"torned" poems
A weaver loves weaving silky blankets.
A spider's home a web is stitched by threads
With many rooms; in them are tiny heads.
Their bodies preserved eaten like crumpets.
The weaver weaves it's net from yarns of steel,
So testify the insects, the flies and bees;
It laid like a trap spun from trees to trees;
Whosoever passes suffers you feel.
There lives in darkest dreary room so dour
With hairy legs alert on each it's thread
Awaits; sometimes a windy storm would roar,
When webs like battered sails are torned to shred.
But back it comes to weave within the hour
A place to ply for preys flying ahead.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
Laments and shouts
Harsh words and strangled throuts
Slamed doors, hurting doubts...
This is how I will always remember you.
Green irises on blankets of red veins
Fighting, denying, throwing blames
I see you walking before my eyes
Smoking, cursing...then despise
The morbid silence in me,
All the truths I began to see.
Torned,I turn my look around
On these ***** dishes,
My real thoughts will never be found;
My foolish dreams, my childish wishes.
Please, don't wake up now
I'm almost at the door-
On fighting, I've withdrawn.
A thirst for tireness, always for more.
You used to have a spirit
Of glee and perseverance,
That's been long forgotten
In my childhood rememberence.
Life became life...
But you had to stir it!
Stir all its issues with a three-bladed knife
Abandon all the good we had
On departed kites,
Keep ur pride on exorbitant hights,
Which chained my life with no rights
Of change and reabilitation,
My eyes dried of solitude and depression
Since I was born.
You've become a white shadow
In a black mind whose thoughts
Lie in storms.
Aug 15, 2011
Aug 15, 2011 at 8:05 AM UTC
And if these could be my last
few words to the world,
And if this could be my last
poem to be written,
Torned out entirely, but rigid inside
Sad by looking, but happy inside,
I would write, one word, "Companion".
Dec 4, 2021
Dec 4, 2021 at 3:37 AM UTC
Isn't it fun to read between the lines?
Like for every sentence and every word
A writer conveys something with so much worth
Isn't it fun to read beyond the lines?
That even though the writer wrote it with boundary
But you're thinking leads you to a endless land from just a cranny
Isn't it fun to read behind the lines?
Like for every lovely and eloquent lines
You can see the dripping tears and a torned heart with no rhymes
Isn't it fun to read among the lines?
Tread among the words and unspoken letters
Where you'll meet and see yourself face to face with wings and feathers
Isn't it so much fun to read a writer's lines?
And isn't it so much fun to write a writer's line?
You'll never know where reading and writing will take you.
Isn't it so fun?
©
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Argema mittrei
Parading in your shade of grey
with fragile wings
torned to bits by the harrowing winds
of angry voices reminding you
that you are not a butterfly.
Tormenting taunts
feeds the loathing that grows inside
An assassination of a heroin's pride
reminding you that you are not a butterfly
As though moths were never meant to fly.
As if your wings didn't carry you
Across the reflections of buried moons
And how you rebuilt your tattered wings
From scattered dreams that buried you.
You are a different breed of beautiful.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
Petit à petit,
je rentre
dans mon cercueil en fer.
Essoufflée,
à bout de larmes,
épuisée par l'attente,
ce souhait impossible
de le voir
en courant
pour me retrouver,
je chavire
en rêvant
de son sourire.
A bout de larmes,
étourdie
par cette peine aiguillée,
je bégaie,
sûre que mes mots
ne servent plus à rien.
Je rentre dans mon cercueil,
tout en disposant du barbelé
autour.
Et je ne regrette que
cette brillance
dans mon coeur,
son sourire,
qui est venu
sans que je ne l'attende
me rendre amoureuse
à jamais.
~~~~~~~
ON THE EDGE OF TEARS
Little by little,
I go back
into my iron box.
Breathless,
on the edge of tears,
torned by the waiting,
this impossible wish
to see him
running
to meet me,
I sink
dreaming
of his smile.
On the edge of tears,
dizzy
by this stinging pain,
I stutter,
certain that my words
are no longer meaningful.
I go back
into my iron box,
barbwiring
all around.
And all I will miss
is that glow
in my heart,
his smile,
that came unexpectedly
making me fall
forever in love.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Do you know?
For you
I was wandering
i still remember those days
When I was wandering
When I travelled by barefooted miles away
When I was lost in the world of selfishness
People i faced hardly had kindness.
Do you know?
For you.
I was wandering to & fro to find you
With out food and without boots
Torned cloths and a stiched blanket
Being Wrapped to hide my face
In cloudy weather or sunny days
Seemed everyday to be same
Do you know?
For you
I was wandering
Just like streets were mine.
But Strange places & strange people
cause of staggering while walking was tiredness not wine.
People started staring at me
& scared by me.
They fled distance away from me.
