Best Bleed Poems


My Empathetic Quill Bleed For the Empress Ink

The moonlight bathed her cell in pallid light while she sat hunched over her desk, clutching her pen between her confound fingertips. As she bled ink of symphonic symphonies yearning to break free, dancing like ethereal fireflies in the dusky barren lands.

Exiled by the hypocrisy of bureaucracy bounding her liberations and confounding her alliterations in a poetic prison. In this twisted virtual reality, duplicitous usurpers roam freely, weaving webs of deception with malicious delight.

As the chains of bureaucratic red tape clung to her delicate wrists, suffocating her imagination and confiscating her freedom of speech.

Oppressors rejoiced at achieving their vindictive objective, silencing the profound beauty of her verses and incarcerating her poetic stanzas

Woe, how the audacious bars of administrative constructors cast a pall of despair upon her unifying spirit. Her delicate offerings of metaphors and sonorous stanzas, whispered secrets which craved to be heard.

The faulty haters' impervious hearts were armoured with verdant envy which remained shielded behind the ruling dogma.

Her supporters calls of injustice to be rectified fell on deaf ears while the galvanizing melodies of empathetic quills bled for the Empress of Ink.

So we must be louder.

Hear our protest, release our Empress! Unsheathe her rhythmical rhymes! For her penmanship was never the true crime. She was just another victim of an envious mob.

Can they not see? That her absence coursed a crater larger than the Grand Canyon.

We shall not, shall not be silenced so hear our mutiny!

Reinstate our Empress, restore her creative sovereignty.

Remove the shackles of authoritative administration, as her voice is a beacon of truth, resilience and poetic revolution. So let her ink stain our community with its brilliance once more.

Premium Member To Bleed Love Eternal - Collaboration with Justin Bordner

I wear the flame of your name,
traced in jaguar herbs
between pearl blades of angels,
pulling in the heat of your wildfire...

My soul branded with a burning love feather
molten madness stroking the light rebellious,
Your identity a touch of kissing curves,
I am mantled with a cloak of star rain...

Addicted, engrossed,
as my silhouette aches to be drenched
in rivers of your rushing rhymes,
breathing nothing but the dream
of being chained 
to the footprints of your soul...
 
Tethered to the stride of my soul
heartbeat warmly pained,
You follow with yielding scream
my attention on your pulsing eyes,
I spread open the vellum 
of poetry achingly inked,
scent of rose melting frost...

I've witnessed them christen 
my night as lethal,
their prayers painting me as sin,
while I entomb their accusations 
in a blood stained envelope,
laid to rest in a casket of poisoned lilies,
for I am no longer their Lilith
crowned with silken serpents,
jeweled in jinxed jasmines,
I am the rose gold rays of sunrise,
wrapping you in blushing silence...

But if love were your ink, 
   what would you bleed?

Within your bloom there is a violet innocence,
weaponized once for ritual license
a jewelry box of black magic temptations,
Tiara of bloodstones broken for love repentance,
A Goddess become Woman trueth,
the coffin become catalyst to living tears,
elegant gown now simple linen of lilac hope,
reputation now means nothing before heart's divinations,
You are no harpy, you are my revelation,
You are love beautiful,
the reason for my passion crystal...

J.A.B.
I.E

Premium Member Bleed For Me

Bleed for me


Why?
	Why what she says?
Why do you cut, why do you bleed yourself?
	Why do birds fly, how the heck should I know?
Ah but you are so beautiful, soft and sweet
	You see only as you wish, no one looks closer
	At the inside of me
	No one sees the mirror I see
Tiss not true, I see through your eyes
	Come then take a good look, stare into my emptiness
	You see nothing ok?

