Short Amputated Poems

—Grandfather Peace

his arms struggle to hold on due to amputated hands



...

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Amputated  fornications

Ladlefuls and shoe horns,

Experimental nursery rhyming

White coats storking newborns....

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——— A FIGMENT OF CONSEQUENCE

the thermostat’s kept so low ~ my amputated phantom-pained toes freeze


(c) sally young eslinger 1/15/23...

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Where is the child I seek?
Is it hiding or is it dead?
Has it long ago been amputated? 
And it is the phantom that exists.
Or is its existence just a myth?
And only a figment in my mind’s labyrinth....

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A city without streets…
a pain in the memory
Like an amputated limb
still aching at night

A city without people
 a bane on existence
Their shadows to wander
—down avenues unnamed

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)...

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Out of a dark-wet laboratory,I came amputated.

To grab a world out of my grasp.

When all my limbs are halted,comes a "god"

Off stylomastoid foramen,

Praying-pass the ganglion of difficulty,

Wielding,five headed- sword;all for me.

Upon my genu, I hail thee.O almigthy,

"pes anserinius major"

 By:Tutuola michael...

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(This is a fictional poem)

When you ran over my foot with your tractor-trailor,
I started cussing just like a sailor.
I cried and cried because I'm a wimp.
My foot had to be amputated and now I walk like a chimp.
People point and laugh at me and it cuts like a sword.
You mashed my foot so flat that it looked like an ironing board....

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Stewart’s accident almost amputated his leg, 
So now he’s a para-shooter from Bacup, 
Which is a town in Lancashire, English peg, 
He trains at Blackburn RPC to rise up. 

In Glasgow’s Commonwealth Games 2014,
He came fifth and was chosen for Rio, 
He was born on the 2nd day of July in 1966,
And model making is his top hobby, bio....

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punctured palm prophesied
wielding wanky wiles
amputated alazakam aroused
sassy spell sprouts
taunted tendrils tamed
rustic roots raved

Fumes! Felon fingers
turned faces' tinker
lanky leers linger

bounty body belched
savoring moment's mesh
fate's gloom fetched

tainted tiers trailed
fractured future's frail.
     '20:04:26:18:32

Note: Of pawned picture....

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Cadaver, Godiva and Quiver
     I believe that I've poisoned my liver

   Pushcart on the ramp fell apart
     I'm afraid I've damaged my heart

   Pencil Lead, Interbred, Seeing Red
     I think I've a hole in my head

   Had to beg for a keg of bootleg
     They just amputated both legs

   Only one thing I dread even more
     ~ A fall from the bed to the floor...

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Tim sometimes shoots from his living room, 
And into his conservatory right onto the target, 
When he’s not training at Stoke Mandeville, 
Where he improves thrice a week as a go get. 

With his left arm amputated, his right one does, 
Most people told him he would not be able to, 
But he’s visited the Euros and done the Worlds, 
‘And ‘Cos he won the World Cup, he made Rio....

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gaunt path gnawed
heaving hampered awe
sassy zeal seeped'n
felon furnace spree
masticated moans yawned
bruised bridge's pawn

airy atmosphere amputated
trailing alakazam taunted
gloom's gored lips

voluptuous asunder vied
punctured pulses plied
raged reels' wiles

fate fostered boundary
smothered silhouettes merry.
     '20:05:08:19:29

Note: Of screwed survival....

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nocturnal nature nimble
hibernating hampered hurdle
salient acme strained
whooshing wills waned
drooling dainty dirge
pruning punctured perch

sassy spectre surged
leasing lofty lurch
amputated atmosphere pursed

airy ascension hacked
felon fate squashed
trailing taunted trance

porous prayer pulled
gaunt gravity's hood.
      '20:05:12:20:08

Note: Of porous prayer....

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sassy spell snapped
trailing taunted trance
callous clouds cruised
bounty blitzkrieg bruised
nocturnal nymph nudged
pluming lanky lust

amputated atmosphere bled
alakazam cremating crest
fostering phlegm fetched

felon flesh flipped
dark dribbles clipped
tampered trees gripped

leering logs lobbed
kaleidoscopic chaos clogged.
      '20:04:30:20:37

Note: Of pained picture....

