Bandaging Poems | Examples

Mother Said

“You’ll live,” my mother prompts;
above my screams, which pierced
the air with strident oomph;
she, bandaging my wounds.

It happened as I traipsed
the woods; I fell amongst
a pile of jagged rocks whilst
reaching for a gem, just glimpsed.

It was my birthday, eighth;
or maybe it was ninth,
and I had always dreamt
to find a gem so scarce.

“Now look, your pants are spoilt,”
she said, without much warmth.
I knew she wasn’t angry,
just a little anxious.

New pants, with money scarce
was for her a problem;
sewing machine - zigzag
soon, the hole was nothing!

An Expression of Depression

Nothing soothes me,
Nothing grooves me,
Nothing behooves me.

I’m grasping at branches,
Bandaging the stanches,
But I still don’t understand it.

IT being what’s happened to me,
The source of my abject misery,
Which simply isn’t clear to me.

I wish that it would clear for me,
But I don’t expect to see
Life ablaze and bright for me.

I don’t know what is right for me.
I’m trying to rediscover me 
Since I lost the crux of me.

I don’t know when I lost it,
Only know it’s a struggle to gets 
Beyond what I’d like to forget.

I’m so caught up in regret,
Fear it’ll cause my death.
Forgive me, I’m bereft:
Just blame my lame 
And sorry mental health.

Untitled

Living in a world that hurts and is hurting is taking its toll,
I want to leave this earth so I can finally discover peace,
To let go of its hold on me and the claws I keep digging in deeper,
I’m too sensitive for a world that is basking in pain,
And too hurt to keep bandaging over wounds that refuse to heal,
Bleeding on those close enough to touch and dragging them down into the abyss,
Hurting those around me through my hurt,
Wounding myself until I’m ribbons on the floor,
I just need to remove myself from a world of pain and suffering,
And hope that it takes some away,
Hope that my sacrifice finally brings some peace and joy,
I hope it takes it away and leaves me to rot in the ground,
Because my only place in this world is the ground beneath my feet,
Buried down far and deep,
So I can finally stop hearing the screams,
So I can finally stop suffering,
So the world can finally turn again

Cherish

The lake shaped rain puddle, hue of a wet cave wall 
that drips limestone, distorts the captive sunlight. 
The Sun becomes a gold-tiatian rose that floats. 

The ripples are spiders crawling.
Daddy-Long-Legs. Like the ones crossing her bathroom wall, this morning, or threading their webs,while she showered.

The pond next to her Uncle's house buoys a blanche skin-colored raft whose cracks sift the wind, tickling her body. 
And at Dawn, is an ornament on silent, still water.

The puddle mirrors a rain cloud moving and swelling '
til it bursts.Drops pucker the surface of the puddle,
that is beginning to rush to a drain.

Her mocha skin has pock marks.
She rubbed her forehead and chin with thick cloud-colored ointment, years ago. Her cheeks are RED roses.

The puddle, after the clouds have slid away, 
un-bandaging a heavy blue sky, glistens like her scarred face after running in the storm. Like the wet newly paved streets,
 
near Home.

True Love

It started at 25 , has crossed 75 and will continue forever. 

He came closer to me 
Shivers ran down my spine, 
I looked everywhere else 
Instead of his eyes,
Cuz I know I couldn't handle his eyes, 
Which drugged me like WINE.

There were crevices in my heart 
Emotions were oozing out, 
You were the one to stitch them up
Bandaging my doubts.

I realized I was in love with you
When your shade of red ,
Coloured my existing black palette
Shattering the clouds of darkness, 
Whose thunder didn't scare me
But rain calmed me down.

Looking at the stars 
Talking to the sky, 
The galaxy that was missing 
I found it in your EYES.

-REEVES

Who Took the Village - Sos

Have we ceded our stewardship
allowed a systemic sepsis to spread
acquiesced to the benign malaise
of Death’s directing finger?

Spending billions to cure diseases
caused by poverty’s pestilence
arming ourselves against an assault
of mutating microbial minds

Offering triage to the fatality
of futility’s folly
bandaging life’s severed limbs
sound biting our souls.

Who took the village?


©8/1/2019

Sound of Silence Poetry Contest
John Hamilton sponsor

Poets and Plastic Surgeons

Poets and plastic surgeons-whittling away
adding here, subtracting there
bandaging a verse or stitching a face
trying to make plain into pretty
perfection just a small slice away.

A masterpiece is what they seek

A mountain of trash for every gem
cutting and slicing stretching and trimming
seeking the perfect profile or seamless rhyme, 
but filling the world with rivers of gibberish 
and mirror obsessed Frankensteins.

A Splendiferous Storm

Purple pigments add a vermilion hue
to a scarlet sun that's about to die.
And pink cottony clouds bandaging blue;
sop scarlet from a hemorrhaging sky.

An icy chill saps the warmth from your soul,
exposed skin quickly ravaged by the wind.
For Winter has come to exact Her toll,
delayed by Autumn; Her patience has thinned.

A flurry of flakes, confetti the air;
swirling about as in Nature’s snow globe.
And skeletal trees no longer stand bare,
their branches draped in a soft, downy robe.

Winter arrives in magnificent form;
escorted by a splendiferous storm.

