Bladed Poems | Examples

The Garrid Oom - A Scary Tale

he brove a garrid oom
deemotted uve 
and lookied goom
  eek eek
he seddle as
his bladed morble
hoom

around the camp fire
all agogged
this tale hooed
  awoy awoy
then fobble fo
such gory scary
tooed

he brove a garrid oom
his beast now dead
by morble blade
  hay hay
to victory
and all aglad
they stayed

Whisper

we keep away from the racket
street noise, huffing and puffing
to whisper intimately, a lilt of catchy
its weight of dandelions seeded
an ebb and flow of what others thinly imagine

we whisper a new kind of lyric
personalized
gratifying 
soft words of casual enticement
me finding her eyes that dart like Dagwood tumbles
whispers to remind her of our shared love of lines
like Picasso angles
or lines of pine trees in backlit light
as hawk wings tower their bladed lines of life

hushed words
crafted to startle and surprise
a certain feeling of time slowing
what could go wrong in whispers
like syrup on waffles?
our way to trace clues of pleasure
rich in concealment 
to fill our minds
with music at low volume
played within a world
as it is
pulling apart
tilted at us

Rust

RUST

I am iron and so strong
An age named after me
From ore I am extracted
Forged then beaten hard
Melted and well tempered
Into long bladed weapons
Or more mundane items
Claiming a successful role
In mankind’s development
Used in major construction
Bridges, chains and towers
Yet, with age and exposed
After years in the sultry air
I gain a dull reddish layer
As oxygen and I are joined
And continue to coexist
I am still me, and strong
Wearing a thickening coat
Yet I’ll stubbornly refuse
To concede my strength
Until that final moment
As rust gains advantage
And weakens me enough
That I must admit defeat
Probably to crack or break
And return to the earth

Homewrecked

There once was a girl,
Her life in a whirl,
As she questioned her life,
And all she could do was ask herself why,
Why did she deserves such strife,
For love and for security,
Her purity became dirtied,
And wished she could end it with a sharp bladed knife.
Good bye, love
Good bye, sadness,
Good bye everything she was once handed,
Good bye stress, I must confess you are the last one I shall miss
What is a world without beauty,
What is life without some security,
A roof over my head and food in my belly,
Is now a luxury instead of a need,
So I get on my knotted steed and jump into the heavens,
I take my last breath,
My dear home wreckers,
Was it worth it in the end?

Blood On the Snow

hold the temperamental winter
stay for the rape of the chaste and pure
let the white be stained thus
that the cold may numb us

frozen eyes before a mirror
pleading veins invite the dagger

hold your stifling beats, frostbitten heart
lest shatter into a thousand shards
let the flakes leave their cuts
that the cold may take us

statuesque beneath the showers
silent rains of bladed slivers

as icicle tears have nowhere to flow
there's pain in the ice and blood on the snow

i lie here with wraiths and
meandering ghosts
the banshee of conscience
will still cast echoes

pallid faces; the warmth severed
the cold is sharpest when remembered

hold the reverberating shivers

as icicle tears have nowhere to flow
there's pain in the ice and blood on the snow

Immortal Love

"Why think separately of this life than the next when one is born from the last? Time is always short for those who need it, but for those who love, it lasts forever." - Dracula Untold 

Love that faded in light of morn,
in bite of dusk, it was reborn. 
A parted leaf in gust of fall;
In spring, it flourished after all. 

A tale of love that is immortal;
Love is lasting, though heart is mortal. 
The fire of love will forever glow,
even if time will halt its flow. 

Where hands of time seem to be short,
a heart that loves finds its resort. 
Even if sank by hardest rain,
in bite of dusk, it will rise again. 

Even the bite of a bladed silver 
can't cause its verve to die forever.
Whether the sky is gray or blue 
nothing can kill a love that's true. 

February 28, 2023 

Strand Premiere No 1192 Poetry Contest (1st place) 
Sponsored By: Brian Strand

Running the Cycle

You hated that cycle
Stationary, destructive
You would never ride
You would be instructive
...training behavior

The moment she arrived
You held her in purity
Cuddling and kissing
The absolute assurity 
...I AM GOOD

Less than a year, gone
And you found yourself on
That blackened throne
You recognized wrong doing
Certainly worth pursuing
Getting her out of the zone
...destroying thoughts

It was skin on the petal
Chasing the air with bladed medal
Numb to screams of pain
Til the nasty demon was slain
...crying MERCY

Years past her trauma
She had created a world of drama
Blaming you for all her sorrow
You had become what you loathed
Completely clothed
In the wardrobe you had to borrow
...for the exercise

Sweet daughter, you have value
Still a baby in Mama's arms
It is the trauma that cycles
Bringing all that destroys and harms
...understanding

TRUTH remains...you are LOVED

Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-04-2023
...

