30 result(s) for Disgust Poems.
These poems are completely original - not copied from anywhere. Feel free to use them however you want.
Whispers of Discontent
Pet hair gathers like dreams unfulfilled,
In corners where lost hopes quietly dwell,
Each tumble of fur, a promise distilled,
Binding joy and sorrow in a silent spell.
In corners where lost hopes quietly dwell,
Faded echoes of laughter and play,
Binding joy and sorrow in a silent spell,
Each strand a reminder of love's dismay.
Faded echoes of laughter and play,
Brush against hearts that once flew so high,
Each strand a reminder of love's dismay,
A haunting of warmth, in the shadows they lie.
Brush against hearts that once flew so high,
Each tumble of fur, a promise distilled,
A haunting of warmth, in the shadows they lie,
Pet hair gathers like dreams unfulfilled.
Whispers of the Hollow Vessel
In a quiet corner where shadows creep,
Lies an empty bottle, secrets to keep.
Once brimming with nectar, a promise so sweet,
Now cast aside, a tale of defeat.
Gather ye round, for this glassy shell,
Holds within echoes of stories that swell,
Of joy and of laughter, of warmth and of cheer,
Yet now it stands lonely, abandoned by fear.
Once it danced with the sunlight, a glimmering prize,
A vessel for dreams beneath wide open skies.
But in revelry’s wake, it was tossed to the ground,
Where weeds curled around it, nature unbound.
Hear the clinking of glass, in the wind it must sigh,
Mournful reminders of days drifting by.
Once a companion, now shunned by the night,
Its brilliance forgotten, lost out of sight.
For every drop savored, a story was spun,
Of feasts that not linger, of battles not won.
Yet waste piles around it, a grim testament—
All that it cradled, now bitter lament.
Decayed and discarded, it bears the weight stark—
A witness to opulence, dimmed by the dark.
In the heart of this wasteland, a lesson concealed:
In the glass of our choices, our truths are revealed.
So heed the tale whispered through hollow refrains,
Of the bottle abandoned, the weight borne in chains.
For in waste there’s a wisdom of what we let go,
In the story of garbage, the truths start to grow.
Whispers in the Empty House
In an empty house where shadows play,
Old whispers linger, fading away.
Walls remember the laughter and cheer,
But now they’re silent, no voices near.
Dusty corners hold secrets tight,
Footsteps echo in the dim light.
A forgotten doll with a one-eyed stare,
Remembers a girl who once lived there.
The creaky stairs sigh like a breeze,
Telling tales that float with ease.
Though empty now, it still has a heart,
Whispering stories, a work of art.
So listen closely, when you're alone,
For the past still lingers in every tone.
In an empty house, with its quiet might,
The whispers of what was are still in sight.
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Crunch of Decay
Decaying leaves beneath the weight,
Crunch beneath the heavy boots,
A testament to nature's fate,
Whispers lost in bitter roots.
Crunch beneath the heavy boots,
Colors fading, time's cruel hand,
Whispers lost in bitter roots,
Scarred remnants of a once bright land.
Colors fading, time's cruel hand,
Life retreating, echoes stark,
Scarred remnants of a once bright land,
In shadows cast, we tread the dark.
Life retreating, echoes stark,
A testament to nature's fate,
In shadows cast, we tread the dark,
Decaying leaves beneath the weight.
Lingering Grease
Old cloth bears its stains,
Memories of meals long gone,
Greasy ghosts remain.
Bitter Aftertaste
In shadows deep where sweetness fades,
A bitter draught my spirit wades.
The taste of sorrow, sharp and keen,
Lingers on lips, so cold, unseen.
Each word a seed of discontent,
Planted deep, with bitter scent.
I sip from wells of fractured dreams,
Where hope dissolves in silent screams.
The palates clash, a war inside,
With every bite, the heart confides.
Disgust our dish, the recipe
Of all that's lost in memory.
Yet from this foul and wretched brew,
A lesson found, though harsh and true:
That sweetness lives in fleeting grace,
And bitterness—just time’s embrace.
Nature's Defiance
Cracked pavements stretch beneath the gray,
Yet life persists in a rebellious play.
Weeds break through, a vibrant green,
In urban sprawl, a fierce unseen.
Each stubborn sprout, a story told,
Of strength in cracks, defiance bold.
Peeling Memories
Dried paint lies in shards,
fractured memories of laughter,
draped across the old walls
like forgotten whispers.
