A Wound On His Forehead
he scratched it accidentally
perhaps when he was asleep
as he was wont
to raise his arms on his forehead,
and with uncut nails
he caused a wound therein
infected by his carelessness
his hand touching
barely almost anything dirty
he looks at himself on the mirror
studying
the gaping wound like an
eye staring back at him
asking
why should a man raise his hands
even when asleep?
and why should he wound himself
unnecessarily?
why does he not care about
the possibility of the complexity of an infection
that may even
cause his death?
is this the kind of surrender
he had dreamed of inside his dream?
his way of finally giving up life
since it left him with nothing to offer?
he looks at himself closely
now, he becomes a strange man staring at
another man he thought
he knew too well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Nucleus
How can you take away the nucleus
and expect everything outside of it
to stay mended together with strength?
A family is held together by a bandage.
You take away the bandage and you got a wound.
Sometimes a wound can heal on its own
and sometimes it can get infected or never heal.
I've seen it all before, the bandages go away
and then the wound that is left attacks itself.
The skin, the blood, the puss, and all the cells
that were once held together by one bandage
turn on itself and then it all melts as if touched by acid.
I don't think that will happen to our wound.
I think we'll all band together and form a new bandage.
It might not be one person holding it all together,
but it will be all of us coming together
like hospital staff to make sure we don't die of an infection.
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh Wound
Its four o clock in the mornin and the daylights creepin in
Im lyin awake in bed
Outside my window the rains just pourin down
And theres a pain inside my head
I looked hard into the mirror, took some water in my hands
And threw it on my face
But your memory wont fade away, I can see you everywhere
Around this empty space
This nights too long, Im fadin fast
I tell myself, this pain wont last
Its just a flesh wound
Missin my heart but it still cuts deep
Nothin but a flesh wound
It tore me apart and I still cant sleep
You know you really did it well
Now Im lyin on a bed of nails
But its nothin but a flesh wound
Better pull myself together, gotta hold my head up high
Thats what i;ve got to do
No damage done, but deep inside my heart
Who am I tryin to fool
Its over now, all in the past
I tell myself, this pain wont last
Its just a flesh wound
Missin, my heart, but it still cuts deep
Nothin but a flesh wound
It tore me apart and I still cant sleep
Ive got no choice, I must be strong
Cant lie here thinkin about it all night long
Its nothin but a flesh wound
(repeat chorus....)
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Vase
The vase where this verbena is dying
was cracked by a blow from a fan.
It must have barely brushed it,
for it made no sound.
But the slight wound,
biting into the crystal day by day,
surely, invisibly crept
slowly all around it.
The clear water leaked out drop by drop.
The flowers' sap was exhausted.
Still no one suspected anything.
Don't touch! It's broken.
Thus often does the hand we love,
barely touching the heart, wound it.
Then the heart cracks by itself
and the flower of its love dies.
Still intact in the eyes of the world,
it feels its wound, narrow and deep,
grow and softly cry.
It's broken. Don't touch!
poem by Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flesh Wound
We flew over miles of ocean--be prepared.
I don't have the faintest notion who'll be there.
You underestimated; nobody sympathized.
I think you'll soon feel better once we get inside.
I see the door is open -- Why don't we walk right in?
Let's put our party hats on and let the fun begin!
We should have called and said that we were on our way;
Who would have ever guessed that you'd be so unreachable?
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in my side
Just another flesh wound--another wonder-cure that you tried
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide
Just another flesh wound--another irritation you abide
You know the rumour's going that he was synthesized.
And if we had to dress, I wouldn't be surprised.
I say -- you're so outrageous -- you'll go to number one!
They'll have us both arrested for having too much fun.
Just another flesh wound--another scratch on your hide.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--another bruise on your pride.
Just another flesh wound--another paranoia that you hide.
And when she held her nose, she took an underdose.
It was nice to see her completely comatose.
You go first, you're completely debonair;
Let's go dutch -- it's only fair.
Just another flesh wound--another thorn in your side.
Just another flesh wound--a minor injury you dignified.
Just another flesh wound--another unsuccessful suicide.
Just another flesh wound--another curse that you ride.
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Martha' Crucified.
Martha had this thing
about the Crucified.
The image, the cross,
the stretched out arms.
The one in the convent
school along by the chapel
always caught her eye.
Stood there staring.
Get a move on Martha,
the nun said. Don't gape so.
Or the image in the dining
room stuck up on the wall
above the abbess's table.
Painted on she thought.
Not the same. Her mother
had the one her mother
gave her on her deathbed.
Old wood and plaster.
The plaster peeling from
the hands of the Crucified.