I Call It Anger Displacement

[]
i call it anger displacement
see how many s i can get in one sentence
 etty    it
effort is another reason
i seldo
start were i finished
There is very little humanity i tolerate
if i had a 
to much effort to give it

little i hate
littler i love
not mad for seeing what's coming
we have doomed ourselves
cant hear for the jet engine high above
as it rips through the sky
I am sorry for the skies
that bountiful blue with cloud creatures astrewn- i know but sounds right
every bladed grass
every orchard paved
all the beaches have no water
just rinse the glass once more

Hope the cats and dogs take over
and reign

A Chilling Winter

Is it really colder this winter?
Or is the world growing colder towards one another?
Shouldn’t it have been cooler rather than colder?
The sounds of machine guns held by men toting them have replaced those of snow guns…

Where snow blades should have been seen,
Bladed weapons are umpteen,
No church bells can be heard,
But they are simply tolling for the dead.

Men are not masked as Santa Claus spreading joy,
But rather the sickness by going around without masks with an intent to destroy…

Not yet another thrilling winter but…

Such a chilling winter! Such a chilling winter!

Wetlands- a Gift

The beautiful marshy lands,

With bugs, flowers and dunes of sand

I could hear the chirping birds around,
Between the bare ground.

The edges of the grass are sharp and bladed
Above the horizon is faded.

White clouds and Summer sky
Over marsh grasses butterflies fly

How beautiful are these Wetlands
With bugs, flowers and dunes of sand.

We enjoy their beauty,

Without thinking about their duty

The duty of controlling the natural disasters,

As if they are the masters.

But if they were not there,

Then what will happen everywhere.

Realizing the situation

Let's pledge for wetlands conservation.

How beautiful are these Wetlands,
With bugs, flowers and dunes of Sand.

~Deveshi Hans

Invisible Illness

It's a wild ride, laughing and screaming at you. 

I feel as if I am in a fun house of emotions 

With psychotic clowns controlling my every move 

I'm their marionette being pulled in every direction by my warring nerves 

The background music is the sounds of my un-controlled laughter and crying the very same second 

My breathing is labored with tightness in my lungs 

Short, quick breaths to keep me floating in this quickly filling drowning pool 

I am too nice to hate and am trapped in life between love and hate 

I want to complain, but then you will see the real pain - I am in 

I want to walk, but cause my body tremendous exertion 

I want to talk, but cause my body pure exhaustion 

I want to do good, but it all results in damaging myself more 

Do I sit here and just deteriorate? 

Or do I try to strive, tearing my body apart even more than it is? 

I guess it doesn't matter which side of the double-bladed sword cuts you 

They're both just as sharp.

P E T a L S O F T H E M O O N

The sonnets I’ll be writing about cinnamon would probably not what anyone told you. Yes, it is not that sweet, spicy-hot scent that dispersed throughout soft air. He loathed it. Its smell doesn’t seem crisp and cheery for Drake. Just the thought of it brings him headache, irritating beyond measures. 
Some would find that brownish compound to be exciting, reminding them of their joyful family meals. His, was a heavy night with blooming orchids having bladed flowers. Intoxicating. Spreading through the sheets of his foolish yesterday when morning wakes up in heavy black eyes. And yeah, he still believes that sometimes tomorrow isn’t something you look forward to… because days can be illiterate, too.  Somber. Discriminating. The world sometimes chooses people to sniff the petals of the moon, then some get a whiff of blood, broken ribs and bruised arms while a jam-packed of delish cuisines were served in an elegant table. Now, tell him where on earth can a kid lives jovial and fair?


From the book “Scentsibility”, an Amazon Best Seller


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To Solidarity's Bladed Name

Solidarity, with your bladed name
Would you take mercy on this silent soul?
For solitude, born with you in the flame
Of human heart, it burns bright hearts to coal
And makes a wasteland of the shining eyes
Of little youths who dare and hope for light.
Would you, togetherness, be biting lies
For yearning ghosts who seek your gentle night?
Mythic and unseen, do you yet slumber
Denying little wraiths your firm embrace
And make of them little more than spectres?
Dear amity, you speak of mighty grace,
But as I burn alive in lonely mist
I wonder, yes, if you truly exist.

And Then the Sun Will Rise

Life just one of many tares 
upon our soul’s lost fabric shorn.
smaller losses grown beside 
such little mosses sown.
breeding lichen friends to all; 
mounting by and bye,
in hopes to high escape the wall.
When first lost directions fallow; 
tomorrow is the laugh,
so lilting shallow life, the fatted calf.
Breech the breeze; her golden face and sleeve
her bladed arc swung longe to endless grieve.
for thou art made of mud and such,
unbeknownst; until a touch,
and then 
the sun will rise.

I Can'T Breathe

Whisper chases the wind
Along with your eyes that caress my skin
Inch by inches you tore me by the look of a sin
Blanket me with your silly paradigm scheme

Silenced by the judgement of color
You kneed my pride down under your power
No excuses, no chance to stand for an honor
For the plead has turned to sour

One soul has lost infront of the shutter's lens
Million eyes blazed over your mind's dense
Bladed words soar amid the clouds
Voicing the tearing hearts in the aisles of crowds

You take every breath that I breathe
Universe returns every pieces that shatter underneath
Unable to hide behind your own justice
Let the truth sit atop of its own prejudice

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