Stained Poems | Examples

stained glass sky

this stained-glass sky was created by a master painter
dominated by azures, purples, lavenders, fuchsia, plums
toward the bottom of the sky was a bit of dull yellow
a sliver of green also reflected in the pond
tall skinny black shrub trees surrounded this magnificence
I began designing my stained-glass cathedral window
knowing I could never do this scene the justice it deserved

Whisky-Stained Silhouette

a whiskey stained silhouette outlines your figure 
and the spiced smell of your breath lingers in the air
drunken lies in the late hours of the night make us both forget about how bitter, our lives taste
filling your soul with fire and regret every sip you take
swallow the flame, it sets fire to the heart
the burning sensation takes away the heartache
at what cost is this okay?
you’ve lost yourself
a mere lifeless clone of your body 
walks around without a care in the world how his actions affect somebody

The Blood-Stained Glass Heart

She scrubs the floors with hands that bleed,
her heart, a brittle thing beneath her chest—
a reflection of the shattered glass
she once danced on,
believing love was a crown
meant to fit anyone.

The prince's ring,
so smooth,
is a shackle,
and his kiss—
not a promise,
but a contract with the devil’s own whisper.

Her stepsisters wear their cruelty
like fine silk,
while her smile fades
into the dust of her cinders.

The carriage,
once golden,
is a cage
that rattles down the path
toward a ball
that was never hers to begin with.

The clock does not strike midnight.
It grinds her bones to powder,
and she is left standing
in the ruins of her own dreams,
the glass slipper cutting into her flesh
as if it always knew
it was meant to break her.

Stained

Where the hell am I, for God's sake how did I get here, what have I done to deserve this un-humane madness. I knew what I was doing, I had complete control of myself. It wasn't the alcohol nor be it the pills that were prescribed to me for anxiety. It was me in a nutshell, because that's who I am and that's who I will always be. I knew exactly what I was doing, when I was doing it, and why I was doing what I had done. It was a simple little piece of art that fit me to a tee. This little but meaningful tattoo of a heart showed others who I was and that it was meant for others to give them hope in life. That's all it stood for and all it was meant for. So why ask I, have I been snatched from my home like a spider from its web on your wall and thrown into this hellhole like the spider in a jar and tortured by the likes of a rulers' law. The ink that I have stained permanently on my left forearm for others to see and feel comfort will always be a part of me, like it or not you damn foolish bigot. For heaven's sake...let me out of this hellhole Satin. 

the ink on my arm 
the devil didn't like it 
it's for heaven's sake

Tear Stained Music

Breath of light, casting shadows over the night
Soothing stars and moon in her gentle embrace
Hurling nervous sea against beaches so white

Gentling the surf with a calm time can’t erase
Cobalt sprays fall against the sandcastle reefs
Stirring wells of euphonious tones of grace

Mists of joy, glazing the trembling cloverleafs
Sunlight glow murmuring peace to the coastline
Sand dollar stories emitting soul beliefs

Playing through my heart, songs no man can define
Bruised thoughts fill my mind, singing praises to Him,
Who guides my spirit, causing my light to shine

Across the beach, into the sea, hearts will swim
Compelled by laughter, joy seeks the light so still
Jesus wants more than just living on a whim

He loves His children and means their hearts to fill
He amazes, nothing can be more real
Love deeper than the sun who eases dawn’s chill

Dew drenched mists flow across quiet seas to heal
These are the days God gave to ease our spirit
He is the light to whom I’ll forever kneel

Walk in the light, there’s no reason to fear it
His tears are falling on the wind, just hear it

Bleach Stained Memories

Such a common smell

Used in places all over

Restaurants to grocery stores to schools to bathrooms

a smell this clean cant make me feel so gross


Kills 99.9% of viruses & bacteria

Kills the germs left from my stomach surrendering its contents

Huddled over and in pain

a smell this clean cant make me feel so gross


I was always sick as a kid

Never eating yet losing my lunch

Peppermint oil that never worked to keep my stomach at bay

All the home remedies and medical ones yet it still happened


I had my own friend, Ralph, my own bucket

My only friend in my time of need

Forever stained by the clean, slightly medicinal smell


It hits me like a slap

Cold and biting against my senses

The clean, too clean, aroma

a smell this clean cant make me feel so gross


I smell it all the time

Away from the small cluttered bathroom

Away from the hands holding my hair and rubbing my back

All away from my longest friend


A reminder for all i've overcome

A smell, haunting me, just trying to help others

It did not meant to live in my senses yet here it is

a smell this clean makes me feel so gross

New Year's Light

The clock strikes twelve, and the world exhales,
a breath held too long, now let loose in fireworks.
Here’s to beginnings wrapped in the glow of possibility,
where dreams unfurl like banners in the wind,
and hopes spark like lanterns lighting the night.

This year, I will weave stories from the threads of my soul,
binding words into pages that whisper to the world,
“Here I am—alive, striving, writing to touch hearts.”
I will stumble, perhaps, but rise again,
stronger, wiser, with ink-stained hands.

I will study the art of kindness,
learn its language and speak it fluently,
offering compassion as freely as the morning sunlight.
Each day will be a class in becoming,
not perfect, but better—a truer reflection of love.

