Fragments Poems - Poems about Fragments

A soggy teddy bear lay on the shoulder of the highway— head twisted, limbs askew, its damp fur clinging to gravel and its sightless eyes beseeching heaven. I watched from the backseat, wondering if it was dropped in sorrow or thrown in rage, or left behind after something that didn’t leave anything else. Two women in white nightgowns ran across their front lawn on a frosty full...

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I catch myself staring— At nothing, really— Just blank walls And the rigid ceiling. Wondering what I am doing here. When did it come to this? How did I lose myself? Listening to the wind whistle. It’s as angry and confused as I am, Not knowing which way to go. I hear sadness in the trees, The screams...

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plucking the strings bowing the strings Pizzicato and Arco Favored for it's breathability allowing creativity a movement in stride full meaning and positioning a recurring motif in full sequence and destination it accompanies a specific sound and smoothly changing the mood and emotion to a catchy, memorable, and repetitive more conversational sound a descriptive tone a simpler melody and rhythmic posture then to include lyric with...

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Do not build a ladder when I fall into the abyss I did not call for climbing The thorn in me is not a riddle to be solved, nor a window begging repair I am thunder — not your project; I am rain that needs witness, not your umbrella When I say I’m...

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Would I ever be the person I wanted to be? The one I would look up to, When things got hard. The one who makes me feel less heavy, At heart. Would I ever be her? Her, whose aura screams and wails, Of things unknown to this running world. Her, whose heart is tender, And soul is made up of fragments of her memories....

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In fragments and tatters, in pieces and shards, scattered by the winds of time, I gather them carefully, even if they hurt me, my fingers bleed, but I do not stop, These precious fragments, these bitter shards, these tattered edges and broken tears, I collect them with longing, refusing to let them fall into oblivion, Each piece carries with...

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In the silent twilight of my thoughts, where time unravels into fragments of untouched dreams, I remember that seconds are merely grains of sand scattered in the wind of forgetfulness, For time, this invisible artist, paints its masterpieces on the canvas of our oblivion, And in the waste of moments, I find the beauty of an eternity that...

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to me, my laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard a fork scraping a plate a baby screaming a ceramic vase shattering with every shudder and shake of my shoulders, a shard of ceramic pierces my throat over, and over, and over again, until i am physically unable to let out another sound and my body is just the shell containing a little girl who just wants...

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How does it feel, love? (Can I call you that?) Your once brown eyes, so distant Cold and apathetic I don’t understand, this flow of plundering silence, between us, (What changed?) Where did you go? Your heart, is all locked up in fragments, I don’t seem to understand, how parched your field of mind is (help) All I’m asking, love, What is the password to your heart? How do I get...

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Bury You Deeper Pieces of You Going Under Where You Belong Dust In The Wind You Hope We Live Save Something Still Remembering Eating Me Alive Without You Wish You Were Here Angel Dangerous Game Even When I'm Gone Start Over One More Day Hide And Seek Until The World Ends Erased...

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it is cold: i am old cruel ruminations paralyzing winds sharp icicles lifeless season forgotten dreams life…death / light…dark *->*->*->*->*->*->*-> random cruelty windy paralysis icy roads seasons without life dreams forgotten death…life \ dark…light it is old: i am cold ...

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Fragments Fragments of ships, planes, and trains talk in scratchy voices. The rough here and there erode their respect. ...

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I saw you lift the glass, While I sat still in the class, Staring out at the grass, As Julius Lilos walked past, Lost in thoughts of mass, And echoes of the past, That I can't quite surpass, Bounded by shadows cast, Leaving me gasping fast, Shattered, like broken glass....

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In the shattered mirror of hollow empathy, I see fragments of myself drifting, Like ash butterflies dancing in the cold wind of unspoken truth, And their words—"I can't empathize"—are silver arrows piercing through The illusory veil of superficial consolation, revealing the inner garden Where I alone grow the cucumbers of wisdom, where I water the flowers of courage. And I...

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So we are broken, So we are in pieces. Sometimes broken enough to fit the next person's puzzle— like you did mine. A maze, a mind anxious, somehow you silenced the noise, made it all bearable and still. In pieces, theirs fitting yours, a kind...

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