Cherishing, Tasting
Silent.
Grey and pinkish.
I take a deep breath in of half of an unlit cigarette,
Placing the blade to me soft tan skin
A prick!
Then a high.
I stare out of the enclosure of the slide,
Cars passing, dog walkers, children
Unaware that I sit in a childs playground,
Cherishing crimson, tasting charcoal.
I think about all.
My life, my dreams, the voices all around,
Clouded sky bringing tears to match my own.
Is this what it feels,
To be truelly,
Alone?
poem by Rue Kendra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Passing Friend
Well theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Who will die on you till the bitter end
Theres nothing worse than a burning heart
Or a past that tears the world apart
Ive been thinking about my situation
Nothing ventured nothing left to lose
When its easier to just say nothing
I had thought about what I might lose
But through the childs eyes
There were feelings
Touching my violet skin
When the love games start appealing
You better get out and move on in
cause theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Or a pioneer of a dying trend
Nothing worse than a silent ghost
Or to lose your head at the starting post
Aint it always just a short vacation
When its love it always has an end
Under the sheets of life its just frustation
While the body goes in search again
But in the childs eyes
There were feelings
Touching my violet skin
When the love games start appealing
You better get out and move on in
cause theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Who will die on you till the bitter end
Theres nothing worse than a burning heart
Or a past that tears the world apart
Why do you love someone
Who wants to break your heart
Why do you need someone
Who wants to tear your world apart
No no not again
I was packing up my life in cases
For a hundred years or maybe more
Ive been talking to a million people
Dont you think I should have known the score
But in the childs eyes
There were feelings
Touching my violet skin
When the love games start appealing
You better get out and move on in
cause theres nothing worse than a passing friend
Who will die on you till the bitter end
Theres nothing worse than a burning heart
Or a past that tears the world apart
Nothing worse than a passing friend
Or a pioneer of a dying trend
Nothing worse than a silent ghost
Or to lose your head at the starting post
No no not again
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trying to Leave the Pain
i think of you and every one that has hurt me and lefted me in tears
as i slide that blade across my skin
i think of the pain they all have put on me and on my heart
i think of leaving this pain
i think of every thing that has hurt me
so lost in my mind now
so confused
so much pain
dont know what to do
sliding that blade on my skin
more and more
faster and faster
trying to leave the pain
sighing with hurt
my heart beats faster
still cant stand the pain
i stoped the blade and moved it away from my arm
and slide it across my neck
Charcoal Night
On a charcoal night the owl calls.
On a charcoal night wolves sharpen their claws.
On a charcoal night children shake with fear.
The charcoal night is growing near.
On a charcoal night the demon dogs sing.
On a charcoal night the little stars gleam.
On a charcoal night the air goes cold.
The nightmares and stories are always told.
On a charcoal night wolves wet their fangs.
On a charcoal night the owls call rang.
On a charcoal night the beasts are out.
On a charcoal night this is their town.
On a charcoal night lock up the doors.
On a charcoal night don't sleep on the floors.
On a charcaol night say good bye to those dear.
Because the charcaol night is finally hear.
poem by Okami Kamikaze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Elegy
The page opens to snow on a field: boot-holed month, black hour
the bottle in your coat half voda half winter light.
To what and to whom does one say yes?
If God were the uncertain, would you cling to him?
Beneath a tattoo of stars the gate open, so silent so like a tomb.
This is the city you most loved, an empty stairwell
where the next rain lifts invisibly from the Seine.
With solitude, your coat open, you walk
steadily as if the railings were there and your hands weren't passing
through them.
"When things were ready, they poured on fuel and touched off the fire.
They waited for a high wind. It was very fine, that powdered bone.
It was put into sacks, and when there was enough we went to a bridge
on the Narew River."
And even less explicit phrases survived:
"To make charcoal.
For laundry irons."
And so we revolt against silence with a bit of speaking.
The page is a charred field where the dead would have written
We went on. And it was like living through something again one
could not live through again.
