your eyes, you underestimate their charm.
You belittle them to simple drops of brown darling but they are transformed into pools of hazel, gold, honey, sepia, and cocoa in the sunlight.
I call them bedroom eyes.
I stare into them not to look at my reflection
but to look into your heart.
You smile with your eyes sometimes,
it's really quite lovely.
It's a shame you're not on the receiving end of it.
Your hair is absolutely stunning.
I could run my hands through it and let my fingers get lost in your curls and meet some bobby pins along the way.
You complain of it often, but
tracing the lines of your steep curls with my eyes
sends me into a happy daze.
On numerous occasions I have said it and I will say it again:
you feel beautiful. Your skin under mine feels absolutely lovely, my dear.
I could spend millennia letting my hands run
the length of your gorgeous body. And I'd do it happily, too.
I love the little moles you've got on your cheeks
and your ironing-board-scar and your lips (both sets).
You were born a blank page but now you're a beautiful work of art with depth and shades and texture.
Your body is a diamond: it is multifaceted and precious and priceless.
And it deserves to be looked at, my dear.
I adore your body, sweetheart. From the scoop of your collarbone,
to the curve of your back; from the gentle definition in your arms and legs
to the stronger curves of your *******
I love the beckoning rise of your hips and your thighs, and the gentle mound of your *** I could spend an eternity painting your body with my kisses, each a silent praise to the masterpiece that is your body.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
A Good Set of Bicycle Lights
Strap white to the handle bar
red to the seat post
of your worrisome bicycle
a fixed gear nightmare, these nighttime
streets lay in wait while I lay waiting to be pierced
by the call that never comes
with a bit of luck.
Old light from distant stars
at the edge of my
galaxy of fear
arrives as pinpricks a reminder
your new orbit free
of my nettlesome gravity.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 8:55 AM UTC
The cool breeze tosses your hair in all directions late in this summer night.
Missed phone calls from your mother makes her nervous this worrisome night.
Drizzling rain causes your wet white shirt to cling to your body as you run.
Memories of biking in the rain with me take over you this rainy night.
My mother used to teach me how to sing and read poetry to me as I smiled.
Now I sing and write poetry about her as she smiles in this nostalgic night.
Seven years old; it was midnight when my grandfather passed away from this world.
I slept with an uneasy feeling and felt his absence in this mournful night.
When I was five, you chased me in my backyard around the guava tree.
Now I’m nineteen and I’m circling this tree all alone in this lonely night.
You spend your night cheering me up with pop music and warm hugs.
I let anger pour out on you and snap “What?” at you this regretful night.
I promised myself I would never let myself lose control of my emotions.
I let go and broke my promise with my scared heart this fearful night.
We grew up and went from one place to another as we learned about life.
I cherish the memories I’ve created and am grateful for everything this thankful night.
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
I wear the vale
and it weathers me
in silty slopes
in harsh-cut lines
it lopes off pieces
of my face.
it floods out my marshes
it clears me clean out
and sterile
I wear the vale
and it's worrisome folk
who take up issue.
"You're wearing the vale!
Wearying th' fields
with dead leaves, and dead things.
Don't you tell us
how to live."
Funny, it's not even sublime
how easy it is
to tell me.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
.
I looked
Thru the glass at a trembling lil thing
Beady eyes of a worried gerbil
In a worrisome place
The Petco by my house had
Everything you could have
-almost
Rhino's, Daffodil's
Lynx's, Gecko's & even
Alaskan Klee Kai's
Wrapped up in Saran wrap
Or in little glass cages
With little bobbly water dispensers
And kindly placed dishes
Holding nifty pellets of tasty food
That fits their Specialized Diet Plan
They don't have elephants yet
We'll have to ask the manager to order
some of those
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 1:16 AM UTC
Fill in the blanks with those vocabularies never ever found in usual discussion, daily comes and goes, never existed even on imaginary world of movies or books.
Fill in the blanks with noise.
