Best Pulverized Poems
I have a pain so profound that I cannot name it.
I try to ignore it, but I’m forced to claim it.
It’s a gut wrenching sorrow that only grows
An affliction that absolute misery knows
There’s dejection in every breath that I take
And torment controls every move that I make
Love has abandoned me and pulverized my heart
Faith has done nothing but tear me apart.
My spirit is faded and my soul has turned bleak
I am forsaken by God and all that I seek
Despair has taken over my wretched being,
And blessings are something I’m not believing
My essence is distressed by everything that is
I’m demagnetized by all that the universe gives
It’s an existence of oppression on every plane
Like being institutionalized when you’re not insane
It’s a anguish so powerful my whole body will cry
A ruthless torture that begs my very being to die.
Inspired by Rokeyai Hassen's (It Feels) Like: This Too Shall Pass (Now on PoetrySoup)
I am summer rain for whose arrival you eagerly await.
Sitting on your porch, you watch my descent.
As I mix and mingle the elements, kneading pulverized dust,
Petrichor rises, making you intoxicated.
Each of my droplets carries such grace.
How the starved earth sucks them in!
On asphalt roads how they glide and dance,
And how quickly disappear out of sight.
I am summer rain, I come and go as I like.
Like teenage romance, I won’t stay long.
Licking the rising flames of heat, I sink fast into the mud.
But I leave giving a facelift to the parched earth.
Stay steady and silently still,
Let me adore what your eyes do to my shivering quill,
I am led astray between my walls and your words,
Blinded by a cloud of these butterfly birds,
The weight of my vocabulary seem to have lost it’s gravity,
Relearning how to talk as I dream poetry,
Shall I be an ornament, anonymous to your broken heart?
As mine shifts in it’s grave hiding the pulverized parts,
I can glaze my skin in all the sonnets and balladry,
Let the sweetness of your tears drench me in melodious melancholy,
I do not deny the searing sea you long to purge,
Nor do I belong to the grief you submerge,
I am simply a fire set by your golden rays,
And we are but mere fools trying to outrun our own mazes.
you wear away at me with your silence
not with whetted words
or physical altercations
there are no recriminations
No...
it's much more corrosive than all of that
this is the sad fact
apathy barbed in neglect
is the tool that you use
not aware it's abuse
how it scrapes and it grinds
determined not to leave anything behind
day after day
night after night
year after year
till the memory
of who I was dissapears
a little bit more every day
you wear me away
voiceless, I fade
silent in your silent tirade
only pebbles remain
of a once templed soul
and with a little more time
pulverized,
they blow away...
by the constant silent howling
of your loveless heart
Eileen Manassian
(Why I'm Still Breathing)
When the cow was dry, she was compliant.
When she calved, she turned vicious
and no fence could hold her,
but she gave milk in abundance,
and Dad refused to sell her.
She chased Mother 'round and 'round the barn
until Mom panicked, climbed the corner logs,
and perched under the roof,
clinging like a cicada shell on a weed-pod.
Beasty pawed and bellowed until Dad came home.
"I could gain on her on the corners,"
Mother said, "because I could turn faster,
but she gained on me on the straightaway."
Plug-ugly tore through the fence,
into the garden, where Mom and I worked.
"Run, Cona Faye, run," my mother shouted.
How did she know? The cow passed Mother
and thundered straight for me. I ran.
At the fence, snorts filled my ears. Hot breath
steamed my back. I saw myself stomped,
pulverized into the dirt. I turned, screaming
at full volume, and flailed my arms
like a windmill in a strong wind.
That old red cow locked her front legs
and skidded like a freight train on full brake.
I seized the moment, and scaled that rail fence.
Now, I grant you, I am just an ant
I get along with other ants
We make our home among the plants.
We work all day in harmony
A perfect world, I'd have to say!
Some might think I'm here to rant
about my size. They may surmise
that I'm not smart enough to realize
how perfect my small world could be
if humans cared enough for me
We try so hard to keep away
from peril, stress and YOU each day
But now and then we stray across
the sidewalk or a path you take.
You never look or seem to know
you've smashed us with a heel or toe!
You hoe your weeds. Our meager needs
are compromised by seeds you sow!
The homes we've built, and eggs we've laid
are pulverized with mower blades!