The soul behind you no longer inhabits your life: the unlit house
with its breathless windows and a chimney of ruined wings
where wind becomes an aria, your name, voices from a field,
And you, smoke, dissonance, a psalm, a stairwell.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Carolyn Forché
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black Bruises IV
I can gorge the vile blackness,
the eviscerated acquiescence
like a dog-eats-dog carnival
I can endure the struggle
tasting blotted inks,
tasting cheap champagnes,
tasting one's molting skin,
tasting a chance to begin,
tasting cold greasy dishes,
tasting stark carnal sin,
tasting tar and nicotine,
tasting saline misery,
but am I the only one tasting
these black bruised savors?
poem by Norman Santos
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Playground
I climb up, spending daylight
Slide down drunken on the other side
Some sweet girl, playing my wife,
Runs off with a boy whose bike shell ride
Playground (its a playground)
Marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Bells will ring, door flings open
Hare and greyhound in the old kiss chase
Youve been caught, game has ended
Smack on kisser from her slap on face
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square world
Watch the leaves all tear away (one by one)
Leaving you but lined like an exercise book
What did your report once say (know the one)
This boy must try harder to please
From down on his knees
Playground, playground, playground, playground, playground,
Playground, playground, playground
Brain gets bent, heart gets broken
You cant jump off once the page is turned
School is out but never over
Thats the only lesson you can learn
Playground (its a playground)
Were marked by the masters and bruised by the bullies in the
Playground (its a playground)
Never stop rehearsing, rehearsing for the big square
Playground (its a playground)
Go for the high jump if you let em push you in the
Playground (its a playground)
Theres no escaping, escaping from their big square world
You may leave school, but it never leaves you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suicide Season...
Every day is a suicide season for someone
Someone who enjoys pain
Always placing the blade against their skin
Watching themselves bleed..
Why make yourself suffer when life does it for you?
Why harm yourself when other things harm you?
Why commit suicide when you will die later?
Why give up hope when you have friends?
Every day there's someone placing a gun against their head
Ending their life with out reason
Without saying goodbye to the ones they love
People say millions of family loses someone they adore to suicide
Sometimes the world doesn't seem to hear the painful tears the children cries
Hoping someone helps them change their mind before
They think of ending their life
A suicide season gives me such a fright
Imagining a kid hanging himself
A girl stabbing herself in the heart
Just to say goodbye to the pain
Suicide doesn't help the pain fade
Suicide causes more pain and
Lots of confusing that your heart
Won't seem to understand
Suicide is no escape it's just a twisted game
Thousands of children play....
poem by Maria Millet
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Clouded Sunshine Colors
Clouded sunshine colors
All their way around
Lost is lost it hollers
To again be found
Beautiful passing’s drifting
On to life ongoing motion
And my sprit uplifting
Like soft embellish potion
Sweetness of its high
Through mornings filling
In twilights goodbye
When the bright is willing
Its onward lightness
As it comes here thru
In the day’s up brightness
For each color true
Bringing on the sunshine
And giving time to see
Each perfect shaded line
That glimmer to the free
Mirror deep weaving
Thru the watery deeps
In its serene conceiving
That in clearance leaps
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Voices Of The Wind
Wind chimes and tree leaves
Voices of the wind
Bulrushes, birdwings
Rattling roofs of tin
Howling zephyrs, soughing breezes
Atlantic gales, explosive sneezes…
All voices of the wind….
Rattle of windows, Bang of shutters,
Whisper of curtains, puff of summer gusts
Snapping of canvas from towering mastheads
Squeal of windmills as they adjust
Whispered messages from pinions of birds
Flapping of laundered linens
Soft velvety sighs of lover’s words
All voices in languages… of the winds
Childs’ anticipation, breath held deep within
Each inhalation, every exhalation….
Are all voices of the wind
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Their Soft Brown Skin
It seems real that my joy is drunken:
My heart burns like peeling glass, the dogs run underneath
The overpasses and after class:
The cars motors purr, stamped by housewives, swaying in
The caesuras of their dreams,
Shopping, bearing the negligee that is hardly even there,
Like the spit of rainbows on her brown skin,
As her children come back home from school again;
And I wonder how her soft brown kisses feel on their
Soft brown skin.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside A Closed Room
this moment
someone feels the discomfort
of an enclosure
it used to be
a mode of security
a protection
from the harm that
the wind outside
may cause
on the skin
this moment
has become an imprisonment
the darkness waits
wanting to get in
the windows like eyes
want to see
what darkness brings
the enclosure takes in
but never gives up
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wear my Skin
You want to know how it feels
Being hollowed out
Apple cored, centre lost?
You want to know how it feels
Leaking salt water
Filling oceans with tears?
You want to know how it feels
To hear your heart break
And catch the pieces in your hand?
You want to know how it feels
To have your soul rent;
Half in a grave, half out?
You want to know how it feels
To lose your gentle lover;
Your own sweet man?
You want to know how it feels
When your grief is not valid
In the eyes of the world?
You want to know how it feels?
You have to wear my skin;
But I doubt it would fit.
