Best Damaging Poems
This day I grow tired
and so incredibly weary.
My heart holds only dreams
of a Life unfullfilled
A Life not nurtured,
yet barely a glimmer
of the spirit that once was.
I do have memories of some things good
-not all bad,
But the fear that I am alone
is Like a fingerprint on my Life.
Shadowing, waiting to pounce,
always there, unshakeable.
It's the mirrors that hold me accountable
to my actions.
Proof positive that where ever I go
there I am,
Naked, vulnerable, and yes
still alone.
As I try to allay this fear,
one Lonely and painful pluck at a time,
It becomes crystal clear, that I alone
am damaging my soul to the very core
with each stroke of my hand.
I steal one Last Look in the mirror
and know that I alone
have self inflicted these blues
Leaves me to ponder one question:
Will I ever allow myself the strength and grace
it will surely take to heal my scarred soul?
This poem was written in hopes of begining the healing process for my self. I
have a disease called trichiotillamania. It is an obsessive and manic urge to pull
one's own hair until baldness occurs. I'm a 48 year old woman, married(with kids
& grand kids)and have been doing this since the age of 5. It coincided with the
begining of my stepfather raping and torturing me which lasted until the age of
thirteen. This disease has me trapped and is NEVER letting me go. There are
two inflictions in regards to my hair pulling in this poem, one must know about
my disease in order to understand this poem.
~~~~~
Sometimes I feel like a hunk of Limburger cheese!
Poets pass my poetry as if it had the great aroma
of unwashed toes and knees.
.
These poets are the ones who pretend to be my
PS friends?
But off in the distance, they live in Big Ego City,
just beyond the bend.
.
They avoid better poets than I,and tis no surprise!
Prancing about the soup with guile and smiling disguise!
.
So,it's a damaging, unkind game they play.
My peace...is knowing Karma is coming their way.
~~~~~
January 3, 2020
11:45 pm PST
I didn't always adhere to the warnings of the experts
who declared nothing beyond time-outs should be used
to correct a child’s behavior—that parents must not,
even temporarily, take away a toy or a privilege OR
use “psychologically damaging” responses like
“What you just did was bad”!
When you, as a teenager, fought me at every turn,
when you despised me--or seemed to--
the experts' words came back to haunt me.
Still, I continued on my chosen path and tried
not to reveal how defeated and helpless I felt.
While the renowned psychologists were saying,
"The teenager's privacy must not be violated,"
I was watching you, not always from afar.
When, in spite of me, you began accomplishing a degree
privacy at the tender age of 14, you hid from me, opting
to use that freedom to forge risky relationships
that alienated you from those who really cared.
Over time, something beautiful happened.
You metamorphosed into a fine young lady.
As a parent, you have neither punished severely
nor spoiled your children. You've limited
their privacy and kept hold of the reins.
As they sneer at you and rebel, you wonder,
as I once did, If you've taken the wrong route.
I can't verbally assure you that you haven't.
I can't give you an encouraging embrace.
Perhaps I did enough while I was there.
January 1, 2019, entered in Emile Pinet's Free Verse Style Poetry Only contest,
placed 2nd
February 4, 2019, entered in Chantelle Anne Cooke's Favorite Free Verse Contest
war
violent, deadly
confusing, damaging, suffering
armament, strategy, dialogue, harmony
forgiving, respecting, understanding
mental, spiritual
peace
-------------------------------------------
11th November 2014
Contest: Diamante Poem
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Placed: 3rd
The situation in my country is terrifying
I wish I can do something gratifying,
Selfishness and corruption by leaders are annoying,
No job,no food ,no water,in a land flourishing
with resources and its occupants are crying,
Mortality rate increases for many are lacking,
Diseases,malnutrition and social vices are thriving,
due to negligence,misappropriation and lack of funding,
From generation to generation this parasite is spreading,
And the vectors and co-vectors foster by multiplying,
I`m bold,educated and ready to die,not compromising,
but I have to join their party to be leading,
Join their party!be like them!what am I thinking?
