Long Wounds Poems
Long Wounds Poems. Below are the most popular long Wounds by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wounds poems by poem length and keyword.
catastasis of emotions spiral down
until the pain magnifies itself
too hard to breathe, she takes a knife
touches it against her flesh, slices deep
emotions bleed themselves dry
release the pain from within
she puts on her fake smile and hides the deed
(inspired by a conversation with Timothy Hicks, I know much about that topic because that was me at the age of 10, when my grandmother died and i was forced to be at home, unloved...a cinderella as my God parents called me...I learned how to bleed in poetry as a release, but cutting is an actual disease and they do not know how to release the pain, the pain of the cut releases something that makes them feel good...temporarily, no one ever knows the wounds, they hide them well behind layers of clothes and fake smiles!)
I wish I wouldn't get depressed so fast
Coz depression is something that doesn't always last
I should look ahead and not at the past
Coz there are a lot of things to do coz the world is vast
Sometimes when I think of all these worries and strife
I feel like it would be better that I had a wife
Someone to share all my sorrows with
And heal all my wounds bit by bit
Her touch would be like a medical kit
To seal up those wounds and heal my sorrows
By telling me that there is a bright tomorrow
A princess who would look at me and smile
and sing a song for me for a while
Well that was just a thought of mine
Damn! I'm good at making rhymes :)
Modern Problems
Look inside this feverdream we call Our Times:
How we call ourselves masters of our lives
Binding ourselves in chains of thoughts
Forgetting powers we used to have
When we were wild naked beasts
Part of a world dangerous, strong, unfettered,
Free in cycles of creation and dissolution,
Balanced in a perfect dance
With no meaning apart from itself.
See how the world bleeds now
From a thousand different wounds
Opening and closing daily.
See the men who live in fear
Of animal tastes,
Who cage their spirits in cells of confusion
See the women,
Cool and distant on hard city streets
The dark fire they once carried
Now burnt down and out,
Empty, shapeless stones, hearts poisoned with suspicions
Growing ever thinner...
Thinner like shadows of a picket fence
Fading into uncertain infinities of twilight -
So look at this world we've made my child
See how it turns against its ancient ways,
In places now a thing once perfect
Made weak and warped through our excess
Watch, see how we older ones
Changed with decisions things best left alone;
Persist in your sweet childish madness
Bravely believing in the magic we have ceased to see;
Walk in dreams with your heads held high
Proud to gather the beauty we've forgotten;
Draw it into yourselves and love it
With pure and simple souls
Wed your childhoods to your spirits
Hold it deep within as a sacred secret
Hidden, but alive with hope of better days to come
When you may fool the dry and empty ones
And bring new life to this fools' desert, Our Times.
I’m a dead muse walking, stuck in a queue
moving along slowly, spreading out too
A worm wriggles past, looking worse for wear
was caught in a hailstorm, guts everywhere
I'm a dead muse crawling, stuck fast in glue
caught up with the worm, he leaked so much goo
We're neck and neck, near the exit gate
I patch up his wounds, then use him for bait
I'm a dead muse fishing, snagging old reeds
the worm's in awful shape, each segment bleeds
I let him off the hook, just to take a rest
he looks juicy, but in truth not the best
I'm a dead muse starving, no appetite
can't find a stanza never mind a bite
And that poor li’l wiggler, I let him go
into the hailstorm, oops no, stupid crow!
By
David Kavanagh
Rose met a vampire on Halloween night,
it was an unnatural death;
he took her in a forest without a fight,
on the edge of town she took her last breath.
She lay waiting in the brittle leaves of deep red,
her eyes looking peacefully to the sky;
it was a quiet death and now she was very dead,
a dark veil of hair fell across an open eye.
The stars twinkled down on this beautiful girl,
she looked perfectly lovely and sleeping;
except she was dead and wearing a bloody pearl,
two small wounds drained blood still seeping.
Inside her things were changing and she wanted to roam,
but the paramedics draped her body in a white sheet;
and took her to the town's funeral home,
she waited- then, she yelled trick or treat.
She left the funeral home to wander the street,
on Halloween night she blended in well;
you would be unlucky if by chance this girl you meet,
and still be alive in the morning with a story to tell.
_______________________________
October 17, 2018
Poetry/Rhyme/Halloween Night
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1072-105-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Halloween Night
sponsor, Tania Kitchin
First Place
I opened my heart, as a bud in bloom
A fragile flower, gently held in his arms
I welcomed the warmth of his touch
He was my morning dew, slaked my thirst
and sated my hunger for love.
His words were whispered in my ear.
But now, his utterances rip my petals apart
Cruel inflictions play havoc on my soul,
His language hurls daggers at my heart
I'm tortured and tormented with toxic chiding
His voice is venom from the fangs of a snake,
leaving puncture wounds, dripping with blood.
His angry words strip me bare of dignity
With each flay of his tongue, I am whipped
I'm withering like a clipped rose,
exposed to a scourge of abusive speech
What ails my heart leaves no bodily scars
I need benediction to heal my wounds
but I know the answer to my prayers
will never come from his cursed lips
And although it's not easy to forgive him,
I do because I am guilty of self-infliction.
