"brokenly" poems
I think I have never been so exalted
As I am now by you,
O frost bitten blossoms,
That are unfolding your wings
From out the envious black branches.
Bloom quickly and make much of the sunshine
The twigs conspire against you
Hear them!
They hold you from behind
You shall not take wing
Except wing by wing, brokenly,
And yet—
Even they
Shall not endure for ever.
4.3k
Are my scars saying words,
Too frankly to you?
What of my wounds,
That have yet to heal?
Is my courage too loud,
For you, Sir Proud -
Am I too brokenly real?
Jul 28, 2011
Jul 28, 2011 at 9:57 AM UTC
Mountainous caverns
And cavernous depths
Plague and pillage taverns
Bridle beleaguered breaths
Forward the hour
And hoist the scattered skies
Time not to cower
Behind blatant lies
Prepare for the downfall
As the mountain gives way
Gruesome, thunderous brawl
Is my death in this day
If an avalanche is hell
Then I am surely home
Brokenly beaten and well:
Where chaos freely roams
Forget not our rise
For we are not our sins
But saints in the skies
Banefully, ****** kin
I am a vagabond in hell
And a vagabond: I am free
As heaven rings a final knell
While the mountains collapse for me
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 5:20 AM UTC
I exhaled
Smoke riding towards
The stars
My eyes red swollen
Tracing thousands of scars
And everything felt stolen
And my blood and pain covered me
In places you couldn’t see
My knees scratched
Feeling brokenly free
And I let my eyes
Become the ocean
I asked God for something
Broken from emotion
And I saw lights
That made me smile
Some nights
Breaking what I thought
Was unreliquishing darkness
Which I addictively sought
And God I swear
I tasted heaven
Smelt it in the air
The lights dimmed
And the beach tractors
Drove past me
But heaven went right through me
And even through that hell
I tasted heaven
And that kept me
Alive
Because I saw the light and I tasted heaven
When I was drowning in hell
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Sights disable me by birth
Father as witness to.
Mother to teach A to Z every time
And trying well correcting my sight.
To leave school, after full fill lessons
To change my disable sight, why?
For my sight, present friends and other people,
Of book tonic, medicine plants,
Traditional treatments
And more other onetime roots,
But nothing change my sight,
At last the order coming,
Wear specs.
To run at 1st street
Saw, wore whole shop in saffron coluor,
In glass chamber, stick saffron bindi in all doll's forehead
And saffron specs covered their eyes.
Add verse displayed - buy specs
Get rusted lance free absolutely.
To reached eyes on 2nd street
The shop 'n' carpets are green,
All dolls had beard and turban
In theplank advertising - buy specs
Get sword 'n' a bottle perfume free.
In the 3rd street endered my face
Whole room yellow, front dolls, specs,
Everywhere yellow, display text be yellow,
If buy specs, wonderful wine free.
To the 4th street, move my foot
Whole floor blue like the sea,
At shop, dolls, specs, all are blue
Gospel on display board
Seat on heaven be reserve free, buy specs.
Much crouded in 5th street
From enterence and street , to shop are red
Dolls are spectrum of victims, specs are red
slogan of display plank,
Sharpen wooden spear free,
Under puchased all specs.
And stret boys call worst,
Throw ***** of guilty verse,
And much caper plays
At back, a crying noises
That 2nd street, ask a boy brokenly
Passed away whole street,
In which specs for my sight?
And which colour for specs?
I too distruct and move my leg to 6th street,
From door to everywhere crystal,
And the floor pellucid, on the street no crowd
At the shop no doll and display plank.
When wear crystal specs,to see my own me?
To know my friend, colour of appetite,
Depth of love, greatness of hope in eyes.
I pray, with pulsated heart,
And wait for specs on the 6th street.
==============================C N Kumar.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:05 AM UTC
Broken.
It is such a strange word.
Broken.
It is such a strange definition.
Broken.
Can't what is broken be fixed?
If that which is broken is fixed, is it still broken?
Perhaps it is just brokenly new.
A broken heart can lead to joy.
So if a heart is sad, is it truly broken?
Broken.
Such a strange thing.
Broken.
What a strange concept.
Broken.
What a strange sound.
Why do humans call themselves broken?
Perhaps being broken, is nothing more then an allusion.
Why do we cry in despair when we seem to have broken?
Being broken only allows light to shine through the cracks.
Broken.
What a strange allusion.
Broken.
What a strange existence.
Broken.
What a strange state.
So, if broken can be fixed...
If Broken leads to joy...
If broken is an allusion..
And if light shines through the cracks of things that are broken...
Then it means two things...
Broken is a temporary state for humans.
