Rage Poems - Poems about Rage

They locked her in a box of gold, with chains that shimmered, stories told. "Stay pretty,  still–don't ask for more, The fire in you? Just folklore". she smiled like myths were make–believe, But hid a flame beneath her sleeve. each breath she took was kindling slow, A furnace marked in ash and glow. The saw her feathers, red and bright, But...

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Your name leaves a bruise on my lips, like a ghost that lingers, life to strip, with eyes that threaten as they smile and a voice that cuts, low and vile. My heart cries out in silence dark, which you incinerate with careless spark. Your compassion's rage rules my life, twisting love into chains, sharpening strife. I speak my truth and ask for...

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She started crying in the middle of rages— not the soft kind, but sharp, like she’d cut herself on something I couldn’t see. She slammed drawers. Shouted at a spoon. Broke a plate and sobbed as if the world had cracked with it. Before she left, my mother filled the kitchen with notes written on paper towels— taped to the cupboards, the countertops, the fridge. I couldn’t read, but...

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Raw, unfiltered anger, it’s all that I know. Constantly Aggravated by worthless pieces of scum that I struggle Getting off of my shoes. A nasty glare, a hostile retort, Everything and anything can, and will, fan the flame. After the infliction, what happens then? A swelling, a vicious, Nasty swelling in the throat. A horrible torrent of flames threatens to Destroy...

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‘tis not this scape judgy? ‘lo, prey on the defenseless short of a chirp, quite rationalized facets of your twisted facade the soul degrading you? despises, despises theeself thy insecurities shall protrude thy good and their wrong spotlighted i won’t get ready for this world it will get ready for me let their hearts pound in their chest cause I’m fighting for those who can’t fight it’s...

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Surviving the knights of Columbus Peter gargano faking his death recieving full burial insurance from San Carlos Beach chapter sadly he has been hacking into chapter District 46 2505 state secretary Donald and O'Connor at our 2017 and 2019 convention home invasions ripping our badges shooting into my plants from text door our Jan 6th...

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It wasn’t the lightning that split me-- it was the silence that came before. That breathless hush like the world holding its tongue right before it screams. I have learned to count the seconds between betrayal and the crack-- the flash of what you did, and the roar of who I became. Don’t tell me to be soft in this storm. I was soft when I begged, when I bled...

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How still the waters rage In stillnesses of day Moving tranquil on their way Across the placid page, While simmering beneath In silent, stormy stare The torrent underneath In boiling cauldron glares – Between the lines the blanks Bespeak in volumes swept Words unheard in all their strength Speak, where they are kept Beneath the calmness of the page – How still the waters rage –...

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Repeating myself Over and over and over again You can’t begin to imagine the pain. The anguish. The derelict feelings born of a journey To better thyself. To become the best version of me A version forged in solitude. I scream into the silence, And I cry like a ghost in a glass house Visible, but unheard. Seen, but not felt. Do they care? About this version of...

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I will not rage against the world, It has already done its part, shattering me into pieces, I will live with what remains, quiet and honest, free, I will win not to prove, but to feel alive, I will drink not to forget, but to savor the moment. I will sing not to impress, but to free my soul, I will...

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Peters rage never wavering even within the night sweats as cancer ripped through his tiny frail body he still imagines what his brother has if he could just grab his brothers lovers to covenant then perhaps he’d gain just a little more life he craved the smile his brother wore he craved the notion of...

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Where harmony hoards the supposed hurt, Symphonies belie me. I rein myself in to not be curt, But noise surrounds me. Where time heals the freshly toiling, I have old, murky bloodstains Yet no one sees how quietly I'm boiling Until the tipping point I shall hide my pains. Why such a discordance in my disposition? I desire to mourn the impact of this...

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A mother to you, a son to me, sucking the life out of my bosom and weep in disgust when it's saggy. Men love a tempting hole to fit in, to dissolve seeds of bliss and then chymic wring it barren of faith. They carve open doors in me and call it a home. women love a alchemist man ,...

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Like late eve of a slowly dying year, Yellowing leaves await when falling down, Soon to get trodden when dried to dull brown, A few still hanging on, life lived in fear, I too, on late life's tentative twilight— The age awaiting the sunset of life With forebodings of a long prowling night, I...

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There once was a cop, Harry C., Whose Magnum was quite a sight to see. He'd squint and he'd growl, At some low-life foul, "Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk, three?" ©bfa031825 ...

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