Best Frayed Poems
two sneakers frayed jeans sweatshirt with hood
thrown overnight on the floor
waiting lazily just for
another chance at glory
and story
time fame
You are the longest true love of my life.
You always gave selfless love even through strife.
Somewhere along the way we lost it
and I cry wondering if I could have stopped it.
Just my hindsight saw it all unfold.
For years now it has been more than my heart can hold.
Mentally, your voiced views battered me.
Emotionally, your behaviors shattered me.
We have completely turned from love’s way
so, I dwell sad in past days laid tainted and frayed.
Though no final death scythe ended us,
separation bereavement exists between us.
I search for moves holding love’s right stuff
‘cause I need to show you, Mama, I hurt enough.
You really know
how to get to me, and tear
me o p e n.
You know my ticks,
my triggers, but,
surely, you,
of all people,
the one who bred me life and breath,
wouldn't do,
something so calculated.
Please,
don't hurt me,
I am-
fragile
and so are you.
It seems,
I am becoming you.
Or maybe you are becoming,
the product of
my actions.
And so inversed at crossroads,
I falter,
faced with, all my sins
that I can no longer remember.
If you can no longer recall,
those horrid sins,
then are you even fit to be on this planet,
and breathe the same air?
Maybe I'm the product of imagination,
but, still,
I would rather live a life of delusional heroism
in the face of you,
and pay for my crimes
where you can't see me.
If I am a flower,
then you,
are a drought,
and you are not there, to see
me and wilt die,
because I destroyed my own roots.
My blue, frayed Cubs cap
Here I hold you in my very own hands
As I look at this old, yet important cap
Many memories go back in many years
The first time I've received this cap
Was when my mother brought you home
As you were a brand-new cap
Bought from the store for five dollars
The happy times with my Cubs cap
From perfect pitches to walk-off hits
As thrown up in the air, this Cubs cap
Your victories will always bring me smiles
The sad times with my Cubs cap
From wild pitches to blown saves
As thrown to the ground, this Cubs cap
Your defeats have brought me tears
The surprising times with my Cubs cap
From listening Ron Santo to the rise of Rizzo
As worn on my head proudly, this Cubs cap
Your history will always give me hope
The many seasons gone through this cap
From playoff heartbreaks to division wins
As this once was a simple, new cap
With each passing year, it becomes old and frayed
In the future, I'll get a new Cubs cap
But this grown fan knows one thing for sure...
As I'll never throw you away, this old cap
My blue, frayed Cubs cap - you're my life's treasure
Loose change with frayed ends,
my life feels snagged on acute bends.
Tangled threads surround me,
they seem to wind and bind me,
preventing freedom's trends.
I don't know how others do it.
Missing the rain when it hits.
My path does not stroll with their plans,
thus the way for me expands.
So I won't despair; my path is lit.
This is true:
I've been on my way since school.
Behind challenges left unresolved;
ahead my life's riddles solved;
I am ready to go and eschew
fate's cues that can not queue.
The path's magic I already knew.
I am in the doldrums,
of witch's cauldrons.
In it I follow the call.
The fear of cast inside perpetual.
worn...
away...
tattered...
along...
the ...
edges ...
she was frayed...
like termites...
holding...
up...
bridges.
Synchronized spirits sewn together by silver star strings
Like tethered twin flame torches touching, tinting
Beautifully braided bands of boundless bliss
Sensually seducing sacred sunlight, shining
Delicately dancing around disguised desire
Waxing, waning, wanting, wondering, wandering, withdrawing
Lustful luminary lingering, longing, lavishing love
Fearing freedom from fervency
Soulmates sleeping separately, sadly stifled
Why?
she got on about three stops after I did
I was sure she was conversant in ballet
by the way she danced up the steps
and delicately deposited her passage
into the device next to the driver
her fingers were disproportionately
long and far too elegant for
such tiny hands
her nails were ornately painted
with purple flowers on a white back lay
she must have been very ambidextrous as
each tiny fingernail looked exactly alike
it was winter and there was about
18 inches of snow in the lanes
she wore white rubber boots
the bus wore its annual tire chains.