I can`t sell my conscience because of governing,
If I`m an officer,I would have risen to do general cleaning,
but that era has gone,military government is damaging,
while this cosmetic democracy is more disturbing,
Divine intervention is sought and I`m waiting;waiting!
by soaking my bed with tears daily,weeping!,
Lame and paralyzed I watch the little ones,suffering,
while a few biggies misuse and waste the wealth by deceiving,
Hmm!hmm!I can`t take this anymore!,it is killing.
Sitting silently in the Doctor's seats
waiting for the diagnosis, to finally
be complete.
A nurse walked in and said, It will
be a while, but little did she know
I noticed the concern in her smile.
We never expected what would be in
those files and that from here we would
walk a backwards mile.
I as the mother, You as the child.
I felt your fear as together we cried.
I promised you that day, I would
always be by your side.
Slowly but surely the damaging host
began to take away, all the memories
you treasured most.
I watched you as you searched for words
and much to often, your laughter has
gone unheard.
As the days pass now slowly and painfully
away; I see the child, as with your blanket
you play.
Once your daughter and a friend, and
now you search your mind, for who
I am.
I wash your clothes and clean the floors
cook for you, bath you, speak for you and
so much more.
I creep into your room through out the night
to make sure everything is in its place.
Even making sure your night lite isn't shinning
in your face.
Emotions sometimes come rushing over me
as I watch you fade away and silver quickly
takes it's permanent place.
I find myself when I am with you, wanting
my thoughts to share; Then at that very
moment missing the closeness of the mother
I always believed would be there.
Late last night as I stood at your door and
watched you sleep; I prayed to the Lord to
give us both strength.
I know one day, just like all children do;
You'll leave me, except I will be forever
left missing you.
When you have gone to Heaven, our life
will once again have changed roles.
I will be the old woman waiting to be
called home.
The look of understanding will be left upon
my face as acceptance sets in from knowing,
that someday we will be together again.
Alzheimer's, the pain remains.
Santa, I have an important request.
Please don't embarrass me with ho ho hos.
If you'd looked at my face you might have guessed.
I'm serious about fixing my nose.
I can sense you are stifling your laughter.
Your bowl full of jello, nicely restrained.
Proboscis happily ever after,
Would not appear that it's been candy caned.
Hire a team of rhinoplasty surgeons.
I create damaging winds with this thing.
Like the limb of an oak tree it burgeons.
Just yesterday a blue jay perched to sing.
Hurry, Dear Santa, its growth won't abate.
Go talk to Rudolph, as he can relate.
***********************************
There may be some problems I must address.
Lies emitted from hole under my snout.
Pains me Santa, I readily confess.
Please be patient as I utter these out.
I lied to Sonya about her red dress.
Made her butt dwarf a Volkswagen fender.
I lied to the postman, my home address.
Marked the water bill "Return To Sender".
I fibbed a little to co-worker, Sue.
Her peanut butter cookies smelled like feet.
But tell me, what the heck was I to do?
I wrapped and hid it in a slice of meat.
Santa, I am a serial liar.
Instead of my pants, set my nose on fire.
***********************************
I'll do better if button nose gifted.
I promise to be more a straight shooter.
A smaller nose, my spirits be lifted.
Seriously, would you want this hooter?
The fibs I told did no permanent harm,
But if you would like I can change all that.
Who "nose"? I may lose my personal charm.
If I tell my friend Sonya she is fat.
If you leave money in an envelope,
I'll pay the water bill before it's due.
I can rub Sue's cookies with fragrant soap.
For a nose job, I will eat one or two.
Santa, I know you smell something is rot.
But I am here to assure you, it's snot.
Written 12/12/2017
"From My Lips to Santa's Ears"
Contest
Hosted by Phillip Garcia
There are those who have fallen
in the eyes of this world,
one’s “sins” more damaging than the next.