Travel might come, or it might wait,
but journeys aren’t just of roads and planes;
I will explore within, a voyage into self-discovery,
mapping the landscapes of courage and grace.

So, here’s to you, to us, to the stories untold,
to mornings steeped in hope and evenings with peace.
May we greet the year with hearts wide open,
writing our chapters with joy and resolve.

Heat Stained Imayo

It’s always those who can’t spell, abracadabra;
They try to darken the Sun, enshrouding the world;
Hiding that midwinter spark, as hope lights a match;
Heat stained cheeks of the night sky, there’s no going back.

Blood-stained poppies

Blood-stained poppies mark the day that human
sacrifice did harden the skins of the less murderous mass
for such a brutal aghast affair, how the God all mighty
would formidable bear witness to grief beyond repair

Out into the fields, neither would yield-with bullets they
would tear but what would a stealthy, shrewd general care if many
died on duty which left a nation dumbfounded by the levity and 
gravity of a war that was deemed
to be of grandness, valiant soldiers of fallacious valour 
mercilessly gunned down and with
no gratification, them forsaken, while the gutless
general is less sanctimonious, pious in his approach for the
fighting did persist, until finally that last shot,
at last serenity in the calamitous storm, birdsong instead 
of less fanciful peaceful flight, that night the serendipitous surviving
soldier did sleep so tight, a nation did succumb to pitiful sorrow 
and pain-so the poppies do denote blood-stain and brutal,
grim, gutless gain

The Ink-Stained Symphony

From the depths of my heart, a rhythm starts,
a symphony of words, a dance of art.
My pen, a conductor, leads the way,
across the parchment, a melody to sway.

Emotions surge, a vibrant hue,
on the canvas of my soul, they bloom anew.
Love's gentle whispers, pain's piercing sting,
a tapestry of life, my heart does sing.

Each stroke a brushstroke, each word a note,
a symphony of feelings, from my soul it wrote.
My joy, my fear, my longing deep,
a mirrored reflection, secrets I keep.

My words, like doves, take flight and soar,
carrying the stories I hold at my core.
Into the world, they journey free,
a whispered echo of the soul in me.

With every line, a universe unfolds,
of memories painted, stories untold.
From the depths of my being, they take their form,
a symphony of words, weathering every storm.

Let your heart listen, let your spirit soar,
within my art, the truth you'll explore.
Find solace in the rhythm, the melody's grace,
and feel the symphony of my soul embrace.

The Blood-Stained Gospel

There is no bloodless Jesus
There is the Blood Stained Jesus
There is no bloodless gospel
There is the Blood Stained Gospel
The Power of the Blood of Jesus reigns Supreme

We are Cleansed by the Blood to Serve the Living God
Jesus was born to DIE
He came to DIE for the SINS of the world—
He brought the Kingdom of God to Earth and
HE showed the HEART of the FATHER
The Resurrection of Jesus shows us that
Through the Blood of Jesus, we can be joined to the Father
Jesus instructs us to remember—not His birth—but His death
Hence we know
There is no bloodless Jesus
There is the Blood Stained Jesus
There is no bloodless gospel
There is the Blood Stained Gospel
The Power of the Blood of Jesus reigns Supreme

Three stained glass crickets

Three stained glass crickets hopping, dancing and twirling
Their smoky ambiance showing an insane like swirling
Who will be the lucky prize winners someone asks me.
Unknown at this time, but they are clever as they can be.

Stained

Love’s scars, such exquisite markings;
Branded with a faded fine line stain,
you’ve taken me taken my heart;

Handle it gingerly this fragile heart 
it has become tender with markings;
Such emotion is known to stain;

Scabbed imprint of that bloody stain 
embellishes so splintered a  heart;
Always distracted by those markings;

Red ink markings stain your heart.

With Eyes Stained In Blood

He smiled with eyes stained in blood,
there was intrigue without a word;
The stranger pounded my head, 
soft walls left with a grisly splatter;

There was intrigue without a word,
so stunning his silent melody;
Soft walls left with a grisly splatter,
a haunting vision of timeless art;

So stunning his silent melody, 
vibrations run right through me; 
A haunting vision of timeless art 
dances on the curve of his lips;

Vibrations run right through me;
Affluent history of being a vampire 
dances on the curve of his lips;
Fangs hang onto the moonlight;

Affluent history of being a vampire,
the stranger pounded my head;
Fangs hang onto the moonlight,
he smiled with eyes stained in blood.

Stained Heart

Snapped like a stick, all has sprung away,
The bottled up visions just start to sway.

Each person enters through the exit door,
But they don't know what is in store.

The unsettling feeling as ghosts glide by,
Blood stains the wall where the bodies lie.

Scrunched up fists, fight versus flee,
Gloves stretched on with a smile of glee.

Clothes stained with a contained, red feeling,
Mad man eyes that will send you reeling.

Burnt out, with scribbles on paper and life,
Thinking it will eliminate the thought of knives.

Old mistakes remain, though future still waits,
Many stains, unable to rid of my old traits.

Explore a big world, and microscopic sights,
But now it's time to see the bright lights.

Open one last memory from long ago,
All the bad ones, but good ones in tow.

Together again, I hope, after the demolition,
The day I belonged in myself after the transition.

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