Blisters Poems - Poems about Blisters

I am the twin of light, born from the sun’s warm embrace. Stars emerge quietly, from the labor of hands, carving history into the sky, each blister a tale yet to be shared....

Continue reading...

11-year-old farm hands David J Walker What do the city kids do In the summer We The 11-year-old farmhands Don’t know All we know is Which end of the hoe Goes into the hard ground And which end will blister Our hands...

Continue reading...

roses and champagne crimson petals sparkling rain carpet burns insane By David Kavanagh...

Continue reading...

White walls Red lights Coloured umbrella Creating hole on the paint Human laying on the bed Holding a cute non sexy doll named Jason Been two weeks, Still trying to rap her hands On stuff to do and not to do Who to love and not to love How to go back to the one she loved Or stay fix to the one she...

Continue reading...

In the late 1960’s, Granny washed dishes By hand – no dishwasher for her; Though she often had her daughter wash Who was 10 years older than I was Who I followed every waking hour Who I loved as only a sister is loved Who I would always, to this day, admire She was the one who taught me everything – To dream,...

Continue reading...

One can live out his life with no baggage but may hang on a rope to stay alive a site seem as weak, bags out bad knowledge to put its life in a box and deprive from big cuts to acid lips, the damage fun’s in the air, she only sees the jive the one with the whip uses bad language Poor...

Continue reading...

Dream-Blisters by Odin Roark “…Like the glow of star-dispelling lights rising, saturating air from 5th Ave to Trump Towers, to the Bronx, atop the bridges glinting brazen shouts. “Hurt and pain guised as success, a purulent throb of discharge, woulda coulda shoulda now, like always, decorative wounds, cover-ups flung high over and through, settling seasonally in Pennsylvania 2nd homes, where farm animals gaze from...

Continue reading...

You can hear the shake and crackle as burnin' flames of grass are crawlin' cross the bitterness and loss. No farmer breaking free from a field today to catch noon time plate of sweet corn, chicken, and key-lime pie. There's no one breakin' from fields 'cause empty fields are dying, dead and gone. And this dried out drought keeps...

Continue reading...

Damn it’s hot How does the wind make the sand Stand up and dance like that Why is the shade so close to Those sharp spikes I’ll have to dig a hole to really Cool off Piling the sand on the sun side At least the cactus tastes good That’s it No more day trips Nightwalkers get to shiver...

Continue reading...