Best Breakage Poems


Revive the Breakage

High upon the highest heights
I see the most tremulous sight
A small girl, fair and tranquil
Smiling strangely, sitting still
Beneath a sobbing willow tree
She recites a verse upon her knee
She sings a rhythmic hymn
Not of death, nothing grim
But prays that life will return
Even for those who are doomed to burn

The girl is a woman now
Beneath the tree and upon the cloud
She whispers, “I am watching you”
Why then are you so blue?
A single tear of sadness and joy
Rejuvenate the quirky earthly boy
Who sits down beneath the blooming tree
Listening to her silent voice attentively
She reminds him she was once young too
That she also was a misty shade of blue

But when the boy grows into man
He has come to ignore the fair woman
Who watches him still from above
Burning and swelling with disdainful love
The ways of the world have sweltered his heart
And time has torn his soul apart
Thus he has lost all innocence and light
Battling his sinful lust—an endless plight!  
I watch as he feeds on others’ pains and fears
Reducing the vigilant woman to tears

The prayer of the innocent has been ignored
Life has died and hellfire stored
Into the hearts of the impotent
In blue, fires of haze their heart is sent
Toiling in misery and lament
Savaged and severed by our regret
The heavenly woman grows old and frail
And the man still treads the sinful trail
As the rotting tree withers into dust
Can I revive it? –I must!

Low as low can possibly be 
I watch myself condescendingly  
A tombstone, gray and hell-bent
Frowning knowingly in bewilderment 
Above the dust that once was a tree
She cries out a verse anxiously 
Faintly she whispers the undying hymn
Not of happiness, nothing of whim 
And prays that life will come to end
For those that break instead of bend

Deception of Breakage

Broken hearts, but fixed faces.
                                        No scares on outer appearance.
                                           scares and dim stars within.
                                              Peace on the outside,
                                                   but war within.
                             You never truly seen the home,until you walk in.
                                 Glass broken in every room,while pretty
                                decorations outside,leaving you to assume.
                                                
                                      Any home might need a good broom.
                                      Until you walk in please don't assume.

Premium Member Kintsugi - Mended With Gold

Broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...

          (but colder in my solitude, I surmise)

Oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...

          (winter taking hold there, evidently
          the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
          put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)

Too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...

          (when I yearn for naught but love)

Yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...

          (they are as defined as they are hidden
          as black as they are white
          as cursed as they are blessed)

A hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...

          (caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
          hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
          that may pass others unnoticed
          but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)

They fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...

          (with the wisdom of breakage and healing
          and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)

Than it ever was ...

          (than I ever was)

Before.





Submitted on April 4, 2020
To the "Strand Choice Z, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest
Brian Strand, Sponsor.

( For those not familiar with the ancient Art of Kintsugi, please take a moment to check it out - it represents a model for life that is very special - strengthening through adversity. Here's a link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi )


Hospital Hill

On the dock upon the hill
there your stance is very still
you seem as dazed if taking pills
you tilt your head and there you spill
dive in the water your thoughts no will
luckily no breakage for there is sill
you are shivering but you have no chill
your body is heavy but you float like a quill
it's nice to not notice your own mind is ill

Premium Member Piddle Eee Dee

Piddle Eee Dee

Dribble, Dribble, breakage, and Piddle
                   A pox on that little dog!
Ankle biter, obnoxious barker…
                   Wish he’d just shut up!

Chased him around all day long
                   But he still got my sofa again!
I wonder if my Dear Old Mother-in-Law
                   Could survive just one day without him!
Perhaps I should now get out the broom
                   A week of destroying stuff, is just too much!
So I used the broom to scoot him out the door.
                   Then he proceeded to dig my flowers up!

From under the fence he made an escape
                    I chased him for an hour and a half!
Then my Mother-in-Law came back home
                    And picked her precious up!!!!
Such love and warmth I've never seen… Darn… 
                    Wouldn't that be my luck! So I’m back to…

Dribble, Dribble, breakage, and Piddle
                   A pox on that little dog!
Ankle biter, obnoxious barker…
                   Wish he’d just shut up!

