Gutting Poems | Examples

A predator came calling

We forgot to close the coop and a
predator came calling.
We became entangled by his loop
and now the government he's uphauling.
We let a nemesis on the premises,
so billionaires he's installing..
Slashing and gutting Federal agencies.
What will survive this mauling?
The chaos and the casualties,
so tragic and appalling..

To Those Who Stand in the Flame

To Those Who Stand in the Flame

Your sweat and tears
are felt in the quiet spaces—
we see how you toil where
the air burns, heavy with ghosts,
how strangers rise in the 
name of saving.

Hands and hearts steady,
bearing the weight of devastation—
through these gutting days,
we owe the stars to you.

-

This poem honors the brave souls—firefighters, neighbors, and kind strangers—who have faced the flames with unyielding resolve. In a city shrouded by smoke, you have become the light, carrying hope and humanity through the ash-strewn days. Your courage and care remind us that even in destruction, there is a quiet force that holds us together.

Reverie Era Flow

Era
 
Flow
 
Deep within myself I'm visually parched;
Gutting held up and fed up in my search
 Idea darkness across my lips hurts
 
Joy inside mine instill heart
 Kindness just engulfs me
 Life preserves passions deep 
Give  Live
 
Myth my none truth sold
 Warm way nor hot nor cold
Idea darkness across my lips hurts
 
Joy inside mine instill heart
 Kindness just engulfs meet
 Life preserves passions deep 

Reverie day dream is a beautiful 
Word representing a uniquely human ability

Era
 
Flow

10/6/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©

Deckie Heavrn

Is there a place in heaven
Where old deckies muster
A sheltered safe haven away
From any wild storm's bluster
From sail to steam to diesel
United one and all
By the harvesting of the sea 
And the handling of the trawl.
Do the different generations
Mingle to chat about the life
United by the fishing and
The razored gutting knife

Do the three day millionaires
In their bell bottomed trews
Their slim Jim ties
Their brothel creeper shoes
Mix with the fishermen
Of all the fishing nations
Is it an easy mix of
Fishing's  generations.
Do they observe a silence
When the latest vessel sinks
Welcome new brothers with
Heavenly ambrosiac drinks.

Is their a deckies heaven
For those who paid the cost
For those quiet heroes counted
Amongst fishing's lives lost.
Do they gather in their thousands
To chew the fat about it all
Do they relive their memories
Of the following of the trawl.
Is there a place in heaven
Where old deckies muster
A sheltered safe haven away
From any wild storm's bluster

All Thoughts Falling Short

emperors run empires
kingdoms are for royalty
religion owned by paedophiles 
and numpties run the countries 

democracy is a mockery
communists and conning tricks 
socialists are emotionalists 
and dictators are just total pricks 

people need controlling
but never trust control
conspiracies are interesting
what do cover ups up hold 

a story just to past the time
yet some commit and pick a side 
others say they're out their mind
nit picking their twisted find

belief in God or not a God
always seeks a closure
and then one day just like that
your clucking life is over 

a stupid slab stands in the ground
this is where your corpse is found 
athletic, thin or somewhat round 
once made noise to not a sound

and everything is stuck and spoiled 
rotting deep beneath the soil 
at least you're not a lobster....
those poor gits get gutting boiled 

gutted before their gutted
destined for your hungry gut
you'll see your day disrupted
as they erupt out of your butt 

some call it a miracle 
the part we play is miniscule 
destined as a particle
i think life is fart-cical

Whine Not

Wanted sleep – “death will guarantee it, one un-promised morrow”
Hunger panged – “a meal or two skipped, will not ruin your health”
Icky grossness – “psyche your gut strong and start gutting the Ahi”
No appetite – “waste not, and think of all those dying of starvation”
Elevated brags – “you’re no better than other mortals, we’ll all die!”

Never minded a child’s request: do as I say, not as I do, always won
Of the unceasing smoking, lungs blackened to cough a bloody achoo
The whine isn’t always groundless; listen fore you bullishly silence it!

(9/9/20: '01 Regal Commodore 3260; DMS)

Romeo Is Bleeding

Your Romeo is bleeding.
Yet you choose not to see his blood;
nor feel the pain throbbing through his heart.
You brandish love like a saber,
slashing through his dreams;
while gutting his hopes.
Oblivious to their cutting-edge,
your words wounded his injured pride.
and this Romeo bleeds, silently;
invisible in the shadow of your disdain.
You steal his very breath away,
and yet, to you, he doesn't exist:
he's no more than a moth, attracted to your light.
The love bug metamorphoses into a sweet smile
fluttering at the fringes of his happiness;
until you swat it down, and it dies as a frown.
Unbeknownst to you,
Romeo's cries of despair 
get reduced to mere background noise:
and you walk past him,
like he wasn't even there.

Limited Shelf Life

Contemporary hunters wielding 21st century weapons of influence

Firing indiscreetly upon blindfolded hostages that double as their clients

Mutilating their customer case before gutting them with ease

once they're expendable


Feasting upon the impoverished entrails

until there is not a shred of identifiable human flesh

Disturbingly convenient as it is prevalent

Once the remains cannot be recognized as human,

there is no chance, not even a miniscule possibily, of retribution

There is no face and no conscious voice

to  demand justice for countless grievances


The corpses sink into the Earth where they

are subjected to further degradation

Posthumously polluted with the toxicity emanating from murderous mouths

Remain Still Believe

Teach your young to accept defeat,

or one day there will be a referendum and you'll never hear the end of it,

don't allow their anger remain,
don't allow their protest,

teach them self respect and pride in defeat,
show them bitterness in others
teach them bigotry
make them liberal, accepting of difference,

Do not raise a Liberal Democrat,
they do not accept opposite views as their name suggests,
nor do they accept democracy as their name suggests.

