Ruin Poems - Poems about Ruin

I Am The Blueprint of My Own Quiet Ruin

The door swells in its frame each winter,
paint curling like old tongues —
still you press it open with a finger,
leaving soft dents in the wood.

Inside, the walls hum from hidden wires;
plaster sighs under your barefoot weight.
Every step — a loosened nail,
a whisper of dust sliding down beams.

The windows breathe in drafts,
their single panes shivering;
no storm

Ruin

I miss you
But I will not let you ruin me again.

Before I Ruin the View

Before I ruin the view, I see…I see
as a child - the colors meld
in the sky, in the lake, at tree level.

Before I ruin the view, I chew on it,
revel in it, see God in it. I see…

Before I ruin the view, alone with myself,
alone with sights and sounds; infinity.

Before I ruin the view, by

The Bruise Was Worth It

I kissed the fall.
Ran barefoot through glass and silence.
Told him I loved him—
even when it undid me.
It was raw.
It was ruin.
But it stayed,
like a scar
worth naming

An Ancient RuIn

The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.

His anecdotal spiel is by rote. His shtick is fact-slim
and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged
unwillingly along by his CliffsNotes speech.

What catches my wandering eye
is that one of those ruined effigies
is a fair facsimile of myself.
He (a god/king

Fall of the Rainbow Bridge

All is burning, cinders and ash
		flakes float in black rain,
		falling on a ground
			of clinkers and flinders.

The hand of ruin traces sigils
		of chaos and strife
		on broken city walls,
		within which rats awaken

They are the true rulers of destruction,
		living cloaked with shadows,
		in any crevice or crack,
		hunting bones and burnt flesh.

Their rivals, jet-black birds,
		massing on heights above
		in their murders
		and

Shoulds can ruin the coulds

Too many shoulds can ruin the coulds.
Shoulds take my energy,
Wear me out,
Exhaust me
So I concentrate on the coulds.
Letting my husband do the boring redundant shoulds.
Which used to be my domain.

In Loving Ruin

I bled for you—
and now I fear I have run dry,
drained of love, of purpose, of self,
yet still, it was not enough.

My heart aches, but this wound is my own,
a betrayal of the self,
a blade I wielded against my own best interest.

I am trapped in the cycle,
repeating the same heartbreak,
chasing ghosts through the corridors of

Refraction

In the ruin of 2020,
life shattered –
streets that once bustled,
now phantom,
ringing with the wail of sirens,
the weight of loneliness pushing down,
every breath a hint at what we lost.

Masks hid not only faces,
but the touch of an embrace,
conversations now murmurs from afar,
friendships frayed,
intimacy drowned out in screen static.
eyes aching with anticipation of the real.  

Days

Unspoken ideas are art galleries in ruin, frescoes on the walls of our weary minds

Unspoken ideas are art galleries in ruin, frescoes on the walls of our weary minds,
From them were born the wars that tore humanity apart through infinite epochs,
Unspoken words melt into the air like musical notes you will never hear,
Yet they are there, scattered in your soul like dancing ghosts.
I turn back time to destroy peace,

Blue Sky Ruin

A trembling earth
panics and cracks
tortured and teased
by the bullying wind

the ground gives in
cornered by gusts
and my red maple falls
ripped at the roots

the windstorm’s fury
fizzles to a breeze
and people move on
swayed by the sunlight

I watch
from my knees
in the dirt
of my garden
as an arrogant sun
beats me with heat

how they relish the rays
that freckle my skin
and bask in

Pundits Of Ruin

Do nothings
wth tenure
poseurs sublime

Their barrels
sit empty
coated
with lime

The space
they take up
much better off
closed

For those
they have
poisoned
— Hades to know  

(Haverford College: April, 2024)

Living out of a Lie

It was my dream to go to the gym.
I promised myself, I would.
Days passed by, 
I told myself,
‘I must work, I should.’

Far from work, I took to rest,
As others huffed and puffed.
The mirror mocked, my muscles did,
As people looked and coughed.

‘Nothing’s wrong’, I told myself,
An hour’s walk would do.
I circled my garden twice a day,
The

Ruin

PAIN, the raw blistered truth of the wrongfully made choice laid bare and exposed.
JEALOUSY, the corrosively selfish vanity-fed flame that burns impatiently for an unearned reward that is solely deserved. 
GREED, the insatiable festering itch to consume all in exchange for self entirely.
SHAME, an echoing shadow stamped upon a piece of time corroded by the

Untamed Drives Ruin Lives

The child allowed to have their way,
And do whatsoever they may,
Who is not taught to have restraint,
Develops traits that their life taint.

The rule of appetite destroys,
And undermines life’s lasting joys.
It makes the human being a slave,
To whatever his passions crave.

Instead of reason taming urge,
Unruly urges reason scourge.
The man becomes a boorish brute,
Unanchored from his soulish

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