A perfect world for you and me
would be to end this genocide!
You stay inside….I'll stay outside
We'll get along. And side by side
we'll both reside quite happily !!
___________________________________________________________
Submitted for "In A Perfect World" contest
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
2/12/16
High on the Normandy cliffs
Looking out over Pointe du Hoc
As cold Atlantic winds whisper out
The names of the brothers I left behind
Now only fine marble monument shadows
Dot the trenches and empty emplacements
As the final testimony of the fallen
Still ringing frightened with those desperate voices
Proclaiming both their lives and death
That they were ever here…
In the emerald hills of Collville Sur Mur
I can still hear the phantom naval shells screaming
Underneath the crying of men
Pulverized and dying in their comrades arms
All for the belief of the land from which they hail
While the roaring waves wash the still bloody sands
In and endless and rending cycle
That silent cacophony of brother and foe
Call out to me still for comfort and aid
Asking only to be remembered…
Once upon a time... a child celebrated
Colorful lights of Crackers...
Fluorescence of Fireworks.
The black powder bonfires in sky
Illuminated his darkness ..
Sprinkling showers of acoustic pops.
And then...
Demons ignited black powder to enslave his mind.
His cranium was detonated with guns and bullets.
Blitz of Bombs ticked his reverberating Time.
His black powder infested blue vest
Now singed and scorched..
A belt of Bioluminescence garlanded his waist.
How smart he looked.. ready to blow up the Cafe.
Aha! That Black Coffee Powder
Was Exploding Love of Joy
Aha! That Black Gun Powder
Was Imploding Hate of Joy.
Soon there will be...
Scarlet blood spilling in smouldering slag.
Broken Glass and Bodies in pulverized roofs.
Screams of Resurrect Dreams...
He hears a faint whisper..'Son, please don't die'..
But wasn't he a Martyr.....a Superstar?
A Black Hole full of Black Powder...Near and Far...
The Supernova* waited.... to be a Dead Star...
*A Supernova Black Hole is an astronomical concept: They form when a very massive star (at least 25 times heavier than our Sun) runs out of nuclear fuel. The star then explodes as a supernova. A black hole is born when an object becomes unable to withstand the compressing force of its own gravity.
Dated 14th November,2018.
Submitted to the Black Powder Poetry Contest
Sponsor Anthony Slausen.
PLACED FIRST IN CONTEST
Streaking skyward the tracers rip
Into hanging soldiers
Falling about into mayhem
Pulsing through blood-filled ears
Hearing comrades scream
Understanding nothing
This is the war I found…
Hatred filled hardened hunter
Into smashed building
Homes pulverized rubble
Strewn about the decaying mass
The scorched metal burning
Bodies of the fallen men
The miasma of war I forever inhale…
Tigers rolling through billowed flame
Firing upon burnt battlefield blindly
Retreating in terror I leave the voices
Calling as I my boots tamp by arms
Reaching for safety I couldn’t render
Brothers abandoned in the Arnhem snow
These are the ghosts of war who haunt me….
Battle’s percussion on the horizon distant
I fade through the fields upon the Rhein
Farmhouses glow a midnight path
Walking to the beat of gun fire echoes
Off the walls of a shelter a little boy sits
Unafraid of the man feeding him chocolate
In the crater of a bomb…
This flash of hope my salvation from war.
the dogs were happy
did not have to dig deep
in bomb craters and
makeshift graves
they licked at pulverized bones
and liquefied brains
slurped up the proceeds of war
and roamed the street
sluggish and flatulent
saliva dribbled as well
from the industrial military complex
fused joy with sore fingers
from counting the money
Dmitri wondered
what had become of his folks
and where the flowers had gone
before he pegged his rag doll
to a skull bone that floated
in a sewer of lost hope
his young soul was confused
with reality and fake news
and yet his scarred mind
was never far from revenge
as he waded through carnage and destruction
he found remains of his pet
and smeared a bloody reminder
on his feverish forehead
picked up a land mine
and bode farewell to one of his arms
because the weapon exploded
never one to cease with belligerent ease
You have been disabled,
pulverized, smashed, splintered,
and fragmentalized.
You have been broken.
You think that you are weak,
unvalued; your feeble and
fragile state of mind has you
feeling so dejected.