Teach your young to accept defeat,
because life must be gutting when you remain in reject of it.

(clever title wasn't it, remain, it's time to accept and live, you might die tomorrow, 3 years have gone by and you stay angry, why? Why?)

Israel the Myth

I'm Israel
for once I was real
now I'm nothing but a living hell
the ruthless child and his deceiving spell 
once upon an Israel
now the eye in the capstone 
wants your palestinian home 
yet you can't escape my tribulation appeal
i disappeared leaving an ancient zest
I'm an internal quest
yet you battle for the impossible to manifest
you never listened ,you never believed
now rolling in my grave while you're being deceived
my destroyers were gutting the earth
eastern europeans to middle eastern Israelites giving birth 
where else can you say shalom while stealing and destroying homes 
hidden sigils ,books for crooks
conjuring and invoking 
the hermaphrodite is giving my fake rebirth
ushering the two nations myth 
while all serves the congregation
setting the promise land
but Him never built castles of sand
as you're all taking the stamp
wait for your fake black hoofed lamp.
Tamer Hossam

My Last Day

My Last Day

The morning light it had lifted my soul
 In these early hours, as I left my home.
 I was unaware he was following me
 He had patience he waited until I was alone.

I had seen a man from my windows above
 I could see someone under the tree
 I should then have followed my gut
 But, as it turned out, he ended up gutting me

I had received the calls and then letters had come.
 When I reported, they said "it was just harmless fun".
 Didn't feel like that, when the knife sliced open my throat.
 They’d said it was “probably nothing. It was all gone and done”.

I had traveled my route time and again/
 Never before felt unease or sensed danger about
 But, since those calls that had come to me
 I was nervous I felt my safety was in doubt.

He pounced from behind he let his blade do the work
 My body had sagged, I fell to my knees.
 I couldn’t muster the strength to put up a fight
 My eyes carried the vision only the cold eyes of death sees

The darkness, it approaches now,
 I feel my life force ebbing away.
 The cold dank floor does not comfort me
 I never knew this would be my last day.

Coming of Age On a Tiny Isle

coming of age on a tiny isle

my father reached out his hand to me and took my bag of marbles including my hand made "shooter" of red river clay hardened by fire and ground to roundness against a flat grainy rock
near perfect 
at least to me
even though it wobbled a bit in it's travels to capture the prize from Jeffy
my friend
my enemy
"it's time" was all my father said to me on my first day of being eight years old
my childhood was over
the old boat needed patching
fish needed scaling and gutting
shrimp needed to be shelled and cleaned
summer had started and the few people with money
shambled up to buy the daily catch
wrapped in paper

on this tiny island
this small sliver of sand and scrub
stood three shacks lived in for four generations
the mainland shimmered in the near distance and we knew that my father's calling would be the last of his kind
the far rich shore beckons to me 
and someday soon...

Quick

Reading diaries of different discussion blots is considered to be akin to perusing the top shelf of a historical library section. Each label once worn drops like stones sinking into the carpet and creases of streamed floorboards. Floorboards do float don't they? Have you not seen the many that pass the doors? They are quicker than the doors anyway so best spray the armpits and go jogging then. Thought the woodworm athletic tribe. Gathering gabled garbled gargling gatherings greet giant Gregorian gargoyles getting generally gifted garters gutting grouped gismo geckos. How triumphant then? And hopefully a dance will last longer than a sharp snapped second. Seconds are neither seams, seamstresses, nor stressed sultanas in safaris and saris, nor are they acrimonious android alphabetical alpacas racing to a degree of a nine foot tail spin. Ring ran road. And a big lorry leering. Lecherously. Leeches lingering. And limbs lumber. How rather audaciously brilliant then. Isn't it? Kent jam race on the large spoon. Z meteorologic Z at fifty cones carving creative cosmoses' to sixteen apples in leotards cheering on the waves. 1 2 3 4 ~ and clam. Z

Gutted

Disembowelled
Mackerel sky blue and light blue strips 
perhaps it was the zebra of the sea swimming away in haste 
                                     I was gutting one
                                     No big deal 
                                     I was learning to cook at the time
Inside the fish was a finger with a ring made of gold, but 
I vomited, and the master- Cook took the ring.
                                     The school is now a catering academy
                                      Teaches the same as before
                                      But academy sounds more learned
                                      A cook is now a chef has got a diploma

Guilt

it's just the guilt of being me
that makes the light too dim to see,
that stands in the way of being free.
that little spot that disagrees
and brings me down on my knees
is the same spot that begs and pleads
for someone to pick up my apologies.
the shadows in my eyes won't let me hide
from the people i love so very dearly.
my silence will show and distance will grow
when i know they're seeing me clearly.
viewing the world from a nosebleed seat
because gutting guilt isn't discreet
and it gets heavier with each person i meet.
sweet and kind with an unsolved mind
designed to dismantle every thought
good or bad
glad or sad
till nothing means anything anymore.
the guilt trips me up and i'm sorry.
i know it's getting repetitive but i'm sorry.
i don't mean to be so gloomy
and i'm hoping you see through me
because i just need someone to tell me
not everything is my fault.

• Short Gutting Poems
• Famous Gutting Poems
• Best Gutting Poems
• Read Gutting Poems
• Long Gutting Poems
• Gutting Quotes