Best Blood Poems
Streets of blood
She stood upon the terrace high
streets of blood below
The gate left open in the night,
a dark sky threatens snow
With swine and pearls running free
her bed sheets fought the wind
A tear drop fell her worried eyes
at hate now once again
Of drawbridge wars in endless fight
to stones of castle keep
A single rose a’ bloom this dawn
as mothers come to weep
For sons of father’s destined fall,
these followed footsteps bare
Along the streets so narrow, long,
where death becomes aware
“Enough!” she shouted far and wide
“This fighting now shall end”
“Take your swords and hateful spite,
do not return again”
And lifting high her amulet
upon a staff of wood
She chanted as the stone did glow
this morning where she stood
“Of peace, let all be felt this hour
Thy breath of saddened greed
Be gone, be gone, oh beast of war
No longer doth thou feed
Ye shadows o’er a nightfall mist
Lest blood befall your hand
Beyond this tree lined sacred place
Be gone from this our land”
When then a mighty wave did flow,
the streets were cleansed of fear
And there beyond horizons call
the sunrise did appear
And where once sat a single rose,
one thousand buds did grow
Of crimson red and silken gold,
the sweetest fragrance flow
Mothers hugged their children close
as loudly trumpets blared
The bloodied streets now white with snow
and love by all was shared
But there within the canyons lurked
cast eyes of beaded red
“I shall return to take this place
O’ ye who think me dead”
“To once more fill yon streets with blood
of this ye can believe
No matter what the masses want,
know this, I shall not leave”
oh how i love the color red
red is love and love is red.
i painted a moment
used a palate with every shade of red,
only red.
that is the color of our love,
of pain
of lips
of blood
of skin
all and more is our love.
used a palate of reds
painted a moment
painted you,
and with depth of color
i captured you.
perfectly!
i never spilled a drop,
my brushes,
my knives,
my hands,
my eyes,
they all served me well.
moments are not easy to create.
how precious they are,
difficult to inhale fully
but even strained
i would always take you
all in.
the fullness of you
all in.
i would never spill a drop.
me?
i'm all in.
my creation takes form
stands and walks,
i follow,
paint,
not a drop
do i spill.
when you offer gifts
they need to be special
they need to be - well thought out.
oh! how well thought out you are.
oh! what moments we have shared.
life,
so kind to us,
the time we've spent.
if a philosophy teacher,
if one asked me,
"what's it all about"
i would say
"you"
i would ace that test.
nothing exists in its full majestic glory
until i experience it with you.
i would lift the sun every morn
draw it down every eve
illuminate the sky fantastic.
every morn.
every eve.
a lover's night
under the moon,
part the clouds
if like curtains
they blocked our view,
if like a wall
they blocked our light.
now,
my moment painted
i observe.
my hand nowhere to be seen
it was you guided this piece.
you and me my love
surrounded in red
against a red background
and not a detail unclear.
our hands holding.
our lips touching.
you are my breath
the beat of my heart
neatly painted in red,
perfect!
it is us,
our love is red
every shade
and every tone
is we.
05~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
My Blood Bleeds Sand
My blood bleeds sand,
That golden sugar that spreads
Across the wandering West
Where purple sage dots, and
There a tarantula spreads atop
A random hill.
Where blazing and blinking stars light
Black blue skies.
And stupendous sunsets
Color and shadow sand mounds
Like bald-headed men, and
A free blowing wind carries the howls and dances of
Long ago chief and squaw.
Where prickly pears bear red wax blossoms, and
Mescal thrusts and thirsts to the clouds
Over tracks of slithering snakes.
And whistling wails in moonlight beams
Echo ancient wagon songs
Where I belong.
My blood bleeds sand.
Written: February 5th, 2024
_____________________________________
My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating,
the flower that has yet to bloom.
My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.
My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people,
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.
My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets,
for the eminent aims of foes,
cultures will spread,
as history has predicted.
My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?
My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive,
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer,
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before.
the light within will always guide you;
all you must do is listen and follow.
Echoes of traditions deep
forged in sweat and blood
Sounds of cannons booming weep
o’er tattered fields of mud
Freedom’s sons claim sacred ground
where horses’ hooves cry numb
Ancient winds still bear the tune
plaintive shriek of fife and thrum
Into the timeless wood he fled, running from the night
While demons of his past gave chase beneath the pale moonlight
The man dressed in soiled rags, filth of his own making
Had spent a life unto himself, all others there forsaking.
