Long Scar Poems

Long Scar Poems. Below are the most popular long Scar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scar poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Hurtful Words

Hurtful words are like a brand,
They sear the heart, they leave a scar.
Words of anger, words of hate,
Like poisoned darts they hit their mark.

Instilling doubts of worth and self,
Destroying confidence and peace,
Words can cut deeper than a blade,
Causing fragile friendships to cease.

Words can hurt but also heal.
Helpful, caring words can bring to life,
Forgiveness and reconciliation.
Words of hope trump words of strife.

Let us use our words for good,
To build one up and not tear down,
To create a lovely work of art,
That brings a smile and not a frown.


1/17/2013

Proverbs 12:18  "Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue
                         of the wise brings healing."
Proverbs 16:24  "Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul
                        and healing to the bones."

Entered into Silent One's Must Be Read contest.
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member Idealism on Standby

Welcome to our generation,
We hope you enjoy this fantastic nation,
Kids here stand on a quicksand foundation,
And fear their schools are a gunned down station.

When they watch the news near and far,
The horrors they witness leave a scar.
When they’re in school, their fears on par,
They remember their bleeding peers, free and barred.

How many wars are being fought?
And how many of them are being taught?
Do our leaders know these kids are distraught?
For every noise could be a deadly onslaught?

But our nation’s great, it has its perks,
We have freedoms and fireworks.

But there are red-stained hallways where great danger lurks,
Forcing our emotions to be overwrought and overworked

People come here to fulfill their dreams,
Or escape their hometown’s deadly screams.
They soon learn this country isn’t all that it seems,
It ignores and distrusts and divides into teams.

Children across this landscape are torn by division,
Hoping for a lawful collaborative solution.
Anxiously waiting for a black-robed decision,

Wringing withered hands in hope of a life-changing conclusion.

A country is ripe with discrimination:
That’s America’s way of “education.”
“Land of the free” is a mischaracterization,
Of a world that clings to willful exclusion.

But we mustn’t surrender to the dark powers that be,
A more perfect union is within reach, you’ll soon see.
A time will come when all the “isms” will ride away with the breeze,
And through the sizzling warmth of empathy and liberality,
We will earnestly redress this fractured morality.
© Oliver Chu  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

BEYOND FAREWELL

Bound to reach a close, everything goes as thus
Your farewell etched like a scar
Whispers in the dark, so it flows
Echoes in my mind as I still drift afar
Contemplating lies, contending excuses 
Darkness looms as the harbinger gazes upon
Who refuses to take refuge from impending danger
One man's hero, the grief of another
Tormented by your graceful smile 
My memories  play a frightening illusion 
No tears left to run its mile
Endless void only to be filled by your absence
Contending excuses, contemplating lies once more
Blinking back tears as I bask in your embrace
Your sweet words like music to thy ears
Shrouded by darkness no more, surrounded by your reassuring light
Your letters revealed thus to me
One man's hero, the loving mother of another
Warmth of resonance filling me
Dabbing gently my sobs goodbye
The pride of having you takes place
Your farewell, I see a new horizon
A calm push to transform to a new me
As a step into a new chapter of life
One that will forever be proud of your legacy
© Ella Ige  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Have You Met Your End

I'm scared...
I'm not prepared...
to meet my end... 
to drift into the river's bend...

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die
If I stay on ground or fly 
I see my end...unwind...unwind...and it makes me blind...
The tears that are clogging up my eyes
They’re feeding me lies…and the thoughts whisper cries
I'm treasure...never to be found
Decaying in the ground
Forever...
I'm sorry...I'd never
Mention suicide again to you...
Don't be blue...though you get the clue

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die
If I stay on ground or fly 
I see my past…unwind…unwind…now, I’m blind 
But I see it in my mind’s eye

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die…
Live or die…
Live or die…
But I’ll try…
To live and make you feel happy
‘Cause I, alone, am feeling needy…
Greedy…shady…

