A BLEEDING MIND REFLECTION
Check your mind’s pressure.
Enlightenment could be low,
And ignorance, high.
Both ways affect its calmness,
And, its true wholeheartedness.
Trapped in a cage wrapped in a rage.
Nearing to an age, bleeding page.
Forever in an age, vomit all over.
No ruffle saved a rotting brain.
There are so many thoughts within one mind;
some are lost, while others are forgotten.
These thoughts begin bleeding out as I write.
I shed tears while missing the sun, all while gazing at the stars burning bright.
Unlocked cage in addiction, but my flesh isn't accepting the loss of the fight.
Take me back to ground zero, beginning with the circle of life.
I reminisce about the garden where my heart still resides.
Replaying every song forever in my mind.
Wishing for God's well of living water, to quench my thirsty soul.
As reconstruction continues, the conversation persists.
Vivid memories dating back to when I was a kid.
Water flows downstream, the river running as much as I am.
Sent a key and a mirror, illuminating what my eyes cannot hide.
I don’t think I’ll ever bleed
a thing so silly as poetry
For life is far too short for me
to dabble in tomfoolery
Why, first I must prepare to make a living
about that I have no misgivings
And raise a family with my wife
to leave a legacy behind in life
Yet maybe, just perhaps, If I weren’t so busy
I’d write about the time I fought a grizzly
Even on subjects heretofore taboo... and
Possibly, like A.E. Milne, one on Winnie-the-Pooh
Hmm. It seems that I’ve been mistaken all along
I think I shall bleed poetry ~ every night and all day long
Looking out my ever-open front door
as the closing day slowly dies
the sun bleeding iridescent colours
across endless turning skies
as I live and breathe
so you won't forget
I'll draw back the curtains
before fading into the sunset
and yet
leave something behind
to illuminate the room
remind those who follow
and dispel any gloom
as the sooner the better
now would be opportune
to shine a light
my words please mark,
to you I say,
“When it's dark
out there,
know what's watt, don't shirk,
put your hands in the air,
for many hands make light work.”
Cold floorboards groan beneath
the weight,
Of shadows trapped inside the gate.
The walls are bleeding memories
past,
In rooms where dying breaths were
cast.
A sudden chill, a phantom stride,
With nowhere left for you to hide.
The staircase creaks without a
foot,
And all your courage turns to soot.
The mirrors distort a twisted face,
That claims this dark, forsaken
place.
You hear the latch, you feel the
dread,
The house belongs to what is
dead.
Nigeria is bleeding
From the incompetence
Of our leaders
Speak up and they'll come for you
But can't go after or come for terrorist
Farmers can't go to farm
Traveling by road in now deadly
Going to church or school
Is now at your own risk.
Nigeria is bleeding
And our leaders are silent
Amidst the shedding
Of innocent blood
Cry for justice everywhere
But ignorance our leaders practice
They always keep us in the dark
Empowering fear and lack
Just to make the people slack and wack.
Nigeria is bleeding
From inflation and more
Insecurity everywhere
While the leaders are secured
The nation is starving
From peace and unity
Due to tribalism
The nation is dysfunctional
How would its inhabitants function now?
Time is only lost when it is forsaken and love in hand is bound by mercy,
For sickness is sweet when the mind is blind,
And what’s controlled in contempt is compromised in vain,
as the enemy is wine if your heart is empty like the sky of a starless night,
for what’s kept close in sin is held in secret,
just like gold as the fool's dream as true blood is pondered not,
The painted wing becomes man’s lust as the taste of victory is better in the arms of fate as the twilight,
And a winter rose is sun-kissed even if it’s swallowed by December’s shame,
So be it in blood,
For what’s sought is bestowed by the Father as the glass hand of fire’s ring,
For what matters most is faith in mystery as the future foretold,
Because what’s benign and blameless in regard is unfound in resolve when equating to the morality of the bleeding sun’s revenge,
And what’s conceived in whim is seen by passing eyes burning in the grave…
You warped my consciousness as a snake chokes its prey,
Being the crayons of my colourless tale meant to be grey,
Once a lonely rope left swinging, now your creeper coils along my way,
A drifting cloud carved by storms finally opens to its long-lost day.
A straight thread now tangles itself into the loops of your thoughts,
Being the spell that breaks open the oldest knots of my hate and curse knots,
Once a lone trunk now splits into paths that rise to make your leaves’ bed,
A lost traveller scorched in heatwave’s furnace finally discovers its shed.
A body consumed by your soil, atom to atom in it,
An exhausted, burning soul dissolves into your gathering clouds as it sits,
Consciousness dilutes in the pure solution of your life,
The last breaths of mine always rest in the veins of your heart’s life.
It is what is coded on my DNA
It is the rhythm of my heartbeat
It is what is engraved on my soul
It is what is written in my anthology
It is my medicine
"MEDICINE "
Yeah, I think that is the perfect word to describe what art means to me
For all the times I felt the urge to down my anti-depressants with alcohol
But chose to bleed on pages instead
For all the times I wanted to curse God for all my pain
But decided to turn my prayers into a poem instead
For the time art kept me company in the midst of my dark hours
For that one time when music bandaged my wounds
And when Phora's album made me feel like I had a companion
Like I an not the only one experiencing this hell
Art saved me
Shattered
They grabbed my heart forcefully
ripping my aorta
The scalpel reaches to the sternum
Cutting 8 inches
The start of a bleeding heart
Secrets flooding my house
As I become tempted to borrow
That paring knife
Used to punish the pain
A mercy calling
I took a joy ride driving from Las Vegas NV
Going to Salt Lake City in one shot
I drove and drove
Trying to decide what I was going to do
Live or die
Now I live to tell
In our darkest hours
Expression in the medium of artistry
Words painting the blank Canvas
Of our life until called to come home.
On snake’s mouth blood there’s none any,
Nor on a bitten one’s body.
Evil officials when prevail,
Ruler nor ruled would wealth avail.
_________________________
Sanskrit Translation | 21.01.2026 | blood, corruption, snake, government, quatrain
Note: Some quatrains called shlokas in Sanskrit are known as Subhaashhitams, words well-said. This one shows what happens when in a kingdom the administration officials are corrupt. A snake bites but leaves evidence of blood on its mouth nor on the person whom it bites. So do the corrupt leave any money trail. They not only drain the treasury of the ruler, of the ruled as well. Transliteration follows.
Na sarpasya mukhe raktam,
na dashtasya kalevare |
Na prajaasu na bhoopaale
dhanam dur-adhikaarini || Subhaashhitam ||
A cutter
Injury to her wrist
Bleeding heart
Glows in dark
Knife splicing her purple pain
Death sliding down drain
bleeding pendulum.
swings back and forth with force, while.
I lie on table.
bleeding pendulum.
swings back and forth with force, while.
I lie on table.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.