I Made It

Push come and shove I still made it 
Despite the problems I had I still made it 
Running scared without much hope I still made it 
Abundantly losing precious time I still made it 
Through the backstabbing friends and burdens they brought I still made it 
Stumbling over boulders of stones the size of mountains I still made it 
The breakage in the deepest cores of my heart I still made it 
Past the drowning waters of Poseidon 
Over the caves of madam medusa 
And through the treacherous fires in the house of Hattie’s I still made it 
Only with the heart of good and being carried out by God I made it


Premium Member Futile Fragments - Linda Marie -

"Futile Fragments" ( A collaboration~ Linda-Marie P.S. sweetheart )
   

by~ LINDA MARIE *p.s. SWEETHEART

shattered to inner core emotions reside in vogue
as tattered tapestry etches death to vibrant vase
egotistical desires ejected common sense to rogue
fine ... adieu ... departure in the misty vague haze ...
fragmented fragile pieces exploded with destruction
simulation created to ebony volcanic ash
love vacated unceremoniously scans of interruption
emotions sustain tremors of immature backlash ...
enchanting charms reflecting the pain of sheer intense
to resurrect romance is a haunting dream of death
provoking passions escalate chaos ... havoc ... suspense
suffocation dwelling to captivate life's bated breath ...
bittersweet faded memories succumb to shadowed jest ...


by~ POET D:

Moshing fragments overlooked, a darker dance limitless
conventional Gothic hearings..... praising the sewer that runs 
analysis running ticking with the passion of an atomic bomb
the perceived exotic unity of this frightens world~ shadow dust
lashing out tropical grasses and utilities . . .  tampering every hell
Burning paper that represents hostile . . .  black ashes 
results of a detailed creature mourning the abyss
examination of falsification~ fragments that crawl in our inner walls
A poisonous micro-fragment is presented approaching 
objective with the exploration of breakage . . .  virus. . .  patterns 
meaning  destroying every awakening  stage in this bio world *via~ wide
Deep identification losing all Revelations, 
Laughing  fading away with the criteria formed 
must we ~ need us~ crawling in my inner walls. . .
use me ~ need me~ feed me~ critically  re-evaluate me . . . 


A Collaboration with * Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of Poetry Soup RIP

~A Poet Destroyer COLLABORATION~

Homeless Emptiness

Forced into grumbling stomach and head throb
It is dark cold emptiness all around
first laid off and then dissmissed from the job
It is a blight on all our light and sound

The wrinkled hours on my both cheek sunken
Driven out from two rented rooms, roaming
Hope hearth home health heaven hell all broken
For food morsels with dogs in the trash bin

Fallen crumbled plundered you all despise
One of our two children is now missing
Wreckage breakage drainage in our void eyes
Moans and groans around the serpent hissing

With our pulverised waves and hungry soul 
We are struggling to get back into whole 
Vultures on our head and the end hems in
Of your poem, O life, we’re still dreaming
____________________________________________
23/10/2016

Premium Member kintsugi -

broken, this aged vessel
fractured by fate in matter and mind
careworn and cracked like creeping veins of window frost ...

          (but colder in my solitude, I surmise)

oh, but wholly blessed on the surface, really
no furrows or folds or wrinkly crows
hardly a dozen gray hairs, but for goatee' ...

          (winter taking hold there, evidently
          the once fiery and fervently experienced lips
          put to the frigid air of the disinterested and forsaken)

too proud, really, that I look twenty years my lesser
for it reaps naught but envy ...

          (when I yearn for naught but love)

yes, the porcelain facade still reflects the sun
but ONLY that, then back to whence it came
the warmth seeps not, and oh the splintered shell within
shards as sharp and crimped as British wit
whether by bent or happenstance or horrid folly ...

          (they are as defined as they are hidden
          as black as they are white
          as cursed as they are blessed)

a hundred and more, they are a memory, each
a pain, a tragedy, a misstep, a ravaged heart given fully
returned with but a wish and a wave
but you see, those cracks and breaks and chips
all carefully mended ... with gold ...

