Scathed Poems | Examples

The Backlight of Equality

On the day of the Lord the human shall fear,
A terrifying god whom will Christians duly Peer,
The dead shall live again - the Christian tear,
A monopolising Christianity that cannot hear.

With, or without, all people are flatly, truly loved,
Without malice or tub, to jingle coyly ungloved, 
Whatever the decade, decision, rubbed, tugged,
A transcendental god shall ring these beloved.

Talking clouds blown by earth’s graphic might,
Pose for the distant, scathed by a distinct light:
Enemies rise n’ fall as if tugging the dark night,
Offsetting the juggernaut of the ready birthrite.

A thought for people, bound, wet in eye-glare, 
Principles, claims and chains won’t be the fare;
Nothing will work except behaviour and blare,
To suggest an ascent coloured by another wear.

All people are of inherent and fully equal worth,
God dies again for the decliner’s identity of birth,
Inside - not as proactive, with his mobile hearth,
A blacklist deceives those fleeing their childbirth. 

Dominique Webb

Kitchen Spices - Aromatic Grief

Written: March 22, 2025, for contest sponsored by Craig Cornish

               ***********************

In the heart of my kitchen    spices exude their aromatic allure  
a harmonic blend of flavors    coddiwomples mute grief. . .  
cimmerian saudade in emeritus pickles, a nostalgic taste  
longing for a whiff of jasmine s p e c k s. . .
the acridity of blue cheese, the poignancy of bygone days. . .  
lavender aromas snip from vessels of proclivity 
       hidden under an ominous cloud of r e m o r s e
       on par with brimstone-soaked steam,
harmony strives to alleviate concealed pain
pleading palms to purge passed-over prose
as seclusion seeps still as a slow-spreading sickness…

Scathed by sadness    solitude simmers silently,  
In this mixture, marvelous magic manifests for mending   
spicy ambrosial nuances    partake in a gracious w a l t z 
pain intermingling with delight 
a buffet embellished    with dishes of acrid herbs,
the core character intertwines with previous fails   
textures and fragrances intertwine 
to create a tapestry rich in pain and d e l i g h t,
harmonizing sadness and joy in life's tangled web.

Damaged

Damaged
A fragile beauty, with scars that shine like stars, her soul entwined in thorns, yet her spirit glows with love"s sweet fire. Her eyes hold whispers of forgotten dreams, tears etched on porcelain skin, a heart once broken, now mended with a strength unspoken. And so, she stands, her head held high, through wounded, she refuses to die. For in the depths of her pain, she finds a reason to continue, to heal to love again. With hope in her voice, she sings a melody of resilience, her song echoes across the landscape, reminding us all that even in darkness, there is light waiting to be found. ( A Beauty Scathed But Not Broken )

LINE INSPIRATION

Celestial potions brewed in sinister stars
Like life lessons learned in deep and dark scars 

They that cut us deep make us brave 
They take away our fears of grave 
Our best friends may lie deep in our biggest foes 
Though, at first, make us tremble from head to toes 

No great warrior was not scathed in a bloody war 
Through wound that our greatness echoes afar
And if great stars before us will fall 
To try to kill the courage in our call 
The celestial potion will brew in our heart 
The flame of hope we carried from the start 

For, wounds from sharp blades may run deep 
But the sharp pain keeps us from deep sleep 

3

Line inspiration poetry contest
3rd place

Living For a Crown

A face with the bitterest frown,
For long years expecting a crown;
Now in prickly sweat bathed
And A Tongue is scathed …

It’s really an awful spectacle,
Facing no challenge, no obstacle,
As reported by his mirror
Doing so without error;
Ability he’s got and Agility
And all his life no infirmity.

So, why is he, Chief Favor
Facing Monarchical Disfavor;
For long years living for a crown
And it’s public knowledge in a far-off town?

Les Feuilles Mortes

Late,
 the morning glories rise
 passionate, royal, magenta blooms trumpeting,
 helloes and goodbyes;
novice neophytes falling 
into lavender blush dream states
succumbing to a mellowed change in weather
 cooler days awakened by pale aging sunlight
 soft, restless breezes 
 in the trees shedding leaves;
twilight for the foliage 
a lurid golden year half-light dulcet dawns, 
scarlet carmine sunsets, waning,
 whispering not shouting 
 carnelian nights humming a lullaby, 
 serene, euphonious,
clouded eyes struggling to remain awake
buddings small and petite, 
placid emollients of day;
 shaded out of scathed hunter greens
 falling to lemon camboge 
 limed colored oranges,
harvest time citrus afterbites 
commencement to vermillion bleedings
September full blood moon phasings, 
 in crisp kaleidoscope etchings 
 of a well-painted palette
 sepia rusettes, auburn, 
ambered melancholia disturbances;
sanguine shortened days,
arboreal sleep, brittle and dry
 les Feuilles Mortes.




Mystic Rose contest of Hello September
9/17/21

Cold Hearted

Your loving heart has turned to ice
Frigid and fickle
Selfish and self-indulgent 
The window to its soul no longer recognized

Your once-healing journey has been surrendered 
Frozen and forgotten
Recklessly abandoned
A path no longer trodden by brave footsteps 

Without regard, I am ousted by your cold shoulder 
Scathed in disrespect
Rude in retort 
Words typed are harsh, stinging like frostbite 

A stranger offers, and blindly, you accept 
Curiosity wins over therapy
My rank takes a sub-zero plunge 
Deep, arctic waters drown me
In your cold-hearted trap, I lie lifeless 

September 30, 2020
@katladyt_

Thought Transference

Somewhere between your hollow sight,
I danced in the sparks. And only
in your peripheral sight, will
I become an apparition 
of our solemn song and it's rite.

