Sick Poems - Poems For Sick

Sick poems from famous poets and best sick poems to feel good. Most beautiful sick poems ever written. Read all poems for sick.


The Sick Rose - Poem by William Blake

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.


Comments about The Sick Rose by William Blake

  • Rookie Angelima (5/25/2020 7:01:00 PM)

    Reading this poem has made me have violent gastro, it lives up to its name. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Gold Star - 5,139 Points Solomon Senxer (9/13/2019 11:50:00 PM)

    Very relevant in its message to many walks of life! (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie Arifa khatun (6/28/2018 12:25:00 AM)

    Really romantic (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 25,889 Points Joshua Adeyemi (4/9/2018 7:37:00 AM)

    my lecturer had given us this with a taste of analysis................................... SICK Indeed (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Rookie Tom Nelson (11/16/2017 3:36:00 PM)

    To me, this poem is a metaphor for cancer. It was beautifully set to music by Benjamin Britten: https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=9Z8W177eCIY (Report) Reply

    5 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 48,370 Points Indira Renganathan (11/30/2016 8:20:00 AM)

    So sweet a simple pom on a sick rose....beautiful (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Freshman - 805 Points Elizabeth Bloomfield (5/16/2016 10:33:00 PM)

    When was this poem written? (Report) Reply

    6 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 274 Points Rahul Kumar (5/11/2016 3:04:00 AM)

    NICE.................................................................... (Report) Reply

    5 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Bronze Star - 2,763 Points Vivek Kumar (4/25/2016 1:07:00 AM)

    wow... it is an awesome poem. (Report) Reply

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 5,338 Points Uzefa Rashida M.a (3/25/2016 9:48:00 AM)

    romantic poet blake has given a negative potrayal of the rose.Unique and different thought. (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
Read all 16 comments »
Sick Poems
  1. 1. The Sick Rose
    William Blake
  2. 2. Sick Room
    Langston Hughes
  3. 3. Sick
    Shel Silverstein
  4. 4. The Sick Muse
    Charles Baudelaire
  5. 5. A Sick Child
    Randall Jarrell
  6. 6. Sick Leave
    Siegfried Sassoon
  7. 7. Home-Sick. Written In Germany
    Samuel Taylor Coleridge
  8. 8. A Sick Soul
    John Newton
  9. 9. The Love-Sick Boy
    William Schwenck Gilbert
  10. 10. Night Thoughts Over A Sick Child
    Philip Levine
  11. 11. When Mommy's Sick (Children)
    C.J. Heck
  12. 12. La Muse Malade (The Sick Muse)
    Charles Baudelaire
  13. 13. The Sick Lion And The Ass
    Jonathan Swift
  14. 14. Alice Sick
    Jean De La Fontaine
  15. 15. Sick And Tired
    ani hill
  16. 16. Fragment: Such Hope, As Is The Sick Desp..
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
  17. 17. I Was Sick And In Prison
    Jones Very
  18. 18. The Sick Man And The Nightingale
    Amy Levy
  19. 19. Sonnet 101: Stella Is Sick
    Sir Philip Sidney
  20. 20. June Sick Room
    Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
  21. 21. To Music, To Becalm A Sweet Sick Youth
    Robert Herrick
  22. 22. Hymn For A Sick Girl
    George MacDonald
  23. 23. How Sick—to Wait—in Any Place—but Thine
    Emily Dickinson
  24. 24. -sick-
    Erica Buenrostro
  25. 25. By Now So Sick Of Waiting
    Gaspara Stampa
  26. 26. My Heart Is Sick With Longing
    Thomas Hood
  27. 27. A Sick Day Is Always Fun
    David DeSantis
  28. 28. Love Sick Puppies
    neo riddick
  29. 29. Sick World
    richa soni
  30. 30. Sick Love
    Delicate Heart
  31. 31. The Sick God
    Thomas Hardy
  32. 32. The Sick Stockrider
    Adam Lindsay Gordon
  33. 33. Visitation And Communion Of The Sick
    John Keble
  34. 34. I Am Sick And Dying**
    Milica Franchi De Luri
  35. 35. Home-Sick
    Ada Cambridge
  36. 36. Answer To Cloe Jealous. The Author Sick
    Matthew Prior
  37. 37. Jehangir - A Sick King Of Hindustan
    Dr. Yogesh Sharma
  38. 38. A Sick And Twisted Mind In A Rhyme
    Matthew Petranovich
  39. 39. The Sick Abbess
    Jean De La Fontaine
  40. 40. I'M So Sick Of Being Sorry About Things ..
    Abby Wesson
  41. 41. Im Sick
    malorie genoff
  42. 42. Being Sick
    Matthew Boisjolie
  43. 43. Sick
    Scott Stevenson
  44. 44. I'M So Sick- Flyleaf (Lyrics)
    Cynthia DeMoines
  45. 45. I'M Sick And Tired
    Payyton Egerstaffer
  46. 46. I Am Sick Of Being A Janitor
    Dan Walters
  47. 47. Sick To My Core
    neo riddick
  48. 48. Im So Sick And Tired...
    Erika Michelle
  49. 49. #(Buddha) 09 Sight Of Sick And Dead
    Rajaram Ramachandran
  50. 50. Sick Of It
    Laury Perez