P H Brookes © 1997
poem by Paul Brookes
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Scarred for life
Scarred for life, no one would know
Broken inside, her self esteem so low
Scarred for life, inside & out
No one hears, her silence so loud
Scarred for life, blade against her skin
Pain feels so good, just another sin
Scarred for life, covered bruises
Fight after fight, her dad never loses
Scarred for life, so torn up inside
All these lies, too many tears she cried
Scarred for life, these will never heal
Knife in her back, pain is all she feels
Scarred for life, will this feeling ever fade
No friends left, only a blade
Scarred for life, she has to stay strong
Music's all she has, this story is her song.
poem by Scout Kerr
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Rain
Rain is falling
Dropping from a vast
Sea of grey
Like someone crying
Shedding tears
Perfect little drops
Glint in the fading light
Shining as they fall
She stands outside and
Watches and feels
As clear crystalline drops
Genty slide against her skin
Leaving a cleansing trail
As the rain falls
She finally feels peace
For the first time
In a long time
poem by Autumn Winds
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Under My Skin
(john farrar)
Every night when youre as mean
As a ladder with a broken wrung
When I know youre sorry wont make it
From your heart to your tongue
There are nights when you keep pushing me
And I wont go on
cause when I get mad enough darlin
I will be standing my ground
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, oh, under my skin
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin
There are nights when every kiss
Is an order than I can obey
And I can taste the life comin
From a mile away
There are nights when you keep holdin me
But your arms are too tight
And I dont need what I want
cause what I want just dont feel right
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, oh, under my skin
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin
Everywhere that I go I hear your name
Spoken in whispers, spoken in shame
In shame
But on a night like this I know I cant win
I know my soul will burn and blister
When you slide your silky whisper under my skin, yeah, under my skin
Come and slide your whisper under my skin
Come and slide your whisper under my skin
Under my skin, ooh under my skin
Come and slide your whisper (under my skin)
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Playground
The swings stand empty,
but rock back and forth.
Probably in the memory,
of the children who sat on them.
The slide is also empty,
with no laughter filling the air.
The children have all gone home,
leaving the playground empty
with no one there.
Maybe tomorrow
there might be laughter there,
and the empty playground
will not seem so bare.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Along Came a Spider
Three small children played under the trees,
giggling as the crimson leaves
floated down onto their soft, innocent hands.
They ran about after eacher other
until they collapsed on the roots
holding the forest together
and their breath came out as a flutter,
their giggles came out in bursts,
and their hair stuck to moist skin.
They were tired.
They decided to go hom for their supper,
as they knew that their mothers would worry.
But, along came a spider.
This spider was no monster.
It was no towering beast coming
to attack the children. To do them harm.
It simply scurried past them,
and somewhere in their human nature,
the children were told to follow.
The children did as they were told.
To a feast the children came, following this spider,
and grinned at a tiny table set for a hundred-
each guest sat in his chair.
Their friend, the spider, took his seat and awaited
his applause, for he had brought,
as the party knew,
their dinner, fresh and soft.
And so the insects climbed the children;
they giggle as the tiny feet
caressed their untainted skin,
and the children ran in circles
with their new tiny friends,
until the insects could hold on no longer
and the children were safe at home.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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The Guitar Player
He is just a child, a guitar player
and he hits the strings of his brown guitar quickly
in a lonely kind of song,
as if he is going into the world with it.
He plays for whoever is passing, for the night
where the birds and crickets are suddenly silent
when he picks at strings with a deep sweet kind of hurt
and his hurting music cuts through all things.
Sometimes he feels the cold, the winter wind
that wants to bring him back to reality
and he is being devoured by life
where the stars shine high above him
and he searches through pockets for a marijuana cigarette,
as the last pleasure that is left to him.
[Reference: Die speelman (The playing-man) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Welcome Last Exhale
When most of the breath has left my frame
and not much lies inside
I'll remember when my breath was on fire
as I lay at night by your side.
Lucky to be granted a long life
or unlucky for I'm alone.
Only my remembrance to comfort me
for 'tis all I own.
Once I owned the world with you.
Now, I own despair.
Tears do flow on silent nights
as into space I stare.
I catch a glimpse but soon its gone,
my memory fragile now.
Tomorrow if I come awake
and the Gods allow
I'll pray to leave and find you
and maybe I'll inhale
a long deep breath once again
with a welcome last exhale.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In The Harbour: The City And The Sea
The panting City cried to the Sea,
'I am faint with heat,--O breathe on me!'
And the Sea said, 'Lo, I breathe! but my breath
To some will be life, to others death!'
As to Prometheus, bringing ease
In pain, come the Oceanides,
So to the City, hot with the flame
Of the pitiless sun, the east wind came.
It came from the heaving breast of the deep,
Silent as dreams are, and sudden as sleep.
Life-giving, death-giving, which will it be;
O breath of the merciful, merciless Sea?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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