Each flake a reminder,
a palette of broken colors,
a history waiting to crumble,
a story that once sang,
hushed now, under coats
of dust and despair.
In the corners, shadows gather,
secrets held tight,
drenched in the scent
of mildew and time,
where beauty has taken flight,
leaving only echoes behind.
But still, amidst the decay,
youth’s bravado peeks,
a rebellion in the cracks,
hoping for light,
for warmth,
waiting to be seen,
as the past relinquishes its grip,
daring to dream of color once more.
Souls of the Earth
Worn-out shoes, they sigh,
Drenched in time’s muddy layers,
Every step a tale,
Memories seep in the soles,
Chasing dreams, though worn and tired.
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Whispers of Decay
In shadows where once vibrant fruits did gleam,
Now silence weeps, a desolate dream.
The echo of laughter, now a distant tale,
Replaced by the scent of a sorrowful trail.
Banana peels, a dusky shade of brown,
Potatoes sprout roots, in darkness they drown.
A fetid aroma that lingers, consumes,
The essence of life now rests in tombs.
Oh, fruit that once brightened a sunlit day,
Your colors have faded, your beauty in dismay.
The dishes unserved, they rot in despair,
Forgotten by hands that once handled with care.
In composted whispers, the cycle goes round,
Reminding us life can be so profound.
Yet here in the stillness of what we neglect,
Lies the weight of the past, our hearts must reflect.
So breathe in the stench that calls forth the morn,
For beauty’s sweet fragrance oft comes from the worn.
Amidst the decay, there's truth to digest,
In the ugliness buried, we find peace and rest.
The Sticky Situation
In a jar of honey, oh so sweet,
An ant found a treat, a tasty feat.
But oh dear, what a sticky plight,
His little leg stuck, try as he might!
With golden goo all over his head,
He wriggled and wobbled, filled with dread.
Friends came to help, what a silly scene,
An ant's dance of despair in the honey sheen!
"Don’t fret!" said the beetle, with a chuckle so loud,
"We'll stretch and we'll pull, let’s gather the crowd!"
With teamwork and laughter, they freed their old pal,
And off they went dancing, oh what a morale!
So remember, little ones, when sweet scents arise,
Beware leg traps beneath sugary skies!
The Littered Walk
Oh, little butts of gray and brown,
You scatter all around the town.
A sidewalk once so clean and bright,
Now hides your mess—what a sight!
They tumble here, they tumble there,
A smelly trail is everywhere.
The ants get lost, the flowers sigh,
'Oh, please, dear friends, don’t let this lie!'
Let’s pick you up, each tiny piece,
And make our streets a place of peace.
So gather 'round and lend a hand,
To keep our world both clean and grand!
Dust's Lament
Dust bunnies gather under the bed,
Whispers of dirt where memories tread.
Silent they watch as the light shifts and sways,
Glimmers of shadows that linger and spread.
In corners they plot, in silence they dwell,
Echoes of footsteps that rise and compel.
A kingdom of particles, lost in the gloom,
A testament written on dust's fragile shell.
With every soft sweep, they tremble in fear,
Crumbs of our lives that we tuck away sheer.
Yet there in the stillness, secrets confide,
An underworld thriving, both timid and near.
So call them by name, these phantoms of dust,
In their scattered embrace, we find what we must.
For even in clutter, life finds a way,
And from hidden spaces, our truths are discussed.
The Forgotten Umbrella
In shadows cast by gathering rain,
A forgotten umbrella stands alone,
Forgotten dreams that drift in disdain,
Sheltered once, now cold as stone.
A forgotten umbrella stands alone,
Its fabric frayed, a weary sigh,
Sheltered once, now cold as stone,
It recalls a time when love was nigh.
Its fabric frayed, a weary sigh,
Trapped in puddles, memories drown,
It recalls a time when love was nigh,
Lost in the storm, it wears a frown.
Trapped in puddles, memories drown,
A forgotten dreams that drift in disdain,
Lost in the storm, it wears a frown,
In shadows cast by gathering rain.
A Room of Regret
Dirt clings to corners, shadows conspire,
In corners, forgotten, filth breeds like fire.
Sinks overflowed, a stagnant sea lies,
Grunge paints the tiles where hope slowly dies.
Useless the scrubbers, their efforts in vain,
Sour scents linger, a festering stain.
Towels forgotten, they gather in dread,
Poignant reminders of what once was said.
Oftentimes, silence is louder than cry,
Echoes of clean days now just pass by.