Broken never existed to begin with.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Let me disappear off these mortal maps
and become a citizen of the void.
Let me revel in the peace of decay,
as my bones lay in the comforting embrace
of the silent earth.
Let the stars steal the light
from my eyes
so that, even in my absence,
I can still guide you home.
Let me fall brokenly upon death's door
and leave nothing but a disintegrating stone
to claim my ashes.
I don't care how steep the price,
please, just
let me leave and
don't ask me to come back.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
I do not love you in the most common sense of the word.
I do not love you softly with doe eyes and tender kisses.
I do not love you bravely, for there is nothing brave in my actions or words to you.
I do not love you kindly or sweetly, gently or patiently, considerately or reservedly.
I love you like a storm was loosed on my entire being from my first glimpse of you.
I love you like a match loves to be struck, or like a nail loves a hammer.
I love you like a page loves being scarred by the ink of a pen,
and I love you like a pick loves being scraped across old strings over and over again.
I love you violently, and entirely. But, most of all, secretly.
I love you scorchingly and searingly, as if all the pretty words you've ever bestowed upon me were mere kindling.
I love you like an atom must love the universe, a thing by the grace of which it exists, but a thing also which it couldn't possibly ever grasp.
I love you behind my heart and behind my eyes, to shield such a vulnerable thing from the corrosion and harsh grinding of the world.
I love you brokenly, and bitterly, and for always, because I will not admit to loving you at all.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
I loved you the way
Samson loved Delilah
Foolishly.
I loved you the way
Aphrodite loved Adonis
Sensually.
I loved you fatally
Lustrously
Beautifully
Brokenly.
I loved you the way
A rose loves it's thorn
Too tender to the touch.
I loved you the way
I loved no one else
And that was far too much.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
She was bleeding, crying, and queazy
Fear alone kept her from leaving
Knee deep in lonely; emotionally depleted
Bluntly touching, there was no loving
Indifferently ******* he was no husband
Drunkenly cussing; brokenly crumbling
She'd grown cold, old, and withered
Blankly staring into the mirror
In which a spider had grown upon
Not even it could escape his palm
Ready to fold; she no longer quivered
Figuring no one would even miss her
She looked through bruises, hate, and hopeless
Paint brush loaded;
sharply focused
Fingered trigger;
predicting scriptures
Abusive liver;
idle dither
Quondam shadows become formless
To be adrift in that unknown ocean..
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
I miss you more than you seem to know.
......She misses you too.
We talk more often now though
Because it helps that we get it, I think.
I'm not really sure how to react to all this
You being so....lost.
I sort of got into the habit of looking at you
For directions. Because I wanted to be like you, somewhat.
You're amazing, you know that?
You're the moon and the sun and autumn and
....and all the little things that bring about large smiles.
I wish I could put it to a rhyme scheme.
She's breaking. Not as bad as she could be
But she is breaking.
I don't want to watch that. I didn't sign up for this.
I didn't want to have to watch my friends crumble.
Friends. I can't even label you two as that.
It doesn't fit.
You're so much more than that. I want. I need.
The point is, you're more than 'friends'.
You're both so ridiculously beautiful, y'know?
It's not even fair or okay because people like you don't exist.
But I'm glad you do.
It's pretty ****** that I only managed to write this now.
I shouldn't even be writing this, honestly.
I should be biding my time until you get back.
I should wait maybe two weeks before I call you both.
And then I should sit you down and explain it to your faces.
I'd probably lose some friends doing that, though.
I'm terrified of losing you guys.
Like, legitimately, panic attack worthy, terrified.
It keeps me up at night, sometimes.
Because I love you guys. Scary, right?
I'm not used to saying that and meaning it.
I love you guys.
I want to see you two for a long time.
While I'm emptying my heart, I should mention
That I wrote a lot of poetry about you two
Including this, and it saved me, I think.
I get where you are, and I've been there. I am there.
But it'd be great if you'd stay. If you'd both stay.
I don't wanna stick around without you guys.
You're something special and amazing and addictive....
And so, so, brokenly perfect.
So yeah. I guess I just wanted to say "I Miss You"
And get all this off my chest.
Because I need you here and she needs you here
But until you can be here, I can write poetry.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 8:55 AM UTC
Like as a flamelet blanketed in smoke,
So through the anaesthetic shows my life;
So flashes and so fades my thought, at strife
With the strong stupor that I heave and choke
And sicken at, it is so foully sweet.
Faces look strange from space--and disappear.