          (caring friends, exquisite joys, profound experience, loving family
          hope, faith, renewed self-respect, and a million little things
          that may pass others unnoticed
          but to me, are the lifeblood of existence)

they fill the seams with the most wonderful precious metal
and that broken, shattered soul is healed
made whole by what is truly valuable and lasting
far more formidable and beautiful and priceless ...

          (with the wisdom of breakage and healing
          and all the myriad lessons learned in the process)

than it ever was ...

          (than I ever was)

before.

An Open Soul To Hidden Truths

There is a certain pride in my heart, 
Deep in the gut of my soul, 
And in every moving cell working for the other
That preaches and presses in a padded jail
Where no other living soul can hear 
Treasurable, valuable words being uttered 
With conviction and every golden verdict

It is a silent pride, and a sad one at times,
Longing to be heard, though it cannot reveal
Longing to be shared with a parched mind
That can only reveal itself through the continual
Ritual of living each day
I want to share with utter integrity and light,
With a full heart, to activate the gentle expansion
Of freeing, outstretched wings

You cannot listen to these truths I scream
Because I am closed away by this pride, 
My cognizance and cruel prudence imprisons me, 
And at times I am happily bound

This pride, this opulent air of knowing
Restlessly deepens within 
It seeps deeper inside,
Because I doubt any will quite understand
And appreciate 

Through the lens of pure honesty
This pride is fearful and selfish
We do not want to be seen as a fool
I want these confessions to feel
Omnipotent, and apart from my emotions
Pure honesty reminds me
That without emotions, without feeling…
This knowledge, this enlightenment
Cannot be expressed
Unless fear, cramping the soul
Leaves this prison
If love eases breakage to flow into tender ears
To compassionate minds,
And perceptive hearts

Canyons of the Heart

Some love stories make you ponder
how you got this far.
Others make you want to wander
guided by a star.

Roll on thunder, roll on night
never let me sleep.
That's an over-rated right
and I've no soul to keep.

Loved too easily it seems-
my heart kept beating faster.
Through the canyons of my dreams
was led into disaster.

Dismal breakage everywhere
as I became undone.
Just about too much to bear;
I was too tired to run.

Now the pages have been turned
and hopefulness prevails.
Never again will I be burned
and love will guide my sails





for the contest "Love Justice"
sponsored by Justin Bordner
© Deb Wilson  Create an image from this poem.

I Am - the Truth

To what avail are scriptures etched on stones 
If it’s true, we must feel it in our bones”
                                                ~ Author Unknown

My first question would be…
Who is it that etched scripture on stone?
Then why is such a distinction made?

     Long ago, Jehovah called Moses to the Mount
     and carved on two stones divine law for His people.
     His covenant involved sacrifice for breakage.
     In anger, Moses broke both the law and the stones
     shattering revered integrity in anger.
     
     See,  God’s people thought Moses was not coming back.
     Perhaps God had killed him up there on that mountain.
     Brother Aaron had let them shape a golden calf
     which they freely worshipped instead of Jehovah. 

     God Himself engraved  those basic Ten Commandments
     which bestows a special significance itself.
     But the second real distinction came later as 
     His people realized, man cannot keep God’s  law.


What is the next question?
Why must scripture be felt in our bones
More important, what is the truth discerned therein?

     The same Jehovah called Jesus Christ to the cross,
     conferred forgiveness for lack of obedience.
     Jesus’ own words are the truth He came to reveal
     when He said, “I am the way, the truth and the life.”
     No one can come to the Father except through Christ.

     Hear these words from major prophet Ezekiel -
     God will remove their hearts of stone and grant them peace;
     His spirit will dwell in the hearts of believers. *
     Promised Messiah had come, Israel’s King of Kings.

     Royal throne, the cross where Jesus was crucified
     and thorns were the kingly crown they placed on His head.
     His perfect submission, example set for man;
     His grace and mercy within us proves His true worth.