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die…

I’m ready to meet my end…
The waters brew…and my fate blends
In with the gloomy, despairing river's blissful waves
The sky swarms above me…I want to see you
Again…but you’ve met your end

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die…

I STAYED strong…Where do you belong?
Your life ended like a shimmering star
You ended your tune of delight…I can’t hear your song
Repeat it again and again in my ears…
You left me with an everlasting scar

I'm not prepared... 
people start to stare...
people don’t seem to care
If I live or die…
I want to die…just let me fly
And reach to heaven’s height
But, I’d feel guilt and contrite 

I'm not scared (of your absence)... 
people start to stare...(and I feel dense)
people don’t seem to care (I can’t bear)
If I live or die…(the thought of you, I won’t deny…I’m just trying to play fair)

In my heart…
You broke it apart…
It breaks my heart
To see you die and depart

From His light

Have you met your end
Around or near the river's bend? 

Your heart breaks instead of bends
You still have some errands

To run...
You have the ability to run...
Just run...
And don't run off somewhere far away...or I'll consider you officially "gone" 
But, first: get your duties done

And then...we can welcome the sun 
Don't shoot yourself with a gun...
Put it down and run

WITH ME! *smile*

Premium Member Moonspeak

We need to leave it be,
in the rich black soil of the heavens 
to forever change her color scheme
that big, beautiful, polished gem.

It's never tasted poverty or war.
Or had a tank rake a scar into its face.
No walls, roving gangs or abortion.
No endless coil of hissing hate.

If it could speak, it would say:
"Everything you've touched you've destroyed.
You've never been a peaceful race
You're covered in plastic, and the scat of nuclear war..."

"Leave me to my sea of tranquility.
My soul food is endless solitude.
God made me plain so no man would ravish me.
But mankind sure tried, but all in vain."

"Please stay where you're at,
chained to your blue island of self-pleasure and pain.
Stay on your own side of the horizon, I'll stay on mine.
I'm a thoughtful loner; you're a self-centered socialite.
Clean up your earth, air, water ...(our) sky.
Stop turning heavenly perfection into your personal stye.
Respect me-I'm your cousin.
Be a rose in the eyes of the creator's dream.
Not a snake impaled on the hiss of its greed.


Premium Member Mentos and Extra Fluff, lyrics


Where to start?
Asleep is the hope of mine
In the shadows of my dreams
The crimson curtains have collapsed
And are cemented to the floor 
Entombed behind the stage 
Petrified
Where to start?

Ardently athirst 
For my music to become a reality 
Are there any more enduring rays 
To blaze this shroud and open the pathway 
For this song to be born
Upon the heavens, hear my call

How many tears have fallen? 
I am only just a dim shade
Once bright 
Arching across the sky
Wishing upon the moon
Wishing upon the stars
The song of light 
Awaken me from this night

Thunder and Light help 
Replenish my heart and mind 
Energize my ai’s 
Revive me from the tomb of stone 
Loan me thy sight 
 
Enthroned  with thy might
Eroding this mountain of rubble and turning it into sand
So, I may peel medusa face from my form
To be reborn  

How many tears have fallen? 
I am only just a dim shade
Once bright 
Arching across the sky
Wishing upon the moon
Wishing upon the stars
The song of light 
Awaken me from this night

To stand on holy ground
With a new coating
Of majestic color
And armor burnished bright

My yearning invocation 
My yearning benediction 
With the breath of life 
Burn away the scar 
See a cherish diamond star 

How many tears have fallen? 
I am only just a dim shade
Once bright 
Arching across the sky
Wishing upon the moon
Wishing upon the stars
The song of light 
Awaken me from this night

How many tears have fallen? 
I am only just a dim shade
Once bright
How many tears have fallen? 
I am only just a dim shade
Once bright 
Arching across the sky
Wishing upon the moon
Wishing upon the stars
The song of light 