“Skeletons from closets”
so ruthlessly hurled
and so many people are left vexed.
Now I do not condone
all that comes to light
whether by papers, radio or TV.
But what if it was YOU
whose “sins were in sight,
are there things you’d want others to see ?
The world does these things
and yet they judge,
from the arm of a pointed finger stare they.
But they conveniently hide
their “filthy sludge”,
and yet in His court they’ll have their day.
I wrote this in response to a prodding that wouldn’t leave me alone.
Thinking on some people who walk in the limelight or of a high public profile, I started to be
perplexed about our willingness to BROADCAST the latest Hollywood gossip or the latest
political “fall from grace”. I am in no way condoning unwarranted behaviors and these are
times that call for the appropriate action to be taken no matter who the offenders are. I’m
just saying shame on those who are so willing to point fingers and yet do or would do some of
the very same things if they could. Lightwalker
I’m sorry for the nightmare I allowed to be your reality, and
I’m sorry I failed to illuminate a way out
I turned my back on you when you needed me most
I’m sorry I was a coward
I’m sorry for all the damaging words I said to you, but even more
I’m sorry I made you believe they were true
I took you for granted and battled with you every day
I’m sorry I did not think you were good enough to be treated better
I’m sorry for laying too much pressure on you; nobody is perfect, so
I’m sorry for making you believe you had to be
I did not trust you, respect you, listen to you, or appreciate you
I’m sorry I took you for granted
I’m sorry that I pitied you, and
I’m sorry I made you feel foolish and unimportant
I failed to treat you like the remarkable person you truly are
I’m sorry I made you feel you were alone
I’m sorry I did not love you
I’m sorry that I am apologizing to you; the
one person who will be with me always
HOWEVER
I am not sorry for a single tear I wept
each drop represents all that I have endured
I have learned much about life, relationships and most importantly – YOU
pain is temporary
for every burning tear that escapes, relief follows
I will be strong again
I will live again
I will love again
I will trust again
I will survive another day
Diana-Marie Bombardieri
Originally written: November 2005
Re-write: January 2012
*****This poem was inspired through the idea of there being no life after death, or the belief in atheism. In recent years more and more young people are commiting suicide; recent studies have shown that there is a commonality between atheism and suicide. My personal belief is that atheism is anti-philosophy; it is not so much the disbelief in God that bothers me (and I'm a theist) --- but what is the alternative? If one digs enough (like this poem implies) there can be no morality or value or meaning to life if we are born, live and die and we are no more; this feeds the subconscious ego which can justify all manner of evil, including extremes as war, racism, indifference --- suicide. I had a friend who was a staunch atheist and now millionaire ---- very high IQ --- when cornered he would admit there was 'something behind life'. It makes my skin crawl to think that some atheists may be telling their children that they'll never see their grandmother again or even themselves after death --- it would be less damaging to 'lie' and say there is a heaven; I think in many ways this is why Christ and others mentioned paradise and heaven because of the psychological consequences of the contrary*****
Oblivion, thou dark star;
so lithe thy face...
so shadowless among the stars
doth thy nativity;
But a word in the hearth of gods and heroes
and the scheme of all things ---
are thee but a word?
So naked thy garb...
nothing ---
to be ashamed of,
but the sanction of fools;
'There is no god...
only I, who cannot but speak ---
save through the naysayers of life;
if they are born, live and die ---
and no more they be, like I ---
to save the world entire...
will be like I,
to destroy it will matter not;
or to save it ---
for no hero shall remain and speak again...'
Oblivion, sometimes so tempting...
to accept thy endless Kiss of Death;
a great sleep where no bed hath a softer slumber...
no pain...
