Lacerations Poems | Examples

The World's Wounds

I have moved on all the continents
Continents, heaven and hell to experience
Experience of happiness and sadness 

Sadness of all colors because of leaders’ carelessness
Carelessness breeds evils because of lies
Lies breaking peace to prompt armed conflicts

Armed conflicts causing wounds to people 
People are wounded in hearts as women endure rape
Rape sending children, men and women into desperation

Desperation as there nowhere hospitals to see for help
Help’s deficiency, causing victims to passing
Passing of neglect, disease or hunger 

Hunger leading to a natural or artificial death
Death after suffering lacerations
Lacerations on the body, the heart and the mind

The mind’s bleeding, the heart’s broken
Broken and hopeless, people’s minds wander
Wander and abandon the environment of the world

The world is wounded but cannot cicatrize
Cicatrization we expect soon, as the healer is to come


Poem by N. Mugisho

Reverse Psychology

The reflection in the water of the woman
Was not pleasing; even to herself she looked 
Hard.
Frown marks were etched deep; two lacerations 
Between her black unruly brows.
Thin lips clamped together in a downward Arc
Showed her disappointment in life; her dissatisfaction.
She didn’t want to go on; She didn’t want to go home.

Her reflection said “I bet you haven’t got the guts to get in like Ophelia did.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed; she actually hated her reflection. 
She took off her green shawl and lay it neatly on the green grass beside the still pond.
The unhappy woman stepped into the pond;
She sunk slowly down through her own reflection.
She had fallen for her own reverse psychology.
And now she is no more.

Coagulate

Finally my blood began to coagulate,
surrendering to wounds from constant battles.
I was fading in shades of an Autumn leaf,
crumbling to seasonal trials,
yet, searching for a remedy
to prevent winds from carrying me away.

In the pantomime of life, 
I've learned how to pretend.
Hiding the truth behind each scar,
visible and invisible, engraved upon my skin.
My soul is a testament to inflictions fought and won.
Sometimes lacerations ache,
yet the pain can never define me.
For within me burns a spirit, fierce and full of flames.
I've soared over storms,
illuminated in the darkest night -
still, I rise to the call of morning Robins.

Each clot forming is a symbol of resilience,
as in the face of adversity, I find my lion nature,
so let the blood coagulate, let healing begin.
I am a samurai not prepared to retire my Katana sword.
Through every trial, I'll emerge stronger,
until it's finally time to go back home.

Soar Up To The Sky

Written: December 13, 2023
          ____________________________________________

If the ocean's water
were used as writing ink for pens
to write down our words of praise
the ocean would eventually dry up
before it might be put in writing.

evil will triumph 
if the righteous remain silent
Inner defect causes blindness
success depends on action
stand up and do what
you realize is right 
 
raise exertion level
a smidgeon suffices 
to allow notions of impetus
you can then sleep well
your pick is akin to lacerations
requires precise timing
curious but uncertain. 
blind attrition is pointless. 

reach for stars
obtain an aerial view of the world
wave farewell to the land
live easily a prospective granted by
you are misusing beauty
greet the passing clouds.

forsake worries and avert your gaze
fear is a foe you must overcome
soar high and be wise.

Shadows

Shadows  9-22-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shadows

Living in ethereal shadows of compassion,
In profiles of grace,
Mercy overshadows stumbling stones
Revealed in a lens of benevolent focus
To eclipse blisters of ebony shades 
With wispy balms of healing from raining penumbras,
No longer shadow boxing with bruising lacerations.

Shadows of grace pursue cutting eclipses
And wraps golden coronas of clarity
Around impenetrable guilt, treachery and betrayal,
Forgiveness foreshadowed in rising cumulous mists
Chasing cringing palls back into impotent hollows
Creating translucent patterns of favor
In delicate dews of lotus clour.

Ever present living pierced hands of agape,
In crimson shadow’s continual canticles,
Engulfs dark demon wraiths with pure mystery
And with silhouettes of the eternal Eden 
Reveals perpetual truth –
No shadow can with withstand
The incense of everlasting grace.

- Stranger -

    His footsteps
    an echo chamber
    on cobblestones
    Ruminative walking -
    shoulders are slumped
    Bruise, wounds and lacerations 
    coagulated blood
    Sour mouth ...bile
    - or vomit ?
    Pebbles splash
    smashes the streets lampshade
    Convincing morbid trance
    The vein pulsates-
    on the outside of the skin
    No antidote
    Signal flashes; red
    Glowing grey exhaust smoke
    Hidden, destroyed
    shadows ...
    The night train 
    passed the stop
    He is gone

Anatomy of Melancholy

She heard pigeons overhead.
Looking up she saw them whirling and gyrating,
Forming ever emerging patterns in the sky.
They soared on and on,
Until they became fading black dots in the blue.

Such sights would have sent her to raptures,
Sometime back...... 
But now when she sees them.
She can only think of the years speeding by,
And the chances missed.
And her whole life- a fading black dot!

