addiction poems Archives - Best Poetry Online

The Hole in My Life | Judge Santiago Burdon

There’s a hole in my life

where all the happiness leaks out

Doctors tried to fix it with medication

Which produced poor results

So I made a hole in my arm

to replace what I had lost

Used all of everything that I found

Nothing could fill the void.

Next ambition, compassion gratitude and pride

also leaked out and exited my life.

A toxic depression filled the emptiness inside

What remains is a hole
I made in my arm

With an addiction I struggle to satisfy

Created from a madness
I prescribed

More at https://elchapo1225sg.wixsite.com/apoetsbastion.

The Split | Krystle

December 23, 2023 / Best Poetry / addiction poems, contemporary poetry, friendship poems, loss poems, rehab poems / Leave a Comment

I celebrated it alone
How I wish you’d have gone
I was overly exuberant about it
Your demeanor was deflated
Couldn’t entertain me
Even falsely
As the day drew closer
I felt you becoming colder,
Saw the struggle to endure
Attempts to simply ignore
The elation dancing on my profile
Why couldn’t you at least fake a smile?
It wasn’t your cup of tea
So you couldn’t make an exception for me?
We used to be inseparable
Now we’re questionable
I’ve been by your side
Witnessed as you cried
Begging for the pain to subside
You remember when you almost died?
I saw my reflection in the steel
It was more suited for veal
You almost fell off the edge
Had to talk you off the ledge
Unlike Amy
It was beneficial for me
Can’t believe you missed my graduation
It was a tough rehabilitation
Maybe I’ll get a hug
And not another drug
From someone who appreciates me
And will always accompany me
No matter how long the journey
I bid you arriverderci
I pray you don’t crash
Or do anything rash
Though we’re choosing different paths
I still think of our laughs
And wonder if our roads will ever intertwine again
I’ll miss you and good luck old friend

Waxing Philosophical Legs | Ivan Jenson

December 9, 2023 / Best Poetry / addiction poems, contemporary poetry, philosophy poems, time poems, worry poems / Leave a Comment

Time does not march on
it sneaks out the back door
to have a smoke
its tobacco is what’s what
and who you know
its nicotine is
your addiction to meaning
and it is killing you
so you really should stop
driving yourself crazy
worrying about how
you just lost another
twenty-four-hour friend
and instead concentrate on making
peace with your poor concentration
and rich imagination
and take the good with the bad
mix it with the tolerable
and when life
gives you lemons
remember that in the infinite
a pucker is born
every minute

More at http://www.ivanjenson.com/.

Mrs. Smith | Wandering Biku

September 14, 2023 / Best Poetry / addiction poems, joy poems, poetry online, pride poems, read poetry, recovery poems / Leave a Comment

A pale face, dark eyes, an uneasy smile,
Surrounded by a mass of tangly black curls,
She sat in that circle
Unengaged, aloof, disruptive,
There for everyone else’s sake
But her own.
Trapped in a world by demons who
Would let her see another way
But kept her from it because
It wouldn’t serve their obsessive needs.
Within screaming distance but held behind thick glass,
Visible but achingly unreachable.

And now she appears, life
Shining from her eyes.
A purpose in her movement
An energy no longer nervous or restrained.
An arrogant addiction now replaced
By an enthusiastic vulnerability.
The tangle of curls now worn up
To frame a new maturity.
She sits in the circle for her own sake now
Proving to everyone else that she is worthy,
Meeting life bravely while hearts around her
Now swell with inspiration.

The Mountain Biker in the Rain | Gareth Culshaw

February 22, 2023 / Best Poetry / addiction poems, comment on poetry, poetry online / Leave a Comment

I watched him spin
the rain back to the clouds.
The front of his cap
hid his life face.

A mobile phone took
hold of his hand.
He carried his hat
up and down the road.

The rain lashed down
but he didn’t care.
All he thought about
was the doobie

that waited to be swapped
with the moolah
that was folded in his pocket.

I watched from a bus stop
listening to the rain break
itself up, while he waited

to fix it back up.

More at http://www.gculshaw.co.uk.