Best Scar Poems


This Scar of Mine

There is a scar
                          On my face
                            Small, steadfastly placed
                              One only notices if they are this close 
                                 To kissing my soul
                                   On my cheek
                                      Below the eyes and sideways
                                         Beside the bubble-gum sweet
                                           Mouth, vivacious story teller
                                            like an upside down
                                              sharp angled  half moon                    
                                               The endless emotions of my sky
                                                 So attractively rough
                                                   It attacks the delicate features of my face
                                                    Allowing my streetwise beautiful
                                                      Personality
                                                      To shine through, I don’t hide thetruth
                                                        It’s as plain as the scar on my face
                                                         Life isn’t ugly, you make it that way
                                                          Some days I wish it wasn’t there
                                                          But I always
                                                          Appreciate it’s presence  
                                                          I won’t ever forget
                                                        When I received 
                                                       The blow to my vanity
		            From a fight over youthful yearnings
                                                     Inside this 
                                                   Is my learning processes
                                                Scars hold history
                                             I shall carry with me
                                         Through tough times
                                        Soft and easy, peaceful
                                      To remind me
                                    Of me

Premium Member Running Scar

Here lies a grave,
a conglomerate headstone
without a name.
weeds and cobwebs 
wrapped tight around the heartless edge.
Caretaker rides his rusty deer
pretending he's a nascar stud
waking the dead and stirring mud.
He take's his lunch beneath a tree,
eating twinkies with green fingertips...
For his love he'll steal a wreath,
and place it gently on her grave.
That bears a scar called, 'long forgotten"
A grave he's coined"no name".

Premium Member 'wrath - a Lasting Scar'

Emotions flare
While hope whispers 
Do not give in to anger

Fight the need 

To say things you will regret
Words you can’t take back  
Pain fashioned by fury
Somehow leave a lasting scar

©1212131510


Premium Member A Day Scar Drama

Soundly you sleep, your insides at ease.  Beside 
you, I surge an uncharted storm of fearsome break for 
it thunder-threatens my own sun’s velocity melt.  Your 
breathing is even and bears no concern, no fear or 
resentment squeaks to rust your dream’s churn.  All my 
wishes wish it would; I want it to rob you, break your peace 
to pieces, rough up all your pleases and scatter your calm.

Yesterday morn, the same ever alarm was greeted by our dual
yawns.  I poured your coffee, you jellied my toast, we teased 
about who loved the most versus who knotted our bed covers 
tossed.  I heard the garage jerk and bolt, the squeal of reverse 
being forced and grinned that life so ordinary was actually a 
fulfilling choice.

Later I chanced upon blemish, a day scar drama erasers can’t 
touch, time can’t discard or blow into bits a kind wind might 
take far.  Even hours gone, with eyes closed, I cannot look away.
My insides toss green, then turn blue-black.  My heart is cramped 
and crumpled uneven, and my doubt is sure love-innocent trust 
will never come back.

Our longtime love is not mere try or habit or lie, I know you want 
me at your side, so why not a plan more focused to better secret  
your sordid?  Why carelessly litter dramatic change that my feet 
must step around or in?  You sleep unaware of my awake seeped 
with betrayal:
Passionately you kissed another, gifted eye
smiles on the street to each other,
while I was framed in the window
of our local and favorite grocer.

Premium Member The Scar - Written In Collaboration By Lynn Marie and Victor Buhagiar

Are you happy with your work doctor?

Look at me when I talk to you.

I looked in the mirror you know.

Mirrors don't lie.

What you see is what you get.

Like a miserable computer.

Is this the best you can do?

Look at my scar. Red?

Livid red I should say.

The best aesthetic surgeon in the world!

He slowly rises his eyes to meet mine.

Calmly he reminds me what has taken place.

The surgery is always risky.

The damage done, he grasps

Desperately to say more words,

Any word to vanquish the villainous 
hate hurled at him.

I can see how he wills me

To look into his eyes, begging
silently for grace.

I feel the purple bulge of blood

Beat frantic under my pale skin.

Denial fighting reality

My volcanic pain slips one tear.

He pleads me to see his afflictions,

Hides putrid human failings

That are not borne for this spleen 
of contempt.

I fume, screaming inside my
words back.

Look at me! Look at my scar!

Mirrors don't lie.

Then he comes out with one
fantastic idea:

"I'll pay for everything.

All you need

Is a dainty cheek tattoo!"












For my first collaboration to be with Victor,
is an honour and experience
 I will cherish forever.

To Victor,
I am especially grateful and appreciate your
 generosity, time, kindness and sage tutorials.
You are a true gentleman, extraordinary Poet
and a beautiful friend.
Thank youxx


04-09-2017
© Lynn Marie  Create an image from this poem.

Scar

SCAR
On her right forearm she carries a scar,
Symbol of the comet and the fiery stars.
Found at the crossroads, a scar on the map,
Didn’t realize that her need was a trap.
Mindlessly she picks…she knows how to pick ’em.
When memory takes over does she ever think of him?
Remember the nights aglow with their fire
Caught up in the rapture, driven by desire.
Now she's burning bridges to keep herself warm
Taking full advantage of her nubile form
To get from men what she thinks she needs
And, despite what you’ve heard, she needs,
She bleeds from the scar that she feverishly picks…
Look long if you can she’ll be gone in a quick.
So, when she scratches her scar does she think of him?
Feel a pain in her heart or laugh with a grin?
The scar that burns in her soul like a star…
When words attack they, too, can leave a scar.


Scar Tissue

The bed offers cold
where you used to lie
a chill that lingers 
when dawn paints the sky.
Your abandoned chair
across from mine
is a constant reproach 
and an unwelcome sign 
of a love that died. 