Far voices, sudden loud, offend my ear--
And hush as sudden. Then my senses fleet:
All were a blank, save for this dull, new pain
That grinds my leg and foot; and brokenly
Time and the place glimpse on to me again;
And, unsurprised, out of uncertainty,
I wake--relapsing--somewhat faint and fain,
To an immense, complacent dreamery.
1.4k
Sonnet: The Ruins of Balaclava
by Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh, barren Crimean land, these dreary shades
of castles―once your indisputable pride―
are now where ghostly owls and lizards hide
as blackguards arm themselves for nightly raids.
Carved into marble, regal boasts were made!
Brave words on burnished armor, gilt-applied!
Now shattered splendors long since cast aside
beside the dead here also brokenly laid.
The ancient Greeks set shimmering marble here.
The Romans drove wild Mongol hordes to flight.
The Mussulman prayed eastward, day and night.
Now owls and dark-winged vultures watch and leer
as strange black banners, flapping overhead,
mark where the past piles high its nameless dead.
Adam Bernard Mickiewicz (1798-1855) is widely regarded as Poland’s greatest poet and as the national poet of Poland, Lithuania and Belarus. He was also a dramatist, essayist, publicist, translator, professor and political activist. As a principal figure in Polish Romanticism, Mickiewicz has been compared to Byron and Goethe. Keywords/Tags: Mickiewicz, Poland, Polish, Balaclava, Crimea, war, warfare, castle, castles, knight, knights, armor, Greeks, Rome, Romans, Mongols, Mussulman, Muslims, death, destruction, ruin, ruins, romantic, romanticism, sonnet, depression, sorrow, grave, violence, mrbtr
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:56 PM UTC
I hurt myself again today,
To see if I still feel pain.
The needle tears a hole,
The old familiar sting ,
Try to **** myself again,
But it's just another fail.
What did you become?
My sweetest friend,
Everyone I love, dies and goes away
In the end.
you left me it all,
In our empire of dirt,
you killed yourself, you let me down,
you made me hurt.
I wear this crown of thorns,
my self destruction affair,
Full of broken thoughts,
That I cannot repair.
Beneath the stains of time,
They said that The feelings would disappear,
You are dead and gone,
But I am still right here.
If I could start again with you,
A million miles away,
I would keep you so safe,
I would find a way,
To make sure that you stayed.
Why wasn't I good enough to save you from destruction?
I pray for the rain,
Are you up there?
Do you listen?
They say that if you **** yourself,
You will be sent to hell,
But God, were you an angel,
Beautifully, brokenly, emptily impelled.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
Furiously, irritated, and brokenly,
I asked myself,
“When it comes to love,
why does it always fail me?
In my attempts, I’ve never succeeded.
What is it?
Am I not worth fighting for?”
Suddenly this voice replied,
*“Be still, you don’t need a mouse trap to capture love,
Easy comes easily dies,
seek for true & everlasting love.”*
Since then, I never asked further questions.
Copyright© Cynthia Ulloa
All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
the need to express
my unhappiness
mingled with my mask
of forged smiles
gifted to me
since i was a child
pretend to be
who they want to see
that's who you should be
my mind tricks me
the you, you are
is never enough
a shameful mess
blessed with a voice
hushed and ashamed
uneventful
tamed...
but the pen explodes
the paper is alight
fire burning
breaking the night
expression
confession
simple poetry
gifted to me
since i was a child
foolishly i wrote
staining blank paper
with my woes
my depression
my questions
betrayal by family
alone, lost, abused
searching for approval
embrace your child
mother, where are you...
why have you gone?
father is blind
sister is brokenly
holding me tight
protecting me
from our mother
our father...
trapped in a house
closed in
stay in
force normalcy
they must never know
you held your mother
while she wept
your blood staining her sheets
how foolish of you
to ever speak
close your eyes
sing a sweet lullaby
everything will be alright.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
i loved you like i loved mirrors.
a little fearfully, but curiously
and then all at once, seeing myself
reflected in your eyes and realizing
this is who i am.
and i loved it.
i loved you like i loved mirrors.
you broke me like i broke that mirror.
tentatively, not wanting bad luck
but needing to, needing to break away.
glass breaks beautifully, brokenly
but dangerously.
i watched as the fist crushed into the mirror
into my heart
and knew that i while i was the reflector,
you did not feel this pain.
you broke me like i broke that mirror.
i am afraid of you.
i am sorry. but i am.
i am like a dog that way. you hurt me once
i never forget.
i stay wary. even if it was unintentional
i will never love the same.
i will love beautifully, brokenly
i will never love the same.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
My legs crumble, as I crawl to the alter,
My eyes defiled by *********** Here my feet is weak and my hands stumble.
I draw the escape,
But I choose just to stare at the pencil..
