Best Bleed Poems

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...

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Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.

At years...

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Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust...

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*I Will Cry*

If this world really mattered,
Why does it bleed?

I could tell you how much I love you,
But, that will never heal the pain.
I am...

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**Every pace change --are the voices of poets sharing his/her Ribbon** 

"PINK LADIES"  
  
The phone rings, 
The clock dings,

I scream, scream, and...

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You say, I’m too far, 
towards the far side?
It’s a hazard of my left-handedness,
that I see the logic in abstraction.
Worlds lay within worlds
and colors bleed...

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DRY MASCARA

Nobody sees through the shadow and the color of my eyes
The times I've cried are the only time you notice the trace down my...

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Within the frame a sepia scene
a dusty porch   a rickety chair   
the fabric of your dusky face creased
with ceaseless sunbaked woes
your...

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It's raining again, grey neon skies,
washing away suppressed surfaces,
to reveal unhealed wounds,
to scars the eyes cannot see

sometimes they bleed.

Some say words heal,
but I resist to...

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You asked me the other day, my friend, 
who I am and I replied:
I am you in another body!
Yes, it is true,  
Look, how...

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It feels like the world
has been struck by a 
plague of pathological lies,
where fictional truth 
seems to sell better,
the allure of
imitation glistens 
even brighter, 
while...

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No one ever told me that your heart could bleed without a drop that anyone could see. I didn't know your soul could lose weight...

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Oh beloved,
I'm like Rumi without Shams.
A shivering summer soul,
secretly stalked by wild white winter wolves.
A chiffon child chiselling chimerical calligraphy,
cursed with invisible ink, silent in...

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Ink of life cannot bleed for eternity,
so I place dried petals in between,
crucial chapters of my memoirs.

When we stop breathing poetry,
our crestfallen pen, left in...

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Tonight is not like other nights

Tonight I could paint a moonlight

with the smudged ink of my tears

No its not the inexperienced  arms of death

which...

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