Paralysed Poems | Examples

Love, version 2

Wounded
Distrustful 
Inured
Enthralled 
Fooled
Estranged 
Paralysed
Exposed
Resolved 
Consumed 
Scholar
Slave
Compelled
Searching 
Hopeful

Love, version 1: reflections on personal experiences of love, inspired by reading bell hooks

Wounded by its lack
Distrustful of it 
Inured to its absence 
In thrall to its allure
Fooled by its simulacrum
Estranged from it 
Paralysed by fear of losing it
Inexorably exposed to it 
Resolved against it 
Consumed by longing for it
A scholar to its foreign texts 
A slave to its compulsions 
Compelled to search for it
Forever 
Hopeful

War

Scattered around is destruction and debris blast-
Things rendered shapeless and futile ,but to ooze
Disgust and infinitely depressing misery profuse;
What was a pleasure  and intact heaven, is lost !

Paralysed life  and sickly breath is just a doom;
What came up in the spirit and sprouts of affinity,
And the blooming faith  finds its end to infinity; 
Intense fire has left behind the engirdling gloom  

                                                                                    
Weird ambition and endless greed do always swell :  
All pursuits and desires fulfilled,man doth chase
 The vain, 'undo' prompts of the hidden mind base 
That blind the vision of the ensuant horror sequel 



From the  lithic to the vicious  latent missile,
Devouring pathos,Rage has stretched  its arm; 
The charm of living is lost in death and sick harm
The  extant essence of survival is lost in a while

 
Gone are twitters,chirps and the fresh pearly dew
The blessing sunrise and the sweet cool  breeze;  
Dissenting  waves are churning the settled seas
Old order merges with the ruined past for the new!

Departure

you are a loss i will forever mourn even in my sleep
paralysed by the ghost of you that haunts me in dreams
i gave you my heart till you bleed it out
forced me to say words i never once believed

they say people are always blinded by the truth
"forever lost" is truly the lost case
i was here bleeding at the shore
when you departed to another sea

The Longest Day

The long narrow hallway,
Etched with pain and euphoria,
A mother’s sacrifice and the husband’s touch, 
A parade of white.

The time is concentrated,
Flowing through me like a river,
Wild and roaring
And I stuck - a paralysed effigy on the shore.

On the pricipice of darkness 
I sat, shivering to burst,
Refusing to remember,
What is to be lost.

heaven is for real

floating over fields my transport beam’s concealed ~ moribund paralysed

all you that went before are in my dreams once more ~ no one vaporised

loosely tethered our strings frayed and weathered ~ information’s ionised

this ghost won’t deny phenomenons trick the eye ~ and i’m compromised 

from labour contractions–chemical reactions ~ through the stars baptised

the cosmos true treasure is no mean measure ~ even death’s alchemised

god sometimes goes unseen on fringes and off the screen ~ marginalised

shining across fields his transport beam revealed ~ shaft of hope realised

All i need is an escape

Who knew you were an ammunition, 
A camouflage with a malice!
I'm still numb from the revelation
No matter how much I try 
I'm afraid that I might risk walking the path 
that killed all my dreams I'd reinforced spellbound by your lies!
I'm locked in your cellar 
For the crime of conviction
In the castle you built 
And called our home!
There's a door on your side
I know l'd never dare to knock
The door wrapped in Bougainvillea
Hiding behind them
The thorns of your sweet excuses!
I know I must avert
And disappear into the fog, 
Hoping you'd then realise what a loss feels like!
But, my limbs are paralysed by the venom of trust
That sluggishly ran through my blood
Tormenting me all these years !
Now,
All I need is an escape
Is that too much to ask for?

The Seas Took What Couldn't Be Saved

Disconsolate obsidian waves crash over crumbling dunes,
Sweeping afflicted grains of sand back into the depths,
Dragging my paralysed soul with them.
Engulfed in despondent riptides,
I gasp for oxygen amongst rippling currents,
As a fiery moon hangs precariously overhead.
Blood-red reflections illuminate the stark waters,
While calls of the lost sing to me,
Like sirens beckoning sailors to their doom—
Louder and louder, until it becomes unbearable.

Flaring arms fill with cortisol,
Burning, tangled within suffocating seaweed.
Farther I get pulled from the shore;
The horizon is growing fainter now with every somber beat of my heart.
Isolation shrouds the thickening atmosphere.
Saline leaks into my mouth, drying my tongue as I frantically spit it out.
Hysterical laughter escapes through lips without realisation.
Dehydration overcomes.
Sanity slips with each sip of water.
My larynx sharply tightens—
Barely a noise can be uttered.