Mold blooms in whispers, a reminder of plight,
Sorrowful refuge, lost to the night.
Echoes of a Lost Friend
Matted fur clings to shadows of the past,
A whispered memory, soft against my knee.
In corners where the sunlight fades so fast,
A ghostly presence lingers, haunting me.
A whispered memory, soft against my knee,
The laughter shared, now draped in silent pain.
A ghostly presence lingers, haunting me,
Every touch of fur, a reminder of the strain.
The laughter shared, now draped in silent pain,
Each tug of sorrow reinvented fear.
Every touch of fur, a reminder of the strain,
In dreams, your playful spirit still draws near.
Each tug of sorrow reinvented fear,
In corners where the sunlight fades so fast,
In dreams, your playful spirit still draws near,
Matted fur clings to shadows of the past.
The Surprise Within
Dare to taste strange textures, slimy and bold,
In the depths of delight, a new tale unfolds.
Slipping between senses, a texture so sly,
Grimaces arise, yet curiosity won't die.
Underneath layers, a surprise stays concealed,
Savor the unsettling; let the truth be revealed.
Tangled in flavors, a moment to trace,
Echoes of doubt, yet life finds its grace.
Mountains of Neglect
Despair lingers among forgotten seams,
In corners where dust dares to creep,
Shadows drape over fabric dreams,
Garments worn, their memories deep.
Underneath layers, stories untold,
Sighs of silence in twilight’s embrace,
Tangled threads of a life uncontrolled.
Shattered Reflections
In a room where the echoes amass,
Lie fragments of love – broken glass.
Memories, scattered,
In shadows they've tattered,
As time, like the wind, breezes past.
Ode to the Leftover Palette
In the depths of the fridge, a forgotten tale lies,
Where leftover whispers and age-old sighs,
Meet unexpected hues, a riot reborn,
From yesterday's feast, a new vision is torn.
Splattered upon plates, a mosaic of time,
Greens that have wilted, yet somehow still climb,
The crimson of sauces, a once-vibrant flare,
Now mingling with pastes, a peculiar affair.
The orange of curry, now fading to gray,
Juxtaposed with the blue of the cheese gone astray,
These colors of chaos, a painter's delight,
Creating a canvas that thrives in the night.
For beauty may linger where disgust dares to tread,
In the garish and grim, new wonders unfold,
Let not the mundane alone interpret your bread,
For splendor lies hidden in the stories of old.
The Swollen Secret
In the garden, oh so bright,
Fruits hang heavy, a curious sight.
An apple swollen, a pear so round,
With juicy treasures hidden abound.
But oh dear fruit, what have you done?
You’ve sat too long under the sun.
Your colors fading, your shine is gone,
Now bursting juices, a gurgling song.
A squishy plum with a wrinkly skin,
Wants a friend to share within.
It whispers tales of sunny days,
But now its sweetness decays in waves.
So gather, children, come and see,
The hidden stories in each great spree.
For even the fruit that’s lost its cheer,
Can teach us lessons to hold so dear!
Tangled Remnants
A hair tangled in the soap, it clings,
To moments lost, like whispers in the suds,
A reminder of the daily, mundane fight,
Each strand a ghost of laughter that once flowed.
Disgust rises with the foam and froth,
As memories slip through fingers, like this mess.
So I wash my hands of it, yet find,
The clutter lingers, stubborn as the dirt,
And in the mirror, I confront the truth,
This tangled knot reflects the chaos, bitter,
That life, like hair in soap, can tangle tight,
Leaving only traces of what once felt right.
Each scrub a war against the residue,
But traces fade, and still I face my flaws,
The hairs of past decisions, sins, regrets,
Pooling at my feet, amid the fading lather.
Yet somehow in this mess, I find some grace,
A beauty in the tangled remnants left behind.
Banana's Lament
In the bowl's shadow, the overripe banana weeps,
Blackened skin, softening flesh, secrets it keeps.
Time's cruel hand leaves it squishy, a mournful sight,
While memories of sweetness fade into the deep.
Once vibrant and yellow, it shone with delight,
Now it glories in rot, where dreams dare not leap.
A fruit wasted, forgotten, yet echoes still cry,
Of laughter and banquet, where joy used to creep.
In every soft squelch, a tale of decline,
Witness to hunger, a bittersweet heap.
Cling of the Past
In shadows where memories drift and sway,
The grasp of old sweat, a ghost's embrace,
Foul whispers linger, never to stray,
Cloaked in the dark of an eerie place.
