Edges Poems | Examples

hope hanging on her edges

white as a wedding cake and bride’s satin dress
feathers as whimsical and frothy as white lace
delicate and delightful, the dove flew into the room
bringing a sense of peace and joy, hope hanging on her edges
the hawks were disturbed; they wanted war and turmoil
they cringed a bit, feeling that God was in the house

Jagged Edges

There are edges Time leaves in passing
      Some of them are jagged
 A few edges are grey and badly torn
Sometimes the jagged are also distorted
      and leave one puzzled, confused
 Some edges can cause disquiet
And we begin to wonder where they were
Were they there all along and not noticed 
      Or, were we able to ignore.
Did we simply whisk them from our life  
 Along with Worry, Sadness, Fear
    
But, sometimes, when we look closely,
Grasping Time from its rushing
 We will see colors behind the jags
      lilac, red, green, blue, amber...
 Some colors will simmer and pop
      Some colors will magically glow
 Those colors we would like to keep
      For they are filled with Hope.

The Jagged Edges

The skyline cuts through faded tones,
With moonglow blazing gilded bronze
And fluid my ink is interlaid
As nightfall drifts like a peace shroud
        The glass pane teeters in the breeze
     With my pen zigzagging on damp papyrus

I hear an old couple laugh on the alley
Their banter rolling , perhaps, of younger times--
Across them, a lone man trots, forlorn
      His bent spine enduring road's travail,
Leading his wobbly feet to tangles of blooms
While egrets scuffle homeward bound.

My mixed thoughts wander at this picture show
       ...Receding off so gradually
From the tip- tap screech of cobblestones
        To my pane's sill, fingers reach for verses
Where each day is a page to write new stories
About jagged yet sleek edges of time's folly
        My hands sinking into tattered phrases, kneading

Recitals of life with unknown episodes.

The Jagged Edges

The barbs she threw at him
left jagged edges on them both
torn from deep within herself
        raw, bloody pieces of meat 
      hurled violently across the room,
          the space, the endless time.
They cleaved to him, each one
      slowly shrouding the man
until he became a prickly porcupine.
Some silent days, from weariness
      would bring respite, closeness.
          In intimacy, his spines
      would prick her open wounds;
They could not help themselves,
        They no longer had control.
And so they lived, or slowly died
      behind soft lace curtains;
        a bitter purgatory
          on the jagged edges
      of a new society.

Jagged Edges No More

  The jagged edges tear apart
The cornerstones of her heart
Each day, there's an emotional dart
Thrown by her counterpart
The husband's venom impart
And sadly, she's his push cart
Where seemingly, she's his spare part
That he abuses with his mouthpart 
She's  fallen to her knees and kick-start
Thus, a bullseye that cries for a depart
For the jagged edges will never depart
But wisely, she needs to be smart
And distance herself from his blackheart
She yearns for smooth edges and a new start
In the end, she clears off her sweetheart

connie pachecho

7/31/25

The Jagged Edges

J with Four Options Poetry Contest: Free verse 
sponsor :Constance La France 
Date:7/31/25

“Not all pain howls, some sharpens”
by poet


I never asked to come out clean
life carved me raw on purpose 
some parts were shaped in silence
        the rest I had to burn
not all soft things were meant to last    
I watched them melt then vanish
      while I turned thorn to anthem
       and dressed my hurt in steel
you think I cracked but I evolved
I had to break open just to breathe
if I could trace the shape of my breaking
      I might learn what it means to remain
still I stand here not whole but aware
jagged edges still holding what I could
I walk with wounds that never fade  
        but shine beneath the skin
my scars all lines of poetry
the world was too quiet to hear
there’s beauty in the splintered
      when you stop calling it a flaw

The Jagged Edges

Pride goes before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.  
Proverbs 16: 18

      she stood tall on the jagged edges of the cliff
face worried as she noticed the rough seas
whilst above high dark clouds rumbled
though the sun shone straight at her face
could it enlighten her about what had happened

      thoughts came and went, as she remembered
the letter he had sent her and wondered
        was she deceived by her soldier and sister
he insulted her refusing to marry him
and she insulted him back vowing
          she would never marry him come what may

      still thoughts rumbled inside her mind
was he really proud or was she prejudiced
          the jagged edges of a knife pierced her soul
could there have been some half-truths in his insults
she still hated him but admired his handsome face
      facts churned in her head and confused her even more
could she face those jagged edges of truths

      she turned and walked down the rough cliff
her soul lacerated with truths and pride

