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Violence Sorrow Poems | Violence Poems About Sorrow

These Violence Sorrow poems are examples of Violence poems about Sorrow. These are the best examples of Violence Sorrow poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ballad | |

Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
Summer, afternoon, lying wounded, next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction in a land of disgrace
A blood thirsty battlefield, is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind my hands that bled
Crawlers, rendering their lives upon the open space
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing the warm feeling 
Summer rain, lungs of blood, their last dying post
Glorious by numbers, every blade was screaming 
Gemstone losing touch, in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little closer, as if they were only dreaming
Crawling, missing limbs, twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under the walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against every last dying breath,
Dirty piles of crashing wind pipes, and sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle and dying breath

The Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on the wall, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
The fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, and face

Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin.
Distant, before Texas and her annexation, 
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!

By:PD


Details | Rhyme | |

Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 


Details | Blank verse | |

Twixt Blaze and Claw

Abuses hurled and Alcohol gurgled,
In the vortex of confusion
And blurred vision.
Intoxicated pleasure from surreal leisure.
Fooled senses and numbed conscience.
Wiped existence of love and kindness cuffed.

Lashed at the one he once loved.
Cringed and clung to her faint faith.
She and her cursed fate.
Exploding paroxysm of hate.

Her whipped ivory skin and bleeding lips,
Eyes with teary tinge,
Has the harvest moon singed.
Stillness of the night, pierced
By memories of bitterness-sodden years.

"Hurt me not", she trembled with fear,
"let me live for my girl, dear".

The cries colored skies crimson.
Just one reason--Her little girl.
 
As her daughter stared
With flaming locks and eyes that flared.

By Angom Amy (15)


Details | I do not know? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir,my innocence is gone now, no more fear ,
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here.
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen,
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain !
I was crying, i was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened.
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end.
I begged you to stop and I looked into your eyes,
there was a reflection of a cruel world,that what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did,
Nobody knows that you made me bleed.
Dear sir,my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was blind!
having hidden hatred inside,a virgin died.
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories,
time doesn't heal all wounds,that you marked,
yes,you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.


Details | Ode | |

Love is a Sacrifice

You have my soul, but you have your fate Whatever your words, I’m willing to take You have my word; I’ll give you my breath It’s like a chain that would never be break You are my love with all my heart, I’ll fight for you with all my might. And in the way, you admire your goals, You hold my hands, but not so close. As you go to your chosen path, I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart. In the dark side, I leave behind Within my faith, that you’ll arise Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near I accept my fate for what it does, I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was? You reach your goals, as you want to have, Would you remind the man that gave what he had? As you reach the stars, and be the one Be a sun that shines its own. After the rain, the rainbow comes, Like dark in the moon, when the light flash A glimpse from you at least a short For then I knew my pain is worth.


Details | Rhyme | |

Conversion, Not Conviction

He put his hands on a little baby
His thoughts and actions, total impurity
Does things that, to us, are so obscure
The kinds of things no one wants to hear.

His 9 year old son,
To his head-  Dad holds a gun-
"Now you do as I say," trying to 
convince the frightened boy,
"You'll like it, we're only going to play".

He has found his mark
Breaking into her home,
he planned to embark-
in the middle of night
the coward rapes her in the dark.

She is almost eighty
has always lived in love & safety
A happy life she has always lead
Until he beat her over the head
Spread his seed and disease
leaving her for dead, he simply fled.

Immediately thereafter,
He was caught,
his life now a disaster!
Behind bars they want him,
for "Some kinda social sin."

A sweet talking lawyer
convinced the jury he "had problems"
"No need for prison, sometime in a 
Mental hospital"
"Conversion, not conviction."
"After all, most testimonies are
pure fiction."

This is the reality we, as a society, 
face every single day.
Forget converting these freaks,
sexual predators - molesters
and child porn geeks.

I say fry 'em all
and let them know what it feels
like to be so helpless, so small.

A. Green
Trafficking


Details | Narrative | |

The Woes Of Trust

An angel formed from 
lake of purity,a gift to 
mankind-illuminating 
darkest parts of hearts.
A chaste damsel,
untouched rose from the 
garden of the elves.

