Best Bleeding Poems
“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
Plato
Politicians keep lying
Hate keeps breeding
Jets keep firing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Homes keep tumbling
Hope keeps crumbling
Time keeps ticking
Injustice keeps screaming
Funerals keep delaying
Peacemakers keep meeting
Media keeps shocking
Propaganda keeps faking
Tanks keep bombing
Earth keeps shaking
Fear keeps spreading
Soldiers keep fighting
Widows keep weeping
Sorrows keep growing
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Tears keep flowing
Hunger keeps increasing
Journalists keep reporting
Poets keep writing
Music keeps playing
Teachers keep teaching
Clergymen keep praying
Preachers keep preaching
Protestors keep protesting
Faith keeps searching
Peace keeps fading
Ignorance keeps showing
Missiles keep shooting
Humanity keeps bleeding
World keeps sleeping
Babies keep dying
Mothers keep crying
Introducing: Jan Allison & Poet Destroyer
Pierced by shards of shattered glass
Deeper and deeper you stab me
With lies and venomous words
Dissecting my heart piece by piece
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose
I’m dying …
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul
Drip
Drip
Drip
Into pieces and a bloody mess
I sacrificed secrets;
Secrets you tore and tore,
Gracing a fake friendship,
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel
Now karma a poisonous snake
You plea ...
To be on death row, decomposing
Dripping into the night -- Silently
fading and fading
Stung by my viper lips,
smiling
grinning
laughing
Until you are no more
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Pierced by shards of shattered glass
Deeper and deeper you stab me
With lies and venomous words
Dissecting my heart piece by piece
Crushed like the petals of a withered rose
I’m dying …
Scarlet blood seeps into my very soul
Drip
Drip
Drip
Into pieces and a bloody mess
I scarified secrets;
Secrets you tore and tore,
Gracing a fake friendship,
Trust tossed like a sweaty towel
Now karma a poisonous snake
You plea ...
To be on death row, decomposing
Dripping into the night -- Silently
fading and fading
Stung by my viper lips,
smiling
grinning
laughing
Until you are no more
A Poet Destroyer Collaboration
Collaboration Celebration Contest
7th August 2015
A bleeding heart
With a single drop
Falling from its sharpened point,
While strung on vines,
These fragile flowers,
Waiting for the rain's anoint.
Much like valentines
Swinging in the breeze
To a tribal drum unheard.
Hearts grown in a row
With fine curves and loops
By God's design is revered.
“You knew not which pain would be worse-
you living with a bleeding broken heart,
or not giving me the chance to heal it.”
-me
And I wore her woe like crimson stained smiles-
o, how the skies miss their stars…
(and I miss you).
Drinking heartbreak like wine without romance,
blooming ebony roses under the harvest moon.
She gave caresses that blossomed into violet
hyacinth, yet lent tears to the willow weeping.
My throat still swallows all the -what ifs-
my stomach still churns with all the -why mes-
and…
my marrow still aches when I remember her laugh.
Like a pin prick to my heart, she bled me dry;
bestowed a shattered heart longing to be whole.
Her bones and ash rest in a velvet sealed satchel
(buried beneath regret and shame)
My balmy breath longs for her essence;
eyes closed…hearts connected-
until we meet again, sweet sister.
and I love her-
like fear loves adrenaline
and I miss her-
like Venus misses Mars
and I need her-
like air
For she was the sangria in the eventide sunset,
the tangerine during dawn’s early light;
the angels danced the day she was born-
and they wept as they greeted her home.
yes sweet sister...until we meet again.
Date written: July 16, 2019
For the contest, Writing Challenge 2, July 2019- Melancholy
Sponsor, Dear Heart
My pen cannot much bleed.
My heart, though it may ache,
cannot a loud sound make.
I suffer – as do many others -
from nearly endless annoying conditions
for which I seek relief, but I can no more make
you feel my pain
than I can make you feel my smallest grief.
We live each in our own bubble-worlds,
understanding one another’s words,
but how can we really feel
another’s pain for REAL? Mere words do not suffice.
I think of those who suffer from mental illnesses
or others marooned on their own little islands of despair.
How can we ever make ourselves comprehend THEIR pain?
And with strangers, how easily can we care?
We live with trials, sometimes never knowing
why some burdens came to be our own.
People born with no arms or legs – a horrifying fate.
Sightless or worse – the brain so dead it never can create.
What good in bleeding one’s woes with a pen?
Somewhere in the world right now
people are bleeding far worse than you or I
again and again and again.
Imagine if we could really “feel” each other’s pain.
One's mind could not withstand the onslaught
of feeling everybody’s strife.
God made it this way; and thus is life.
And so we write or we tell our woes to friends.
I do not know why some suffer more than others.
I only know one day the suffering ends.
Until then, I keep on writing because I feel the need,
but the pen I use to write with hardly knows to bleed.
"And so, being young and dipt in folly,
I fell in love with melancholy."
~Edgar Allan Poe
It’s again one of those evenings
It’s again one of those pains
It’s again one of those
moments of loneliness.