But fear I the long wake,
for what horror shall come of me,
should I long to rise again,
and cannot?
deep darkness descends
damaging distant deserts
drought destroys dry dunes
Written June 28, 2022
POEM OF THE DAY
Poetry Soup
June 30, 2022
Betrayal at its worst…evil at its
best
Eloquently caressed in shroud
of endorphins…
Unknown evils lurking…
shadowed lust controlled by
patience
Revealed at luck’s untimely
departure
Endurance only after ruined
escape
Burglarized by butcher’s
hands…crudely robbing of more
than is initially displayed
Shredded confidence
developing into aversion to
sweet pleasures
Respect ripped away to
expose…
Hard shell formed to isolate any
possible further damaging evils
or healing touches
Lasting scars a constant
reminder…hidden to spare
recollection’s pain
Time worn walls grown weary…
Weak candle flame tempted to
extinguish in screaming wind…
Form:
Damaging winds whip and slash, whirling wild, drenching rain,
Roads decimated come to standstill, as gushing floods reign,
Inundating swollen terrains, roiling deluge of a tenebrous day,
As trees bowing to gusting storms; erratically waltz and sway.
Houses naked with roofs blown, now ache, mangled and worn,
Where loss of life, in makeshift shelter, neighbors sadly mourn;
Sharing stories of a sudden event, rushing through the town,
Disheartened life, since torn-down, anguishing in wistful frown.
Danger lurks, where flood waters submerge fallen power lines,
As rivers and tributaries of muddy-flows, float uprooted vines,
What once was a harmonic rhythm, now perturbs pulse of life,
Dawn that rose on a lambent arc, now shudders in sullen strife.
People stranded, anxious for rescue, assess the damage done,
Cars are destroyed, fires are burning, recovery has just begun;
Sirens blaring of dire emergencies, are chasing to plug gas-leaks,
Searching for victims of drowning, scouting the rivers and creeks.
Swindlers are hovering, ripping-off elderly, exacting heavy price,
Hit by the tragedy first, then by the cruelty of defrauding vice;
Some now blame callous humanity, some name it~ an act of fate,
Mired in untold challenges, as remnants-torrent start to abate.
Life is short,
life is spry
like a crisp, little french fry
that gets stolen
if you fail to watch over it.
It's written in the name
of two moments
that hold hands and pass by.
On edges of death,
it startles those
who stay drunk on love
and those who dare to fly.
The brave have so much to do with life
while the meek simply wait to die;
the meek ones,
that like clockwork
tick their way to an eternal stillness.
Life, that we spend fretting
over death
hoping, we can accept with open arms
when faced with the end of it;
life, that we spend dying
everyday,
while trying not to get killed.
We hope, with love,
someday our tumblers will fill
and overflow;
while we quite often forget to give.
Like wild pigeons fluttering
with the morning light,
we try to run and rise.
Leaving poetries, songs
and stories behind;
damaging souls like ours
on rewind,
we crawl and scratch
our way through life.
When validations cease to matter
and you shut
the loud distinct chaotic chatter,
when you love
with all that passion
and with that roaring obsession
which burns within you
without the fear of losing
or dying in the static run;
you know you've learnt
to waltz with life,
with life that is spry
like a crisp, little french fry.
Friendship based on favors,
Favors that require you to break rules
Or compromise your character and values
Is not true friendship ...
A true friend will always expect your best, but forgive your worst
Will always encourage you in honesty and kindness, but curb your enmity
Will NOT stand by and allow others to hurt you
But, nor will they allow YOU to hurt others
Because they know your heart at its core
And they love you completely
They know that by mistreating others
You are damaging yourself even MORE
And the well-being of your spirit is their priority and care
As theirs is to you ...
We are ALL fighting battles in our lives
We all go through illness and injury and grief
We all struggle daily to keep our heads above the deluge
And we all need love and friendship to heal
But those hardships are not an excuse to mistreat others
Or a reason to garner sympathy and favors
Nor are they meat for speculation and manipulation and envy
If someone ever expects otherwise
It does not come from a place of love or kindness or light
And certainly NOT ... friendship.