But in the night, as shadows came, though nothing made a sound
A voice there in the dark he heard, though no one was around
Calling out to him by name, “Go… seek the blood stained bridge
Its ageless timber, dogwood made, up on yon high ridge.”
Somehow, he knew the voice he heard while running from the night
Was not from friend or foe without, but came from deep inside
So run he did through elder wood, to find the yon high ridge
The Voice there still was guiding him to reach the fabled bridge.
In agony, all power spent, found he the edge of night
His demons dogged him all the way and pressed him for a fight
The host advanced and pushed him back, back toward yon high ridge
But, when he turned to his dismay, he found no “saving” bridge.
He questioned if the voice he heard and trusted in the night
Was naught but wishful thinking; a last ditch hope-filled lie
In anguish and frustration there, he stood in fear and pain
And cursed his stubborn nature that kept him bound in shame.
Despairing for the life he’d lived, in fear of coming death
He fell there on the shifting sand and cried with his last breath
“I’m sorry for the things I’ve done and regret the life I’ve led”
He turned then to accept his fate, but there appeared the bridge instead.
The shadows all began to fade, his soul started to mend
As he took the first step ‘cross that bridge, the night came to an end
Waiting on the other side, the risen sun in brilliant light
The Voice within him beckoned, “Come,” then freed him from the night.
~Christopher Thor Britt
an early morning rise,
up the stairs
walk into the bathroom
in the sink
a small stain of blood.
less than a measure of yesterday
pulling a baby out of the womb into my arms.
on the sheets
a small stain of blood.
midwives wrap
my first born
snug and warm.
when her mother
finally gets her initial fill
she hands me this precious
new life.
i hold her knowing
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
sweet scented perfection!,
lulls me into a peaceful bliss.
as she grows,
i spend my best times with her
and later her sister too.
my daughters own me
lock,
stock
and
barrel.
Ali?
i still see your
baby green eyes
reaching out to me.
i still smell your
childhood scent.
i can still taste
your hopes and dreams.
i can still touch
your youth as if it were now,
hear your tiny voice
"daddy i love you but you're my best friend too".
there is nothing,
nothing!,
nothing...
nothing.,
nothing-
better then this moment!,
you're now twenty two.
in the sink?
a small stain of blood.
in your bedroom
cocaine,
syringes,
...everywhere.
i clean
carefully picking them up.
i know you know you're playing
russian roulette with your life.
the drug convinced you
your life isn't worth living.
that's what drugs do.
they're that snake in the garden of eden
and you know eve ate that apple
and you know she sacrificed everything
for a fruit that would never taste that good again.
evil always presents itself as the only choice
while good seems too tough an alternative
but the truth is, the harder you have to work for it
the better it feels and it holds its feel with nothing to chase.
you can't hear me
the monster deeply
imbedded in you.
but Ali i love you
and Ali my heart weeps
and on my chest sits
a small stain of blood!
June 3 2015
Armand
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
I believe in Angels ~ the tenderness of God
I believe broken hearts will mend ~ despite the fall
I believe in miracles ~ the blind and sick restored
I believe the blood of Jesus ~ redeemed us on the cross
The storm was wildest when
He walked on water
The vines were at their greenest
He turned water into wine
For faithfulness, union and reunion
When men would forsake all of God
He will return for His Beloved
Who is He? An open, unfolding mystery
Because He loved so much He bled and bled
For His country and Family
In a Nutshell
The Son of God our Savior;
A human form He took;
Twas prophesied in days of old;
It's written in His book.
Blood ran on the whipping post,
That my sickness may be healed.
The story has been often told.
It's in His book revealed.
They nailed Him to a rugged Cross;
I know that Jesus died.
In awful pain and torment,
My Lord was crucified.
After He died they took Him down;
Our sacrifice for sin,
And placed Him in a borrowed tomb,
But then He rose again.
In three short days He rose again;
Up from His narrow cell.
Victor for all the human race.
He conquered Death and Hell.
To grasp this matchless treasure,
I have but to believe;
And open up my heart to God,
His Promise to receive.
In the clouds of Heaven,
Oh, Glory to his name.
I plan to meet Him in the air;
When my Lord comes again.
Then I'll dance the streets of Heaven,
With Peter,James and Paul;
Eternally safe in Jesus care.,
Jehovah, The God of all.
Will Thee walk with me tonight ?
Amongst the spirits of Twilight
Gothic verse we wilt recite
I wilt gage not to bite
Wilt thee with me slowly dance ?