Sent to earth,made an 
abode in a gentleman's 
heart,whom she 
cherished and loved.

As time travelled,another 
fella whom she trusted 
lured her to un-saintly act
Her pride laid on altar of 
dishonor and infidelity.
Her life she almost 
snuffed,she feared the 
love of her true love 
would be lost. Alas! bond 
of love is indivisible.

Shattered,with a broken 
spirit she tries to mend 
the pieces....on the 
shoulder of her lover she 
leans,hoping to soothe 
her bruised heart.



Note:
A true story,a close 
pretty lady friend of mine 
was raped by her family 
friend yesterday...who 
called her and told her 
his mum was very sick.
She called me and 
confided in me .
Don't know whether to 
encourage her to call the 
police.


Details | Rhyme | |

Is it to late

Can we stop it?

It’s a crazy, hazy world
All filled with crazy people
The danger we are in
Its sky high, like a steeple
It’s reaching a crescendo
It’s touching air and ground
Earthquakes, hurricanes and floods
These be so often found
Is it too late to stop now?
Can we really turn it back?
Or is there mass destruction
A short way up the track?


Details | Terza Rima | |

False Pride


I have fallen in deep with pride tonight       
My good intention used against me             
I’m beguiled by ego’s pompous might         

Dismissed was true grace; now I see          
When clouded judgment led me onto           
The reefs below and turbulent sea            

‘Take a moment... maybe turn and run!         
From false pride, you must disengage          
Heed your conscience or come undone         

Hear my words, do not become enraged                                                           
Endless is haunting of conscience, near dead   
In this I implore you, with me, engage!'              

What you choose this night determines tomorrow..                                                             
Turn about my friend; turn away from sorrow'.                                                                      

~*~
7/18/13
For Craig's "Terza Rima Sonnet Contest"
(My first attempt at this and I'm afraid it's far from perfect) 
Thanks to the friends who gave me much needed help...still revising.


Details | Free verse | |

Bleeded Out

More things can happen or could have happened,
From a cold metal,
Sharpened in fine fettle,
Making skin nettled,
Damaging the mettles,
To keep minds unsettled,
Provoking to ask, if this is or if this was real or mental?

Blade on arms,
Skin might be harmed;
Skin was gashed,
Blade grinding and gnashed,
Red colors coming in a flash...

Blade on gut,
Feeling a sudden jut,
Provoked as a rut,
But, this was a guff...

Blade on neck,
Thinking about a sudden sweep,
Discord trying to overcome conviction and peace,
Even though, the blade failed again,
Failing to provoke the red gushes and streams...

Blade on heart,
Might be the last battle so far,
Trying to not give in, being so hard,
Though in the past, there could have been to many cuts,
And more deadly slashes,
Creating red splashes and plashes,
As I slowly might have fought, winning or losing,
Against the sleeping and life flashing feeling,
As I bleeded out..


Details | Free verse | |

The Strand

This expanse of land has seen things. 
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.

This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand. 

It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon. 

This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.

T.K


Details | Rhyme | |

Bukowski

Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.

His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.

There seems a need at times to clarify, 
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.

No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool 
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’ 

But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.

Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”

Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right?  Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?

One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.

So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.

But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.

Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014

not so genius

 


Details | Ballad | |

How do we stop this evil

How do we stop this evil?

Little folk come out to play
Their hearts brim filled with joy
While foulest men, with deep, dark souls
Their innocence destroy
As the world becomes a poison place
Cause who can small minds trust?
Because of sour brittle, hearts
All filled with grime and lust
Childlike joy begins to fade
And life turns kind of sour
How will they flower??

A happy place all filled with joy
Is how it’s meant to be
So little children filled with life
Can feel alive and free
Yet dark warped ghouls all filled with lust
With evil in their hearts
They prey on all this innocence
And tear small hearts apart
These little souls, they be our future
They must be nurtured well
Or time will tell.

Butterflies no longer fly
And birds no longer sing
With only fear within their hearts
No joy does life then bring
For little folk just made to love
How does this evil grow
Oh, I don’t know!!.

