Bruising Poems - Poems about Bruising

The thread between him and me feel synthetic, As he weaves its fabric with rush, As he makes frantic efforts to chop the distance off, As his desperate hands tighten the clasp, He craves and drools over the smoothness of my skin, My raw body feels it's pressure, Bruising tender arms and muscles I wake up to deep scars and marks, And...

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Words too often have rough edges, bloody histories, lines more defined than relentlessly imaged cliffs, worshipping sacred sunlight shades of high hazards Coveted risks more than needed opportunities to hard wall wail against wild creations unmoved by words without animated calling longing belonging or wooing wilderness Offending worded weapons seducing well-schooled tools Sounds with edges and without Opening and closing edgeless sighing pause Slowly awaiting surf's slow slurried soft slavish turn to reach for shores absorbing thoughtless sand-grained edges....

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Autumn alley more covid masks than leaves When the blues slipped into black there was a bruising of the memory. but it will all pass both the good and bad like blood through broken glass. Don't let dark moments stop the laughter. Don't stop fighting the puppet master. They're trying to put an end to what we believe in. Putting chains to spirit-to the nape...

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And those members of the body which we think to be less honorable, on these we bestow greater honor; and our unpresentable parts have greater modesty, but our presentable parts have no need. But God composed the body, having given greater honor to that part which lacks it, (I Corinthians 12:23, 24 NKJV) It would be...

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Brutal barren breach, Blasphemous beastly backbites, Bruising blog babble. ~~ it is haiku but did it in alliteration.....

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Last line... on him black eyes did sit........drat Cricket...Don It didn't help his hemmaroids, Cos I downed old Darcy Pitt. They wouldn't let me bowl, the nasty game of Cricket. an out you go hows that! twisty ball gets ya wicket, sneaky buggers round the bat, the spinners you don't love, Not a sport for pussycats, inside the old gloves. And the broken fingers, He'll dig you...

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battering is a pattern of power and control it begins with a threat or punching the wall in all of the cultures most common of the victims are the woman and the child how so sickening the trivial contacts which further escalate to serious attacks or culminates in sexual abuse and unwanted activity a huge social problem in many varieties so nice to outsiders pleasant and charming but behind closed doors alarm bells are...

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