Discouraged and crestfallen,
you cry to the stars for strength.
Darling, who told you
that being broken was a bad thing?
Your strength never left you, only faltered
in this struggle. Your bones are
steel and your heart golden; mending
yourself will take time, but you're worth it.
When you learn just how
significant you are in this world,
you will learn that the most
fractured people are the most radiant.
hell fire desires running wild
like a passion driven hot rod with burning tires
scorching licks of frenzied lust
whip raw touches that spontaneously self combust
pressurized slowness yielding euphoric smoke with every thrust
finger flicking flickery teasing and pleasing pink pleasures
peeping erotic natures in search of lost wet treasures
hardy hints of intense mixed sexual scents
resurrects the untamed within to go instinctively hell bent
standing tall like a hairy savage walking erect
smooth cruise control piston pumping action
X-rated planet transmitting listen to deep space orgasmic satisfaction
naughty nude bodies being slapped by massive tide waves of ecstasy
forever love fantasies pulverized into countless particles
and scattered across the endless galaxies
extreme tenderness under a ripe mythological moon
indulge on each others spirits using a soul stealing spoon
…Cambodia, Rwanda, Syria…
Wars never cease
on the earth. Peace is pulverized.
Each battle drags children into a
vortex of anguish
in the front line or at home. They
lose their butterflies among bombs
and bullets.
Pure rapture curls like mango peel
in tension. Tender lives tarnish.
Lullabies are
lost in the death rattle. Scattered
young blood stains history. The
voice from beneath
the headstone is not an auditory
hallucination, but a doleful echo
from a little soul.
The orphans get food in the refugee
camp, but where will they seek their
lost mom and dad?
Childhood charms are mutilated.
They’re prisoners of trauma. A
platoon of terror marches
through their mental corridors.
First published in "The Humans in the Wild" anthology by Swallow Publishing, US.
What If My Beauty
How do I enter my poem into Beauty Contest?
I thought that all beauties had to be bathing.
What if my beauty was to run abundant?
Me and my poems people thought were repugnant
And always on other Soupers I had relied
On ways all of my poems could be beautified.
Use articulate adjuctives and each adverb
Do eliminate all of the things that disturb
And cause much mental endangerment
Drank too much wine that did ferment.
So sorrowful to others my poems may seem
Could never exist or be found in a dream
Why in much sorrow have to be drowned?
Before you forget write each poem down.
Beauty exists in each eye of the beholder
As they grow up and become much older
Some thoughts to you they may occur
All my beauty had become one big blur.
By many each of my poems have been read;
Over and over all of my prayers I have said;
If beauty was found in my poems must surmise
Will be pulverized when presented with Pulitzer Prize.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Just because we wish it so, means not that it will pass;
this lesson’s one we all must learn in the Gamecock class.
Runs my blood, it’s red and black---garnet the deepest hue,
any orange is anathema, do not this misconstrue.
They always fought with all their heart, especially on game day,
ran out to strains two thousand one, sandstorm on white display,
from first kickoff to last tackle, they’d hit with abandon,
they feared no foe, this fact is true, but seldom champion.
Football saints are lively here, from Rogers to Norwood,
When Lattimore took the field, we always felt they could,
defeat all squads, from Florida to the great North land,
and many others in between, I’m sure you understand.
Jadeveon polished our fame, no one could say “Who dat?,”
he pulverized a Wolverine, and handed Smith his hat.
Sidney Rice and Sterling Sharpe could surely catch that ball,
while Alshon and McKinley too, flew often past them all.
Sheldon Brown and John Abraham were known to give a lick,
while Swearinger and Gilmore too, could make a tackle stick.
Ryan Brewer bowled them over, while Succop split the posts,
Connor Shaw and Phil Petty racked up the winning boasts.
So many more graced our field, their names are not forgot,
Wharton and Boyd, Culliver and Ellis, and even A. Pinnock.
Munnerlyn, DiMarco too, and who could forget Ace Sanders?
Ajiboye and Cunningham, were not gridiron outlanders.
Kalimba, Ko, Dunta and Zola, we’ve surely had strange names,
But on the field they won our hearts, and more than a few games.
Faison to Watson, and all others, who flashed their spurs with pride,
we celebrate each footballer who’s graced the Gamecock side!