Yet the siren calls of the irretrievable continue to crescendo,
Pulling me into an empty expanse, everlastingly.

Veil of Despair

death does not comes to me 
Even when I pray for it
I'm coward
My body freezed and hands paralysed 
In the inside, 
my life is torturous and tormenting 
On the outside, 
I believe there exist a better place for me
I'm stuck between death and life, my view blurry
My soul dead, head full of Death wishes
Is it called living?

A Stormy Night

A storm is coming
I don't know how to stop it
Like thunder rolling out of the sky
Striking me over and over again
In an open field
Nowhere to go, nothing to stop it
I'm helpless, paralysed
All the fear filling me with what could've been
What i could've done better to stop it
But what ifs and what could've been won't help you here
You just have to lay back and take it

Thoughts pierced my brain

Thoughts pierced the whites of my brains,
Tainted blood flowed out of my veins,
One half of me then paralysed,
My speech now completely disguised.

Why was I stubborn with the drugs?
My right arm now too weak for hugs.
Beat fast, my heart under my cloak,
Just too bad I now have a stroke.

Recovery now cost fortunes,
Drag I must my distortions,
Since death may even be my fate 
Like rats in a trap, I await.






27th October, 2024.

The Dummy

The Dummy

Lying in a corner 
With a smirk on his face
Eyes wide, not yet moving
Maché thoughts circulate.

Reality assured,
He was ready to go,
Dependency resting
On a hand from below.

His own paralysed hands
In his parodied suit
Did not have the means 
To greet or salute.

From whence the desire,
The will and intention?
How to be free from
Ventriloquist intervention?

The God of the dummy
Is beyond belief,
His place in the corner
A God-given peace

I Am a Prostitute

As told to me in confidence
Many years ago,
This is her story
Which I write here below. 

I am a prostitute
Not that I wanted to be
Life was difficult
For the household and me. 
I turned to this life
The style and living
Nights were days
Sans feeling and loving. 
My in-laws objected 
To this life in the beginning
But later condescended
For the money I was spinning. 
The earning was good
Men too were useful
When times were hard
Their manipulation was skillful
I had them old, young and handsome
Beginners and veterans;
Cheating husbands would come. 
I am sure my husband 
Would not be like them
He was faithful, is still so
Handsome though unkempt, 
I love him even more. 
I was advised an operation
Decided my husband to inform
I know he wouldn't object 
To my latest damned reform
He wouldn't hear my voice nor see
Me, his wife that needs to be
Not that I enjoyed this life I live
But the care to him I must give. 
He lies there in the bed
Paralysed from foot to head. 
My husband means much to me
I am a prostitute to earn his keep.

To which image should we cling?

Trailing clouds of glory do we come
The magical moments of childhood
When we felt at one with the universe
Spinning dizzily with delight

Or with more of horrible and awful
That even to name is sorrowful
Bound helplessly with flu in bed 
Unable from the pillow  to raise my head
And wishing the world would just go away
Paralysed by the loss of power to move

Maybe it is not so much
The image to which we should cling
Rather that the images should  cling
To us
Providing our distinct identities
The yardstick of our recollections
The holding of our first born close
Those bedtime stories where
The kids cling on to every word

Just before into euphoric sleep they drift
When we slip softly from the room
Switching off the bedroom light
With their  minds now deep in dreams bright

Choosing one image is far beyond me
I much prefer the whole family tree.

A Pale Image of A New Life

Teresa of Ávila
Dreamt the passion of God.

A physical fire 
Burned an image of his power.

An image I envisioned was one so dull 
Full of pain
A nightmare stabbing my mind's eye.

A frail image of my mother
Some quivering voice I remember
In my dimension of inception
That my mother was at her end.

A disruptive anxiety burdens a peace
But that day, it was at bay.

Paralysed by a hidden sight that I couldn't bear
Petrified by a dream, one that was so rare.

This despicable numbness I endure
Sympathises the fools of fiction.

As reality shapes its needle
To fill with its anaesthesia of truth
And inject into those who walk in wonder.

Today, I trudged through that trail 
Of some twenty-fourth year 
My Lucky Strike ablaze 
And my hands on the balcony window.

Experiencing no sore throat
That I remembered from youth,

Only a deep sensation of numbed limbs
Suffering this cold spring night.

Even the cigarette wasn't fazed 
Of the wind’s devouring passion
Blowing its burning ashes.

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