Tumult of hallucination whizzing the sound of ambiguity through the sound of the gait of a man galloping smoothly in the long yellow brick route surrounds with fences never expose the way of redemption.
Fill in the blanks with choice.
The last track of nightingale, maybe, dwells on the far branches of novel blossom tree of best spring with no worrisome regards countable, uncountable, passives, actives, adjectives or nouns.
Fill in the blanks with skylarks of no boast.
It is causative by its own, Imagery flying over the untrodden lands inspires the eyes overview the long hair singers hadn’t been observed before. Access is denied!
Fill in the blanks with liberty of boost.
Aurora …aurora…. Some body calls. Pretending to be wise whole life, how nonsense it was. Being lunatic is secret of joy.
Fill in the blanks with wandering ghosts!
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 7:29 AM UTC
I've become accustomed to it
"Oh the pain, THE AGONY"
I repeat to myself trying to make things seem,
well, better. But I'm only making it worse
Wasting time saying phrases in hope that stress will magically leave my body forever
Belittling my feelings, thoughts, and emotions
Why do I continue?
Continue to continue
Repeatedly putting myself in worrisome situations, knowing the outcome, but constantly trying to avoid the reality of it all
You would think that if I were driving on a road, noticing a hazard, I would swerve. But not me
What do I do?
Constantly continue to put myself in situations I know will be hard
And yet, I have become accustomed to this feeling of stress, tension , and an overwhelming conscience
But somehow, whenever it strikes, it feels as though it's the first time I've been affected.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
How about we start at the base
Ground zero
The place of destruction
The beginning of the action
My brain
If you think you can take it
Go ahead, step on in
Welcome to what will probably be
The most traumatic experience
Of your life, yet.
It's a chaotic chronic
A twister of pain, little gain
No production, simply destruction
Addictive personality
Worrisome and stressful reality, honestly
I don't know just how to say it
Or how to express it plainly
So I'm gonna wing it
And hope you people can understand
That I'm truly not all there
Sure, I'm responsible
I'm a smart kid with a bright future
But I don't know if I want that future
I don't know if I want myself either
I'm internally deranged
I like the idea of wasting myself of throwing myself in the flames and playing hopscotch in the smoke rings
Of wandering oblivion
And living in eternal suffering
No, I'm never gonna be a drunk
Never going be a ******
Never gonna trade my soul
To the only one who knows
Just how far I really wanna go
I'm not gonna dive off that cliff
Into that endless abyss
That holds the cold embrace
If the sweetest, purest
Most adored lover's kiss
I'm gonna keep to myself
Leave behind the inhalants
The smokes, drinks, and capsules
And hold my daddy's hand
And stay my little girl self
Meanwhile, on the inside
I'm lighting your home on fire
Throwing your kittens in the river
Slaughtering your children's dreams
And revealing your secrets
Satan can keep his contract
I'll keep my soul, just like you want
But I'll inwardly express the pain
That is my life
Signs of a serial killer, right?
Well, remember
Whatever I become
You made me
Aided the monster
By caging me
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
.*but i wasn't obviously going to go far down this "worrisome" route for too long, maybe like ten minutes... i had to think of something relaxing to do... i looked in the mirror: **** the wild-man of Essex! beard, shaggy, the neck barely visible... hair like Mozart composing, or as the Poles say: hair like a wkuriony Chopin ****** off Chopin)... **** better do something about it... ah... there's only one thing that can lighten my mood and this whole, tirade... a visit to the local traditional Turkish barbers... so i ****** off... in went the wild-man of Essex... out came well-groomed human being, not a sign of his werewolf past to be seen on him... ah... this is the 4th time, proper, that i visited the barbers (prior to? long hair... after? a shaved head like a Buddhist monk)... god... just sitting there with closed eyes... i'm starting to think that going to the barbers is better than ***
i was never into blocking someone,
esp. if someone is liking your stuff,
but it happened to me with
that poetess on here,
i wanted to know how it feels,
to just randomly block someone
who really enjoys your stuff...
and then... **** gone, never
to be seen again...
