"frailer" poems
I read that anger is weakness, and that patience is strength
But it is from anger that I found my strongest self, from blind fury that I learned my fists can break steel and my entire body is made from diamond.
How can patience be strength when every single agony-filled second that drags by I feel myself growing weaker and frailer?
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
tonight i cut an angel,
her heart in my palm beating away. her words echoing in my brain, theyd been there all along, such beautiful soft words, words that mattered, words that cared , words that helped , words that pushed me up and onwards
tonight i cut an angel,
her trust was as strong as steel in me, even when mine felt soft as yarn, she allways believed and faught for me without sense and without judgment
even when her sword was too dull to cut and too heavy to swing
her armor was so broken there was no point in wearing it,
but she wore it for me
tonight i cut an angel,
she is more beautiful then i deserve,more caring then i thaught possible, but frailer then rice paper.
she will allways love me, even when i hurt her, she would stand and smile and sow the hole in her heart closed again
tonight i cut an angel,
she wanted what was best, she knew what was best, she allways had and allways would, but my heart was beating to fast, my head was to strong. i screamed and faught and squeezed razors into the heart in my palm
tonight i cut an angel.
and now ill pray that to god he will send her back
L.G
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
’Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.
For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own.
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel.
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown,
Unless this general evil they maintain:
All men are bad, and in their badness reign.
1.6k
If you looked into a human face, you would see them slowly dying.
Hair turning grey, wrinkles etching deeper.
The body's shell frailer day by day.
A bag of dead and dying cells.
A body doomed to die.
A meat bag held together by bones,
frail, brittle, breakable bones, bone china skeleton.
You would also see a human trying to defy death's clock.
Botox, facelift, eye tuck, tummy tuck, implants.
Makeup and perfume to mask the stench of death.
Shame.
Why fight the inevitable?
Dying to look young.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 8:04 AM UTC
let me tell you something about regret
let me tell you something about being saturated with your thoughts, about being completely above your thresh hold of absorption and trying to desperately figure out how you can get out of it
it's a delicate game between i hope he gets it and he never does, a fine line between texting him at 1am trying to apologize for what you've been doing wrong and realizing he's just a boy and he can't handle that
we cling unflinchingly to the memories of our past until eventually we are tunnel visioned by them, unable to move forward because they are the quicksand in our mind forcing us to stay
and let me tell you about trying to do texts at midnight drunk on the absence of sleep telling them that they surely understand, trying to get closure to the fact that no you are not the only one who feels like this, he feels it too, but it will always be about someone else
and i could give you countless essays on replaying images of their tears, on wishing that you were never in a ******* hotel corridor spilling your heart out to stain your dress with red memories, red red dark red memories that will always stay there
or the time, perhaps, when you were not freezing because he was there next to you to heat you, because the sound that escaped his speakers were melodies that comforted the both of you through the tidal waves of something larger than you and something able to engulf you with a single blow
but let me tell you how it all ends, how you think you can never go back to the feeling of mistakes when you aren't making any, when you're stuck alone in this big world without talking to anyone because it only causes trouble doesn't it? but it always swings back around and there isn't a cure for it
i could write a million and one essays explaining how i have felt the past two years of my life, how from the moment my thighs were frailer than my wrists to the moment i couldn't fit back into my favourite pair of pants, from the time i first saw all of their brown eyes to the time i last saw them, from the awkward moments in the hall that are filled with void and anger and tension to the moments when i would beg to see them again for just a little bit more, but i have realized that i can never make you get it
the only way to get it is to experience it, and for those of you who understand what i'm talking about, try to get some sleep tonight, try to keep the memories out of your dreams
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
My frail form grows frailer,
sounds of gunshots,
these parties end on the grounds,
and when your gaze turns to shades of grey
how many tears can I kiss away?
We blend,
amidst friends, fantasy, and fiction,
there never is proper disdain or diction
for our survival skills in the midst of storms,
will your love abound as distance norms?
There are symphonies in fingertips,
while bombs scatter the dust of human kindness,
fetal screams trickle down
and jab the meaning of heartache,
can you avoid faults and breaks?
