Best Bled Poems
Parents so proud four sons they raised
From the Highlands of Scotland in the pre-war days
On their crofts they worked morning till night
Unknown to them then of a future fight
The Germans have invaded a country so free
Poland was taken, the world shaken visually
Britain declares war as our men enlist
To rid the enemy as the fighting shifts
Europe's engulfed in a feverish war
Many are dying to comprehend what for
Four brothers sign up to fight
Soon a mother will pray every night
Campaigns they fight in, these theatres of war
Witnessing horrors never seen before
In their garden at home on the family crofts
Lies a bed of roses with petals so soft
Then one day with a passing glance
A pink rose dripping red in deathly stance
Their mother turns to the gate she looks
Telegram in hand from the postman she took
With trembling hands she opens with care
Upon reading the message in tear laden stare
Their eldest son in Africa was lost
As many many others deaths global cost
Every day as she passes the rose
It's pink petals bloom her tomorrow's fear grows.
.
The wind raised the wave with pleasure over and over,
exploding with its weight embracing the jagged rocks.
Seeing the aged shoreline spread like an endless rover,
of eroded pinnacles. No ship dare seek its locks,
for its nonexistent shore has suffered severe shocks.
She hugged her woolen shawl, tightly around her shoulders,
to ward off the chill, and walked along the cliffs, looking
out onto the sea. Waves crashed against battered boulders,
stirring the cool mist and briny fragrance. Concealing
the love she once shared, but lost to the seas bewitching.
7/27/2017
English Quintain, ababb, 13 syllables
Darlingest baby
I have found your Barby doll
your daddy's last gift
Fire,splinters,dust
Embedded in the first cell
Shattered rosy womb
Mom broke her promise
Daddy says no she did not
She only loved you
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..
"Each experience is locked within my heart
and I hold the key"...Constance La France
The doctor came from the operating room
Blood splattered scrubs, blood on glasses and said
"We've given her four pints of blood"_clouds loom
The doctor came from the operating room
A heavy mist covered my heart with gloom
Pondering gravity of red blood that bled
The doctor came from operating room
Blood splattered scrubs, blood on glasses, and said
Contest:Fragment Of Life
Sponsor: Constance La France
Penned by Sara Kendrick
This twenty-second day of
August, 2011
*Note _Click on about this poem
I really didn’t mean to
Btu I stepped on the young millipede
That lay in the path
Of my foot
I hadn’t seen it
I just heard the crunch
Then felt the wetness
On my foot
When the damage was done
I cringed
Disgusted
And jumped
Expecting its insides
To be splashed
All over
My beige carpet
Then I saw some red
My heart shrank
In horror
At myself
I didn’t know
Millipedes could bleed
I stared for longer
Maybe in disbelief
Or in the hope that
It would curl
Then crawl away
Seemingly merely bruised
I watched
It writhed
It curled its head
The way I curl my toes
When I feel great pain
My heart shrank
My skin crawling a little
Thinking
I should kill it
Fast
And cut off its pain
But I could not bring myself
To further hurt
Millipede that was now still
I took a piece of rigid paper
And picked it up
It stirred a little
And so did my hopes
Then it stilled
Completely
Like I did
A minute later
Realizing what I’d done
And feeling cruel for it
I threw it outside
On the garden outside
Perhaps it would awaken
This I know is a dream
Reality is
It is dead
Because I stepped on it
Where was it going?
Do millipedes have families?
Do they have lovers?
They go back to
To stay with
And make love
And get baby millipedes
There is still a patch of red
On my carpet
Where the millipede bled
And I feel like crap
As though
Someone strangled my pet cat
And I wonder
How do they feel?
Those who kill other humans
Do they remember?
Do they have a patch of red?
To remind them
Something bled?
I am sorry millipede
Next time I shall try
To watch where I tread
Tempers flare,and I
wrestle the crash brought upon
by the beauty bled.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
So small and absolutely perfect
With a slight grain of pale pink flowing across it’s softly shimmering white surface
Tossed by wave and landed on this ….my foreign shore
I knew in my heart as I held the sea stone in the palm of my hand …that the secrets
of the universe were held safely
deep within
…..If only I spoke stone ….I knew the hope of everlasting joy
could be mine to share forever
When our stories bled together
Eternity nodded gleefully
unfolding our broken grounds,
howling voids and lost alliterations…
My perfect imperfections
slipped down at my feet,
this intoxicated Existence
mended my subdued Heart
in spasmodic recurrences…
I have been seeking for You
Inside millennial dips of wisdom!...
I am distressed by my absent impressions
expressed by restored discourses
along my winterish hallucinatory midnights
When our stories bled together
I woke up from this Ancient grey longing
and edgeless Time frames,
spring-flowers blasted in echoed reverberations…
Yet!... the World demanded an answer!
A cross-examined petition of my agonized paroxysms,
no appeals… neither claims over its utilitarian ultimatums!
A plea… with no supplications and beseeched adjurations…
Together!...