Wattpad is basically a fascistic website
to boot this thread of thought...
who the hell gets booted off a platform
for starting a cordial conversation?
- but i really did wake up with
a moral hangover...
excuses?
irritability...
there's just a certain level of
conversation i can take,
i can't get the pedant
out of me... i really can't...
i tried and i tried,
notably because when speaking
to natives, i see them lazily doing this
or that, while i come with an acquisitive
perspective, hence the furthered
acquisitive impetus to further this
acquired language... while the natives
are like: blah... it has been given to them
from birth...
and conversations,
after having completed a...
well for me it was an exhausting poem,
the desire to finish it before off
the rails with the bourbon instigated
a thirst, matched with irritability...
**** i hope i can unblock the guy
and apologize...
spare of the moment thing...
well... if i can't...
i know what it feels like:
not being on the receiving end...
so... that's one plus from all of this.
p.s. that sort of direct messaging language,
aged... 40?
how can i talk to someone
who's older than me, on that level...
(looks up his profile page)...
huh?
so i didn't block him?
*Dennis Willis's profile is not
visible because they have blocked you.*
and i still have the block option
handy...
mind you... i didn't wake up today
recollecting some pretty
trippy ********
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
doing the heavy lifting
*picking up my emaciated heart,
letting the rest of my wilting body
tag along qualifies, but is not the
heavy lifting referenced above.
we all have a meeting, the bits and
pieces, the bobs and keepsakes
that constitute my mien, a constitutional
convention of 13 colonies that raucous
write of burdens, of freedoms, with wild
inspirations and cold political calculations
this combining document hoping to topstitch
my reeling mind and deteriorating physic,
to write words of hopeful praise but rising
to a world that is baking in hatred into fabric
and tissue, and that is the heaviest lift of all
Sunday morning, coffe-d, somewhat rested,
a full day planned, and a Mike Message says
it’s me that does the heavy lifting and I know!
he knows! the displaced state of my mind, and
the hardened ache of writing with fresh hope,
when there is so little, that it is lost in the litter
of endlessness of a world gone, not going,
mad~insane and murderers are
illogically celebrated,
and yet here I am punching words on my
AM Morning Punch List of worthy words
available that aid us needy for repair & yet
might move us together to a state of full repair;
but I am punchy from trying, to find words
themselves that require do not require, a
truth washing,
a new word recleansing
and*
(they put the load right on me),
*and naïf-not, see the troubles ahead and get
me more paper to add to the list of lists of
worldly worrisome words that are heavy
lifting of the world as it is but know I weep as
I write this for not in my possess the light airy
words, the wordsmith is crushed neath the weight of***
tonnage of human word-lessened-ness
Sunday Morning
Oct 22 2023
9:02am,
writ in a singed single cry
Oct 22, 2023
Oct 22, 2023 at 10:09 AM UTC
I don't want to sound pretentious,
I don't want to be a bore.
But my car is a Lamborghini
And yours is just a Ford
My home is my castle,
Seven bedrooms to explore.
I have a maid in the scullery,
And marble on the floor.
I dress in top designer chic,
My jewellery's in the vault,
I have a gun beneath my pillow,
It's really not my fault.
There's floodlights in the garden
And security alarm fired up,
I see a psychologist weekly
To ensure my brains not stuck
I want to build a pyramid,
So when my time has come,
I can take the whole lot with me
So I won't be worrisome!
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Thou wander'st desperately
Carrying thy frozen heart
in shaking, worrisome hands
Lack of love breaks thee
A beg of good fate- remains an unheard plea
Thy life an endless winter
without even a measly 'camp fire'
Thou art cold, unwillingly, remorsefully cold
Craving warmth for thy *forsaken *****
An ***** that has never been played
A thing thou carriest
An instrument called thy heart.
An ***** that has never played- the music of love.
9:28 am- Tuesday, 3rd, March, 2015
Doubt anyone would get this..
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC