Home » Poems » Best » Owen Moore » Best Owen Moore Poems

Best Poems Written by Owen Moore

Below are the all-time best Owen Moore poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Owen Moore Poem

Broken man

They say if you kiss a wound it will heal
But I am covered in scars
My nails and teeth dig deep 
As I tear myself apart 
All curled up in a ball, alone,
I study the multitude marked
And my wounds, salted with tears,
Tell my memoir

“I wish there was someone here for me”
I tell myself, afraid 
“Someone to lighten the load, 
To help me put down this blade”
But the knock goes unanswered,
As my body slowly decayed,
And I bear witness, to the mess 
That I have made

“The man in the mirror is weak”
My voice angrily demands 
“He is no one and will become no one 
If you do not raise your hand”
I keep destroying myself 
Following my own command 
Falsely believing to be self healing 
But I can’t understand 

And some years go by, 
And I have turned cold.
A heart, once beating 
Now infested with mold
Why couldn’t I see love is what I need?
Not to be controlled?
My ambition and self loathing 
Put me over the threshold 

Now you’ve heard my story
You judge of sin
Look at me now! See the truth 
See what lies within 
Not a man or a soldier 
Nor anyone with kin
Just a person who wept 
And cut at their skin

But if you’ve walked this path,
Felt this same despair,
Know you are not alone
There’s love waiting somewhere.
Don’t let the mirror deceive you,
Or the silence pull you in.
What’s broken can be mended,
Even wounds deep within.

Details | Owen Moore Poem

Binge

As I sit here, melancholy
Surrounded by filth, full of folly
I did this to myself, why complain?
And then I stuff my face again.

Details | Owen Moore Poem

M4

M4

Lightweight—
“You are so skinny, Trainee!
You’ll never be a soldier.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, tightly,
each word heavier than steel.

Magazine-fed—
“You need to eat something, son.
He is gone, but you’re still here.”
My face is pale, drained of color.
Each memory chambers in.

Gas-operated—
“Soldier, what the hell is that?
Can’t you even shoot your gun?”
My fingers tremble, shaking,
pistons locked in helpless shame.

Shoulder-fired—
“Shoot back, god damn it! Shoot back!”
The weight of orders holds me down.
My finger pulls the trigger.
The recoil crushes into me.

Weapon—
I squeeze my eyes shut, tightly.
My face is pale, drained of color.
My fingers tremble, shaking .
My finger pulls the trigger.