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.
They say there’s a light at the end of the tunnel,
but nobody tells you how long the tunnel is.
Nobody warns you that sometimes it feels like you’re walking blindfolded
through stone,
hands out,
scraping your palms raw on walls that do not answer back.
The dark whispers things.
It tells you: this is forever.
It tells you: you are buried, not traveling.
And you almost believe it
because the dark is convincing.
The dark is patient.
The dark knows your name.
But then,
a thread.
So small you almost think it’s a trick.
A pinprick glow,
so far away it could be a star,
or a memory,
or a lie you once heard.
And yet,
your body leans toward it.
Every cell aching for the warmth.
Every scar humming: move.
Step by step,
you start again.
Not because the dark is gone,
but because the light is real.
And the closer you get,
the more it grows
from pinprick to lantern,
from lantern to sunrise,
from sunrise to flood.
Until it is not a light at the end of the tunnel.
It is the tunnel collapsing,
walls crumbling,
roof shattering into sky.
It is your lungs learning again
how to be full.
It is your heartbeat
not just surviving
but drumming.
A rhythm.
A declaration.
The light at the end of the tunnel was never waiting for you.
It was carried in your chest
the whole time.
Every stumble,
every crawl,
every almost-giving-up,
it was there,
a match unstruck,
a dawn unborn.
And now
you are the light.
You are the fire that the dark could not keep.
You are proof that tunnels end.
cunning whist’red the wind
through bulwarks of my youth
cloaked in kindness its sly craft
masked in plotting feign’d truth
the scent of damp stone and moss
clung to my marrow
voices in each gust
defiant i stood on the brink
slumber’ring in ire’s enlace
with sly deceit danced outcome
and beguiled dreams took stage apace
the bitter tang of shadowed air
the quell of trembling leaves
twilled with the evil of withheld grace
vain are stars that once foretold
boast not what thou’st dealt
the conqueror an umbral mist walks
in wilderness where none hath knelt
soil crumbles underfoot
cold dew bites the ankles of night
sweet—and awful—sang the muteness
after the third new moon pass’d
grim hunger prevails
hangs where sojourners draw breath
their last
the coppery taste of fear
lingers in the throat
as stillness gnaws the spectral lungs
not for bread i starve
but for meaning
in vale and entombed mountain roam
judgment echoes field and forest
sunward songs mount toward doom
rustle of leaf
bark-scratch under nails
carry the weight of unseen eyes
thorn’d breaths of abyssal wind
my failing prostrate i ascribe
to flagrant flame
incurably untam’d
a whirling squall of dissipation
drunkenness of nameless claim
the acrid smoke of wasted fire
licks the tongue of legacy
shadow’d cinders curl in the mind
indignation binds me captive
a dungeon endless dark and grim
vile guilty stricken wholly
no mortal left to shield or limb
chains clash rattle in marrow’s obscurity
iron scents the air with accusation
yet manifest soulless one
fervent fierce and torn
momentary affliction sways
in transient shape of mourn
cool sweat bitter ashen traces
mingle with tremor of fleeting heart
tired i am
weak i am
worn i am
yet still
i rise
though wretched rent
to meet the sweet and awful dawn
with every scar fetch’d and spent
light trembles on dew-beaten leaves
first air pungent and raw
fills lungs with promise
of endurance
cunning whist’red the wind
Blue eye's looked into the night
A tear formed at the corner of his heart
A silent tear
A silent scar
A golden rose forever blue
golden virtue lost tonight
A silent though
past moments true
The rose sweet silent thorns
The scars sweet silent storms
Taste the power of thy love
Risk the violence of thy strife
Trust the broken heart of rage
Suffer then your silent cage
Blue eyes looked into the night
forgive that you might start again
The rose of love is still the same
A stranger to lifes guessing game
Should thee stay or should thee go
The thorns of love won't let you know
My heart knows pain, mistakes
Should I become the master of my lake
Should I test the rivers of the free
Love binds my life to thee
Sweet rose my heart
sweet love my life
pray that we can find the key
Improve our lives for thee and me
Yes transgressions, we have know
mistakes, bad seeds, have planted grown
The pain has torn us limb from limb
Now we must climb above our sins
Yet change the light of night time blue
build with trust the love we knew
relax the anger, fear let go
trust we'll find the way to grow
If you want to be a writer,
you might as well forget money,
forget richness,
forget happiness,
the ink pierces your skin-
in,
out,
in,
out,
such a pattern of mourning-
it strips all pride in hopes you'll quit-
give up-
like they all do.
You might as well sign the contract of death-
to die before any work-if that even
is published,
or merely acknowledged.
The steps of becoming one with the pen,
and page-
begin with hurt
there's no way you can achieve a smile
when a thousand doubts are slapping your face.
Mocking you
so you're locked up in your own world-
without a key.
The pity emphasizes the fact you're unknown
and from that you always will be
hopes and dreams are stomped on
while you continue to change the world
with a single line-
7 syllables;
I want to be a writer.
Well of course you do-
but can you run through the eternal disaster?
Hoping you get through
without a single scar
single scratch,
blood only kept within.
That's the defining moment-
blood seeping through-
searing feeling of the climax
and then it all ends.
‘Teachers don’t leave merely because of learners; they leave because of colleagues.’
You hear teachers talk
As you walk in your purpose
The transaction with your colleagues
Reveal the darkness in some of their hearts
They can hurt your heart
They can dim your light
But the truth inside still burns bright
A touch of purpose seems more than gold
This is an era where you need to be bold
So don’t lose hope when they try to darken your life
You can stand through it all!
They can’t stop you
Through all the foolishness
You are still teaching
Every scar is a mark of truth
They try to bury you with their hate
But their fate is sealed
‘The way you treat others is the way you will be treated.’