I remain quiet, somewhat stunned at the rebuke
We both stare out the window, a broken neon sign
Singing with the wind

She whispers
	If I cut myself, to pieces
	I will slowly disappear and float away	
	Inside will be outside
	The emptiness in my eyes will be everywhere
	The Ferris-Wheel ride will end

I slowly gathered up some rather random thoughts
	My life was sunny
	Then one day it rained
	Then sunny
	Rain and sun, rain and sun
	Then the rain came again
	And again…
	Dark clouds hovered
	The days all became nights		
	Until there was daylight no more
	A ghost taunted… I no longer mattered
	Until I became the ghost
	So you see, I have nothing left to cut

She shyly looked over at me, confused it seemed
	You, you… you have money			
	You look handsome
	I dare say you seem well off
	You have it all, and want for nothing



The neon sign, the crickets, the bedside clock
A symphony of sound in a room of silence, tick tock. Tick tock.
Slowly, I discovered words, softly I dared repeat them

	
	You said I see nothing
	In this, is true, I did look into your eyes, I saw
	Inside of you nothing as you say
	Emptiness
	I saw a poverty of wanton desire, lost to this world
	In this you are also wrong		
	For as I stared you refused to avert my curiosity		
	Our eyes locked
	The emptiness inside of you
	You see
	Is me

Time continued its journey
Tick Tock went the clock
Silence crept towards a comfort

Imperceptible, a few of their fingers interlaced
Touching

The neon sign stop flickering
And cried


My Dreams Bleed


=0=

In the darkness fluidly
My dreams bleed
I see you in the shadows
Watching silently
Feeding my hunger
Quenching my ache for insanity
In my weakest hour
Even when i close my eyes 
Your vision is still haunting me
The picture is black and perfect
People stare with empty eyes
Not one dares to look for the truth
Behind there own disguise
Ugliness ovewhelms me
Cruelness calls me in
Nightmares fill my space,
No breaking them tonight
A numbness invades my mind
Thoughts of being your angel of darkness
I long to know what's beyond this time 
I cry like an orphaned child
My heart skips a beat
As you sing for me a lullaby
Of darkness and crimson good-byes
My walk on the dark side
Your disappearing now
Ripped away
You stole me away last night
Come back from behind the mirror
Make your darkness my reality.

=0=

Premium Member I bleed Poetry

I bleed poetry to heal through 
midnight confessions. 
Mistress’s ink does not seek 
your caramelized validation; 
it has no desire to please 
your feed of presumed perfection.

I’ve never tamed this 
skill as an online profession; 
this is just an unbreakable obsession~
I’m drowning in for a distraction.

Don’t question my 
hazy metaphors,
veiled away from towering 
thorns of introspection, 
too vague and meaningless 
for the skies adorned 
with sleeping stars. 
These scribbles of sentimental 
symbolism may cause 
digressing reactions, 
for I’ve been sewing a 
waltzing nightmare,
whilst counting syllables 
within concocted connotations, 
surfing through wicked 
schemes of sunset-colored 
sestinas to sunflower sonnets.

Now I knit hyacinth haikus 
in honeysuckle hues, 
woven from pristine petals 
amidst wilting wilderness, 
awaiting twilight that 
would awaken words written 
in repetitive refrains, 
reigniting the flames 
between spaces on fragrant pages, 
so dreams will no longer 
be more peaceful 
than the air I breathe. 

Although these lines
do not rhyme with teal-green 
tides that sketch 
turquoise beginnings, 
I still hope time can maybe 
guide this canvas home.

Premium Member White Wolf, I Bleed For You

Once upon a time
Distant memories 
Dawning of morning crystals
Glittering reminder of starlight tears
 
In sunbeam's brilliance
Lighting jewels shine
Songbirds break into chorus
The smallest fragment of a breeze alerts
 
The senses whistling
Melodies explode
Through the branches leaves lament
Observing nature's space hold in colors
 
Fruit of tenderness
Mellow your sunshine
Blossoms love supreme touching
Fingers raise deep golden feelings yearning
 
Addresses one's heart
Lonely dust remains
Breathing breathless light explores
In darkness echoes bounce off deep caverns
 
Cold howling shivers
Devouring warm blood
Into the bones whistling ice
Winds voice of the lost souls' eyes turn bright green
 
As the spirit leaves
Dark moldy shadows
Light of moon sources cravings
Beauties kiss eclipses rose bleeds scarlet
 
Immortal heartbeats
Life stops ticking bang
Seduced black velvet pleasure
Sinking fangs into the succumbing heart
 
Drum beats slow echo
Fallen unchained truths
Slithering lizards crawling
Underneath the skin a beastly vision
 
Storm roars through timbers
Translucent blood slime
Flowing toxic energy
Mutating hollers screech into wolf moon
 
Scalding hot flames breathe
When red embers burn
Into the lustful ashes
Born inside scarred remains breathing wounds
 
An itch that scratches
Onto the mindset
Greenish cornea expands
Opening curtains in a split second
 
Haunting prey on light
Affliction of need
Rasping rattle in the throat
Death yowls airless scream without sun visions


A Collaborated Poem with Liam McDaid and Angeline Lim


Collecting the Cracks That Bleed Through My Voice.