Introspectors

Bandaging wounds that we have not inflicted,
Embracing the weary, the poor, the afflicted,
In this, we find ourselves. 
Needing to know the ways of all things,
Giving, and taking, we wear golden rings,

Hoping for meaning and joy. 
Under all this is a question we face:
Must we continue to run in the race?
All of us answer when’er we laugh,
No thing can erase our life’s epitaph. 

5 July 2016

Written for "Being Human" contest, sponsored by John Hamilton

A Vicarious Life

I live my life vicariously, 
Through everyone else’s eyes.
I live my life through every low 
And every one of the highs.

It began when I was a child, 
I’d live like batman every day.
Pretending I was by his side, 
Cutting and weaving as I play.

My teens, I was the movie star, 
Robert de Niro, an extreme survivor.
That’s when I was the skin head, Bickle, 
The paranoid vigilante Taxi Driver.

By my 20’s my kids success at
Debates and sports became my badge.
I was there to remind folks how proud I was, 
Cleaning and bandaging every scratch.

My 30’s I walked like the enigmatic Jack White, 
Of Detroit garage rock stance.
This phase didn’t last long though, 
Couldn’t play the guitar, or even dance.

Now my 40’s, I don’t need actors or musicians,
To show I’m a flamboyant musical fighter.
I just feign that I know how to scrawl like the bard,
Living vicariously through poetic writers.

A Child Again

I want to be a child again.
 I want to skip down the glen, singing
 Here We Go Gathering Nuts In May.
 Holding Daddy's hand in mine.

I want to know I'm loved.
 That someone is watching over me.
 Bandaging cuts, kissing bruises better.
 Making sure I have my tea.

I want to learn to swim again.
 Ring A Ring A Rosie....we all fall down.
 Until I learn to hold my breath.
 Then doggie paddle...then float.
 I'm free in the sea.

I want to play hide and seek.
 Try not to giggle until I'm found.
 To climb The Mount, then roll down.
 To be back in school, with Miss Mc Cloon.
 Learning my ABC's and Do Re Mee's.

I want mum to cuddle me.
 Call me her "Wee Angel."
 Dad to hoist me on his shoulders.
 So I can see...360 degrees.

Wobbling on a grown up's bike.
 Down the school lane.
 Big brother Derek
 holding on behind ,then
 letting go....laughing,
 as I glance behind....terrified.

If I could start again,
 I would revel in it all.
 Being grown up is no fun,
 when little ones are getting tall.
 and you are responsible for
 keeping them on the ball.

I want to be a child again.

A Hospital In Metroland 1930

The hospital smelt of disinfectants strong bleach many potions, polish and ether,
Cleanliness so important always clean and polished, in the waiting room, leather,
A policeman down a corridor in a terrible hurry held his helmet by its chin strap,
He had appeared with a young girl a head wound was upset sat bleeding in his lap.
Many sad people waiting in agony for news wandered about around the waiting rooms,
Chain smoking cigarettes their eyes staring blindly towards cleaners with brooms,
An old man in pain feeling sick had caught two fingers in a heavy steam train door,
Rocking with pain bleeding he is getting impatient he should have been seen before.
Looking through a reinforced glass window of a door was a snow white treatment room,
A man in white was dabbing something yellow that stung before bandaging the wound,
The silence was broken there was a commotion by doctors nurses all running around,
Two policemen carried a seriously injured man that had been knocked to the ground.

Naive Innocence

O pink horse, O timeless sun,
run on my body, run. Black magic
had pierced the needles into my heart.

Lying on nails to wrest a superearth
from amnesty, I start bandaging the bruised
ethos of my native conscience –

on the spike of a violence, refusing
to give up my home to fire, tending
the voiceless flora of a virgin rock.

The questions stand up, against
the black walls of silence. The blue birds
are going to fly in white desert.



Satish Verma

Naïve Innocence

O pink horse, O timeless sun,
run on my body, run. Black magic
had pierced the needles into my heart.

Lying on nails to wrest a superearth
from amnesty, I start bandaging the bruised
ethos of my native conscience –

on the spike of a violence, refusing
to give up my home to fire, tending
the voiceless flora of a virgin rock.

The questions stand up, against
the black walls of silence. The blue birds
are going to fly in white desert.



Satish Verma

The Gift of "old Man Winter"

He unwittingly hovers
       ...blankets of subjective weather
Plastering his artic tundra
Bandaging white clouds together
Blindly...
     ...withholding ill trepedation
Refocused on our tantalization

Frosting earth's core
         .... with an icy show
Monstrously protecting grounds below~

Alerting those...
           ...napping numb spirits
With his icy mantra of sickles and cold
Old Man Winter's snowflakes unfold
Frost bitten chills triumphantly bold

A frothy iced message 
                    ...with wisdom to acquire
...conjuring those with a hidden desire
Here he laughs 
            ...taunting from within
Old Man Winter is relieved again~

As our spent energies are woken
He does not speak...
              ...but has already spoken

His gift...a dormant spectacle found
As winter coats 
                    ....our frosted ground
More time now 
                  .....with winter so cold
Kept indoors
                 ....to ponder wonders untold~

• Short Bandaging Poems
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