It seems the world don’t care enough
To stop this crime for good
So children, they can laugh and play
In a good safe neighbourhood
If the remedy don’t come real soon
The future looks real grim
These children, they will rule some day
Then decency will dim
Because young minds so badly poisoned
Can only come from fear
This seems so clear.


Details | Free verse | |

Dear Dad

Dear Dad 				
Why don’t you love me? 
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
 then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me? 
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me? 
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me? 
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind, 
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?


Details | Free verse | |

When Doing Wrong Feels so Right

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

A young man came in contact with the police… and has died.
So the town decided to protest, drawing others from the outside.
Everything got out of hand, and escalated, throughout the night.
Businesses destroyed, homes robbed, fires, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
The innocent bystanders have decided to move away, in droves.
The businesses are losing customers, as to safety so many go.
Eventually, businesses will also leave, for customers they must have.
The area will become blighted, where a good home once could be had.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

Police and their families are being threatened, as they try to understand.
But they see that they must guard at night, all which continues to stand.
The Newsmen are stirring things up, as to the National News they go.
Of course we need to know the plight of all, as they stir up more woes.
Protesting the freedom, to protest at night, hasn’t helped stop the fights.
More will be leaving the area, cause they don’t want to live too close.
It’s the innocents who continue to suffer, if the town becomes a ghost.
It could end in a moment, or be like the fighting, in the Middle East.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

It all depends on everyone’s understanding of when it’s time to stop.
It depends on the understanding: of when something wrong feels right.
Rioting, Looting, and Protesting can’t add anything good to the mix.
But adding outsiders and hatred to it, can totally destroy all, in the end.
There are brave hearts, wanting to stop what’s going on, to get along
The outsiders control the scene, as with sadness, the good back down.
It seems to have a life of it’s own, pushed from outsiders out to win.
But the only thing they’ll win, is a ghost town, for those left within.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Remember: Be careful what you do, when feelings seem so right.

 CSEastman Written 8-15-2014… ‘A bystander, very close by’


Details | Free verse | |

Pawn

And so do I fall, and so do I fail,
Falling so deeply into this destructive void,
Nothing but ash and specs of dust that were once my brittle bones and scarred flesh.

To not know what is ahead,
How maddening! How so distraught have I seemingly become,
Forgotten myself as time has smoothed over me.

Tricky, sly fiend indeed; master and slave a like to us all.

Do I dare move forward into the uncertainty that is humanity and of such society?
So gut wrenching, thoughts filled of bile at what is.

As we all are from and are the same, yet tear limb by limb the essence of ourselves by one another in an endless state of bigotry and violence; so brightly are we bathed in evil.

So easy is it to see.

Miracles; perhaps shall they see fit to carry me away from the void that is, and from such temptation, as to live the rest of days in blissful, stagnant dreams.


Details | Imagism | |

The Unseen Saw

The thief of Acrona, I lied,
Robbing tourists and escaping plight...
The inevitable magic in my eyes,
Was spotted in the princess' eyes,
The land beneath her legs moved,
The time instantly passed and on the royal bed, we droft...
Kissing her perfect bosom,
I laughed, in the gloom,
Then I had got her lip caught,
And the voices of love,
The ears of consierge caught!
He then broke the wooden door and came in,
Looked my face angrily and held my chin...
Dragged naked to the gallows by the king's command,
Hands and legs tied, pulled by the heel with the face kissing the sand...
Legs mine, half stretched, tied by the log,
I looked at her and heard her sob...
And when the execution begun,
My face covered with a thick lenin, hidden...
Some pins of random order touched between my nude thighs,
I could not look at the ground nor the skies...
Four leather legs I could smell,
Covered with mire and the saw begun to dwell...
I felt the saw cutting me for the following hours,
Then my soul kicked itself out my body,
Where the crowd look at my parted body and whispered ''gross''.