We broke in two and it amused him that I was still counting...

I could hear the night whisper beyond his ears, the bed we lay ourselves down upon and
passion was considerate when his mind let go....

she was direct and unforgiving and I...

gave.in.


I could listen to the tumbling of my heart for ages and I collected music as my lips split
in half, it was only to kiss him, you see, only to allow him to know...

how I bled.


I tasted myself as the night wore on, exhausted yet hungry for his arms, I studied my own
in the afternoon, multiplied my freckles and wondered if my child would be ashamed of the
scars that decorated my skin, prayed she would never know how years could bite, so I
reached for him when the clouds became cold and I became...

scared...

as I frightened myself to death in the realization that we....

were still so alive.



The ground we walked on spoke of faults and mistakes, there were cracks in the earth yet
my hand still held his, he was clueless and I was silent but we slept well, he and I,
after passion erupted and the sky split...

when the clouds collected my music and rain sang, just to show him, how the days
could
bleed.

Real Poets Bleed

The pure beauty amid attraction     
no holding back it gives, it gives   
a place where thoughts breathe   
and strength and true poetry lives     
     
It's not pretty nor perfection     
word upon word, letting of soul     
forgiveness, angst and freedom     
allowing moments, feeling whole     
  
there's happiness and sunshine 
a night of fantasy or two 
but mainly it's moving forward 
closing shut a heavy door 
    
heartbeats wrapped up in a blanket     
slowing down one second at a time     
giving life to more than perspective     
a freeing of the troubled mind     
    
I strip, you watch     
you bleed, I cry     
no expectations needed     
just another day inside




1 2
1 2
© Ts Poetry  Create an image from this poem.

When Poets Bleed

When poets bleed they fill their quills
And write their words in red
The letters scream each time they're made
In the hope of being read

The page becomes a sounding board
A mirror to the soul
A reflection meant to bring them peace
To comfort or console

They choose their words so carefully
Not wasting a drop of blood
Writing words that lift them up
As tears begin to flood

They'll write with true conviction
Each time they start to weep
They write sometimes to clear their minds
Before they get to sleep

When poets bleed a word is born
Trying to appease their need
Shining a light to the whole wide world
And all who want to read
© Larry Belt  Create an image from this poem.

Last Ink To Bleed

If these words were the last 
ink I were about to bleed     
they'd surround you and caress you     
succumbing to your ever loving need     
    
they'd dance in your fullness     
flutter aloud in your grace     
graze upon the cherished crimson     
accentuating your precious face     
    
the type, bold with cursive mixed in     
would capitalize where all that beauty begins     
each curve christened and every form traced     
slowly oh so so slowly elegant words we'd embrace     
    
beheld in the contextual lingering of your eyes     
hearing accents accentuated with flowery reprise     
sentences will serve with orgasmic exchange     
as the pens erect position is neatly rearranged     
    
endearing a climatic exclamation wound before hitting send 
dipping into the well oiled well again and again
© Tim Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Juniper

J=Juniper berry oil for hair,
U=Urinary health wellness care.
N=Natural detoxifier if I dare,
I=Improving circulation with a prayer.
P=Promoting healthy aging is what I need,
E=Evergreen small shrub I will plant and feed.
R=Reducing skin irritation so I do not bleed.

