Best Cutting Poems
the lullaby of butterflies hums
in the early morning air.
a rounded light of gold
above the purple clouds
spots a blue filtered peak.
trees unite as one in the constant drizzle of rain.
flowers wild, spill in colors hurried
to fill barren ground.
mammals of every kind lay unseen,
asleep and covered in blankets green.
and I wonder,
I wonder who,
who would nullify?,
this bouquet...
of sweetly scented
awes!
With Love
22~12~2014
Haven’t you heard
Didn’t they caution
I make haters
Why they exist
Why they envy
Didn’t you smell
their burning flesh
Did they not warn you tread lightly
This place was a shelter
where they sought me
hoping for my warmth
I turned it to winter
encased fake words
froze vacant minds
Emanating ability
scorching paths
Ignorant ashes
melted in heat
Not warmth
was found
but fire
As the
sun
am
I
Atmospheric grayscale mirrors my mood
where rainbow pastels are loath to intrude,
monochrome perverse looms ‘cross universe -
black powder train, mind is gun barrel gray
cold dispassionate muzzle of dismay.
My happiness; my death will reimburse -
lifeblood bleeds an anemic attitude.
Susan Ashley
November 17, 2018
For many
Long years
I’ve lived
In your
SSssss
HHhhh
AAaaa
DDddd
OOooo
WWww
Your eyes
Cannot hide
Your lies
Pure deception -
now rejection
I take my
KNIFE=====
s
e
v
e
r
i
n
g
The genetic
Umbilical cord
That once joined us
Could you please contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
09 29 17
the lullaby of tropical birds sketches
the sounds of the early morning air
a spotlight of gilded rays
above purple clouds
traces a blue filtered peak
trees unite warmly
feed on the drizzle of rain
like a nectar gifted
native plants
spill in colors hurried
fill the barren ground
mammals of every kind unified lay unseen
asleep and covered in blankets green
and i wonder
wonder who
who would nullify
this bouquet
of sweetly scented
awes
It started with a simple sentace,
You worthless ugly brat.
Mental abuse turned physical.
Beacuse of this she stopped trying at school,
Beacuse she stopped trying she lost her friends,
Beacuse she lost her friends she became a easy target,
Beacuse she was a easy target she was picked on,
And words and notes turned to kicking and tripping and choking,
And beacuse of kicking and tripping and choking she fell into depression,
Beacuse she fell into depression she stopped being active,
Beacuse she stopped being active her parents yelled and screamed and hit,
Beacuse her parents yelled and screamed and hit she failed her school work,
Beacuse she failed her school work she was considered stupid,
Beacuse she was considered stupid she was hurt at school,
Beacuse she was hurt at school she didn't have a safe spot anymore,
Beacuse she didn't have a safe spot anymore she started cutting,
Beacuse she started cutting she started to believe the mean mean words,
The more she thought, the more she realized how true they were,
Beacuse they were true she decided to take her own life,
It sucks that that She,
Is me
Why wouldn’t you cut me loose from the strings that bind us
You had left me dangling from a marriage that once united us together
The bonds were broken - you had forsaken our love, not once but so many many times
For over a year now you have been seeing her
I could never understand why you wouldn’t set me free and let me spread my wings and fly
I‘d have the chance to find someone who would be faithful and love me – ONLY me
Yet you still chose to wear my ring upon your finger
You wanted to have your cake and to eat it too
Whilst I was suspended like a puppet floundering in mid air
At first I thought it was all about saving face - playing happy families
You didn’t want your parents to see YOU as a failure
It was always me who visited them every week
Running errands and taking them on days out with the grandchildren
You simply paid your parents lip service and rang them saying you are working away, when in reality was you really were with her
But now I have discovered the truth why you won’t let me go - your father let it slip one day when I saw him.
It was his birthday and you’d asked me to take him a bottle of his favourite whiskey - this was your downfall - you know how he likes to talk when he’s had a drop
For now I have discovered the truth the REAL reason why you wouldn’t set me free.
It’s all to do with money – the clause from your uncle’s will. You were his favourite nephew and I could never understand why you didn’t inherit when he died
Now I know the answer - we needed to remain married for fifteen years then and only then would you receive your million-dollar legacy
Ever since your father revealed the truth about the inheritance I have had a private detective trail the two of you – dates, times, photographs I have all the evidence I needed.
The private detective I hired – oh he was delighted to take on the case - you see SHE is his soon to be ex-wife
Well sugar I’m filing for divorce. Don’t bother contesting it. It will be finalised on our 14th Wedding Anniversary.
I’m no longer your puppet, the strings that tied us are finally going to be cut.
Contest:Puppets Sponsor John Lawless
12~25~14
With every cut she makes.
She loses herself deeper within the pain.
