Long Damaged Poems
Long Damaged Poems. Below are the most popular long Damaged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Damaged poems by poem length and keyword.
Ignorant, is not my identity in my struggle for my race.
Damaged, is not my identity by the disparaging arrows flung at me.
Effected, is not my identity to the wickedness of man.
Negligent, is not my identity as a moral human being.
Tattered, is not my identity.
Impatient, is not my identity to the slow walk in my ancestor's shoes.
Transparent, is not my identity.
Yes, it is not my identity to be caught up in the windmills of others' minds.
Ideology, my identity is invested.
Distinguished is my identity in my faith in the almighty God.
Emancipated is my identity from a life of mental oppression and inhibition.
Navigated am I with a strong will to be a part of a struggle for justice.
Tenacity is my identity.
Ignited is my identity blazed in the hope of a change.
Tagged is my identity by the history of my culture.
Youthful optimism is one of the many facets of my identity.
copyright 2016
Colossians 3:15
And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body, and be ye thankful.
Fingertips touch the polaroid photo
my smile is transformed to teardrops;
Locked in a box for so long
I’d almost forgotten that moment;
It wears a crease but not badly damaged
maybe now I can bear the scar;
Traveling instantly back
will finally not give me whiplash;
Frolicking in the bygone reflections
dappled with beams of history;
Perception stood suspended
out of touch with time moving forward;
Emotions transform into a slideshow
each image a sliver of me;
Erased permanent branding,
an edge blacked out with magic marker;
Encased indefinitely in a frame
it’s okay to place on the shelf;
Lighting up at life’s snapshot,
I let the past revisit my mind.
It’s a constant battle with my mind
Rehearsing things I have left behind
Reviewing scenarios like a thesis in school
Visualizing moments that were unbearably cruel.
The video seems to be on repeat
As I begin to slowly retreat.
While others dance in the refreshing rain
I feaster in old familiar pain.
As the predators smile in utter glee
I am left feeling vacant…. Completely empty.
I know that I can never get back time
It’s time that seems to be my crime
I Wasted it on fruitless endeavors
Filled with delusion, while thinking I was clever
I am not where I want to be
I know there is a light set before me
I am not what others once knew
But, at times, it is hard to continue to pursue
Damaged they call it, jaded they say
I am diamond, on fire, being purified each day.
Breaking the cycles
Destroying the lies
Does somebody hear my little girl cries?
You heal as you grow
And grow while you heal
Guarding the gates from those that like to steal.
People are funny, they never admit
Can this be all there is? Will I ever leave this pit?
I am locked in a cage of my own
How do I get out? I was never shown.
Missing what was... instead of embracing what will be
This trapped door has me in a place, but I am holding the key
Only love from another can break down these walls
I know he can see me as I crawl.
When you’re down on your knees
You can finally see
It’s a touch from God that can set you free!
By: Sabina Nicole
“Over 320,000 children under five now stand on the brink of collapse—
grasping for food that no longer arrives.
Schools lie silent—97% damaged, their futures paved in rubble.
In May alone, over 5,100 children were treated for acute malnutrition.
Over 18,000 children have died; another 45,000 wounded—some missing limbs, some missing home.
Every day, more children lie lost in famine, displaced, or gasping for breath”.
Last week I met a home security technician,
He said his name was Hamad, I heard it wrong as Hamas,
Although he works hard and lives in USA,
He was proud to say he was a Palestinian, from Jerusalem in Israel.
Palestine was the ancient land of God,
Adam and Eve lived and tasted the apple which grew there,
It was a land of peace and wisdom,
Till politics destroyed and divided the nation of Palestine.
Hamad contributes whatever money he can save,
To feed the hungry children of Gaza,
He can not eat Kababs and Shawarmas,
When he sees hungry children and parents looking desperately for food.
In the ruins of dawn, where laughter once played,
Children rise—not to school, but to haunting haze.
Tiny hands reach for nothing but dust,
Their dreams broken, swallowed by hunger and rust.
Once, they sang under the olive tree—
bodies light with song, hearts unburdened.
Now the branches stand silent, leaning over empty schools and broken tents.
They wait for olive-picking futures, now harvested by time’s neglect.
Even as famine steals their breath,
their spirits bloom under rubble-laden skies.
Their absence echoes louder than their presence—
every empty swing, every closed school door, every lull in song.
We must not turn away. At least donate some money for the starving kids.
Donate at wck.org or your favorite charity.
Let this poem be more than words—a call to witness, to humanize, and to act.