Details | ABC | |

POLITICAL MADNESS

We are down on a sandy beach
And our legs dug deep in the sand of pain
Left stranded in the sea of sadness
The night of destruction falling on us with extreme darkness
Hovering on us the venom of evil
With rain drops of blood on our land
The storm getting heavier by the day
The flame of hope blown away by wind of wickedness
We live in a country where no one is safe
Where death darken the sky like an imminent doom 
Where the majority live in ardent poverty
A land where corruption is at its peak
Our leaders the master chef to all our miseries
With eyes of blind spot to the need of the people
Deaf ears to the cry of the innocent
Blind eyes to the sufferings of the poor
The beat of political madness stirs in the air
With sound wave of pain to all the citizen of the land
Human lives valued only for a couple of coins and a few naira note
Innocent blood shed all in the name of political game
The taste of power and excessive desire for wealth
Sum with their selfish and political greed
Puts our dear nation in a state of unrest 
Children of innocent souls being tortured through burning knife of evil
Leaving the youths to live their lives in fear
Our girls are no longer safe to go to school
Terrorism the bad sweet smell polluting our atmosphere
With it effect on us an horrible scar
People being nurtured to the highest point of hatred
With every of their road leading to violence and terrorism 
Little by little we are losing our national pride
Our economy dropping faster than the speed of sound
Our leaders failing in every good sense of leadership
With the interest of the people far from their mind
From the cry of the rejected and abused children
To the tears of the suffering and confused adult
Same questions comes to the mind of every nigerian
Why do we have to suffer this much?
Are our leaders so blind to see that the nation is on a downhill of destruction?
How long will it take for them to hear our cry?
And what will it take for everything to change for good?
I guess only God has the answers to all this questions
And the golden key to our freedom
All will have to do is to keep praying
And keep hold of our little flame of hope
Cos one day I believe everything will change for good


Details | Rhyme | |

Misery Laid Upon Softly Kindled Pine

Misery Laid Upon Soft Kindled Pine

The great Judge marks this hour at noon
 bright was this day in month of June
A kinship richly felt with wooded glen
 saddened by the evil in hearts of men

A fierce battle for land was fought
 death reigned supreme all for naught
Blood splashed upon the limbs and leaves
 sorrow grips as each family grieves

Dead feel not the heat of burning Sun
 no real glory felt by those that won 
Misery laid upon softly kindled pine
 vultures fly waiting to come to dine 

The carnage shook the stars on high
 time not given from sweet good-byes
An unwelcome breeze stings this land
 all for naught, but evil in death's hand

The great Judge marks this day of pain
 as tears fall ,victims lay in dashing rain
A new day awaits the glory of hope sent
 forgiveness for the wasted lives spent

June birds now flitter, renewing song
 lives so saddened move right on along
Human spirit always racing to survive
 rarely embracing joy of just being alive

Returning Sun shines upon life and all
 man's fate is to live then greatly fall
Other journeys await in mystical realms
 so many great ships, captains and helms

R.J. Lindley
09, 15, 1977

note: I have little memory of why I wrote this one
 back then. Perhaps a book I read, movie I watched 
or blues that wrapped me so often during that time.


Details | Prose | |

Innocent Elevator

As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I 
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But 
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden 
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the 
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most 
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little 
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no 
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before 
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the 
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way 
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two 
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the 
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as 
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors 
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I 
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could 
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my 
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and 
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors 
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost. 

Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you, 
curse you.

I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a 
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith 
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete 
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to 
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream, 
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself 
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind 
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no 
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of 
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by 
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent 
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front 
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim. 

My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I 
dream.


This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to 
the original author. © Alisha Groves


Details | Free verse | |

Torturer and Prisoner

Torturer and Prisoner 

After undergoing all kinds of known tortures
a prisoner closed his eyes with a heart-lending cry.

The torturer who witnesses the dying prisoner
was so frustrated because he couldn’t induce 
any wanted information from the prisoner.

He kicked the dead man by the side with anger and mumbled,
“This persistent SOB, died so agonizingly, didn’t leave
a piece of information I was looking for!”

Then, the corpse opened his eyes,
staring at the torturer, wearing a sardonic smile and said scornfully,
“Don’t you know? A dead man won’t feel pain!”

The torturer shocked, couldn’t speak for a moment,
then gathered himself and said,
“I hope you didn’t forget that you have 
a wife and children.”

The corpse closed his eyes sad and painfully.

There a drop of tear clearer than the early morning dew
welled up and stood in his eye became red as ruby 
mixed with blood stain.