Reflections
I'm staring at my reflection,
seeing all of my battle scars,
And all of my pain connected with them,
Memories flash in front of my eyes,
Of the time where it all went wrong,
Of the time where the fight for my life began,
I run my fingers over my scars,
Each memory connecting with each scar,
poem by Charlie Bones
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Scars
Now I see that you are pushing me away,
The scars remain as my pain,
I can see that my veins are full of scars,
Scars of remaining past,
Scars from all those cutting,
Scars from all the pain I went through,
Love is vain,
The rain might pour down,
But nothing has stop me from seeing the scars I have left behind,
Nothing can’t stop me from seeing the remaining scars,
All my scars, all my memories remain as my pain.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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Colleen Says
Never, have I seen a boy with as many scars as you.
It's almost like they are an inherent nevus with roots linking your mind to your body, your history with this present moment, your hardships and armor.
I first noticed the one on your upper lip when we made love in the hall.
And, When I saw it, in my eyes, with secular clarity I felt a deep passion for you, and began searching the cosmos of your body for more blemishing marks.
They all spoke to me loudly some of childhood with your adventurous spirit getting into trouble, others of punishments inflicted by your father, some even spooked me tremendously, I imagined the struggles you have had, and all those constellations linked by a thread each scar with the histories, of great legends, each with its place as if without them your skin will loosen and you would unravel in my arms.
What I am trying to say is this, You wouldn't be complete without your scars.
The ones on your knuckles and over your eyes
The tiny bites down your neck, on your wrist, your ribs and your surgery scars.All of them!
Even the one you have on the paw of your left foot, you thought couldn't find that one, my bear? how could I forget my favorite, I imagine you do sometimes, I see the memory of that one is particularly painful, and cannot blame you, I imagine you off your feet for weeks. or unaturally wandering with a slight limp. I want you to love me tenderly and completely. if only you could taste the dopamine in my saliva, youd know that those scars can be mended, taste my divertimento.
I want to trace the bulging veins on your arms which are like the rails connecting your memories to your scars like highways, freeways and expressways, I want to see your throbbing scars your throbbing sex I don't want to be afraid, and I want them to be mine. I guess all this means is that without you I would unravel.
poem by Jerome Moore
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Scars of the Heart
Scars of the Heart
At times it seems like no relief
We can suffer long with our grief
Will the heart ever mend
Will the pain ever end
The tears come from my eyes
But it’s my heart that cries
People ask how am I
They would know if they see me cry
From when my wife passed
I have scars of the heart that will last
My heart may heal after time goes by
The scars of my heart will be till I die
poem by Michael Gelb
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Memories Fade
There's only need
I love your need
So much I'm losing me
I cannot see the reason for the Pain
With hungry joy
I'll be your toy
Just hoping you will play
Without hope my body starts to fail
Memories fade but the scars still linger
Goodbye my friend
Will I ever love again
Memories fade but the scars still linger
I cannot grow
I cannot move
I cannot fell my age
The vice like grip of tension holds me fast
Engulfed by you
What can I do
When History's my cage
Look foward to a future in the past
The more I talk
The more I say
The less you seem to hear
I'm speechless in a most peculiar way
Your mind is weak
Your need is great
And nothing is too dear
For you to use to take the Pain away
Memories Fade
No don't pretend you can justify the end
Memories fade but the scars still linger
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Hurting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Past
I can never let go of my past because my past has marked me
Every time I look down
Every time I look over
There is my past
The notches
The bold the non-mistakable scars
…the scars
My past
Each and every one has a story
Each and every one has a memory
Each and every one has brought tears to my eyes
For no story nor memory are of happiness, triumph, or glory
No, they are of fear, anxiety, self-hatred, paranoia, and loneliness
I can never let go of my past because my past will always be part of me
poem by Scarlet Mo Chroi
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Preserving Scars
She wakes up
Screaming
Crying
From nightmares
Terror
Fear
Scars
On her body
Show it all
Abuse
Mistreatment
Neglect
All her history
Is written
Upon her skin
Dripping in
Rose red
Ink
Scars
Tell her experiences
Memories
Engraved in
Her mind
Imprinted
Never to
Be without
Them
Never to
Be without
Pain
Reminders
Everywhere she
Looks
Of the past
Preserved
In her skin
She covers them
As best as she
Can
She hugs herself
Rocking back and forth
Rembering lost pain
Remembering
How she got those
Marks
How those
Memories
Were made
She will
Never be without
Those scars
Forever
Preserved
In her skin
poem by Autumn Winds
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Suicide Scars
i look at myself in the mirror wondering.