The Dandy
Why tug and pull and wrench the beauty out
And leave a hole wherein she sat
When her crowning glory has a sunny glow
Closely cropped above her shape
With slender form that’s cloaked in green
From which her spiky limbs stand proud
Now thrown upon a united pile
Forlorn and shriveled, bent, unkempt
Exuding milky fluid from her damaged body
Her foes delight in her agone and gloat
No more the endless anchor that roots her to the spot
She joins the multitude of fading family
Whose ancient cures from way before
Fixed ills and made life better
A sun seeker removed from Eden
The childhood clock amid the meadows
That tells the world it’s time to go
Daphne
Daphne was definitely not a flirt
Dynamic and fierce, boy she could hurt
Clumsy in movement, robust, but with poise
Loud at times, she could make lots of noise
She hailed from good old Lincoln town
A rural beauty admired all around
Good at her job, espied by the boss
Her skills took her over to lands abroad
She continued to work and get her own way
When handled well, she was a mainstay
But her mood was volatile, her temper afire
When out on the field, she got stuck in a mire
Abandoned by her military lover
She found herself in the hands of another
Damaged and hurt, they mocked her demise
Paraded then dumped by the foreign bad boys
When the warring powers discontinued their fight
Her admirers removed her away from her plight
They took her back home to old Lincoln town
She was polished and cleaned and no longer down
Now old, she sits with others alike
Those far-off memories are kept alight
Her fans are many in this place of recall
And Daphne the tank is having a ball
I'm not sure these feelings are that you make me feel
I'm not sure why my heart races just for you
I'm not sure if any of this is true
I'm not sure if this love will be forever with you
I'm not sure your tender touch is forever mine
I'm not sure were this relationship will run
I am sure that the magic you make me feel is unbelievable
I am sure I never want this to end
I am sure my heart beats for only you
I am sure my love is 100 percent true
I'm not sure were the road will take us but I hope that you will be with me every step of the way holding hands with each other's hearts
It wasn't long ago that I met you and it was love at first sight
You hold a heart that is damaged and broken
With your love it is slowly repairing
I love you with all that I am I'm sorry if I mess up and run a stray
Just remember you have my heart like no one else has ever in life
I'm not sure were this road will go but I know as long as I'm with you I'll never lose this glow in my heart
A time to rake; to search embers,
to pore over resurrected,
fire-damaged relics.
On an ancient shore
driftwood, fagots, and reeds
are heaped up onto a pyre of time.
After the fire there is a sorting.
a probing for talismans and trinkets.
Before the flames, flesh had hidden them,
in its open wounds.
An iron crucifix; smutter tarnished,
lays blackened by the quick flames.
It is held up to the sun,
by a tattered man of woe.
Death’s archeologist
wipes this soot-seared icon,
with a sweat-stained rag.
Other artifacts are long drowned,
they wait for the hands
of fishermen to haul them in,
to return them
to a modern-day Nazareth,
there, Islamic street traders
still sell religious curios
for Israeli shekels.
This house has been set ablaze; ashes rain like snow,
covering what has become my deathbed.
A weighted blanket of ruins lies heavy upon my chest.
Laboured breaths and the taste of soot coat the back of my throat,
stifling oxygen from reaching the whites of enervated eyes.
Blue-tinted lips incoherently whisper, flirting with my demons,
living in purgatorial gloaming
whilst my spirit hovers between diminishing light and shadows.
Reality blurs, amalgamating with hallucinations
where demons dance in a macabre ballet,
reenacting repressed sorrows,
torturing an undead heart to the brink of insanity.
With each twirl, each act, tales of desperation are etched onto flesh.
Riverlets of blood stain the sheets bright red,
as tourniquets are nowhere to be found.
There is no way to halt the flow;
emotional instability will be my bloodletting.
Every second ticks by a little quicker
until each heartbeat grows fainter.
A clenched jaw relents,
eyes roll backwards,
and a damaged soul is severed from its mortal coil,
yet its fate is left undetermined,
flailing in the in-between forevermore.
My mind racing…
swift thoughts constantly chasing…
every single millisecond.
a new one appears.
forced to be in places i don’t want to be
people, places, things that aren’t good for me,
oh how I wish they would all just flee.
everywhere I go
I feel surrounded by negative energy.
sad faces.
scattered minds.
broken hearts.
damaged souls.
our world is hurting.
So little positivity around
with not much left to share,
there is negativity all in the air.
In a world full of darkness,
I know I am the light.
I am the helper.
I am the shoulder to cry on.
as I move on from this day,
longing for something new
something better
I will keep faith in my heart.
my hands tremble at the silent effect of fear
am I running out of time?
i see a faint light at the end of the tunnel
but how long will it stay there?
will it last
forever?
regardless of my struggles
my pain
my stress
my scars
I know that someday I will be okay
In the end
It will all be worth it.