I intend to give you majesty,
though I'm not a man of wealth,
I'm still a man of means,
turbulent maybe the times,
but we agree on dying with the end rhyme.
Feb 14, 2011
Feb 14, 2011 at 7:52 PM UTC
I heard a woman today
Through her subtitles.
She was on a documentary
About the dangers of
Holy conflict.
She said to the world,
Eyes storming with warning paleness,
"If they" the selfish, unholy Palestines,
"Had taken my son,
I would have destroyed the world."
She was as old as my
(Frailer, softer)
grandmother.
(Who has never heard a gunshot
Or seen a temple burning
Or beheld a crushed glass message
On a cold German night.)
On an old porch she sat,
Wrapped in moth-worn
Fabric thinner than my shirt
Without a shiver of fear
Or doubt,
And stated this cold fact.
She would have destroyed the world.
Later in the thinly white day
Her son visits her, bringing cigarettes.
"For later," he insists, but
She makes use of one immediately,
Gripping with the firmness of
A woman who needs nothing more
Than a son and a cigarette.
His face and the tip light at the same time.
The fire (in his eyes) burns discordantly.
"You know I don't like the
Smell of your cigarettes."
He snatches it from her
And sends it to a dusty grave with his heel.
Ungrateful *******
I was standing now,
Shouting him down through my
Emotionless flat-screen television.
A thousand miles away
And every heartbeat breaking with
That worn and aged face
That betrayed nothing.
What pain must contempt be
From one who is in her eyes
More precious than the world?
The stupid, unthinking, unwitting
Cruelty of it strangles me.
But then she smiles with knowing eyes,
And waits a few more heartbeats than I can bear,
To say,
"Just one more?"
The worthless (world-worthy?) son,
Prideful and ashamed,
Scratches his temple and
Shakes his head.
"No," he says,
And hands her another.
Sep 5, 2010
Sep 5, 2010 at 3:29 PM UTC
When old age takes you, years hence, moves, misshapes and betwixt you into mortal parts,
Where once lost memories and thoughts, take centre stage and regret, like famished rodents, gnaw upon your withered heart.
The bodied cage, worn out, divided over many leagues and years,
Time is shorter than a happy smile, so do not waste it with your tears.
The mind is frail, yet time and exit frailer still,
Condemned to lonely wonder on that high precipice of early dawn and sky lark shrill.
Regrets prove plenty, akin to timeless grains of sand,
left strewn across the salty shore, which cause abrasive sores both in spirit and in humble man.
The mind again, yes that oldest tempest foe,
Who tries to cheat you of your common wits.
The blind man sees which way to go,
The liars tongue is made of gold, the wise man thinks but never sits.
You search, yet fumble all the same, time and anguished time again, through nameless worn out keys,
To invisible shackles, which are as boundless as the raging seas.
Those spellbound, never ending fetters, ***** and chains,
Like endless seasons dance upon, and tread beneath untrodden moss of natures rains.
You MUST! Leave at once, and elevate your tired being, BEYOND! The confines of our fragile mind,
Free yourself, unbind regrets, mistakes and worries, and leave old burdens far behind.
Or else risk damnation and eternal loss, the final mystery unravelled,
Abandon all you seek of yesterday, and set upon that road less travelled.
We are all but struggling insects, crawling on the face of God entire,
Until that fateful day, at final close of stormy play, we all succumb, relief and vigorous delights await.
To gentle lay and leave our mortal coil upon the wire,
Our aching soul, abandoned, to the wingless, shrouded, hands of wicked fate.
Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 2:39 PM UTC
I come home a foreigner.
The sun is warm and welcoming,
But the environment has changed.
Curiosity is beckoning,
But with gentle eyes.
I come home changed.
Last time I was more timid,
This time, a little stronger.
Last time I thought my weaknesses were insipid,
This time, I claim them as a part of me —
I come home curious,
As to what it might be, I ponder.
The family dynamics.
The opportunities that I may squander,
In fear of becoming my truest self.
I come home braver.
Even though on the outside I may be frailer,
Even though.
I might not be, but opportunities I can tailor,
So, it is with courage I move forward.
