Short Gashes Poems

Anguish and torment
Deep emotional gashes
Hooked on barbed wire...

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dawn sun warms our soul
seals the fresh gashes of yore
hope for the wounded...

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Scars in entity deplores all the time..
Gashes poultice blood of sorrow..
Tears screams all the time..
Lesion utters stream of woe.....

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When my old man got hit by a car
He dragged himself to die in a bar
When Mom saw the gashes
She burned him to ashes
So now he rests in our cookie jar...

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Stepped from ashes
healed are gashes
from sin's lashes
with God's glory.

Blessed in rivers
drunk by givers
love delivers
Gifted story.

By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for Nettle's Desiderata Contest, 12/5/14
Theme #3...

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Nostalgia, it's a fruit
          that doesn't rot...
          Always present,
          always bitter...
          it's not thorn
          not even rose,
          but in the soul,
         always causes
           gashes... !...

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Our world is torn;
We must be menders,
Carers helpers and defenders,
Brothers, builders and befrienders--
Though the ripper's evil slashes
Flay the world to grievous gashes--
We must mend  and employ
Needles of kindness and threads of joy....

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Can only smoke remain visible to thee?
I arraign the distance carved out in gashes.
Proximity charred me to ashes,
Left me to burn, yet never felt the flame.
One glare from the dazzling dame,
To burn one's own nest, how absurd!
Blazed my heart, that sunbird....

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I looked into the mirror seeing what i feel,
Scars and gashes that seem to never heal,
Always blood and crippled skin is being shed,
I looked in the mirror and saw myself dead,
An image that is forever burned into my mind,
And somehow i still thank god for being so kind...

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Have you ever noticed how healthy you feel
after a swim in the ocean?
Would salt dissolved in warm water have the
same effect?
Table salt and warm water prevent infections.
Applied to open wounds and gashes on pets
It may sting eg. "Like adding salt to a wound"
Would a gargle prevent a cold?...

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Rising tall
in the thicket,
cresting with
force nestled
behind matted
fur and eight
fresh gashes
scabbing
firm,
the elder
intimidates
with rattling
force only
guttural
pronouncements
designed to
instill fear

or 
spark
resolve,
pivoting
an element
of battle that
shatters poise....

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My face is sunburned crimson, the skin
on my forearms is peeling off, bruises
appear on my biceps, a red gash
gashes across the front of my shoulder, my calves
tighten, my thumb joint
makes it painful to write, I can’t really explain
what’s wrong with the side of my neck
but my heart feels good
for the first time
in twelve days....

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A shadow puppet lurks,
manipulated like a mental marionette,
Creeping from the depths of my subconscious. 

The voice I hear, is no longer mine.

Lusty demons I’d not forgot
Come laughing back with sinister thought.

Gashes, scars upon my heart
Tear tender wrists apart.

Indian summer cannot hinder
October’s black internal winter....

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i'm a blank page
empty
waiting for someone 
to leave their mark
empty
words fill the page
my life's words
marred by scars inflicted
by another
gashes, cuts
but still empty
but wish it wasn't 
pieces are torn and lost 
words faded and worn
stains of blood and tears
fill the spaces
a filthy piece of paper
and yet it's still empty...

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If I were to close my eyes or dare to blink
I'd sink in salty rivers of tears on my cheeks

I wonder how long the flow will continue to linger
My fingers tire but cannot wipe them all away

I feel the burdened weight of my sodden lashes
fearing the gashes in my heart will go on bleeding


June 6, 2023
Bite Size no 65 Contest
Sponsored by Line Gauthier...

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Hurt again
 Written 10-12-05 Edited 3-4-07
 
I walk alone in the dusk
 Filled of hatred and depression 
I'm injured, bleeding from the gashes
 My heart is slashed
 Pieces cannot be located 
Life has defeated the purpose of living 
No longer happiness 
Useless feelings all around 
No faith to follow 
No love to find
 Aggravation inside myself 
Knocked out 
I awaken and become raw from the pain 
Hurt me again...

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Does anyone else's mind torture them like mine does every single  moment of living. It whips me with terrible thoughts that leaves gashes that never heal. They get infected overthinking is the infection. It burns, it makes me cry so much. I need medicine, she is my medicine but she has her own wounds so I don't take you. So the wound stays infected and ends up killing me slowly and painfully every single moment....

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As times have grown yet still unknown the boundaries of our excistance, we are all alone. From death to birth we remain on the earth to understand what our life is worth.  Midlife crisis, cuts and gashes, midnight sky curs, and turns to ashes. Is it a dream? Or is it a lie? From what I have built up, Im going to die.  Thinking grasps the loop of which reality sways, back and forth in our dreams confusing my days....

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Not the matter of morbidity (matter does matter there!)
But of humanity pushing inhumanity on the Other
We die a little; we die more when we loved the "other" before
Avarice, Impatience, Unkindness, Arrogance ... all that ego
Kills word by word, thought by thought; slashes and red gashes echo
(The Potter's love for clay and art; we pretend we do not care)
We die to Spirit every day with unkind bombs ... word daggers we say...

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Nurtured into a budding bloom
My hands are busy, they start and soon
Shake with blue; white; doves intone
Bones, body brown with eyes that drone
Like tiny gashes sewn up by hand
Tempered temper: fueled and fanned

Dripping dew from simple soil
Bead and bend, like drops of oil
Slick, smooth and shadowed still,
Rush the ground like boulders fill
Forgotten craters; satyrs; round and then
Devil’s whittled son, left wooden red....

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S)cars Are What They Are.
C)uts are deep.
A)nger dwells inside
R)age becomes you
S)ilence is the end.

A)ctions make wounds
R)ibs are broken
E)yes stay swollen

W)rist's  are bruised 
H)ate engulfs you
A)buse is from you
T)humb's are sliced

T)oes are blue
H)ead has gashes
E)lbow's have rashes
Y)elling will not go unpunished

A)rm's are knifed up to the bone
R)eality here is death that awaits
E)ngulfed in horror is my life....

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Everytime I move they dig deeper into my bleeding heart.
Ripping, tearing, gashes...
New scars become old scars, until you can't tell them apart.
And I'm left with shrapnel, cold, alone, and dark.
I'd do anything to make the bleeding stop.
But you can't put a tourniquet around your heart.
The only way to heal is another round of darts.
So naive, you think you'll win being honest from the start.
None of us are that smart.
It's all barbed wire around your heart....

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when i slide the razor
down my wrist
i start to feeland see
a red mist.

when i put the razor down
and look at myself bleed
i suddenly start realize
that i cannot see.

whenever it gashes open 
i see all the blood
it was a puddle 
and suddenly became a flood.

i love seeing the blood
run straight down my arm
people always told me
cutting wouldn't be any harm.

whenver people see me 
they call me an emo kid.
if they only knew,
everything that i've did....

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