Each droplet a story, each stain a sigh,
Of laughter and sorrow, of passion and dread,
Haunting the air like a desperate cry,
Bound to the fabric of tears we shed.
The echoes of touch, with fetid remorse,
A specter of moments that once felt alive,
Now weighted with time, like a never-seen force,
Gripped by the remnants of all we survive.
So here I stand, in this heavy shroud,
Confronting the scent of the life left behind,
With courage, I breathe, though the air feels loud,
For in this distaste, my resolve I find.
Soda Slicked
In the hustle of a summer's day,
A soda tumbles, bright and fray,
A sugar flood, a sticky tide,
With laughter echoes, joy and pride.
Fingers clasp the fizzing stream,
In syrup's grasp, we lose the gleam,
Hands stick fast to joy's delight,
While sweetness lingers, fades from sight.
Glistening worlds of cola brown,
A patchwork on the table, down,
With every touch, discomfort grows,
Yet in this mess, our laughter flows.
So here's to spills that weave the day,
To sticky hands and games we play,
For beauty lurks in chaos spun,
In every drop, our hearts are won.
The Dance of Decay
In the heart of the forest, where shadows entwine,
A gross spectacle brews, nature's grand design.
Beneath the bold canopy, dark secrets unfurl,
The rot and the ruin, a grotesque, vivid swirl.
Fungi rise proudly from what once stood so tall,
Feasting on timber that witnessed the fall.
Brilliantly spores dance with a maddening grace,
The cycle of life wearing death's rancid face.
Worms weave through the remnants, as artists in clay,
Transforming the carcass; they know not of delay.
In the soil, a banquet, a banquet of dread,
As maggots find laughter where flowers once bled.
The stench of decay fills the crisp, morning air,
A symphony written with vibrant despair.
Yet in every foul note lies a promise anew,
For death births the blooms in the damp, verdant dew.
So embrace, if you dare, this revolting charade,
The beauty of endings, the price that is paid.
For in nature’s great cycle, as grim as it seems,
Life rises from rot; it is born of our dreams.
Elegy for the Unwanted Meal
In the fridge's cold embrace it lies,
A relic of hunger's fleeting disguise,
Leftover takeout, congealed and forlorn,
Once a feast of fire, now stale and worn.
What stories it held, those spices and scents,
Now tangled in silence, where appetite vents.
Stale noodles curl, like memories unseen,
Lost in the shadows, where flavors once gleamed.
Containers once vibrant, now cracked and pale,
Congealed beneath layers, a culinary tale.
Each morsel a ghost of the passion once shared,
Now languishing still, in a darkness ensnared.
So raise a soft toast to the banished delight,
To meals that fade quickly, from left to the night.
Let them rest in the quiet, as we close the lid,
For love’s fleeting banquet must sometimes be hid.
The Tale of the Soggy News
In a corner of the room, with a frown,
Lies a soggy newspaper, crumpled down.
Once it shouted news, so bright and bold,
Now it’s limp, and its stories are old.
Raindrops danced on the paper so white,
Turning headlines to puddles of fright.
A tale of a cat who runs up a tree,
In this soggy mess, it’s hard to see!
The sports game scores are splashed and blurred,
The funniest jokes can hardly be heard.
A paper that once brought the world to our door,
Now a soggy reminder, of what was before.
So gather your papers, keep them up high,
Let them not end up with a soggy goodbye.
For news is a treasure, it shines like a star,
Let’s treat it with care, no matter how far!
Unsettling Quiet
Silence
Thick and heavy
A weight upon the air
Discomfort creeps through untouched space
Unease.
Echoes of a Forgotten Toy
In shadows cast by memories long gone,
A cherished toy now lies in dust and gloom,
Its colors faded, dreams of youth withdrawn.
Once vibrant laughter danced from dusk till dawn,
But now its voice is silenced in this room,
In shadows cast by memories long gone.
The doll’s glass eyes reflect a world’s forlorn,
As hours pass, in solitude it blooms,
Its colors faded, dreams of youth withdrawn.
Forgotten stories echo in the lawn,
The hours spent in pure, untainted bloom,
In shadows cast by memories long gone.
Yet still it holds the whispers of the dawn,
A symbol of a heart that bore the gloom,
Its colors faded, dreams of youth withdrawn.
So here it stays, a relic of the dawn,
A testament to joy that met its doom,
In shadows cast by memories long gone,
Its colors faded, dreams of youth withdrawn.
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