Martha gaped at Him,
at His wounds, at the wound
in His side where the spear
went in. Forgive them for
they know not. They did so,
the bastards, she muttered,
putting her fingers on the wound
in the side. She had an ebony
rosary in her skirt pocket. Black
Christ on the small ebony cross.
She fingered in her pocket, said
the prayers, felt the stiff body
on the cross. Sometimes she
took it out and kissed it; the ebony
body, the head, the arms. Once
she had a cross around her neck,
silver, small, given by some old
codger. She felt it warm between
her small breasts. Lost it when she
took it off to wash and it slipped
down the plughole in the convent bog.
She knew her mother had this wooden
crucifix on her chest of drawers.
A dark wood, a fleshy plastered Christ,
nails through and hands and feet.
She kissed the hands when her mother
was out, her lips touching the smooth
plaster, the eyes closed, the feel of
smoothness on flesh. Not the real
Christ of course. Least not yet.
She'd wait her turn. The real thing.
See what death and Heaven bring.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What I Did For Love
Everybodys heart is torn and tattered
Mine was not designed for giving up
'Cause all Ive ever done that really matters
Its what I did for love.
So count me with the wound and the shaking
Even when Im barely standing up
Ive tried to offer more than I have taken
Its what I did for love.
What I did for love,
What I did for love
And I hope that you can see
All that love theyve done for me.
And when they sit and list the reasons Ive existed
Im afraid it wont add up to very much
'Cause Ive gathered all I had and gladly rested
Thats what I did for love.
What I did for love,
What I did for love
And I hope that you can see
All that love theyve done for me.
Some day Ill make silently surrender
This old heart has finally had enough
But I hope that I will always be remembered
For what I did for love...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lazarus Heart
He looked beneath his shirt today
There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
He turned around to face his mother
To show her the wound in his breast that burned like a brand
But the sword that cut him open
Was the sword in his mothers hand
Every day another miracle
Only death will tear us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Though the sword was his protection
The wound itself would give him power
The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour
She said the wound would give him courage and pain
The kind of pain that you cant hide
From the wound a lovely flower grew
From somewhere deep inside
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Ive no stones that chase them away
Birds on the roof of my mothers house
Will sit on my roof some day
They fly at the window, they fly at the door
Where does she get the strength to fight them anymore
She counts all her children as a shield against the pain
Lifts her eyes to the sky like a flower in the rain
Every day another miracle
Only death will keep us apart
To sacrifice a life for yours
Id be the blood of the lazarus heart
The blood of the lazarus heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The old mirror
I look in the mirror tainted and old
What do i see? ?
I see this woman staring back at me
She does'nt speak, she does'nt smile
She looks lost with a frown
I look in the mirror is it something from the 50's?
What do i see? ?
I see this man staring back at me
He does'nt wave he does'nt nod
He stands and stares with a glare
I look in the mirror the frame varnished dark
What do i see? ?
I see this girl staring back at me
She does'nt laugh or d a cheeky face
She turns away and begins to cry
I look in the mirror round and smoke stained
What do i see? ?
I see this boy staring back at me
Glasses and combed over hair
I wonder who they are
the people in the old mirror
~nikki addleton ~
poem by Nikki Addleton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A knife wound heals; a wound caused by words does not.
First To Die
“Doc, over here.” I heard them cry.
I raced on black volcanic sand,
bullets nipping at my heels,
my medic-aid kit in my hand.
“Its Mike Strank, they got him bad.”
Mike was down, writhing in pain.
He was losing blood
and awfully pale.
Shielding his body with my own,
in a depression in the ground
I cut away his Khaki shirt.
Until the entry wound was found.
A sucking wound, an evil sign-
red frothing bubbles from his chest.
A styrette of Morphine- all I had
to ease the pain of every breathe.
Suribachi loomed above us.
Barely had a week gone by
since this man had helped to raise
the Stars and stripes up to the sky.
Now he was dying, fading fast.
A grave awaited, far from home.
There was nothing I could do
except not let him die alone.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Someone Inside Me
I looked to the mirror,
It still me, only me,
Not young, not old,
Just always be me..
I touch that scar,
Look worse than before,
Make me shame,
Want to die,
I can make it hide,
But it out when the memories come,
That misery, that cried,
Out of my eyes, come to tears,
But it come,
'She' who make me strong,
Make my step go on,
Not to hide again that wound,
But erase it from my soul,
I looked at the mirror,
But still me, look so tired,
Full sadness, no smile,
Nothing but hate,
But deep inside,
Someone scream,
It tell me that 'she' is the truly me,
Told me 'bout the truth and beauty,
I try to get out,
thinking it's just a dream,
Finished in just one night,
So I crush that mirror,
Hit it until bleed,
I realize, I won't live in that way,
I'm a beautiful woman,
Not just staring at the mirror,
But also someone who loved myself...
