Short Flaying Poems
Short Flaying Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Flaying by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Flaying by length and keyword.
Snipping through the skin
vocal pain ripping my eardrums
Breathing in your blood
as i wash my sins
in your devotion
Masicate my masterpiece
Notes scratched in her skin
Mangle my manuscript
Snapping my fingers as i draw them down your chalk board
With the final flaying chord
My bow berates your jugular
And my opus is undone
Silence drowns all noise
What comfort, lighthouse, in this automated age?
No welcoming glow from cottage windows,
no friendly keeper brewing tea,
just a cold white beam flaying the night.
Lighthouse, in deepest dark you stand a watch
as lonely as mine,
both turning vacant eyes to an uncompromising dawn,
both lonely daymarks for the dispossessed.
What comfort, lighthouse,
What comfort?
A sword…cutting, flaying, slaying
A candy…sugary, tantalizing, pleasing
A song…edifying, mesmerizing, bewitching
A dream…promising, comforting, exciting
A kiss….longing, exploring, claiming
An embrace…soothing, groping, desiring
An act…submitting, dominating, gratifying
What am I?
WORDS
Words...A world, a heaven, a moment, an eternity,
A universe...
YOU!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
It was a dirty war
of moat
flaying the legs in emotional outburst.
No stings.
Only mandibles will do the job of chewing
on your dark fingers.
Flat, the taste of milk:
a synthetic formula to eat your entrails.
The plastic nose will smell the rose.
Unbuttoned,
message will bring the fishplates
and birthmark of violence.
Death has a cult of contusions.
You bleed to bones
for illuminating the street.
Satish Verma
like a grain of sand..
flied from the land..
settling in my eyes.
A lot of tears can,
remove you easily again,
then the pain will be removed.
What a wonderful band..
taking my little hand..
telling me to sway.
The Smell of the flowers..
is holding me for hours..
flaying into the sky.
What a wonderful feeling..
Freedom is always cleaning..
my heart and soul.
A constant throbbing
Soreness often
Stabbing two or three time a day
Acute anxiety
I never know when it is coming
Like a searing spear slashing and flaying
I had never felt sorry for others who conjured up these symptoms
Thinking they were weak, liars
Feeling that no one has constant pain
Because it is ridiculous
Now that I know better, I feel a tad bit sorry for them
But even more sorry for myself.
Rude awakening for sure!
Listen to poem:
Zippily, zippity, I slip down
the slippery dip slide.
Zippity-doo-dah, slippily-dippity-do!
Suddenly and nippily, tipping
backwards to quicken the pace.
Snappily, I whippingly
swish right off the end of the slide.
I launch into space,
Fly high in the air, arms wildly flaying
like a rocket man on steroids, screaming.
I land with an awfully
painful jolt, snap and thump.
Woefully my aplomb undone,
not so spryly or lightly,
right on my backside.
My mouth almost opened
But I quickly clamped it shut
Experience taught me not to try
To find my voice
Stifling myself is easy
I have sixty-seven-years experience
It is my natural reaction
I fall into it quite naturally
So many opinions of others flaying about
Engraved in concrete attitudes
But I have bound my mouth
With chains and locks, keeping my opinions safe.
It has boded well for me
Has kept me out of confrontations
I share my ideas with no one except poets.
Surreal beauty fit to fly.
Pearly teeth, oozing lies.
Dark mane casts ethereal frame.
Deep blue views of sinister flames.
Transient bodice, eager flight.
Others upon, she bestows the sight.
Lying beauty unadorned.
Dark addiction, newly horned.
Gentle hand, cloying chest.
Upon hole, within loss rest.
Flaying flesh from bone.
A dying wish of an inherent crone.
Hole, which inner heart was bore.
Afore gaucherie did so gore.
Lying inert and naked on the floor.
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