As we descend into lover’s trance
With thy charm thee doth enchant
Speak thy wishes
For thee I’ll grant
Both frozen in the midst of time
Our soulless bodies wilt entwine
Flush lips of blood sip scarlet wine
On those lips I yearn to dine
Permit my domination, let reality depart
Allow me to enter thy beauteous blackened heart
I implore thee anon, mine beauty of dusk
Within is a hunger, replete with lust
Cometh let us now abscond
Dip our toes in reaper’s pond
Milk the moon so we may swim
Filling it’s juices to the brim
Bathe with me in lacteous splendour
Mine hands around thy waist so slender
Our bodies melt to form a bond
And as we fuse I doth respond
So bid me now to take thy hand
And lead thee to a world so grand
We will liveth still into this night
Eternally dancing beneath spellbinding moonlight
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
He's staring off into oblivion;
dead-lights, who of their own free will choose to illuminate
the gray matter microwave that is TV:
too vain, too vulgar. Thought Vanquisher,
brought to you by your friendly-facade-keepers:
the politicians pussyfooting on a pedestal
built of an uninformed (yet united) public -
whose belief in "connection" is in reference
to a wall socket. Not love. Not kindness.
Who unwittingly become hamsters on a wheel,
convinced of stars held in our pockets; while promises of prosperity
dangle on a string. Like Maya's caged bird we sing
- but not of freedom - to sing of that would be akin
to declaring the sun has risen in the east. Freedom is a given,
at least that's the belief that's bandied about.
There's a boldface lie in that belief . . staring us in the face.
Are we too ignorant to see or too coddled to care?
Organic antenna, playing a fuzzy station;
our loved one's voice like a pesky fly -
six-legged silhouette on precious phones.
Halfhearted hmms-and-yeahs exuding from lazy lips. A lone
wolf, misunderstood youth - the euphemisms of today,
tomorrow's regrets. The diarrhea of words floating
in cyberspace; ricocheting off planets, but never touching earth.
The constipation of passion - nonchalant bloodbath of values -
no one strong enough to carry the hearse. We'll have to work
together - in unity redirected - to carry the load of our ancestor's past.
We descendants who reap the aftermath; let's carry on and forgo the calm.
Complacency is no destiny to pursue; crack the bottle against the bow,
that ship has sailed. Let us dabble in truth, instead of sugarcoat lies;
deception maybe be sweet, but give it time, it'll go straight to your thighs.
Embrace controversy with a bear hug, and give tyranny a timeout.
And should our words sharpen swords instead of mold minds,
may the massacre be only metaphorical - and the white flag of truce
be mistaken for a canvas - painted with the blood of your passion.
There's a pesky mosquito hoverin' around our ears
If he keeps it up he'll soon be splattered in smears
T-Buzz tries to draw our blood
When he gets hit with a THUD!
We'll celebrate his demise with a party ~ Cheers!
by Lin Lane
A mini vampire with wings,
in annoying high notes he sings.
Tries to fly incognito,
this imp called mosquito.
With blood thirsty appetite stings!
by Carol Connell
That darn mozzie was buzzing like hell
Til I sprayed him with a can of Repell
He can no longer fly
I watched that mozzie die
I’m happy he’s gone – you can tell!
by Jan Allison
That skeeter was in for a thumpin'.
I swatted, but he just kept jumpin'.
I got out the spray,
winked, said, “Come my way”.
And now I'm no longer a-grumpin'
by Dale G. Cozart
There's a pesky bug upon the lawn
One his mother should have never spawn
making noises here and there
wish he'd just disappear
One big ol' zap and poof he's gone
by Tim Smith
T-Buzz flies around in pestering irritation
One good swat'll take care of his elimation
No more buzzin' sound
He's garbage can bound
Thank goodness there's no reincarnation
by Marti Sutherland
I was singing karaoke, acapella
While eating a sandwich of mortadella
Along came a mosquito
Named Little Esposito
I smacked him cuz he wasn't a nice fella
By Mystic Rose
A skeeter singing for a favor
Was wanting blood for a caper
He's playing with fire
His future is dire
Joining others on my wallpaper
By Cheryl Hoffman
A mosquito was buzzing loud
Of his bugle, he felt so proud
My hands would squash fast
That buzz would be his last
Soon, he'd be covered with a shroud
by Jo Daniel
If anyone dislikes the buzzing of a mosquito, join in the collaboration by sending me your lines in a SOUP MAIL.