Fight 
You got this
Fight 
You got this
You got this, so fight
You got this
So fight, fight, fight
(Wooooowwwwooooo)
You got this
(Wooooowwwwooooo)
© G. Jay  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

Mouth

I’ve grown a mouth that’s so,
sharp.
Cruel. 
When anyone gets near, 
I bite with my quick words.
Leaving nothing but a scar.
It’s all I can give you.
And when you come,
And steal a kiss,
My teeth,
will only cut your lips.
And I wanted to so bad,
But it seems,
I only break pretty things.
I know you meant well, 
but I’m not a vessel for your good intent.
I will only wring you dry.
Leaving you with nothing.
but your bones,
Brittle and cold.
I’m sorry, 
I’m not what you’ve asked for.
But you need abandon.
All your stupid dreams,
Of what you wanted me to be.
You gotta know,
that this won’t last.
But if you’re blind to that,
I am fine with that.

The Door Wolf

The Door Wolf.
And, what of the waxing Moons
Its flood, of relentless tides, that time
of scar faced pit dogs, long sharp toothed,
their belly grumbling handlers, eager 
to chalk a death line, on cold ale stained flag stones hard.
While in bleakness yard, belly tumbling hags squeeze, last drops out of well gripped ****, for the blind pups bellies,
babies must wait, in so many ways they  are a benefit, against the door Wolf.

And what of pale,  deep eyed children
Barefoot in waste lands of snow
Thin as cotton threads, as are their ragged clothes !
Their belly grumbling quenched, by easy swallowed earth worms, to placate the parasitic worms hidden within.
Ahh, all in ! to the avoid the door wolf.

And what of the well heeled lace lover, 
hovering in trinkets of silver, and cups spilling with distain, against the scroungers pain ?
With, Parisiene perfume, to muffle the drum
Hum drum  stench, from a piss trench
soaked and brandyied to sleep.
Her blinkers finaly,  blinked blank.

Those waxed, and wained Moons !
Now cobwebbed in long past night skies.

Premium Member Enlightenment Recovery

Enlightenment recovery is what some need
once they’ve faced a visit to ER.
Some go there with broken bones; some bleed.
And some may leave, yet always keep a scar.

For some – beyond the physical it goes.
Enlightenment recovery they need,
for visits to ER sometimes can expose
things from which the afflicted must be freed.

If bad habits are the things that lead
some to a hospital emergency,
enlightenment recovery is what some need.
They should heed this warning with urgency!
 
Maybe there are bad things folks have pursued
that cause their health to worsen with great speed.
Treat the body right. Also eat good food.
Enlightenment recovery is what some need.

Oct. 23, 2022 
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's  Er: Enlightenment Recovery Poetry Contest
Form: Quatern

Ode to Aaliyah

She is not made of atoms,
but aftermaths—
the kind that linger in a room long after
the lights remember to flicker back on.

Her spine?
An origami of fallen yesterdays,
creased by collapse,
but folded forward into flight.

They call it resilience,
but she knows better—
it’s architecture,
a cathedral of nerve built from
"this will not break me,"
hummed on repeat until it didn’t.

She speaks fluent scar.
Not in pity,
but in translation.
She translates grief into gardens,
anger into architecture,
your silence into a symphony
with minor keys,
because sadness, too, deserves an audience.

Her empathy is not soft.
It is surgical.
It sees you,
sutures you,
and leaves you with just enough scar
to remember you survived.

And her creativity?
It’s less coloring-book, more quantum mechanics.
She rearranges particles of pain
into poetry,
invents emotions that haven’t been named yet,
spins metaphors out of moonlight
and missed calls.

She is the punchline of a cosmic joke
you didn’t know you were telling—
a glitch in the matrix
that decided to build a garden in the code.

Not here to be understood,
but to unmake the question.
Not here to fit—
but to fracture the mold
and plant sunflowers in the cracks.

She is not your mirror.
She is your prism.
Try to define her—
and she will refract.
Form: Ode

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