I was dressed in my traditional white tennis shoes,
weathered blue jeans a white Eddie Bauer T
and my socks were soaking wet
from trying to dodge the slush
near the bus stops
she was enveloped in a long
camel-hair pea coat
and, crazy as it sounds
a feather hat much like
Robin Hood used to wear
I thought I would depart before her
as she asked for a transfer
like a novice-carom-billiard player
I almost fell flat on my backside
when the bus shot off
before I could grab the overhead rail
as I lent her my seat
the bus was lousy
with swing shift laborers
headed to the fish packing plants
I one of them
pangs of passion
swelled deep in my heart
and seeped through every pore
I wanted to hold her in my arms
and love her, nothing more.
then she left, brushed close by me
and the driver sweetly shut the door
pain exhaled softly
silencing a lion's roar
with mangled mane (and vanquished pride)
I knew not what to infer
through toothless jaws silently cried
my heart alone for her
the seat where she once sat
remained unoccupied
save for her plumed hat
that I stared at
'til the end of my ride
Frayed Bell Ropes
Time
did not
disfigure her
nor disillusionment
disarm the strike of clapper’s tears
shed in the agony of renewed peace.
fraying bell ropes forgotten joy
calling
home
6/4/2017
submitted to – New Form – The BELL – Poetry Contest
~ Frayed ~
This hallo dimmed and faded…
The soul chipped and shaded…
Another fallen Angel on the ground…
Prayers are whispered in a silent sound…
A tumble from grace from a goal set high…
Now the vision is small in a crowed sigh…
I repair these wings but the color still grey…
In the softest voice this poet is frayed…
With blade sharp tongue his words stung
with the pain felt when funeral hymns are sung.
In a mournful voice, off key of course,
as was his choice in the way he spoke to me.
I was blind not to foresee
the dagger that soon would be
plunged deep into my pulsing heart.
His committed sin could not be expunged,
for rivers of blood drained from my eyes.
There was no fairytale disguise
to silence my sighs or hide my fears.
Tears were what I used as thread
to try stitching closed the tattered seams
for now, shattered and frayed are my dreams.
There was no bewitching magic elixir
potent enough to be a fixer that could mend
the once upon a time love story of he and I.
~ The End
*old pains have healed from apologies made and accepted.
Perhaps his sin has been expunged by the hand of our judge.
It is worn, patched, and tattered, frayed about the edges. It has at times offered me adrenal ascendency, scared me out of my wits, challenged me to act, or to be still. Its warmth has often failed me. Its compass deviated from true north or at times just ignored. I was told to “wear it as a loose garment”, yet it often felt too restraining or cumbersome. Still it is my choice to slip into it each morning, share a quiet moment, a sip of coffee, a laugh about a patch or stain.
It is more frail now, more likely to require re-stitching of old wounds and faded patches. And yet it serves me well. Its distant colors chuckle as we recall a hot sauce stain, that bar in Angelo, the too often sewed pocket still holds its own. Several of the “original” buttons remain to taunt the newer ones. None are sure where the others went, or why.
And so we sip coffee and recall the tears and joys of birthday cakes, of babies snuggled in its flannel fierceness, and carry on.
loosely worn garments
a history of flannel
frayed edges of life
2/25/2023
It Means A Lot To Me Poetry Contest
in that dimly lit haze that brushes
the slippery side of a soul
we hide the silence of words and
the echoes of a soundless heart
that suffers when the garments of bones
becomes frayed beyond the condition of hope
Three to make it ok
Three to make it go away
Doctors have no cure
Of this they are sure
People coming, people going
Faces everywhere, none showing
Pain and suffering
All a game of buffering
Masks of life worn
Hearts torn
What’s the use
Why take the abuse
Another visit gone awry
Life just seems to pass me by
Feeling trapped
Mind collapsed
On the fringes
Everyone cringes
Oh the humanity
Oh the vanity
Needing answers, finding none
Feeling the cold shun
Society I’m really ok
Tomorrows another day
Worth having around
Possibilities abound
Up down
Lying on the ground
White coats
Hope my love floats
Hard times arise
Tattered pieces of a life comprise
Three to make it ok
Three to make it go away
Doctors have no cure
Of this they are sure
I can still hear his voice when harsh winds blow ~
his murmurs once calmed my fears
Stars faded and moonlight dimmed ~
without romantic whispers in my ear
Twilight descended as we said sad farewells ~ threads
of our romance frayed