New Sick Poems

  1. My Daughter, Doctor DJ
  2. Love Sick, Sub Zero
  3. I Need A Doctor, Barry Conway
  4. CITY DWELLER, Kristina Rungano
  5. Get Rid Of Lucifer, Noel Taylor
  6. Sick, Clare Will
  7. ''in Sickness And In Health'', Is That P.., Joshua Aaron Guillory
  8. Insane Or Insanity, What Does It Really .., Joshua Aaron Guillory
  9. Sick Family, Barry Conway
  10. Sick And Tired, Debra DeVeney

Sick Poems

  1. A Sick Child

    The postman comes when I am still in bed. "Postman, what do you have for me today?" I say to him. (But really I'm in bed.) Then he says - what shall I have him say? "This letter says that you are president Of - this word here; it's a republic." Tell them I can't answer right away. "It's your duty." No, I'd rather just be sick. Then he tells me there are letters saying everything That I can think of that I want for them to say. I say, "Well, thank you very much. Good-bye." He is ashamed, and turns and walks away. If I can think of it, it isn't what I want. I want . . . I want a ship from some near star To land in the yard, and beings to come out And think to me: "So this is where you are! Come." Except that they won't do, I thought of them. . . . And yet somewhere there must be Something that's different from everything. All that I've never thought of - think of me!

  2. The Sick Muse

    My impoverished muse, alas! What have you for me this morning? Your empty eyes are stocked with nocturnal visions, In your cheek's cold and taciturn reflection, I see insanity and horror forming. The green succubus and the red urchin, Have they poured you fear and love from their urns? The nightmare of a mutinous fist that despotically turns, Does it drown you at the bottom of a loch beyond searching? I wish that your breast exhaled the scent of sanity, That your womb of thought was not a tomb more frequently And that your Christian blood flowed around a buoy that was rhythmical, Like the numberless sounds of antique syllables, Where reigns in turn the father of songs, Phoebus, and the great Pan, the harvest sovereign. Translated by William A. Sigler Submitted by Ryan McGuire

  3. Sick Room

    How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lovers- Life and Death, And all three covered with a sheet of pain.

  4. Sick

    Sick 'I cannot go to school today,' Said little Peggy Ann McKay. 'I have the measles and the mumps, A gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I'm going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I've counted sixteen chicken pox And there's one more - that's seventeen, And don't you think my face looks green? My leg is cut, my eyes are blue - It might be instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I'm sure that my left leg is broke - My hip hurts when I move my chin, My belly button's caving in, My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained, My 'pendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb, I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my spine is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight, My temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, There is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is - what? What's that? What's that you say? You say today is ... Saturday? G'bye, I'm going out to play!'

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