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 1:09 AM UTC
Fall to be
Life, a sea
To freely see
So calling me
Feeling leaves
Crunching frees
When, but tithing
The freest breeze
Is but every,
Astounding thing
Maybe a remedy
Cradling dreams
glowing streams
Foggy sheens
Making these
Diamond seams
Echoes seem
Frailer things
Which beauty brings
Castigating, floating beings
Though without,
The warmth they bring
Though within,
Melodies teem,
with no strings
Welcoming.
I was glad
Just to have seen
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Once upon a time, when time
is not yet the time I called mine.
That it's seems none among you
didn't have it yet, but we knew.
Thus, we just have the same petals.
I crossed the irritated river rather
than to skip my mother superior,
jumped up to the last rock of ages,
Frontally, I had bitten those arrow's edges
Thus, book's wings are immortal.
I got smelled crazy grass,
saw a crystallized granule,
a beans can pop my lust,
and watched a riot's failure.
those aren't mine but a warning signals.
I saw an abandoned cat who adopt me,
A surrogate flower with an opened gate,
She told me about her petals, silent sea,
wounds from fortifying the book, it made
Her rugged but its a pure story of past trials
I found that i'm just petal without "s".
A rocky river with its rackety drift,
Just a spark frailer than a atomic blitz,
and null, a shoot with a smallest leaf.
How strong she is that she made me feel mortal?
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
Frailer than last time, in sullen plight, and trembling cold;
goal waned an ailing crescent.
Childlike in premise, but seized in discord; a gracious whole.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 2:03 AM UTC
You're made
You're born
You learn to walk
You learn to talk
You go to school
You slowly grow
You cry teenage years away
You graduate
You go to college
You get a degree
You get a job you hate
You meet someone
You get married
You slowly begin to hate her
You have kids
They grow
You grow older
You lose your hair
You hate her even more
You work that job
Your kids leave
Becoming a part of the cycle
You retire
You become angrier
More bitter
Sadder
Your kids are disappointments
You get grandkids
You become frailer
You die
Where did the time go?
What happened to dreams?
What a crazy show!
Get me off this ride!
I don't want to be a part of it!
This vicious cycle of life!
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
So desperate were the frailer
minds of youth
that they neglected life
in return for a virtual plea for attention
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
Only Flesh
by Michael R. Burch
Moonlight in a pale silver rain caresses her cheek.
What she sees are the nights of despair stars endure.
Nothing is questioned, yet the answer seems sure.
Night, inevitably, only seems to end . . .
Flesh is the stuff that does not endure.
The sand begins its passage through narrowing glass
as she sums all things past, and to come.
Only flesh does not last.
Eternally, night and day rise and fall with the sun;
each bright grain, slipping past, will return.
Only flesh fades to ash though unable to burn.
Only flesh does not last.
Only flesh, in the end, makes its bed in brown grass.
Only flesh shivers, frailer than the pale wintry light.
Only flesh seeps in oils that will not ignite.
Only flesh rues its past.
Only flesh.
Keywords/Tags: life, death, flesh, mortality, time, sand, hourglass, ash, loss, night, moonlight, stars, rain, grass, despair
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 5:34 AM UTC
Only Flesh
by Michael R. Burch
Moonlight in a pale silver rain caresses her cheek.
What she sees are the nights of despair stars endure.
Nothing is questioned, yet the answer seems sure.
Night, inevitably, only seems to end . . .
Flesh is the stuff that does not endure.
The sand begins its passage through narrowing glass
as she sums all things past, and to come.
Only flesh does not last.
Eternally, night and day rise and fall with the sun;
each bright grain, slipping past, will return.
Only flesh fades to ash though unable to burn.
Only flesh does not last.
Only flesh, in the end, makes its bed in brown grass.
Only flesh shivers, frailer than the pale wintery light.
Only flesh seeps in oils that will not ignite.
Only flesh rues its past.
Only flesh.
Keywords/Tags: life, death, flesh, mortality, time, sand, hourglass, ash, loss, night, moonlight, stars, rain, grass, despair
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 1:52 AM UTC
Please do not be afraid
Breathe in the air, deeply,
Knowing fully that you are alive.