John 14:6  and Ezekiel 36:25-28

April 27, 2022

* the scripture from Ezekiel 36:26-28
"A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them. And ye shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God."

Silent Night

It was a silent night, the sun had gone down, the moon and the stars had taken over the night shift.
Little did the human species in my apartment know that there was a fascinating scintillating and charming creature present in my room. This fascinating scintillating and charming creature is a paragon of beauty, the creative handy work of the creator.

As the alarm of the wall clock sounded, alas! It was midnight. This paragon of beauty made her first seductive move. She smiled at me from the sofa where she was sitting. Her smile was contagious. Oh! What is this happening to me? I also responded with a smile. Right inside of me I knew I had already fallen for her but pretended. She stood away from the sofa and walked towards me.

As she bent over her body to kiss me, the two sets of her breasts popped out of her clothes. They looked so ravishing, enticing and inviting. Well, I was ever ready for this task ahead of me. I grabbed the two sets of balls and rammed into them using the expertise of my tongue to tickle the ever stirring nipples which had already grown over an inches longer. She moaned in deep indescribable pleasure and ecstasy as if she was in Fantasy Island. 
On noticing her loud moans I sealed her lips with kisses, thereby reducing the volume of her loud moans. At this point in time my temperature had risen to its boiling point of breakage and needed a deep well of cool water to ease the high erotic tension. She has no choice than to ease this tension which she initiated.

I held and turned her under me and connected myself into her internet of extricating and electrifying pleasure island of no return. Finally out of my buoyant milk industry I poured out my milk into her desert to fertilize it. Ooh! I now feel like an accomplished man. With a deep breath of relief, I suddenly woke up from my sleep and discovered it was all a dream, a fallacy. Wow! I screamed. Why was it a dream?

Broken

When someone is broken
Don't use words to break them more
For the cracks are all ready exposed
And can hold no more

Sometimes what's holding 
Is thinner than hair
Used bubble gum 
Burnt wax 
Something barely there

Breakage comes from many things
Old age, illness, addiction
Sometimes your just tired
Have little fight left inside

So watch for those signs
Let sleeping dogs lie
Because sometimes all it takes  
Is one thing to break the camels back

When fighting clawing climbing  
Barely putting one foot in front of another
The hardest thing to do is get back up
Be careful what you say

You never know sometimes
Just how close to that edge
How far to the end
Of the rope they hang

Disguise  is easy to pretend
All is well when it isn't
Not showing weakness
Is a learned behavior

Trying to be a survivor
And dig is exhausting
And sleep is all that's needed
Permanent or not

Be careful with your words
Sticks and stones
Is a fallacy  
Made up by someone broken

Premium Member Broken

You cry: "Oh No!", as your cherish beloved pot 
lies shattered into pieces
at your feet, splattered in tears,
echoing your sobs and muttered moans.
"What to do?" you ask.
You could try to glue it back together,
but it's impossible to hide the cracks 
and jagged ends of the mends.
Just before you are about to throw it away
"Ah Ha", a Eureka moment!
I think I will try Kintsugi,
Which exemplifies the beauty
within imperfection,
showcasing the breakage lines with
gold thread and paint along the cracks and repairs.
Then, the pattern made by the golden cracks
creates a beautiful natural scene 
like the branches of a tree or
the pattern of a river drawn from nature.
The breakage is celebrated, not hidden away to deceive.
This is the spirit of 'wabi-sabi'
which is the acceptance and exoneration,
of transience and imperfection,
with the added simplicity of 
incompleteness and fragility.
Not hiding the faults, failings and flaws within patched repairs,
but accepting their inevitability in time.
So the lesson is that "Broke ain't that bad really!",
"Not such a big, sad deal, after all".
In the real world transience is accepted as the norm.
Perfection is ultimately unattainable and cannot last,
as it quells the joys of simplicity and acceptance.
Perfection is extinct, never existed in nature!
"Things happen", don't they,
anytime, anywhere, randomly, with or without cause.
So don't let what's broken 
become a lasting 
consequential loss.
Fix it with Kintsugi!

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