She is infected with a virus of melancholy.
She walks with lacerations in her soul.
Pain consumes her without flame.
Forever she wages a battle inside,
To drive out the demons of dejection
But she feels as if a sharp knife,
Is cutting right through her heart,
And she winces at every chop.
Though she tries hard to cover her bruises,
They bleed red and make themselves known.

Pain has sucked her out.
In a leaking vessel, she collects her tears,
To water the parched terrain.
Of her drought-stricken domain
Light has sorely betrayed her. 
And now she lives in perpetual darkness,
Fighting with black shadows
Day in and day out!

May. 13.2023
Anatomy of Melancholy Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Craig Cornish

Sun

a simple stone’s throw
in azure lacerations —
fractals of sunlight

Aspiring Alliteration Completed 2-28-23

All answers affect aspirations
By belittling bygone barbarizations
Constantly criticizing correlations
Defined dumbfounded dictations
Edicts evaporate everyone's expectations
Foregone frustrations failed flirtations
Gone great grace giving generations
Harmonies have harmonious hesitations
Impotence influences indignations
Justified judicious justifications
Killing kaputz keratinizations
Living life lonely leaves lacerations
My muse motivated monumental mutations
Nonsense needed no normalizations
Offended overintellectualizations
Past promises purely placations
Questioning quarreling quotations
Resisting relevant restifications
Sentient solutions solve segregations
Total trust triumphs trepidations
Utopias undermined ultralizations
Viciousness visualized victimizations
Worthless weaponizations
Xenodochial xenophilications
Yawn Yuppifications
Zenith zealousness zendrifications

Renascence

Its boughs spread like a giant umbrella, 
Its girth, like the span of many hands,
Its foliage was lustrous green and exuberant,
Its roots dispersed like the tentacles of an octopus.

This tree stood tall and strong,
It stood against the tides of seasons,
It withstood fierce winds, 
It swirled and danced to their rhythms.

It was the admiration of many people,
They praised and talked about its resilience,
Children played around it until sunset,
Travellers took refuge under its shade,
Others took parts of it for herbs and spices.

Nobody knew what it went through on the inside,
Little cuts metamorphosed into deep wounds,
Tiny slashes transformed into intense lacerations,
These were recalcitrant to healing.

There was a raging storm,
It passed through the town, 
It shook everything to its foundation,
It pulled down and ripped apart,
This tree bowed to its wake.

A part of it held the forte,
It only took a while,
After spring,
There was an awakening,
It sprouted and budded again.



November 6, 2022.
Renascence,
This or That, Vol 14 Poetry Contest,
Edward Ibeh.

Scary Night

Darkness descending,
Dread ascending,
Living dead crawl out of unseen places,
Walking with lacerations and mutilated faces.

Enchantresses are eager to cast spells,
Lightning bolts fly around like shells,
Hade's gates are wide open,
Silhouette creatures come for the chosen.

Vampires stealthy come out of their closets,
With flaming eyes, they morph into bats,
A Halloween with uncanny deposits,
On broomsticks, witches take flight with black cats.

Gloom pervades the day,
Creepy crawling things move like tendrils,
They cluster the pathway,
A cauldron is seething with pigs' entrails.




October 30, 2022.
Halloween Poetry Contest,
Emile Pinet.

Squeaking On

A camera occasionally caught us sealed within
album leaf’s
ten years, twenty years later;
folios still fastened to a distant past.

I don’t miss you, and this is not a love letter.
Too many cuts with thin edged blades;
invisible lacerations
that nonetheless bled into words,
and those words hemorrhaged.

Last night, in the backyard, a mouse died,
but before it did,
it called out to the owl that killed it:
Better to die now, then as a small squeak, only wounded,
damaged just enough to bleed on,
inside a memory of what once was.

Honeyland

Honey sticks to cinnamon words 
on the lips of the poet;
Nothing feels quite like sugar;
Every drop a little rush,
yet stuck in a web of writer's block;
Lacerations, sticky with that prose
always trip dripping when comfortable;
Noting a phrase from your imagination,
dictation head over heels for Honeyland.

I Need a Band-Aid

Why must this world bleed 
when I bleed 
Why must I bare burden
upon me
Why does life make me 
angry
Why must I feel so
empty
Yet I am still here
In envy
Lacerations go deep 
so deep
toxic air It is 
heavy  
In my lungs 
i must 
i must breath
I'll never show how much 
I need you 
You'll never know how much 
you need me
Until the day you no longer
see me 
Why must this world bleed 
when I bleed

Cold Pulsation

Her anger blows 
frigid, like Arctic wind
Tears of hostile disposition flows 
bosom lethal — 
Pulmonary liquid nitrogen

Acrimonious breath
expel serrated exclamations
Jagged exhalation
feels like six below death
Such an icy sensation

Formaldehyde intimation,
cadaver cold pulsation

Got a cryogenic nature
that resides
in an unemotional South Pole 

Frostbite vocals
has igloo vibrations
Freezer burn temperamental flatline
show glacial striations

Sub-zero body language 
Kilimanjaro translate
hypothermia lacerations

Those neon palpitations
has taken nether hold
Arrhythmic separation
breaks at the 
jilted Fahrenheit of six below

Pulsating pain, so cadaver cold


09-10-21

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