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Arms mutilated, Maggots devour my flesh
Legs amputated by my own volition 
I am writhing in Indignation, resentment has grown
Here I am, undergoing vivisection 
Screaming for my imperfection 
I have lost all sense of hope 
I am to die here, My blood, I am regurgitating
The Queen has used floral words
King has vomited maggots drenched in pus
Purified Intentions corrupted by toxic slurs...

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Arms mutilated, Maggots devour my flesh
Legs amputated by my own volition 
I am writhing in Indignation, resentment has grown
Here I am, undergoing vivisection 
Screaming for my imperfection 
I have lost all sense of hope 
I am to die here, My blood, I am regurgitating
The Queen has used floral words
King has vomited maggots drenched in pus
Purified Intentions corrupted by toxic slurs...

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The day poetry stops
  words inept
    rigid strokes
      faltered attempts
A hand floats
  amputated 
    over paper white
      virgin
A blank mind
  untuned dissonants
    lonely tones
      blank bars
Dance halts
  legs cannot carry
    strangled sounds
      lost steps
And tears form
  small lakes
    round pools
      failed chances

***
June 24, 2017
Copyright © Darren White...

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That awkward moment
when you stammer,
truth spurts out:
how not to offer a straight reply.

Your green eyes
tell me the pain
of last century.
Of armistice, of amputated legs
and then you don’t know what to do with your existence.

Darkened trees spit the starlight.
I will wait for the maddening crowd
to take the dip in the holy lake,
to wash out their sins
under the full moon.						


SATISH VERMA...

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Halloween wigmaker had a ghoulish garish way
inventing unique creations that made vampire’s day
how about a new wig made from an amputated head?
In a few hours it would smell bad the wigmaker said.

What if you used doll heads? The vampire suggested.
If you bring me the dolls, so the vampire invested.
People on the street yelled, kicked, gagged and screamed.
It made the Halloween better than anyone had ever dreamed....

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Silly things often play around
in my head like the amputated leg
of a roast chicken laying
on a plate with gravy, potatoes
and peas suddenly penetrating
my mind with a pang of conscience 
reminding me
that I am about to eat what was,
a few days ago, part of the housing
of a living mystery
that is now unfortunately dead
and no longer has anything silly,
if it ever did,
playing around inside 
its decapitated head....

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He was worried about the thumbs,
amputated,
so that he could not write
or fire a gun.

The last convulsion was a drag
every pain was going to be memorable,
he etched on translucent arms.

Between the shouts a silent sob
scatters the rainbow.
The writing on the lips becomes invisible.

Sweetheart, don’t go into the rain.
Clouds are wounded and sky is dark.
Shadow of talking tree is becoming longer.


SATISH VERMA...

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For cloning of small gods
you took out the kidneys, lungs
and stomach, from slain truth’s
body. My bête noire, the lies.

Do you smell the stink? You make
yourself, you are not your id.
The urge to take a flight was very strong.
Groins aching for the heroic jump.

Legs amputated, the tragedy, swims
like a fossil truth in the sea, under
the layers of centuries.
Man has not changed, cheated of the death.


SATISH VERMA...

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It's like getting your leg amputated
For a while the phantom limb throbs and aches
Until you recognize and accept the fact
That it's just a ghost playing evil pranks

A phenomenon occurs in the morning
That will forever remain a mystery
Those few seconds between waking and sleeping
When you don't yet realize who or where you are
You get a short reprieve until
"Oh yeah, I don't have a leg anymore"

For HGarvey Daniel Esquire's contest...

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callous clouds hummed
sassy syllables puked
dripping dark dribbles
vying veil trickles
amputated atmosphere bewitched
spooky spell enriched

thrilled trees trailed
crumbling crescendos' wail
rusty rhythm raved

nudging nature nimble
munching meagre mumble
bounty boulevard hurdled

bridged blitzkrieg bruised
grooming gaunt gloom.
     '20:04:27:18:21

Note: An imitation of an art of nature the Almighty etched in the earth....

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A monster from a tree 
jumps and runs around the bushes
to mate.

A blank statement
is issued. The system groans
and collective pshyche fails.

A stark silence
for the food for thoughts.
I sit down to meditate-

to find the bloody answer 
for white death. The dirty
work to sweep the floor.

It smells like an
amputated leg.
Do we need to draw a circle around the bomb ?

With a lie on your lips,
are you going to negotiate
with violence ?


Satish Verma...

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