By now my feet are too scathed.
I fall to my knees, going
and enduring.  My singing,
has now dissolved to humming.

Before you sensed we would part,
I created and placed swords
in my heart. From omens I
birthed out of my very soul.

I sealed our own fate, by mistake.
Within the genesis of my
psyche, slumbers an essence of
creation. Who lingers at heart.

Everything Has a Soul

Maybe the wind blows to search for lost clouds
Maybe the stars shine to hunt for the sun
Maybe we laugh to gasp in some air
To let our soul dance blissful and bare

Maybe the waves come looking for lost fish
Maybe smoke rises to search for the wood
Maybe  we cry to let out our plight
To heal our souls scathed, scarred and knifed

Maybe the grass sways to wave at the grasshoppers
Maybe the spider weaves to show off its skills
Maybe we kiss to say that we'll miss 
To let them know we always want them near

Past Pain

Looking through old posts and being reminded of the despair I was feeling a few years ago...
Posts about suicide
Posts about self harm 
Posts about never feeling worthy
Posts about not wanting to be alive. 

It hurts to be reminded of the pain I was feeling. 
In the depths of my depression and self-loathing;
Thoughts of escaping the abyss were my only companion. 

The ache remembering all of my negative thoughts and swirling darkness inside my mind. 
If I could go back I would tell you to hold on; 
Don’t think about the bridge, or put down that knife. 
It will not take the pain away. 

I would tell you that you make it;
Scathed and scarred, but very much alive. 
I would tell you that you find love;
A love that will aid the healing. 
But most of all I would tell you;
You are worthy. You are loved. You are fearless. And one day you will know that this enough.

To Laura

Mine ne'er to be, yet mine always; 
Laura, spirit of dawn. Darkest night 
Cannot hide thee nor obscure thy rays. 
Though Black Death hath by his temporal right 
Claimed thee, dost thou, my love , indwell this heart. 
Though Charon's hammer this clay vessel break, 
The winds ne 'er scathed by Time's envenomed dart 
Shall of its pure content aye possession take 
And spread abroad thy fragrance to all Man, 
Fill the valleys and linger o'er the seas. 
'Tis not my part all future times to scan, 
But thankfully to muse by pastures, groves and leas, 
Await thy returning, nightly count the hours 
"Till I rejoice with singing birds and flowers."

Friendless Battle

My feelings are in express
Of the unfathomed inside myself
I find that I am in pain
Of a friendless battle alone
Lost I seem to wander
Going from one spot to another
But I am not emotionless
I just am in painful spouts
Feeling alone can hurt more
Than anything else, a wound
That carries much more salt
Than it does a cool gentleness
Hot stabbing pain enters me
From all corners of my heart
For alone I am in this life
And no one to care about me
But even more than that
No one that I can care about
This emptiness grown more
Each day it rips me apart
Till I feel the gapingness of it
And nothingness abounds inside
This hollow soul rests scathed
And bothered by the endless
Rattles of this unfriendly Earth
Battling the demons of my past
As well at the loss of future hope
That I may find somewhere a friend…

Russell Sivey

End of Innocence

There will be no torn howl
to shriek into the ears of conscience
no ripping breath of hearts demented
the sacrificial embryo
will pass, unrepentant

Gather you all to the desperate font
come hither for the assassins scrutiny 
in lamentation binds your children
to bring them in such apathy
to the excesses of purgatory

Be scathed and damned for such choices
it was thy own impeached soul
who bartered usance for all their futures
then slit the throat of all their voices 
and then sold them for today

Traitors stitch the wounds of innocence

With an excuse

Lecherous Eyes and Brown Bags

Music leaps from open windows,
gliding down steamy summer rays.
The notes have loud mouths, shouting 
out bold, rude barbs of reality.
Hip-hop, rap, heavy metal, all crash...
clanging onto the pavement below, then
flip-flop like a wounded bird.
Dancers trip the light fantastic,
cyclonic feet never stumbling,
shuffling along chalk-marred sidewalks.
Words jumbled in banging heads-
buds in scathed ears, burning hissed tunes
bouncing off graffiti bombed walls.
Pungent fog from strange smoke
crawls out of long black cars with
rears jacked up, rolling down scarred streets,
bouncing up and down with a bad rhythm
from a sad. raucous concert, jerking like
a drunk chicken strutting and kissing the ground.
Pig-tailed girls jump rope, chanting the
"lady with the alligator purse," paying no
attention to strangers staggering by with
lecherous eyes and brown bags holding secrets.
Young boys play stick hockey on cracked walks,
teething on puberty and swearing like crude sailors.
The old woman watches from a top step,
hoping someday the broken bottles will cut
through the chains and lead to a better life.

Lessons In Losing You Twice

It wasn't difficult 
to learn the history
of you, 
to wipe away the 
foreign imprints 
of other souls, 
and misplaced fingertips
on the geography 
of your body.
The hard part was 
allowing my hands 
to fall, 
learning to
unweave my fingers
from yours,
and stop the awful
ticking
seconds
of remembering
you.
I managed to walk away,
slightly scathed, 
still able to smile.
But,
I still write the poems.
I never learned how to stop
writing you into the pages.
What was once my escape
only pushes me 
in remembering us,
making me realize 
that your absence 
was never truly 
real.
And now you sleep
under a blanket of bombs,
learning the art 
of tourniquets 
and bloodshed. 
And I'm still here,
trying to
figure out how to
forget you.

• Short Scathed Poems
• Famous Scathed Poems
• Best Scathed Poems
• Read Scathed Poems
• Long Scathed Poems
• Scathed Quotes