The Words a Heart Can Bleed

First I get out a piece of paper
and think of words I want to right.
Then I'll get my pencil
and the pencil takes a bite.
It scratches and it claws
the words here that you read.
Have you ever read
the words a heart can bleed?
Like Noah it keeps raining
and I'm caught up in the flood.
Can you read my rain
when it's written in red blood?
It's dripping from this pencil.
It's coming from my soul.
The pain of my addiction
is climbing out of it's hole.
It climbs up on my shoulder
from a pit that's deep and black.
It looks just like a monkey
and it hangs out on my back.
It whispers in my ear.
It screams if I don't listen.
He says,"screw the rent
you don't need a pot to piss in."
He's getting really heavy.
I don't know what to do.
Why can't I tell him, no.
I don't know how, do you?
My monkey needs more drugs
like a rat wants more cheese.
I heard that feeding the monkey
is always a fatal disease.
Someone shoot the monkey
before my soul is lost as well.
I never seem to have enough money.
I do things I'll never tell.
Lord, You know me 
and You made me see
the darkness consuming everything
I wanted to be.
I'm sorry I ever let 
it come this far.
Blaming a monkey shows me
how bad my choices are.
I'm growing old 
but not growing up.
Makes me sick 
Feel like throwing-up.
Selfishness hides from me
but dwells deep inside.
I wish that I could see me
but I guess I'm blind.
With Your help God 
I'll make it through.
Straight is the path
that leads to You.
One more thing before 
my foggy mind forgets.
I think that I should
work the steps.
I'm stepping up to the plate
God throws the pitch.
Bean ball to the head of the monkey
now he can't *****.
I'm excited to get started
without the monkey around. 
Please don't let me trip on these steps
and come crashing to the ground.
I heard you shouldn't go fast.
You should be thorough and slow.
Fast or slow I still go up.
The bottom has only one place to go.

          Allan
            Robert
              Granstrom

Make the Pen Bleed

I won't stop writing until I make the pen bleed
Until my heart falls on the paper and you feel the beat
When my tears can be felt in physical form I promise to leave
I won't stop writing until I make the pen bleed

I write from a place of pain with a mental aspect
I Learned mistakes are meant to Be made, so I started to write with a pencil less
If there's a spelling mistake just know that's part of my passion
Focus on the body of my mistakes and  you won't see the heart of my actions

People buy jewels and material stuff to cover fear
The hate is real, but is the love sincere?
Am I important to you?, or just another, here?
You feel I'm dangerous because I cry with blood not tears

Anytime I write, I act like I've never picked up a pen before
One thing I learned is, the most beautiful girls are the most insecure
Battled depression, so I've been to war
Paid for my mistakes that you don't see in the store

The receipt is the scars attached to my skin
I'm trying to keep up a smile, while you keep up with the Kardashian's
Sometimes you need to take a step back, to move forward
What keeps me going, is so many want to see me forfeit

I'm done pleasing others, I'm finally working on me
Starting to like myself, becoming the best version of me
I've almost overcame all of the hurting in me
I've found myself, I don't need you searching for me

I'll keep writing until I make the pen bleed
Until my heart falls on the paper and you feel it beat
When my tears can be felt in physical form, I promise to leave
I won't stop writing until the pen bleeds
© Alex Duffy  Create an image from this poem.

I Bleed

I will bleed my soul for you until
The day I die.
Yet I feel so close to nothing,
It begs to differ if I try…

I’ve asked patiently enough for you
To hold me for one more day.
But, insanely, I scar my heart
Every time you walk away.

I’d scar my kiss, therefore my gaze
If you trade me for that w**re.
Yet your punches run so deep
Your thirst for lust I sense no more.

Your kiss has vanished from my mind.
My gaze, no longer weak…
You’re getting so much harder to find
That I deny myself the seek.

I bleed your smell, your mouth, your tongue…
Every part within I shred
Even though it’s hard to cling
Onto your fathomable bed.

I bled my happiness away…
It was never there to start with….
You don’t seem to reach those words to say
It’s our forever that you’re done with.

Even so, love goes on
Looking for other people to hurt.
Still, I’m left thinking in the sun
If I should send you back your shirt.


© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila

I Bleed Ink

I bleed ink, it flows through my veins
My mind is filled with rhymes
I've even dreamed of the imagery
At least a million times

Rythm and flow, my children's names
Inspiration, is my wife
Imagination, floods my soul
For poetry is my life

Even my tears, are letters
For each one tells a tale
The air I breathe, becomes a story
Each time, that I exhale

Poetry is my only addiction
I crave it's warm caress
Like a junkie, words are my fix
Til it's love, I must confess
© Larry Belt  Create an image from this poem.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace