Short Wounding Poems

the wounding of youth


and the wringing hands of time


convoluted rhyme...

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A people's movement

against the oligarchies,

wounding public trust...


*...

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The thunder- striking-
Where my heart- seek- Woman's love...
                    Daunting, wounding- flames....

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I perish

not by sword or steel

I perish

each moment that I feel

I perish

damn unyielding flood

I perish

wounding crutch of love...

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Pain
pierces
so deeply
wounding the soul
Leaving scars inflected by deception
Hurling it’s arrows of deceitfulness
Puncturing peace
Impaling
The heart's
Bliss...

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Wacko mind born confused
With grotesque ugly face 
Web of deceit her game
Worshipping evil eyes
Wicked soul casting spells
Wordless wrathful weaver 
Wounding beautiful hearts...

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sadness
surrenders my heart
as oil gushes beneath the sea
wounding our mother earth.
Frightened wildlife bewildered with no tools
to escape
bent heads to the sea
bent heads to the sea...

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Poetry…
Attacking the mood
Driving its impression inward 
Beyond all excuse
Wounding the intellect
Calling out names 
Saving the moment
  —resurrecting the soul

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2015)...

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Your words sting me like a bee
Barbed, cutting, cruel and callous

You really don’t understand me
Go back and live in your ivory palace

18th March 2015

Inspired having read the recent poems of Jade Celeste...

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words that pierce like a sharpened edge
the pen has no regret
old pain incessant we must dredge
if not forgive, forget?

but the power of a simple verse
overlooked by the creator
has made the past in present worse
and lesser pain now greater...

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Skulls
                   cracked, hollowed 
       showing, decomposing, wounding
  Remains, Graves, Cemeteries, Mausoleums
      cushioning preserving, defending 
                    damaged, vacant 
                           Souls....

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day dreaming 
picturesque
scenery created 
within the wounding 
mind's eye 
dreamscape of 
mental illusions 
mind games played 
within the subconscious
generating falsehoods 
passing fairy tales 
of as personal reality 
mental distortion...

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Marathoners crossing the finish line
Bomb blast takes to the air
Wounding hundreds of spectators
Killing three

Terrorist attacks here and there
This time in Boston
Where next?
Nobody knows

Americans are resilient
Rejecting submission
To life of terror
By those with twisted thinking...

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Aftermath

Living through the deprivation
	of the silence and solitude
of former injuries afflicted, 
we come to a new conception of scars in battle, 
they serve a purpose, reminding us that 
we may have suffered from the wounding,
but their presence denotes a well fought fight,
and a strengthening of spirit. 
Round Two?...

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Clumsy in my missteps 
And clumsy with my words
Tripping over my own feet
And now tripping over yours

Clumsy with my quick words
And clumsy in my steps
My venom tongue will sting you
And can take away your breath

Never said I’m graceful
And now you know it’s true
Can I dare forgive myself 
This dire crime of wounding you?...

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I have once flown in the clouds. 
Helping people then been blacked out. 
The world has changed my wings are black.
Lost all hope need to sleep but never can't. 
So I lay on this concrete slab. 
My soul is gone but wounding if I will get on track. 
Seeing things white but now I have changed. 
Now I am just a black dark angel living in pain...

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Watching the ascension
of half-moon from the brown hills
there was a blast in veins.

A raw hope strokes the clouds.
Starting a fire in stars,
making you blind.

Till the eyelids become heavy
with guilt, striving. Waking up
in middle of blue.

I was trying to reach you, when you
were not there,
wounding me in void.


SATISH VERMA...

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i tossed it all up,
said i am wounding up,
consider hard and fast,
all as good as lost,
they looked stunned,
they had never ,
seen a human,
throw all down the drain,
and yet feel no remorse,
however whatever i did toss,
had to come down,
and down it came,
crashing on my head,
i was again pinned down,
till i could toss it all up,
yet again....

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The one I love
the one I trust
the one I changed for
the one I offered my heart
serve my soul to his table
now judging me
hurting me
wounding my heart
and make it bleed

wooow!
what is the meaning of my existence?
but if it is just being 
judged 
entrusted
ignored
insulted 
hurted
wounded or else
I'll just have to support all till my end....

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The poet sits
At the lower table
While his wife
Addresses the group.
Suddenly, she directs
Her remarks to him,
Spitting out words like
Bullets, wounding his
Spirit and his pride.
He quickly rises
To leave the room,
Dropping his poetry
Notes to the floor,
Upon reaching the
Foyer, realizes his
Marriage is over--
Just like that.

written August 27, 2021...

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Black seeps deep dark empowering
back widely and wondrously enlightening
black reaps deep dark EarthTribe empowering
back wide wounding SunShine 
wondrously enlightening

Blank as deep dark Earth
empowering responses back 
nocturnal
from wide wild SunShine
wondrously enlivening
eternal

Black seeps deep dark empowering
back widely and wondrously 
depolarized enlightening...

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Your deadly silence persists in wounding me
Its pierce gets louder, more deafening each day
Trying to honour your request to be 'just friends'
Is a futile attempt in every which way

Though my mind may be mislead by the challenge 
My heart remains steadfast, in no way on  board 
Profound feelers like me, we cannot be tricked 
By the blade of a double-edged sword 

November 29, 2020...

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Body coiled and ready to strike,
         rattling tail betrays his trap.
                  Hooded eyes stare through desert night,
                          unsuspecting prey lingers.
                                 Sharp fangs pierce flesh mortal wounding,
                                                           he feasts, then retreats alone.

       







Written on 1/17/2015...

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There is nothing like falling for a wolf.
To which you would do anything for.
After once wounding the wolf,
there is not a length you will go to repay the wolf.

For allowing his fangs in your neck
means his bite may redeem your sins.
So you let him bite and hope it is hard enough
to leave you unconscious of any sin you may have committed.

After all, the wolf knows better than a dumb bunny....

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You who had seen my next of kin
Dining and wining near a bin
And you forgot to raise a din
Or had minded your Gripping Gin… 

It was A War you did not win,
Though Loss reports not on The Skin
Like would Incisive Pricks of Pin
Or handiwork of Wounding Tin…

Your love, please, extend to My Kin
In Water Fish that needs Your Fin:
Never mind his mischievous grin
Nor like God be counting his sin…...

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