"statuette" poems - Hello Poetry

I once struck a man in anger, with a small statuette. I dropped it to the floor as he fell, too, and watched the blood flow from his head. Though as I gazed at the pool of crimson and began to realize what I had done, I felt a snap and saw a vision: I saw every drop of his blood. It was inside his body, flowing, coursing, full of life and giving life. He grew to raise a family, love his wife, and love his kids. He helped his coworkers and encouraged them. He donated to charities, and those charities helped many. Some of those many improved their lives and helped many more. As his sons, daughters, wife, and coworkers also were given life by him and gave life, I saw his blood flow into their veins and spread, infecting countless others with love. Houses filled with light and laughter Streets were peopled by happy beings. A woman comforted a girl in the loss of a friend, holding the sobbing face to her caring chest. A poor man gave his only coat to a cold orphan boy on the curb, smiling through weathered lips. I saw all this life, And it was an ocean. A flash of light and sound, and I saw another vision: I saw every drop of his blood. It was outside his body, flowing, coursing, void of life and stealing life. As it touched me, I joined it as blood, boiling and bubbling with hate. As our blood ran down the busy metropolis street of life, it would touch people it came across. When it did so, they would melt also into a mass of red, splashing outward, and infecting others. Everyone touched would gasp and turn to scarlet, turning the shop-lined street into a river of blood. Countless lives were consumed in this manner. At one point, I finally pooled at the bottom of the street, and stared back from where I came. The street was now dark and desolate, the bustling life gone. The shops empty, the skies grey, the ground littered. A finch plucked strands from a red-stained straw hat, to make a bed of death. A mangy alley dog lapped up the blood that still coated the street, becoming only more hideous. And all was quiet, and I was utterly alone, but for the screams of their blood in my ears. I saw all this death, And it was an ocean. A jolt, and I opened my eyes. I found myself staring at the blood running from the man’s head in front of me. A few seconds later and I realized again what I had done. But I realized something else as well. I tore my shirt and tightly wrapped his head in the cloth. I lifted him up and took him to the hospital. There I sat and awaited my punishment. And took joy in life.

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Mar 15, 2012

Mar 15, 2012 at 12:10 PM UTC

blood-word

Blood - pt. 2

I once struck a man in anger, with a small statuette. I dropped it to the floor as he fell, too, and watched the blood flow from his head. Though as I gazed at the pool of crimson and began to realize what I had done, I felt a snap and saw a vision: I saw every drop of his blood. It was inside his body, flowing, coursing, full of life and giving life. He grew to raise a family, love his wife, and love his kids. He helped his coworkers and encouraged them. He donated to charities, and those charities helped many. Some of those many improved their lives and helped many more. As his sons, daughters, wife, and coworkers also were given life by him and gave life, I saw his blood flow into their veins and spread, infecting countless others with love. Houses filled with light and laughter Streets were peopled by happy beings. A woman comforted a girl in the loss of a friend, holding the sobbing face to her caring chest. A poor man gave his only coat to a cold orphan boy on the curb, smiling through weathered lips. I saw all this life, And it was an ocean. A flash of light and sound, and I saw another vision: I saw every drop of his blood. It was outside his body, flowing, coursing, void of life and stealing life. As it touched me, I joined it as blood, boiling and bubbling with hate. As our blood ran down the busy metropolis street of life, it would touch people it came across. When it did so, they would melt also into a mass of red, splashing outward, and infecting others. Everyone touched would gasp and turn to scarlet, turning the shop-lined street into a river of blood. Countless lives were consumed in this manner. At one point, I finally pooled at the bottom of the street, and stared back from where I came. The street was now dark and desolate, the bustling life gone. The shops empty, the skies grey, the ground littered. A finch plucked strands from a red-stained straw hat, to make a bed of death. A mangy alley dog lapped up the blood that still coated the street, becoming only more hideous. And all was quiet, and I was utterly alone, but for the screams of their blood in my ears. I saw all this death, And it was an ocean. A jolt, and I opened my eyes. I found myself staring at the blood running from the man’s head in front of me. A few seconds later and I realized again what I had done. But I realized something else as well. I tore my shirt and tightly wrapped his head in the cloth. I lifted him up and took him to the hospital. There I sat and awaited my punishment. And took joy in life.