They told you that you will never rise
Plotting schemes to bring your demise
But you walked through the fire
Knowing that there is a higher purpose
The pain that management ignores is the lesson
Management will gain on themselves later!
They can hurt your heart
They can dim your light
But the truth inside still burns bright
‘Teachers don’t leave merely because of learners; they leave because of colleagues.’
Mark Frank
Copyright 2026
Will the world remember me?
Writes and advice are like symphony.
Soon my flesh will be gone.
This body will never see the morning sun.
Will they still say my name?
Hoping someday things can be all the same.
Die in a bed of roses
Still ponder the sweet instances.
Will my face be their scar on their mind?
See me again is so hard to find.
Death is something that I’m afraid of.
Can’t control things if they are getting off
Will people cry when I die?
Kisses and tears can’t be so much and lie.
I’ll die soon with the memories of the world.
“Enough” is not enough to describe life in a word.
Some say you are lost
If you are not found
On their ground
Some think you are blind
If you do not find
What they find
I am an atheist who believes
The universe is a tapestry
Not a thread
The science to chart the stars
Is but a celestial church
That medicine and vaccines
Are answered prayers
That communities
Can save each other
That math and music
Language and learning
Rebuilding destruction
And regretting a wrong
Are inherent miracles
That to plant a tree
Water a garden
Kiss a scar
Soothe a bruise
Give a smile
Hug a sorrow
Cook a meal
Play a song
Clasp a hand
Bandage a cut
Wipe a tear
Hear a need -
Is divine
I believe the soul of nature
Is sacred
and a rainbow's refraction
Is all the more radiant
For the formula it contains
I believe the finitude of life
Makes a more precious day
And, to my friends of other faiths
I believe - we can meet halfway.
4/27/20
(this was inspired by a poem I read by Anil Deo called Any Athiests out there - thank you for your kind response to my novella-of-a-comment, Anil!)
Scar-instilled lessons…
Bring me to grateful cogitations' engagements
Since soul speaks of human’s “self-consciousness.”
Affirming that scars are the path to the soul.
I have become “a living soul…”
Such is God-wrought mystery revealed by my Mother’s scar
Thru her cut when she gave birth to me, that I’m thankful for.
Indeed, my mother’s scar declares great value of my soul… my life.
Then I learned of the Saviour Who sacrificed Himself…
Bearing bruises and wounds to pay for my iniquities;
In trusting Him, I’m granted life eternal.
Thus, His cross-scarred body assured my soul’s redemption.
Spiritually, I have scars that show my once sin-inflicted pain…
When I languished in misery, gripped with guilt
Groping for fleshly triumph, I felt futile and worthless.
Now, scars serve as avenues toward soul-humbling before God for help.
My scars remind me of my cry for heavenly aid…
When I was excruciating from my downfall’s discomfort
Ailing due to failure-frustration with bitterness’ oppression.
Today, those scars lead me to God’s throne for soul and faith's revival.
In moments of anguish-haunt, I serenely behold at my scars
Divinely healed, I express with the Psalmist in the Scriptures:
“Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me?
Hope in God*: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance.”
*Psalm 43:5 Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.
October 1, 2018
1st place, "Verses of Metaphors II" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo; judged on 10/7/2018.
Written: August 15, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Quote: "Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead, let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?" By Rumi
*******
Once, I danced a duet of defiance,
a crisp sigh in the stillness of the cosmos—
until the sickle sang,
and the scythe, a leering doppelgänger,
shattered my days from the rosy veil of illusion.
A pavonine sky gasped through heavy clouds.
Each drop of light is a solitary hymn of the soul,
The pestilence, unseen by vermin, persists.
But with a smile too zoetic to be merciful.
Alchemy abandoned me.
not the quest for transmuted gold,
but the unraveling of verity—
in the ravenous search for reason,
that cast me into the woods of skepticism,
where even the stars seemed to stutter.
I swirled in a river of oblivion.
washed my eyes in the katabatic abyss,
abjured the glamor of who I once was,
and grasped the clamor of who I’d become—
a wild soul of weary hopes,
jerked by the jussive hands of power.
The world turned polyphonic—
each voice is a tapestry of longing and disdain,
each echo is a lamentation of pain,
I found myself intrigued by my rival shadow.
a weary iconoclast with an ischemic soul.
Yet amid the swirling tempest,
A glimmer of veridical light coruscated—
not to supplant the ache,
but to celebrate it,
to twist it into a desideratum purpose.
I learned to stammer abyssal words,
to embrace the loneliness of silence,
to whirl with my wounds
and gaze through my eyes.
where bees buzzed with chaotic harmony.
The sky is now stained by nighttime decay.
I do not falter in my voice.
I do not renounce.
In my wreckage, I stand resilient—
marvelous in my courage.
The sunset is no longer my downfall.
it casts a shadow across my soul—
a flame that bends and sways,
a celestial scar.
A life altered, yet intact in its last breath,
yet with a willingness to embrace life.
One day we can change our past, they say,
Rewrite the scripts of yesterdays.
With fingers tracing lines of fate,
Erase the sorrow, the love, the hate.
In dreams we paint the scenes anew,
Where broken hearts find healing true.
Each tear unshed, each word unsaid,
No longer haunt the paths we've tread.
Regrets dissolve like morning mist,
As shadows kiss the dawn’s first twist.
What once was lost, now found again,
In the realm where time bends and then
The echoes of our choices fade,
New melodies of joy are made.
Forgiveness blooms where guilt did grow,
The seeds of hope in hindsight sow.
One day we can change our past, believe,
In moments born from hearts that grieve.
For every scar a story’s cast,
One day, we can change our past.