poem by Kaede Rirunaru
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Wound
a wound will always
be a wound.
a scar may come
to say you are healed
but soon it will
remember the wound.
perhaps you have not
loved enough
to learn from those
whose hearts
are broken, they
say: forgive and forget.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whiskey On The Wound
He was strong and of sound mind
'Til the day he crossed the line
Between an east Kentucky girl and his wife
In his heart there wasn't room
So they tore his heart in two
And he survived by pouring whiskey on the wound
Another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
Well the girl was just the first
In a string of bad to worse
Yet the bourbon seems to deaden all that hurts
But closin' time comes way too soon
He can't abide a cold bedroom
So he survives by pouring whiskey on the wound
Another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
By tomorrow he'll be gone
And they'll say he left alone
But that old bar stool won't be empty long
'Cause some other hopeless fool
Trying to escape the truth
Will sit right down
And pour some whiskey on the wound
Now it's another faithless heart
Locked inside a neon tomb
Hiding in the dark and
Pouring whiskey on the wound
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Mirror
(bob dipiero/john jarrard/mark d. sanders)
Mirror, mirror, on my wall,
Tell me, who is the loneliest fool of all
No, wait a minute, I believe I see
The answer staring back at me
Spent most of the morning laying in bed
Lunch was a black coffee and three cigarettes
They say it will kill me, but Ive got a hunch
That this broken hearts gonna beat em to the punch
Mirror, mirror, on my wall,
Tell me, who is the loneliest fool of all
No, wait a minute, I believe I see
The answer staring back at me
Yes, Im the one who swore she would stay
Right up to the moment the u-haul drove away
She didnt leave a table; she didnt leave a chair
But she knew what she was doing when she left you hanging there
Mirror, mirror, on my wall,
Tell me, who is the loneliest fool of all
No, wait a minute, I believe I see
The answer staring back at me
No, wait a minute, I believe I see
The answer staring back at me
song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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“Faithful Trust”
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
(23rd of October,2010)
poem by Munia Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Had a Dream
Once, I had a dream
A dream I was sure I could achieve
A dream I was certain just a step ahead me
A dream I was faithfully beleive
Once, I had a dream
Dream of become a person like I admire most
Dream of become a person I knew I would be
Dream of become that kind of person
That dream create a world
A world where I revolved around it
Consume my existence
Strap me unconsciously
Yet willingly I trussed myself there
Until slowly
The dream die down
It vanished into thin air
The world cast out me
It eaten my soul alive
Where should I stand right now?
What should I do from now?
Who would revoke me from this emptiness?
When will this wound won’t bleed anymore?
Why me?
To this day
I still searching for the answer
To this day
The wound still hurts
To this day
I still have a slight of hope
That my dreams will come true
(MyLunar/040611)
poem by Adisty Mulianty
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Impromptu
Keep away from sharp swords
Don't go near a lovely woman.
A sharp sword too close will wound your hand;
Woman's beauty too close will wound your life!
The danger of the road is not in the distance;
Ten yards is far enough to break a wheel.
The peril of love is not in loving too often;
A single evening can leave its wound in the soul.
poem by Meng Chiao
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Little Toy Soldier
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier and he lived in the play room
Once upon a time there was a toy soldier with a whip lash in his hand
And every night little girl sadie would take all her clothes off and wind up the toy soldier and he raised his whip and said
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she run home from school each day
Little sadie loved her little toy soldier
And she locked her door so she could play
Little sadie got ambitious
And wound the clockworks so to tighter
So he could whip her harder and harder
On your knees little sadie
Little sadie on your knees
Taste the whip and love might given likely
Taste the whip and bleed for me
One day sadie wound and wound
And wound and wound
And wound and wound
Til suddenly the little toy soldier spring, went. . .
(ugly, beat her to death)
Ahhhh
Cough, cough, cough
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unstoppable
I can't stop staring at you
When we're alone
I can't stop thinking about you
When we're apart
I can't stop dreaming of you
When I'm asleep
I just can't stop
No matter when I start
My arms keep reaching for you
When you walk by
My lips keep finding yours
In the dark
My hands keep touching you
When you are near
Emotions whisper
Desire stirs
Reality disappears
poem by Erika Wingo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Faithful Trust
There’s nothing to offer to those ignoble vows
But a long wail of dejection if this heart allows
Trust has come to open the wound
Averment carries no word for word
The misguided mind has become the guard
Trust has come to open the wound
A solemn promise’s been made to none
With faithlessness it is believed to have gone
Trust has come to open the wound
The wound that's trapped into bleeding emotion
To heal the pain it drinks the potion
Then trust has gone with its faithful notion
And everything fades with that true devotion.
Written on the night of the 23rd of October,2010
©Munia Khan 2010
poem by Munia Khan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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