And even if you were to die,
Right now, right here,
You wouldn't really die.
Flesh decays; it grows frailer with age.
And where it once was,
Your soul remains.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
The sunset takes with it any light I have left in my soul,
Releasing darkness, all encompassing.
I’m scared.
I’ve developed a feeling that all words spoken aren’t meant,
I’ve learnt distance instead of searching for the truth.
I cut it all out,
I cut you out.
Your hands on my shoulders as they make their way to my waist feel rehearsed,
Stale, meaningless,
Done before with long haired girls, skinny girls,
Believing you.
I’m envious of their innocent eyes,
I’ll never be rejuvenated, cleansed of the evil that was instilled upon me too early.
I’ll fight as hard as I can and with all the breath I have to wrestle with my foes that live inside me but they always prevail.
I’m caged in this body that has been torn apart by almost everyone who has come in contact with it.
It’s been abused a few too many times that it will be thrown in the pits that house the other corpses when we reach our final destination.
I’m just waiting to cross over,
And hoping there I get some rest.
My back is bruised and my arms are sore, they fall at my side and that’s where they stay.
I don’t dare raise my hand in request, or answer.
I have no voice, lost it a long time ago,
Listening to words like “shut up” and **** you”.
So forgive me if I am a man of few words, or if I don’t speak at all.
The chances of you being just like all the rest are too high,
And I’ve ruthlessly gambled my life away before, to risk the possibility you might be different is one I’m not willing to take.
If you are, it would challenge everything I believe and I’ve grown too comfortable protecting myself to let you through my walls.
If you aren’t any different, I’m sure my body would wrinkle into a mere casing, nothing but existing, waiting to die.
I’m not sure my body could be frailer, weaker, or more damaged; I also don’t want to find out.
So I stay silent.
Sometimes words out loud don’t hold the solution.
Sometimes silence is the only peace I can reach,
That’s what is so intriguing about the other side,
I hope that it’s quiet.
I hope my haven is quiet.
I don’t need birds singing,
or a babbling brook.
Yes, I might be selfish,
but if I don’t look out for myself,
no one else will.
I’m all I have.
I’ve simply accepted my fate,
I just hope it happens sooner than later,
I’m growing tired of plugging my ears to the noise around me.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
frail the flower, that she held
her hands frailer still
when touched, a grody cold
a winter morning's chill
frail and fair, her skin felt
eyes closed; asleep
at life's wicked plan
how could I not but weep?
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
One day will be at peace with myself
Wounds on my heart will completely heal
Fingers and hands will no longer miss yours
I will finally conquer the sadness I feel
I won't feel split open and apart anymore
As though emotions are exposed and on fire
I am unable to put the embers out
Warmth in this dungeon of desire
Soon enough I'll set all seductions free
Stop throwing chances carelessly away
I am letting go of baggage one final time
Finished, flaws far too heavy to weigh
Always felt I was born frailer than most
I didn't feel accomplished or strong
Not receiving earned recognition
Standing my constant state of wrong
Say good words about others
But give insults to my ears
I feel lonely, I must be unwanted
Doubt the root of my greatest fears
Help me understand my worth
Love ugly parts at my core
It hurts, it festers, shame an ever-present ****
Please stop it, my whole body becoming sore
**** concern before it burrows beneath
Destroy it or else it wjll dig too deep
Harness inner power and will
Halt insecurities, then they'll never seep
Say I'm doing okay when asked
In the mirror hate the person I see
Tell everyone I'm fine though I know I'm not
Because eventually a day will come where I will be
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:57 PM UTC
frailer than crystal,
you cradle them with the utmost of heed.
more potent than a king they are,
turning your "want" into "need".
ever so attentively, you hide them inside
in the deepest corners of your being,
thy are kept far from reach.
so precious they are,
to your heart you hold them so dear
until they are mercilessly snatched from your hands
and sent tumbling down to your feet.
in slow motion, they shatter.
your dreams.
once protected in the chambers of your heart,
now fragmented, piece by piece,
dream by dream.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC