Knives Poems - Poems about Knives

A silver spoon or a knife They are both made out of metal One showed strife The other one disguise as a skettle The edges are sharp, the wounds are real But they don’t hurt as much as feeling unlovable “I’ll do anything for you “ is all i want to hear It got me doing the unthinkable I would...

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hunger for love is the worst temptation, a bitter, yearning persuasion. many get it so easily, so sweet, but i know sugar’s only for the weak. love for me stings in aching grief, with a metallic aftertaste beneath. me, i taste the blood on my tongue and not for a moment i wish it’d go numb. so i learn, with each bite, to...

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Her wings are sharp and rusty Her might is all a musty Tears of rust she cries As another soul dies Someone minding their buisness Not in a gang just walking the street Going home after work to make ends meet But they met with the angel of death One quick stab they took their last breath A breath that could have been saved But...

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Her wings are sharp and rusty Her might is all a musty Tears of rust she cries As another soul dies Someone minding their buisness Not in a gang just walking the street Going home after work to make ends meet But they met with the angel of death One quick stab they took their last breath A breath that could have been saved But...

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My mother’s words cut deeper than knives. They slash me and live deep inside my skin. Tr’velling to my heart, they eat me alive. Negative remarks radiate within. “I could just murder you right now, you witch.” I keep telling mys’lf I don’t believe her, But the more she talks, the less i can r’sist. They mult’ply and...

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On those long days when it was too hot to ride or run, a boy would find an island of cool beneath a tree and sit there with his pocket knife to whittle away time and a piece of wood. A good blade could shape the hull of a model boat or thinly peel an apple or carve a name clean into the smooth bark...

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steel pointed angel made of knives epitome of juxtaposition shiny, beautiful, glitzy, welcoming also crass, sharp, frightening, dangerous what mind thought to build her? she shows both sides of every woman scary really...

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Twinge of feelings stir in my bosom every time your eyes meet mine reminding me of the scars of our walk leaving trails of bitterness within How I wish to show you how deep your knives cut through my soul yet you only end up seeing how much can my heart bleed for yours...

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Demons go around the world all night, They do their deals with humans from far away, This is why demons aren't scary, It's the things at daytime that are. A spindling spider falls down from the sky, On it's web of mesmerising blood-stained knives, Everyone is scared, phobias acting up, 'why go down?' it says 'when hell is both down and...

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THRUST AND SLASH A sword in a scabbard, hung from the belt For the Teutonic Knights, it costs much geld Heated and tempered but it does not melt Most blades are l straight and double sided Easy to draw as the long blade is guided To the old Eastern mind, such is derided The Moorish influence is in Toledo still With a special...

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I’ll make ya feel it and make ya throb it and I’ve been known to cut it and lob it. So before ya get sliced ya might wanna think twice ‘cos no one cheats on Lorena Bobbitt!. Written: December 2015...

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Drawn with anger, Drawn with bitterness, To attack, hurt and possibly kill, He doesn't want to play the second fiddle, He wants to be at the helm of affairs, To be unseated is to be irrelevant, To have a rival is to be partly significant, All eyes must look up to him, All obeisance must be accrued to him, He is ready...

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My mind ruled the roost in my little world. My mind is the fury below the calm water flow. My mind is the darkness behind the blue summer sky. My mind is revenge for all the cries in your life. My mind is your weapon even in hindsight. My mind is yours forever not just for today or tonight. My mind...

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There's two knights laid out before me. I've got two knives coming up behind me. When I stand up and belt out a warning. These blades will show me no mercy. I'm fresh out of ideas. How can I master you? I haven't got a clue. How can you blame me? There's no mercy. No remorse. No matter what you do. Open up this...

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Joe is an old, withered tiger. Stripes of balsa wood and matches walking in a burning ring of hellfire His shameless tamers snapping whips. From deep blue state shadows to keep afloat the latest ruse. Feeding him grade school scripts. Paraded in front of media buzzards. Most cultures would call it senior abuse. Every now and again he stretches the chain. Gives us...

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