Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places



Read Poems by grace freeman

grace freeman Avatar    Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below are poems written by poet Grace Freeman. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.

List of ALL grace freeman poems

Best Grace Freeman Poems

+ Fav Poet

Bloody Knuckles

Bloody knuckles
Are all that remain
Of what I use to be.
Torn skin,
Scars and scabs,
Memories and
Reminders.

Of a time when I was young
And without ambition
Or caution.
Running through green forests
With friends chasing behind.
A root,
I trip,
And my fingers collide with the dirt.
The soil stings my
Bloody knuckles.

Bloody knuckles
Are all that remain
Of what I use to be.
Torn skin,
Scars and scabs,
Memories and
Reminders.

I majored in Political Science,
But couldn't make the grade.
My effort fell short
And I fell into bad habits.
Days and nights
Spent alone.
Helpless
And at the same time
Overwhelmed.
Too much to drink,
I throw a punch
And the soft cheek of a stranger runs into my
Bloody knuckles

Bloody knuckles
Are all that remain
Of what I use to be.
Torn skin,
Scars and scabs,
Memories and
Reminders.

I changed
My ways,
My life.
I was better,
But not much.
A few local fights
For local cash
And local bragging rights.
Then a few local wins
And a few wins
Far from home.
Oh how things had changed.
No longer did my fist collide with the face of
The poor and angry;
Now the skin of champions
Caressed and slammed my
Bloody knuckles.

Bloody knuckles
Are all that remain
Of what I use to be.
Torn skin,
Scars and scabs,
Memories and
Reminders.

Now I sit
In a creaking chair
Alone once again.
If I had family they would visit me,
If I had friends they would call.
But I remain shut out
And fading fast.
No longer can I remember my girlfriends
Or the places I went
And the things I did.
The only things I hold on to
Is the memories tied onto
My wrinkly old hands
And my 
Bloody knuckles

Bloody knuckles
Are all that remain
Of me.

NextLast

Post Comments

Please Login to post a comment




A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.



Back