Erase the bad habit and find that it only makes it worst to fight alone...
I draw the escape,
As I quickly see other utensils
I'm weak father I'm weak!
My eyes stare down at his feet as he chose to get beat for me,
While I was steadily beating my "meat".
Escape draws me,
As I Run....brokenly.
I'm not perfect there I said it!
I need your strength or I'm headed for the tale of the Damits.. The cursed the curses the unrepentant.
I'm so ugly when it gets to this,
Beauty is vain anyway but I wouldn't regret it..
You gave me life just to live it,
And death just to see it.
This is my prayer
" Father forgive me and all those nights I came except coming to you..I...I regret it.
Lord I repent and I don't want nothing to do with this!
Draw me close to what is heaven,
I honestly need you
Jesus...
I'm desperate.
No longer will I run to **** and the world to help me for my ignorance.
I see that there blinded with it
god I stand here to night saying...
I'm forgiven,
Give me your spirit for I know that will settle it...
Help me
Save me
I need it ...
I admit it.
I'm dangerous
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
It's raining
And I Want You
The rain makes me overly sentimental, adding its ten drops worth to my ocean...
Nostalgia swells up; a monolithic wave of sadness and fractured memories
The borders imposed on my heart rebounds the lapping tongues of melancholy and send them back towards the centre towards
Me
Me; the centre of my own world
The Centre of my ocean
Frail ratty rafts of values drift brokenly across my ocean
The cracks in my character screech like strained metal; shouting at me that I'm sinking them
I'm sinking the morals and values that merge to form
Me
Me; the centre of my own world
The Centre of my ocean
The aquatic depths house the monsters of my mind
The Subconscious apparitions so large that a stirring of their serrated spines change the flow of my polluted basement of an ocean
The flow of my subconcious stinks stagnantly
It results in the drifting away of me from
Me
Me; the centre of my world
The Centre of my ocean
It's drizzling
And I want you
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
Everything you now!
It all manners a lot,
and is shooting at you infomatter,
brokenly corrected appropriately,
into cruel decency,
and intensity, lower
that for all full emptiness
of everlacking luck,
your fall enters inward into
the deep-sea that you ignore.
Poor unhedonistic narcissist you,
you wash your hands on...
what exactly?
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 7:09 AM UTC
Slowly fades today
lost in chronicles of time
only memories
grey ashes of yesterday
haunting me with pain
tomorrow so futile seems
stabbing me with fears
longing brokenly for hope
and lost yesterdays
hoping God may somehow blend
morrow with sweet yesterday
~Hilda~
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
At 9:15 this morning
you hurt your brother and lied about it.
*It was an accident!
He did it himself!*
Every variation casting up a veil between us.
The victim, too young to lie,
brokenly identifies his tormentor
and I am speechless at the act
and the denial
But I remember.
I remember the impulse too well -
preserve yourself!
No-one saw, they can't be sure you did it.
The theatrical collapse into self pitying insistence.
I remember how easily
I could convince myself of my innocence
and the hopelessness of others' incredulity.
Ah, ugly times.
So I understand, but it still hurts.
Not because I can't trust you now.
Not because it seems like a moment ago
that you, like your victim,
had no inclination to deceive.
Not even because you must take me for a fool
to try it.
It hurts
because in the midst of the forest of wishes I have for you
one wish quietly crumbles:
the wish
that you
will be better than me.
May 1, 2011
May 1, 2011 at 1:10 AM UTC
half-form words....
sentences brok
en in two
thoughts never brought to
wishes stuck
the inside confines
of my head
dreams of golden castles and...
...ever after:
half-dreamt
lose the shackles
of this life
find the whole
among the many
broken parts
no thread completes
the picture
all
by itself
lines brokenly straight, if all alone -
there is purpose
beauty
promise
in the broken and the
shattered dream
each fragment fused
defines the fullness
of the frame
and beauty from the watered ash
will rise
for
together broken
is
together whole
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:51 PM UTC
can we be
friends?
brother & sister?
kin?
can we
carry,
eachother.
broken or whole,
intact or damaged.
and let's be honest,
none are wholly intact
and all are,
brokenly damaged.
but,
be that as it may.
let us,
carry
eachother,
for we are,
(what passes for)
humanity.
let us carry each other
across the wastelands, through the high waters,
over mountains,
and
through valleys,
until,
we find the place
of
joyful reconciliation.
can we do that,
people?
can we
put the ********
aside
and
do that?
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:45 AM UTC
The wicker chair on the porch
it’s bent
the leg that is
bent sort of brokenly in
which reminds her of
inversions,
how they turned in
and found darkness,
ineffability,
space.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC