Torturer Poems | Examples

I, An Autumn Leaf

I shiver upon the verge,
clinging desperately to a bough
that heaves with its last goodbye.
A chasm bellows sharp below,
with cadence of dying shades -
a wind of gold and ruin.

The wind laments, a shrewd torturer,
lashing me against the chasm’s lip.
The tree, my stalwart tower,
reels inward, darkening with his wound,
his low arms sagging helpless,
heavy with one last glance at me.

I am the weakest of his ages,
one leap into the chasm,
where freedom and oblivion embrace.
My veins, once flushed with life,
now race with the thrill of the fall.
The shreds of my colours swirl
into the dark,
one final scream of dying grandeur
as I let go this branch of life.

I am torn in these excruciating moments
between release and despair,
an echo of silent sorrow,
having fallen through the chasm of time,
a torn leaf from the safety of known,
into the wild.

Yet, in the depths of this darkness,
a flicker of light stirs within -
a whisper of hope,
reminding me that even in the void,
there is a pulse, a breath,
a chance to rise anew
from the ashes of this fragile existence.
In the release, I embrace the unknown,
the promise of rebirth in the wild.

BLANKETY-BLANK VERSE

Alas it is a chore to write Blank Verse
Unable to peruse my rhyme filled purse
In search for words not better but not worse
A sad lament of poetry’s last curse

To stab the darkness with an ill-used phrase
Twisting the reader’s mind into a maze
Of flaming thought a-dance within a blaze
Torching the rules by which a poet plays

Oh, Rhyme, cold torturer of frigid muse
Why must you heap upon him such abuse
Require him to use words so obuse
That they cannot uncover his shrewd ruse

The truth, perhaps they’ll stumble upon it
If it rhymed the damn thing’d be a Sonnet

Midnight's Cauldron

Oh, dark temptress and torturer
Holder of the keys of Mordor.
Your soothing darkness but a ruse
A bed of scented petals
Laid atop a snare of evil,
A lie conjured by an aching heart
Beneath a coldly cryptic moon.

No warmth will ease that cruel chill
The eerie sense that says stay clear
As mesmerized we gaze in awe
Into the depth of darkened sky
Entranced by starlight’s distant hope
We feel the tug of Merlin’s staff
Upon the edge of Gollum’s soul.

Terrorized

Her confidence was disintegrating rapidly
Believing the power he had over her
Possibly because she had been scrunched in this cage for two days.
Just die her psyche said. Make it easy on yourself.

Her torturer opened the cage and jerked her out.
She had forgotten about the chain around her neck.
He raised the knife and gave her a mean grin. 
She willed herself to go.
Make it quick she said.

Someone laughed; it was a diabolical sound.
Don’t think you’re going that easy, he said.
He opened up a drawer and took out a hammer and a drill.
She was too scared to scream.

School Uniform Palaver

The school child not in it clad
To end up ‘Not Glad’:
A sure vexing of his body with whip
And final nursing of an inflamed hip …
Also, a barbaric conversion into laborer 
Which makes his Disciplinarian A torturer…

The school’s spear grasses to down mow
And her refuse dumps in trucks tow.
Still a freezing interview to face,
Interviewers’ final finding “A Purposed Disgrace”
For a child could a launderer grab in time
To avoid The Unwashed School Uniform Crime …

The Pardoned upon a second default
To be shown his waiting vault.

Mr Darcys Sleepless Night

Mr. Darcy's Sleepless Night
by Sara L. Russell 2005

Elizabeth! All heaven breathes the name
Whereon abject desire became impaled!
Whose accusations cast me into shame;
So difficult to please - and I have failed.

To have been roundly hated from the start,
Where I supposed she meant only to tease!
Would that those subtle glances stilled my heart
And I had never felt such agonies.

Elizabeth! What kind of sorceress,
What vengeful angel, what siren of pain,
What torturer would have love's slave confess,
Only to throw such ardour back again?

Sweet mercy, take her spectre from my eyes,
Lest dreams bring torment when the lamplight dies.

The Black Man

A walk of freedom from the dark days of suffering,
The yoke shattered as the sun shines on his dusty face,
Once Slaved to his fellow man for integument difference.
The toil of his endless slavery accompanied by scourges,
His bare back bent to the sky and the whips of his master,
The Black Man was  fervent in his virtuous desire for his good future.

The rusty chains left a shackled scar on his freedom path,
The virtuous future once longed for granted to him,
He's now a master of himself no longer bound to slavery. 
With a pure heart of Gold he ascent to abide with his torturer,
Anew beginning for both race as they sojourn in peace,
All to the detriment of the Black Man.

Just like  the saying goes “Old Habits Never  old masters became wearied of equal rights with the slave,
Soon He was tagged niggard for trying to survive,
In a stound prejudiced once more for his skin colour.
Enslaved once more by laws of the old masters,
The Black Man returns to a mental plantation picking cotton.