wondering what happend to the girl i used to be.
wondering why there are scars on my wrist.
why i did this to myself.
then i think back to when my whole world was crashing down.
i seem to realize that these scars are suicide scars.
i start to cry to the fact that i will have these scars for a life time.
i grab my razor put it up to my wrist.
and i start to cut.
i start to cut them suicide cuts all over again.
i cant stop.
but i guess that this will be me forever.
makeing them ugly suicide scars.
poem by Teresa Johnson
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Suicide Scars
i look at myself in the mirror wondering.
wondering what happend to the girl i used to be.
wondering why there are scars on my wrist.
why i did this to myself.
then i think back to when my whole world was crashing down.
i seem to realize that these scars are suicide scars.
i start to cry to the fact that i will have these scars for a life time.
i grab my razor put it up to my wrist.
and i start to cut.
i start to cut them suicide cuts all over again.
i cant stop.
but i guess that this will be me forever.
makeing them ugly suicide scars.
poem by Trish Spencer
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The scars inside will not heal
There is noubt different than being raped
and being pushed down mentaly.
except that the wounds also bleed inside.
The mental scars will not heal.
They do not fade.
There was no difference between being raped
and being run over by a lorry
except that afterwards the sicko asked if you enjoyed it.
As if it were a game.
And still the scars have not healed.
There is no difference of being raped
and going head first through a top floor window.
except that afterwards you are not afraid of hights.
but of half the human population.
And still the scars linger on with the pain.
They do not fade.
Fear of rape is a storm brewing.
Never towalk out alone
when I see a man coming towards me.
All the fears reopen.
And all there is to do is run for dear life.
This scar will not go it will not heal.
Never to open the door to a knock
without the fear has he found me.
What if its him.
All of the fears hold me back.
The scars do not fade they will not heal
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Scars
We all have scars.
Some visible and some hidden to the world.
We sometimes try to hide the physically scars because we think it is ugly,
but really having scars is not a bad thing.
It reminds us we can heal and get through the bad times both physically and mentally when we are ripped or torn apart.
So embrace you scars and keep on healing.
For healing and battling is a part of life.
Let people see your scars and how strong you are by healing.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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Jesus Holds My Hand
I saw Jesus last night.
He layed beside me,
held my hand.
I felt his scars.
They didn't make me sad.
The scars are happy.
Jesus said i have scars too.
You just can't see them.
My scars cut deep
So i can't escape them.
Jesus said to give him my scars.
That he carried the sorows of the world.
I gave my scars to God last night.
He still holds my hand.
And i love Jesus.
Can you?
Battle Scars
The lion's eyes looked dead ahead,
No smile or smirk in sight,
Just sending out a sense of dread
That others may take flight...
Why fight if you can run away?
Escape the pain and strife...
Born free to see another day,
Another day of life...
The lion's mouth concealed his teeth,
Small daggers every one,
So sharp they'd cause you instant grief
Before the battle's won...
And 'neath his dainty-looking paws,
So gentle, silky-soft,
He hid his vicious callous claws
In wait for those who scoffed...
It's true that he had battle scars,
Yet he had learnt his trade,
No longer thinking it a farce,
A game that lions played...
One lion wins, it can't be two...
One lion takes the prize!
That's why he'll do what he must do...
Look deep into his eyes....
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Battle Scars'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Scars
I once knew a girl.
Who forever had scars and cuts upon her arms.
Hope was insribed.
Not in the colour of ink.
But in the colours of the scars.
With stitches on her skin.
Plus tears in her eyes.
And bumpy scars.
Filled with hate and shame.
For whats she done.
But she'll do it again.
She once saw someone.
They asked what is that on your arms.
Ciggerette burns came the reply.
Deep inside the girl was lost.
I once saw myself drowned in tears.
Cant understand the purpose of my being.
For the cuts and scars.
The pain goes so much deeper
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Scar of Scars
Scar of Scars.
Around the cut, some are smooth.
Moist and true.
Bereft of moss or beard.
Pie faced and candy..ooh.
Every life savers.
Candy cake is brandy wine.
More, many more and edgy.
Leafy rims pink petaled.
Sharp razors, just more sweat and juicy.
Either way it's coming in,
Through the floor.
and your consciousness is expanded.