Cutting taking pills to keep numb.
Hididng scars under long sleves.
Blending in praying never to stick out.
She wishes to be invisable within the halls.
Avioding eye contact with the popular crowd.
hiding in plain sight.
A worn composition book bares the agony
of her teenage years.
Every scar holds a untold story.
Past flings with false promises of hope.
Dark shirts and darker thoughts.
She lives in a prison yet has no dellusion of release.
Red stains the ivory skin.
She feels the pains warmth only to
feel it fade again.
Head down like a ghost she
does vanish in the crowd.
Slicing into the flesh to bring
warmth to the cold empty shell.
Every page speaks of angst with a sweet
passion filled twist.
Misery of many held by few.
Scars of her time.
Marking every moment and year.
Cutting for a escape.
She's stuck in a sea of people.
Wishing to be anywhere but here.
The corner of the room
Is as dark as night itself
There is where I find my comfort
There is where my pain will be rescued
For in this corner is a table
And on this table is a knife
On this knife is many bloodstains
From previous actions that have occurred
Slice once, it stings only a little
Slice again, ahh the pain is such a relief
Slice a third time, oh watch how the blood comes out
DRIP!
DRIP!
DRIP!
Oh watch how the blood comes out
I run my hand across my wrist,
The rough scars feel normal under my fingers,
But to anyone else, they would be foreign.
I was a fighter, I had to be,
But everything has its consequences.
Running the blade across my own wrist was mine,
It was the only way for me to feel something.
Since I was small I was forced to be strong,
But a child should not need to be strong.
I wasn’t even 14 and I had to fend for myself,
I had to pick up my broken pieces.
The scars on my body tell that story,
They are reminders of my pain.
I run my hand across my wrist,
The rough scars remind me that I will survive,
I did before, and I will now.
What did I do to deserve this treatment
How did you not feel the weight of that lie
You put all your feelings ahead of my own
By playing semantics to justify
Well now you can breathe 'cause it's out of your hands
Today I will speak, and I say "goodbye"
--------------------------
12/6/2021
BITE SIZE POEM no29 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Kinsey Millhone owned a single black dress
And wore it whenever she'd need it.
If you were a fan, you'd know all of her quirks,
For the alphabet books guaranteed it.
From "A is for Alibi" right up to "Y"
For "Yesterday," Kinsey did capture
The hearts of all readers, who counted the days
'Til the next book delivered its rapture.
Though Kinsey was fictional, she was entwined
With Sue Grafton, who made her seem living.
Like all her devotees, I owe Grafton thanks
For the joy that for years she's been giving.
The news just came down that Sue Grafton has died,
A loss for the world and for me,
Especially since when I catch up with "Y,"
There will be no more waiting for "Z."
The music stepped aside,
as the words cut in to dance
Painting the floor red
in lettered steps of eternity
To a song now consonant
in verses of celebration
Thoughts and feelings remarry
—in patterns of remembrance
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Preparing lunch for Sunday Celebration
Roast, potatoes, carrots, and onion
Scrub those potatoes until they pass inspection
Thoughts running through my head
What if they are rotten on the inside instead
Well the outside looks clean, been scrubbed
Enough, I can't see inside without cutting
Them up, we are like that in our thoughts
Praise God he knows without cutting us up
But then sometimes he has to prune his vines
Cut away the dead and useless times
Preparing us so that in heaven we shine
As kids we called it Springsure’s Hill,
A wonderful place to hone our skill,
Playing in scrub till light was gone
Hide and seek with my brother Ron.
We knew the birds; they knew us too,
Bellbird, Thornbill, Black Cockatoo,
Bandicoots strange digging habits,
Along the fence line trapping rabbits.
There is no sunrise on Springsure Hill,
But sunsets do my senses fill,
Every tree has an orange glow,
Shroud of nightfall follows shadow.
Never ever thought I’d see the day,
When all that scrub was cleared away,
But I’m not to worry it will be fine.
On the hill they’re planting pine.
They’re cutting down trees to plant more trees,
It don’t make sense until one sees,
How quick does grow this foreign pine,
Every row is a perfect line.
The hill grows lush and a sea of green,
With not a thing growing in between,
Dark and eerie, nothing more,
A blanket of needles on the floor.
Gone are the Goodia, the Correa,
Heath, Tree Ferns and Grevillea,
Ragwort thrives on the outer fringe,
Enough to make the farmer cringe.
They’re cutting down trees to plant more trees,
It don’t make sense until one sees,
Chainsaw, Log truck, Crane and Gantry,
Cutting down trees…commercially.
I note the slope on Springsure’s Hill,
With rows of stumps and waiting till,
Scotch Thistle, Blackberry, sun and rain,
Have Springsure’s Hill back green again.