Placed 1

The Jagged Edges

"Life levels off in importance. Days are no longer 
jagged peaks to climb; time is a meadow, 
and we move over it with level steps." 
                                                ~ Gladys Taber


Her life is a page torn from a spiral notebook 
      whose jagged edges are tattered
She's bone weary and wears the haggard scowl
          of a woman whose heart has been badly broken

There are jagged lines, wrinkles and creases
      the kind that ages a beautiful face
where once his fingertips had left a gentle touch
          her skin seems ravaged by sorrow

No longer can she peer into a mirror
      none have been left hanging in her home
Into pointed shards they'd been shattered
          in a moment of hysteria

There are no straight-edged lines in lost love
      for the toll is measured in flesh
and the only traces of it left to recall
           are memories that tussle her mind

There's an emotional mountain she must climb
      jagged edged rocks will impede her way
but when she succeeds in reaching the crest
          from grief she will have been freed

The Jagged Edges

Natural things are rarely smooth
or flawless as they appear on the surface
      Smooth fur on skin and curve on wing
           are rough and jagged underneath
Push back against the grain shows true texture within
       reveals bristling hairs and quill barbs of feathers
          It's the grit within that shapes us
A pearl is smooth but inside is a seed of grit
We need the bumps knurls and gnarls to grip and hold
Slick things slip through silky wet and wanton fingers
          Most natural things are rough at birth
Stones and gold nuggets are fractured rough at source
They're smoothed by wear and tear of sand rubbing in streams
        Babies are smooth at birth but age roughens them
Humans grind away all day at nature's roughness
seeking perfection in shiny smooth and faultless
      Blissfully they're unaware that
it's the faults flaws texture and roughness within
           that glistens shiny the pearl
It's the bumps and gnarls outside that knurls the grip

Blurred Edges of Us

I still think of that day, 
rain pitter-pattered gently around us, 
clouds were the color of gravel. 

Your smile broke through shadows, 
and our laughter mingled like gold. 

Paint splattered against a canvas- 
that's what we were. 

Unpredictability. Chaos. Adoration.  

Does any of it make sense? 

Does it not make you want to crawl out of your skin and sink into the what if?

Frosty Edges

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show." - Andrew Wyeth

Gentle flakes wish on frozen stars
Poetries, like grace, write memoirs
The night sounds like a shadow’s song
Listening to rhythms who belong

Moon rises against black of night
Still as the words making hearts right
Remember the Poet’s words so strong
Listening to rhythms who belong

Snow falls in silence, soft as clouds
Causing night to sing to the crowds
Twilight kills whatever is wrong
Listening to rhythms who belong

Gentle flakes wish on frozen stars
Listening to rhythms who belong

The Dual Edges of Social Media's Sword

Social media, realm where whispers fly,  
A land beneath the vast digital sky.  
Here, every word can travel far,  
Each post and tweet, a potential star.

It binds the world in a tight-knit web,  
Where thoughts and cultures easily ebb.  
A platform broad for voices small,  
In this grand stage, one and all.

Yet in its depths, dangers dwell,  
As truths and lies together swell.  
A double-edged sword, it can deceive,  
Where false narratives weave and leave.

A mighty force for advocacy’s fight,  
It lights up causes in the night.  
From grassroots grows a towering wave,  
Empowering the meek, the brave.

But watch the cost, privacy paid,  
Invisible prices, quietly laid.  
A footprint permanent, never gone,  
In the landscape vast, forever drawn.

A frontier for the bold, the new,  
Where innovations burst into view.  
A pulse of progress, fast and fierce,  
New ideas that pierce the universe.

So wield it well, this potent tool,  
Educate, engage, but never fool.  
For social media’s power, vast and wide,  
Reflects the human spirit, amplified.

Blurred Edges

Blurred edges

Edges seem blurred..

A short story

Seeming to direct

Attention to the

Appearance of

Edges which

Divide no more

Never did divide...

Edges of a Dream

The quiet peace where webs of sleep enrapture,
in twilight thought - the precipice of dreaming.
It's there, the unmapped thresholds of conception
begin to splay within a sultry slumber
the embryos of covert premonitions...

Jagged Edges

Every Curve,
Solid, Straight.
Down steep alleys,
Never too Late.
Time, Shrinking,
May lose its sense. 
Foolish some say,
Feelings, immense.
Genuine the tracks 
Twists and Peaks,
Both sides of every fence, UNIQUE.
Predict things before
Fall into Shape.
Sweet somethings
And whispers, 
Are all the answers you Seek.

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