Red faced and over the clouds the moon
does look closely down,
and Scar of Scars, dropps drippy more milky.
There is only one cup from every one, some
have two and being with certain preference's.
poem by Is It Poetry
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Wrinkles
Wrinkles
are scars of time
Scars of pride that show you
how much you struggle for your life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Part 3-Inerasable Heart
Thankfully not in a box as many had flown.
At last my war time done, I returned home.
One mans beating for the prosperity of czars.
Not just bodily harm, but with mental scars.
Professionals have erased what they could.
But flash backs make a man misunderstood.
I pillow my head, but I am unable to sleep.
As scenes of fire fight before my eyes creep.
A child with a grenade, a suicide bomb, a gun.
What can I do, there’s no place or to time run.
As in life no choice for me my fate was sealed.
War is evil, in battle, you kill or will be killed.
I was told being a hero was my patriotic duty.
From terrorist attack I would protect my cutie.
Loving my life I was drafted without a choice.
Not wanting to go, yet no one heard my voice.
Where is the one who lovingly waited for me?
Too much time for her, started over possibly.
No trace of her physically could I ever find.
Inerasably in my heart, eternally on my mind.
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Tattoos of My Past (Something to Live For)
Sometimes,
Every now and then,
I feel the pain again,
Of everything crashing down.
In that one moment,
My whole conscious awareness of being alive is focused on my wrists,
Almost like I can feel the scars pulsing with my heart beat,
A constant reminder of what the pain has done to me,
What it sometimes still does.
Sometimes,
I take it as a reminder of how far I've come,
How everything is okay,
How I am strong because of it all,
Other times,
It breaks me down.
Shoves the realization of the pain in my face,
Screaming at me to remember it,
To address it,
To give it the attention it begs for.
Still, other times, it leaves me breathless,
Unsure of what to think or how to react,
Just sitting there alone,
With nothing but my beating heart and awareness,
Nothing to think about but memories and feelings,
It's those times when I make the most progress,
Feel the strongest,
When I think of everything I have to live for,
All the love that's worth the struggles,
The beauty of life's rose instead of it's thorns,
It's in those moments that the scars aren't a symbol of pain,
Or a scream for help,
But simply a memory,
A memory of mountains that I have climbed,
Obstacles that I have passed,
They are, in that moment, a tattoo of my past,
A token of my success.
It's then that I smile, still feeling my heart beat,
And go on with what ever I was doing,
Happy to know who I am and know my life is worth it all.
This might sound sappy and you might question it's truth,
But it is true.
Sometimes,
Every now and then,
I feel the pain again,
Of everything crashing down,
And it's in that moment when I realize that everything will be okay,
Without these scars,
Without the pain to remind me every once in a while,
I might forget everything there is to remember,
I might forget that no matter what I feel,
I'm still here,
And I believe with all my heart,
That that is something to live for.
By: Bethany J. Maxwell
June 29,2012
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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My Memories
Today will be a memory
yesterday is a memory drifting away
memories turn into tears,
tearing us apart.
Fear of moving on, afraid of change,
in a minute this will just be a memory
memories are all pain in vain
memories are like dreams, a reflection of the past.
Memories are vision of what it used to be.
my memories are sadness and struggle
what are yours?
are they sadness and struggle?
You are but a memory
that dwindles as each day passes me by.
and as you slowly vanish
I huddle in my room and cry.
A memory that’s all I have
that’s all that’s left of you
nothing but a mere memory
that still lingers, only for a little while longer in my head.
Don’t forget about the past
without memories there is no yesterday.
make every day one to remember a
memory to move on with no pain or anymore regrets
poem by Ralph Acosta
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Scars
sCARS
are Trophies of suffering
Display all of them
and They will be Pleased
and you will be
Staying COnnected witH tHEM
fOR eACH ONE
EACH scar
is always a part of the whole
of uS
fOR no one stays as an Island
One broken wing
Ripples the Sadness
and Sorrow Throughout
This Wide Universe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My skin is screaming
My skin is screaming.
Screaming loud and clear.
My body and mind now joins the screams.
Needing and wanting the pain.
Needing the pain so I can feel.
Wanting the pain to drive out the inner pain.
so without a second thought I cut and cut again.
The scars lokk a mess.
But the scars, they telll a story.
They tell the story of a life with no glory.
The life filled with missery.
This is why skin screams.
Just to cut out the memories and the hell.
Of past events.
My skin mind and body needs the pain
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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