Judged By the skin colour the Black Man continues in a race of life seeking equality and servile to Racism.
SAY NO TO RACISM

All Are Equal

black
oh! there are no black
white, also not there

woman
oh! no tortured gender name
man also not torturer

human
yes, all are equal
on earth

human
have to wake up
from the slave sleep,
have to know
own righteous laws,
have to lead the self
as humanitarian......

human
yes, always equal
no need to give the mind other
no need to control the mind by other
be independent for universal welfare

06.06.2020 Chattogram

Ted

Ted was a proper torturer
he'd gag me after tea
he'd ram a flannel down my gob
then dangle me on his knee

A virgin when I married
my mums and dad were Mormons
home-schoolers don't do sex Ed. much
though they did go on about hormones

I thought Ted's ways were normal
it was all new ground to me
my terrified eyes would turn him on
so I didn't have the heart to flee

I got used to the violent jerking
I got used to a gob full of flannel
but I wished I'd prayed and made a fuss
when he hid me behind his panel.

S O F

Call It What It Is

we’ll call you hades, 
and call me persephone, 
but you won’t call me. 

we’ll call you the torturer,
call me the victim. 

and then we’ll call this love. 

we’ll call this love while you force feed me pomegranates,
while you drag me down with you, 
while you never let me leave. 

we’ll call this love while i fight you, 
while i kick and scream and try to
hurt you. 

we’ll call this love because that’s what we were taught to do. 

we’ll call this love because we’ve seen it before, in stories and movies,
in ourselves whenever we look in the mirror. 

so we’ll call this love and ignore the screams, 
ignore the fighting, 
ignore the war. 

and never call it what it is.

Ashes and Flakes

Scarlet scars 
                    like flowers 
               of frozen flames
          Sepia stitches   
     like thorns 
               of burning ice

Bitter-sweet pain of my sufferings
tainted on my body, my soul.
A beautiful shroud
for my ugly demise to come,
presented by the sadistic torturer
who batters me with a beating pendulum
as I am shackled in chains of seconds
welded into minutes
and minutes welded into hours 
of lasting misery.
I scream out loud but all I could hear 
is mockery of silence.
My cacophony out of pain is buried
under the symphony of tick-tock.
How ironic, isn't it?
I say this with utter grief,
time has never been a healer to me.
In fact, my wounds got worse.

     Burning inside
              and freezing outside,
        feels like I was born to suffer
     so I walk on the needles of clock
           leaving behind my trail in
                              ashes and flakes.


Date: 07/19/2017

Note: For the contest (Deep & Dark II) by Laura Loo.
          *Placed First*

Death of a Child Murderer

Not to laugh that child killer and torturer Ian Brady has passed away
It was inevitable that this would happen one day
Think more that the world is a better place now he has gasped his last
It is done, history, put it where it belongs, in the past
He has gone to the place we believe he deserves to be
Forever, for eternity

I Need Someone To Break My Heart Again

I need another doe-eyed Doña Lola,
a tungsten-hearted torturer of men.
I crave a further fling at love’s tombola,
to beard the lioness inside her den.

Of course, it always runs into the buffers:
their sex is unremitting, unforgiving:
but he is truly fortunate who suffers:
to be in love again – that’s really living!

She must have bags of charm, and must deploy it.
I want to give my heart, have her destroy it,
or better still, to gouge it from my chest,
for when my love is spurned, I’m at my best.
I get to pout and pose, and blue-eyed-boy it:
and if the truth be told, I quite enjoy it!

Time Flies

Waiting is the greatest pain, 
Though most of me remains slain; 
Legs propped up on iron heaters, 
In my mouth spins an egg beater- 

Roughly, duct tape holds it there, 
Wrapped around my crimson hair- 
Holding in the spinning end, 
Tearing so no one could mend. 

Will my torturer return? 
I cry to think of all I've learned. 
Even through the scars he burns, 
He says there's more for me to earn. 

Waiting, gurgling, and praying, 
Burning, yearning, burnt legs splaying, 
I can't conceive what could come after, 
I resort to insane laughter. 

Though I choke on blood and teeth, 
Through the smell of my burnt meat, 
I laugh harder, my mind flees 
Closer toward insanity. 

The deadbolt slides, I hear the door: 
Creaking, scratching on the floor, 
He walks through, I smell him now, 
Expensive cologne flows down. 

He leans in, I feel his breath, 
Then his hands upon my chest, 
He whispers one last sick goodbye, 
"You won't be the last to die."

Toxic State

MY TORTURER

Bound—Destiny
Trapped—Freedom
Concealed—Exposed

My path to freedom has trapped me concealed.
My fight with destiny has exposed my bound.

My torturer...

Is me.

12/5/16

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