The love I have for him is an addiction,
and for this weakness, I suffer the pain
of allowing his words to pummel my heart
again and again
August 10th, 2020
Inflictions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Darkness settles around the heart
Of one whose light trembles on the air
As the sadness pours over the soul
Who knows a loved one has gone away
The struggle, the grief, is like a soft rain
Never letting up, just wet enough
To dampen the thoughts, the mind
All the wondering of a weeping, mourning
That never stops – it haunts and mocks
Every tear that falls, every lonely ache
Besieged by the faded call of such pain
Dread empties its sorrow into the heart
Who knows that gushing shade of black
Never remembers it is meant to find rest
Amid the hope that comes from the light
Feelings of inspiration found on the inside
Of a soul who sees that love is still alive
Dancing to the tune of memories assured
By their beauty and breath of tenderness
Drifting on the wing kissed air of silent winds
Shimmering in the sky, listening to the One
Who remembers us – our hurt – our worry
The reflections of darkness coloring us in hues
Of madness – crazy colors of the tempest
Who hisses fear through the ebony night
Petrifying dread that grows a freezing alarm
Over our hearts and souls, through our love
Which comes alive with the assurance that He
Will bind up our wounds, heal our grief
And save us from the devil who is greedy
For our pain, our anguish, our misery
The darkness that shudders with the horror
Of knowing that hatred will fight us
Try to destroy all the love, hope and faith
That live inside us to guide us and provide us
With a grace which sustains, a grace that awaits
When we simply say “I’m sorry” and let God
Work out the details of our lives, our love
The way we give and live, the way we will
Become the children that He can fill with His Spirit
He is the answer to every dark and dismal moment
He never stills the joy and He never subdues the love
He arranges for us to know Him the way we know hope
He lets us know we’re His by the way we sense Him with us
He is the Savior of the world and He is our personal Savior!
He is the miracle of all miracles, the wonder of wonders…
The light in my heart – the sparkle in my eyes
The dream that never fades – the kindness that delights
He is my entire life!
I saw the faces
of dolls.
Pink cold dolls,
blind frightened dolls.
Dolls with round uniform
shoulders.
Curtains hung everywhere like
skin,
I spread them like lips.
Through the window,
it was us in a cave.
My children were chewing on cereal.
With hearts of dough,
their minds were softer than clay.
I reached into the damp hole,
touched the unabridged volumes,
the pages packed with lies.
I reached wanting to save
them.
But my fingers were frost bitten
with rage.
The throat of my brain
swallowed me.
Each step I sank,
shadows were ink in my clothes.
Each word a vinyl toy
resisting the rain.
Until to reject the lies,
I garnish shoddy freedoms
like a thrill seeker.
Until I became a liar,
and my sleep
was watching
my murder.
The ideas cluttered and tarnished me,
indelible the notions by the
dumpster load.
Eyes in the darkness seemed
predatory.
But only alone,
I listened to the sound
of my wounds infecting me.
As a Marine
with a steel mind
for a trap
clamped shut,
I protect my ashes
from
the ignorant!
They thunder past
in radiant trucks,
on glorious tractors.
Their habitual smiles ablaze.
They turned the pipes
and melted the iron.
I did not look.
it was my head that was tilted
like a mannequin.
It was only me
who wondered if
I could hear myself
mutter.
And me who prayed
I might still be breathing.
Published in Cafeteria - December 1977
The child was well cared for to anyone seeing her;
she had pretty outfits with hair ribbons and clips;
but she was really a little girl in despair;
there was never ever a smile on her lips;
and mother knew where to place the kicks.
She had lots of bruises but they were covered up;
tiny arms were black and blue but she wore a sweater;
she had no dolls or toys only a worn stuffed pup;
on hot days it was awful as she would swelter;
the little girl thought this was her life forever.
But one day something happened to change her life;
a teacher noticed dark bruises on her legs;
and on closer inspection there are wounds by a knife;
the mother is arrested for abuse (she weeps and begs;)
and the little girl pulls from her stuffed pup threads:
"Pup you were bad and now you must be punished," she whispers.
_______________________
April 24, 2021
Have no fear, my friend.
This is not the end
For the sun shall rise come the morning.
Though you were told lies
And tears fill your eyes
Broken hearts will mend come the morning.
Wait and see.
All will turn out for the best.
You’ll agree,
It’s not needful to protest.
What you can’t change…
What you can’t fix…
It might seem strange,
But every plot must have its twist…
Do not fret, my dear
Though the end seems near
Still the sun shall shine come the morning.
Things will be just fine.
It’s all by design.
Shadows disappear come the morning.
Just hang on.
Hope will once more be revealed.
With the dawn
You’ll escape this battlefield.
You will have wounds…
You will have scars…
You’ll lose the moon,
But find the brightest of the stars…
So, again, don’t fear.
To this thought adhere:
You will see new light come the morning.
Hold with all your might
For I will help you fight
Til better things appear come the morning.