On outings with friends 
I feel their pity
though I wear my best mask 
and try to be witty.
The places I visit 
are different and yet
something always reminds me
won’t let me forget
the love that died.

Time has its way with all wounds
I've discovered
granting healing to some 
letting Death cure the others.
And with every new wound 
the scar tissue spreads,
fibrous and nerveless,
‘til sensation is dead.
And it’s hard to say
if I fear this or not
maybe this ether
is what I have sought
all along.

Premium Member Sorrow Is My Scar

______________________

sorrow is my scar that I keep hidden deep within my heart from the world
it never heals but will bleed forevermore when I think of you mother dear 
and I do . . we lived in a fine house with a garden full of beautiful flowers
we took care of them together drinking tea in the shade and we would talk 
I loved our country drives and how we always got lost (but discovered lots)
I miss your laughter like church bells ringing although you battled illness
mom you were the most courageous person I have or will ever know
as a child you held me close whispering I love you every single day
as a teenager and young woman you forgave me everything I did
as an adult you were my anchor . . . the reason I am this me
and when you lay sick and dying that was my hand holding
and since that day you left me I float like a drifting cloud
I would like to go back to your garden, mother dear
and lay among your scented flowers
I would gather all of them up . . . 
oh, wait at Heaven's gate
I will come one day
or is that a fairy
tale, I tell
myself


____________________
June 1, 2018


Poetry/Narrative/sorrow is my scar
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1028-163-01
All Rights Reserved.  Written Under Pseudonym.

Eleventh September (Engraved Scar)

Would the world forgive?
Destruction of twin towers
echoes of cries and pain
all  the nations in prayer
Ghosts and ashes the remainings
















Its hard to forget,yet lets try to forgive
(Don't hate them ,hate their deed)                                                          Charma

Premium Member A Gifted Scar

He received a scar as a present from her, 
A present when he gave her his heart,
A present wrapped in a lovely red ribbon, 
That would never be pulled apart,

And this scar it grew from a small damaged book, 
It grew to envelop his mind,
It grew and devoured all that he had, 
Leaving him emotionally blind,

Till now, day by day, the ache of this scar, 
It fuels his path to nowhere,
It fuels every small romantic brush stroke, 
And makes his emotions aware,

Of protecting his heart, his itch, his love, 
Keeping it safe from the rain,
Mending this scar of emotional hurt, 
Protecting his heart from the pain.

My Scar , My Life

Mine is but a sad tale
             Cut off and rendered pale 
             Taken down for better things 
             But important , indeed I am
    
             Few are we who stand still 
             Fewer are we who hope to stand 
             And fewest of all, 
             I am.

             Extinct and gone,
             My fate shall not be  
             To face destruction, I shall rise 
              Armed with experience, I will not falter.
              And so, Alive ! I long to be.

Just One More Scar

My resolve was solid:
An unmoving stone,
Covered in cold scars
From years of being alone.

I was never attached.
I kept my distance.
But you... drew me in
Despite my resistance.

Fascination, curiosity,
Grew to admiration.
Then gave rise to delusion:
My ultimate aberration.

I forced myself to think
That the signs were misleading.
That maybe somehow
I was just bad at reading.

But like dawn breaks,
The truth comes out.
I wanted to kill,
I wanted to shout.

My unmoving resolve
Demanded blood!
But before I could speak
Tears came, in a flood.

Now my resolve fails,
Faltering as I watch from afar.
The stone freezes again.
After all... it's just one more scar.
© Brynne Cua  Create an image from this poem.

Scar of a Fallen Angel

there is nothing more beautiful     
than the scar of a fallen angel- 
in broken ivory feathers cloaked,             
wrapped in a veil of mending sutures;                     
                  as she sits,              
her head down-                                   
         clenched fists...                           
awaiting someone to heal her wound                          
                         as she deserves

her honey-hazel eyes as frail as October,
barren skin iridescently tender,
an aria of her melody exclaims what
           she felt like that night-
the fear of falling unwillingly, 
the wonder of what will become of life,
                or death,
                            or both

though woe was worn and her heart torn,
she saw the ebullience in her wound-
the way her scar shined was a marvel,
a PERFECT flaw worn in the dark of night

                though she’s wounded in ways the
heavens cannot heal from afar-
         there’s nothing more lovely
                     than a fallen angel’s beautiful scar
 




February 9, 2018

A Scar For Every Sunset

I’ve been foolish, all of my days 
And it seems I’ve played a fool
Chasing dreams I haven’t made
Fills my heart with the blues 

For one night in heaven
I’d sell my soul into hell
To quench these flames of desire 
You’ve put me underneath your spell

There’s a scar for every sunset
That I don’t spend with you
Each passing day’s another dream
That keeps waiting to come true

There’s a scar on my heart
Even one on my soul
You’d think by now maybe I would learn
Sometimes it’s best to let go

In the morning you’re with me
Right where you’ve been for years
I still carry this want too
It’s the other way I fear

I just can’t seem to come to grips
With the fact that we don’t share
Every single sunset 
Just reminds me you’re not here

There’s a scar for every sunset
That I don’t share with you
Each passing day’s another dream
That keeps waiting to come true

There’s a scar on my heart
Even one on my soul
You’d think by now maybe I would learn
Sometimes it’s best to let go

There’s a scar on my heart 
For every sunset we don’t share
While we may not be together
I still long to someday share

Every single sunset

The Scar

They told me..forget it..! 
 They confused me.. 
 They ordered me... 
 "Control your thoughts.."  

 Whenever I see flowers...
 My heart leaps with joy..
 But when I reach near... 
 They wither.............  

 Whenever I see babies... 
 My heart leaps with joy.. 
 But when I reach near... 
 They cry....... 
 
Whenever I look in mirror, 
It frightens me......... 
 THE SCAR !

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