We bled our histories
with hypnotic accents and saffron reminders
about the World’s triviality and consistent frivolity!
(Anca Mihaela Bruma, 28th January 2016)
Copyright (c) 2016 by Anca Mihaela Bruma, All Rights Reserved, except the right to forward and to share with friends - with credit - which is held to be a good idea and is thus encouraged.
oh no.
slipped from my fingers
it did so did
freed
from its holding
once so snug
now spilled...
spilled.sspplllaaat.splat.trickle.dripdrop
as dear as costly
such it was,
now seeping away
slinking off
with no back-look
at what be
left behind
Love dissolving in the stone
upon the floor
all 'round all 'round my feet
Love weeping creeping
from the broken
of my soul
my precious precious not
not to return
to the holding in my heart
Love's beauty
bled out.
Gone.
Just gone.
my heart that beats without a drum
its cheating starts from your fake glum
and thundering sounds of natures turn
instead does pound my beatless churn
and smell i may of dead mans waste
and see i may of dying breeds race
and hear the sounds of babys cry
to motherless frowns as the earth now dies
and again my beatless heart stops dead
and friends i never knew now bled
its like you said.
none of it was real,
nor will it ever be.
your love wasnt real
your touch wasnt real
her pain wasnt
isnt
just wasnt real
nonexistent
false
a lie the whole time
the blood still stains
trust me i was there
you lied
not false because
even a lie exists somewhere
she said she would
she did it
really did it
no...
you did it, and now
you can live the rest
of your life
knowing
living
feeling
it was your fault.
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L H ANDRESS-ZEISS
Are-hearts-like....................RAINBOWS-'n-POTS-a-GOLD?
When..............SUMMER-FELL..................my-heart-DIED!
'Cuz-if-you..........................DIDN'T-KNOW......'He'-LIED!
And-when........SUMMER-FELL..........a-reward/WAS-SOLD!
And-what-SHE...........DIDN'T-KNOW...........YOU-WERE
THAT-SILVER/LINING...................at-the-end/of-the
LONGEST-STORM...........and-through..........ENDLESS-NIGHTS
My-heart...................DIED.........................'Cuz-'He'/LIED!
If.....................VALHALLA-ever-did/exist.........IT-WASN'T
FOR/ME!
HER-SHIP/sailed..............and-mine/didn't..........did-'He'
Care..................That-Somewhere-My-Heart....... BLED?
If-Beauty..................COUNTS...............Then.....DOESN'T
MY-HEART/BLEED..................Because-I'm/BEAUTIFUL
TOO!
If-raptures.............and-blue-currents........and-swirls
Of---------HOPELESS/DREAMS....................COUNT
DON'T-I/COUNT-TOO..................my-heart-was
Stripped........and-I/Bled....................Till-I/DIED!
And-when-I...............SOAKED-'n-DIED........and-a
Cotton-Swab...............DIED-'n-THE----DARKEST
WELL-OF-THE/HOTTEST...................TUB-of-ALL
TIME............................my-tears-did-they/fall
Till..............THE/DARKNESS-FELL.......and-the/color
Of-my/bath.............BLED................and-I/Died!
TILL.....................'YOU'-LET....................HIM
CALL!
And-'You'.................LET...........HIM........CALL!
And-that-Rainbow..........FELL............TO-A/POT
OF-PURE/GOLD!
And-I-was..............SOLD-AND-FIN-NALLY/SOLD
And-now................I-know/'You'...........DIDN'T
LIE!
GOLDEN-HAIRED................AND-BEAU-TI-FUL!
A-Match-Made-in.......................HEAVEN!
A-Designer-and-a...............GENTLEMAN!
He-Advocates.........and-Swears......TO/ME
AND-JUST/ME!
He-Sings-The/Sweetest-Songs.......and-he
DANCES-TO/ALL-NINES!
He-Rhymes-'n-Sings..............A-CLOWN-OF
ALL-TIME.....................He's-cute-'n-a
CLOWN!
Is-he....................SUPER...........or-just
A-MAN?
Does-he.................Love............or-has
He-just...............................WATCHED?
LOVE-'n-ME...........................IS-SUPER!
[Continued on Next Entry to PoetrySoupCom]
Dull reflections in a vibrating shallow,
vibrant greens glow against neutral grey.
I find shelter to feign calm stillness,
the trees roar their dissent.
“come to me prophesies, come all foreboding, come
sprits and visions.”
Yet the mused well-spring is hollow,
a confused pubescent male in the Rites of May.
Branches convulse and mutter, roots in silence.
The May Pole is entwined with the serpent.
Water in, Blood out, comes all life from
fissures and incisions.
Shot in cold blood
Left to die
All for righteous feminism.
I’m the beast
Keep me at bay
Destroy my masculinity.
Soon I’ll be empty
A female clone
With male parts.
You’ll be sorry
If you aren’t already
Waiting for your Heroes.
I’ve been bled out
A husk
A blithering idiot.
You have your rights
Expensive price
You lost us.
Happy now?
[A necessary thought.]