When a whiff of fragrance in the air
sets the heart pounding
When the soothing moonlight
sets the soul on fire,
When you cry
and couldn’t shed tears
When you drink the ocean
and couldn’t quench the thirst,
When you envy the twinkling stars
and hate the free roaming clouds
When time stands still
and each moment you live
seems like an eternity,
When at each breath in you live
and at each breath out you die!
~07/20/19
~Writing Challenge 2, July 2019 - Melancholy
~Sponsor: Dear Heart
~
Still bleeding from curse of hate.
Demon eyes gaze at my fate.
Where is my silent sweet knight,
who will save me from this plight?
Slay this evil with his wrath,
then lay petals on my path.
There’s a line of flapping, red-starred flags,
they wag their rags, as dogs wag their tails,
when the master’s home;
and the summer wind taunts their linen
crease; then takes them on a merry jaunt,
a widow’s pooch, in heat.
And up above the red-devilled street, a
dipping, flipping, swift-filled, livid high;
counts flags, dogs and masters, sighing
swifts and bleeding sky.
My daughter is dying and as I'm praying, I'm pleading.
She has been stabbed and I can't stop the bleeding.
An ambulance is on its way but it may not arrive in time.
My daughter wouldn't put out so her boyfriend committed this crime.
If you're wondering how many other people he'll stab, the answer is none.
I'm so enraged that I blew his sorry head off with my sawed off shotgun.
My daughter just died and tears are rolling down my face.
She died for being a respectable girl and it's a disgrace.
(This is a fictional poem)
Amaranthus weeps in Summer's first burning.
Tears hang suspended from a fracturing heart.
Lost vermillion dreams leave memories churning,
scarlet seeping from the wound of Cupid's dart.
Mourning can heal and be a time of learning,
to once again partake of love's crimson art.
And yet he cannot for from Spring's first seeding
he is destined to live as Love Lies Bleeding.
7/5/17
Rust on padlocked factory gates
from tears of broken men.
Time has stopped on the golden watch,
freeze framed memories of a better past.
Scattered faces breed sour looks
for brothers of nepotism
with handshakes that nearly broke arms.
Crouched in side streets
observing worldly peasants passing.
Slave ganged with vacuum eyes
tripping through life's labyrinth.
Putrid stares of jealous intent
drooling venom; casting adjectives of annihilation,
gouging notches from the family tree
with a calm, icy incision.
Family values dead
incestuous intent
breeding dole queue bastards.
Underground society of leeches
bleeding optimism.
Ghetto laws written in cordite rooms
Switch-blade; preferred method of payment,
for dreams inhaled from crack bongs.
Joining dots of needle tracks
reveals a picture of despair.
Deaths lottery, depression, calling out your numbers.
Jackpot being long awaited sleep.
A soul weeps in flesh for the pain I left behind.
I am sorry for the pain,the tears, I left for you to bear.
These healing words I send with a bumble bee to heal a bleeding rose.
These napkin like words I pray can wipe your tears and snotty nose.
I was young and naive,I cherished my pride instead of your heart .
There the coldest winter did start.
If it makes you happy I disposed of the mistress.
Who faded in long lost memory of shadowed kisses.
No,no,no I am sorry for writing that,
its a poets bold habit of honesty,
but in writing this I thought i should be honest and honest I shall be.I apologize for leaving your emotions suppressed,unknown and ostracized.
Yes, I know the ocean swollen with your tears,the angels descended on a bloody battle field to hear your cry.I hope you can summons them again and reconsider the report to the almighty farther.
If I could write this apology in the eye of the sky I would,for my remorse to be seen , a once foolish human being .Your heart I didn't mean to decay. I apologize for the lies, cries,for making you eat sadly all those ice creams and soggy apple pies,from absorbing tears fallen from yours eyes. Left to wonder in the vastness of the universe alone. I am sorry also sorry for the smudged ink and some of the lines. I cried along with them, imaging your painful times.
Yours truly Elliott Bowe
To:Simone Descartes
I’m pouring my heart all over your soul,
But nothing can come without a toll,
My emotions are being torn to shreds,
Like a needle tearing through the threads,
But in the end no walls will fall,
In fact they’ll be standing tall,
Only to one with such a fate,
Your lies have arrived a little too late,
For in the end when the walls wont fall,
Your lies will surely get hanged in the hall.
Under the cloud where the velvet smoke bled,
'Love's a curse' the smiling soul said;
The blood in the dwarf's heart then froze,
When an indecisive liar presented her the rose...
The fingers around which my ring would slide,
On the clod evening, she would be, my bride,
Breathing in, exhaling kisses, she'll be by my side,
Where on a heavy monster, we'll go off on a love's ride,
Behold, and kiss my eyes,
I don't crave to know the plight...
If ever, the delusion of this imagination doesn't lie an illusion,
On the naked dawn, I shall suck your lips; raping the confusions...
Words will then bleed letters,
As I look at my unsent love letters,
Each letter now the fire shall batter,
When your head's on my chest, nothing's better...
Let your naked breast touch my chest,
This is a dim light in the darkness of miles, called love,
Which gives plight, or rises all above,
Pull me closer, don't shove,
I'm the dead pegion, you're my dove!