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Michael A Duff Nov 2019
Broken is renewed
Honored for its damages
Better than before
I love the idea and crafting of the Japanese custom of Kintsugi, it is the repairing of pottery that has broken with gold. With this custom things broken are preciously repaired with most valuable gold, honoring the items for their repairs and broken pieces rather than discarding them for their flaws. People are to me this way, we should honor them for their broken hearts abuses from the past, respecting their healing and recovery. Because that person is unique in all the world. Even though they may have pushed you away broken your heart or vise versa, you may never know how hard the battle is that they are waging in their mind and soul.
Poetyouknowit Nov 2018
Into his heart she wished to peer
To glimpse a shade of his crippling fear.

These feelings she claimed as just a murmur to sense
Of deep loss, unknown sadness, and loneliness.

From where he came baggage weighed him down
To where she found him toiling around.

Listing and rolling on an open sea
A broken man he was, so sure was she.

A place to pile pity, sadness, and sorrow high
To fill a hole in her own mind's eye.

A project, a task, a falcon with clipped wing;
Perfect - for a broken man can only be a summer fling.

A date written in sand to bring the curtain down
Leaves nothing to invest; nothing to lose in a waning town.

Help she will not, 'tis not her place
For when summer sets - off to another race.

What does one do when magnificent marble cracks to its core?
Take on the mantle of repair as their chivalrous chore?

For when one finds a thing more broken than they
Pious self-righteousness illuminates their way.

Always the better a thing that is broken
For it leaves that which lies beneath always unknown.

Talents and treasures in a life yet to live
Are the things that a broken man has yet to give.

For broken is mended through time and reflection
And then is when she might make a connection.

Yet a connect is impossible when hubris abounds
For painted already is a picture that confounds.

Perception turns to reality as mud turns to stone;
A broken man always is as she chooses to be shone.

Just as a broken plate, glass, or jar are easily discarded
A broken man is one who is also easily departed.

As fracture turns to crack and crack turns to decay
That which is broken knows only one of two ways.

To stay broken forever discarded as dust
Or to mend, heal, and repair the broken man must.

As the swift needle of time sews shut his ripped heart
The broken man realizes in this play he still has a part.

Realization that his role does not intertwine with her
Sets the broken man looking for what can only be a cure.

With grout, cement, and epoxy he sets to piece himself together
The broken man works diligently to fill in each fissure.

And as his new form takes shape he can confidently say
A broken man is not forever - only a detour off life's highway.

Lost in that summer was opportunity for more.
Voices and laughter fading with no encore.

A sadness swells in the throat behind the tongue
A song left to sing, but no song is sung.

The broken man mended whole once again,
He'll always look fondly where whence he has been.
Michael A Duff Nov 2017
A broken thing often is hidden, discarded, replaced.

People, we reset, repair, rebuild seemingly we're refaced.

I see beauty in these broken things, see them repaired.

Because every dent, scratch, or Nick reminds us of our bond and the times we have shared.
I have started repairing broken pottery as a hobby and there is so much beauty in the randomness of how a broken piece is reborn into something more than it was, uniqueness. People, we are just a collection of experiences expressed over time. we all are broken or have been to one degree or another, the beauty is in our repair our uniqueness the differences and similarities are astounding to me.
Xallan Oct 2017
They said that
They could fix him
They told his family
They could make him new.
Under heavy mists of anesthesia,
The nurses pass, they
Listen to Norwegian rap music.
The rattle of the cages
Becomes the roar of the bloodstream-
The noise he made was pathetic,
But he was only flesh and bone.
Cradling a club to battle, he
Won't fight, not ever again.
He can hear
The steady squeak
Of his pet hamster, who runs his heart
Who keeps it alive
Who keeps it pumping
Who keeps it going.
No one bows to
The monsters: mirrors, they say,
Strike fear into the hearts of men-
And terror into the hearts of babes.
But to his left, and his right
In the reflection, the hamster
Squealed in shock.
The horror seen in the mirror
What horror seen before?
An animal anew, a phoenix
Dusted in the ashes of a dozen other men
Rotten, risen from the grave
Tarnished hands, struck by lightning
Have felt the padded walls
As he holds his head
In his hands, his tears
No longer come to mind.
What have they done in his veins-
That immortal wound!
Strangely Frankenstein-esque
My ally, where thou heart had laid on broken glass?
To thee I gave precious memories, blissfulness and unforgiving pleasures.

O' how I begged, I have surrendered to thee for the sparks of beautiful fruits I yearned for to be embedded in me.
With magic in your eyes, you've enchanted me.

My sorcerer, you came with dusty face, torn cloth wrapped around sharpen waist, you defended me.
To you I brought forth my love, placed demented soul in thy hands for thee to heal.

Ravishing, I walked boldly towards you, because my backbone you are. Thou stood firmly as a prayer to my needs in which thou, my ally fulfilled.

The apple of my eyes, the seed planted in my soul, fire that fought within me that only I know of. We were flesh within flesh, the blood that flows through my veins, the crick in my bones where sweet Juices had flown.

You were that aura that gave me peace, breaking me down like a deadly desease. "Ashtor" abondon... But you appeared spiritually directing me.

My sweet ally, where thou heart had laid on broken glasses?
I'll be there, stained on you like a scar.

-Shantel Broderick
To the man who is brave enough to love me in pieces, and make me whole
Nadia DeLevea Jul 2017
Like a statue I stand,
I cannot be broken.
Sharp as a blade,
I have not misspoken.

I'm already there,
All desire awoken.
Quick as lightning,
Furry bright and smok'n.

One step ahead,
I'm the whole **** ocean.
I'll get in your head babe,
So let that **** soak in.

Sweats like a boss,
That's why I get chosen.
I am the machine,
Don't need your **** token.

Confident words,
Each one that I've spoken,
Fierce as a lioness,
I can't be heartbroken.
Beauty is a Beast™  By Nadia DeLevea
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