"staunching" poems
It imprisons my heart
A piercing repetition of assault
Carved deeply into my soul
Barbed wire
It protects me
Allowing no one in
I am inapproachable
Metal soldiers
That guard me
Torture from within
I do not associate myself
With emotion of ruin
As tiny drops of red flow
From my present and previous wounds
Though the bleeding persists
In my naivety insist
On staunching the wounds
Draining my life
Barbed wire
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), TammyM. Darby
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
Our hands are lovely together
Not because of their staunching similarity
Or your smooth cracks
Or my chewed up nails
I don't mind the way
Yours move across my thigh
The temple of God
And then find their way into truth and goodness
Like trunks of two elephants
And you whisper 'interception'
I giggle to myself
You're raising your eyebrows at me
And in that expression
I forget who we are
But what's beautiful about our hands
is the Cimmerian darkness that lies between our clasp
It masks the depravity
And feigns the glory
Guarding hell at the edges of earth
The record stops
I fall asleep in your lap
As you study my face
Caressing my hair
And holding our shadows all at once
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:13 AM UTC
Those dry little words
So neat upon their pages
Filled with blood and tears
Staunching my lettered bleeding
I wrap my lines and tighten
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
Unfinished business lies here and there and everywhere
All it needs is a wet napkin/better communication/glue
We broke your pupil,
the black has leaked into your iris,
turning the blue to black into
one is now purple and bruised and
a small fissure of the black is escaping into the whites.
I'm be sure to staunch the bleeding with
some insulation or sawdust or my finger
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 9:22 AM UTC
Electric green
From deep brown to electric green.
That one phrase in the wrong handwriting changed it all.
Tears trickled down a rock face in the rain
Finding every cave, every wrinkle, every crease,
Cascading.
Dragging with every drop rivulets of black,
Tracing and highlighting bone and skin,
Red darts added more colour,
Surrounding the red,
My eyes a bloodied battle field in the rain.
Streaming.
Nothing staunching, no control,
The loss never so keenly felt,
My heart searching for a way for it not to be
True is not one colour, it is shades of grey and light
And here is a secret. Death is none and all colours, it is heart wrenching, stomach twisting, mind bending,
Bleeding tears.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:52 PM UTC
No one can see me
who I am
not really
but somehow
from so far away
you have
beyond just seen
you have looked into
those deep and mysterious places
with recognition
And I am but naked
under your gaze
I have been brought
to that slow
timeless place
where clocks stop
and the silken gauze of you
wisps around me
does its delicate inner weaving
healing my cuts, my burns
and staunching
the tears and
glass-cut
bleeding
My heart pounds
because I know
the truth
I know that
The best has come now
When has gone
The first fruited blush
Of youth
I know this
And I am constantly wrapped
In the tendrils of a decision
To be made
For my choice
Must be made with utmost care
And love
And I am both honored
and blessed
to fulfill
this higher quest
and waiting for the day
to take my heart out
from my chest
and follow it
to the heavens
where true fulfillment
does reside
and take you
in my arms
with honor
and silent pride
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 4:43 PM UTC
I can't take this **** nuh more
I haven't been healthy since
Nine ******* teen
Plus two years and I found the way to love myself
First step hit the corner for the bottom shelf
Second, retire to my tomb of a bedroom
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
drinkin for two, staunching wounds
with alcohol
breathin in toxic air through filters
for my chemical fix
I can't stand that my lungs hurt, my heart burns
I exhale hard and
I see black tar pull away in smoke form
Knowing I'm black inside, too
What do I do but spark one more white tip
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
The Poet strips bare
the wounded Soul,
that it may bleed
upon the page
for all to see.
The Lover sees
the futility of
staunching
the flow,
for the Poet
would have
nothing
left to
give.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:56 PM UTC
Some summers writhe beneath me,
the skin stretched across the petri
kept away in the ribcage, beating against the bars,
Wanting stars,
the ether burned off as sand staunching my toesteps
and Saturn rings tossed afar
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 3:46 PM UTC