I stumbled 'fell down & scraped my knee.
Do you know?
for you
I was wandering
I was too much hungry
I leaned to touch a muddy loaf
That threw somebody from roof
Eventually I visted close to your house
I tried to knock your door
Instead of welcome
You pushed me and yelled to go
I concealed my face & hid my tears
Likewise I was unknown to you for many years.
Do u know?
For you
I was wandering
Cuz I was too much gloomy & sad
I didn't care people spit upon me or kicked me out
But was not expecting this
You failed to know me & my love
My insanity condition
My rambling as wayfarer
Behind my crazyness
Reason was you
Cuz I love you.
Do you know?
For you
I was wandering
In the sands
Wonderful lands
Now I always pray to GOD
Give me patience & save me
Never lead me astray
I returned back to home
Caring me my dad & mom
& now I am normal
Thank you
Do you know
Reason is only you....
By Shaffu...
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 11:25 AM UTC
sleep may possibly be the only way
to get to know how your touch feels like.
it is quite upsetting and blissful; both at the same time,
because i often wake up at thirteen twenty three to realise
that i'd much prefer to skip lunch just to be able to let our pupils meet.
and i would be more than glad to tell you of
how our reflections dance in each other's chocolate iris,
—it made me believe that fairies do exist, for in my eyes, you'd witness how these pixie dust melt all over you
or how your warm hands felt like with our fingers intertwined
—my palms were similar to torned maps with these lines as broken paths and yours had the missing pieces, it's like these lines had a certain destination and they were meant to meet yours
but then again thirteen twenty three calls for me and i have nothing but ocean eyes and broken miles.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
What is it in poems that burn?
Possesses me to twist and turn?
Pulls out the soul to let it soar,
To let it frolic to the core?
Is it the meter, sound, and rhyme?
The intricate weaves of words each line?
The charming couplet weaved with sense,
The playful paradox, soft and tense?
Is it the passion, bare and wild?
The Lust entangled with the child?
The artist's soul put into page,
The torned-up papers drowned in rage?
Is it the after, once it's read?
The moment's message stuck in head?
The "I understand." The "Hmm, indeed."
The conceited wisdom we all feed?
Is it the question beyond the ink,
The philosophies we're bound to think,
The things we'll never view one way,
Which we debate o'er everyday?
Or is it the boldness of the art,
Ripping out the veins from the heart,
And placed in view of public eye,
Either to be noticed or passed by?
The dauntless effort of a soul,
To speak his mind and reach his goal,
Without fear of slander, death, or sin
Is that why poems burn my skin?
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC
[Dedicated to our fellowpoet, The DedPoet]
Horror.
Evilness.
We throw up,
our heart
we hang in a rope of tears.
All the gods
are silent.
And blind.
We watch
ourselves,
torned,
a full pain
turning us
into
a punishing fury,
apocalyptical riders.
And then
we see them,
the children.
So restless,
fearfull,
sorrowed...
But they fell asleep.
We watch over them.
And love,
unconditional love,
a forever love kind,
overwhelming love,
makes us understand
we are needed
and we must stay
and we must be able
to learn them,
our children, our own blood,
to trust again.
And we cry
and our tears
are their protection.
And they awaken,
stirred, first,
but we hug them,
the two at a time.
No words are needed.
Just love.
They will know
it is the real thing.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
*Have you ever herded humans to LOVE?
I have traveled a thousand miles
By foot to reach my BELOVEDz home
Have you ever bowed down and surrendered?
I have kissed the feet of my BELOVEDz
From the center of my heart
To the place where my BELOVEDz stays
Though seems from mountains to the ocean
But the stream of water flows uphills
There is this small town
In the oceanic blue scape
With humid tropics and scented rain
In the curvature up-down hill roads
With green trees lined by the fields
Between the town and
The destination to no where
There is the tiny abode -
My BELOVEDz lives
Up one flight of stairs to heaven
Where the wind blows stronger
With every rain gush hitting the verandah grill
My BELOVEDz stands, watching her life
Through the dogs and cats raining skies
Oh..! worrying about LOVE and
Those uncertainties beyonds life
As I stand over there -
Below her grilled verandah window
Drenched in rain, pouring over...
My filthy 1000 miles walked torned dress
Yes that is the place I find my BELOVEDz
Standing near the window grill -
Like Shakespeare's when Romeo and Zuliet meet
She looks at me and smiles
Was it me - her LOVER she was waiting for?
Like Romeo I can't climb up the grill -
She knows...
Thus she runs down the flight
Jumping down steps - skipping 2-3 at a time
And rushes out to embrace me
Within my arms, hugs and kisses
Yes - I am the LOVER she waited for...!
For us,
Loving each other
WE realize... now
LOVE is nurturing
LOVE is penance
LOVE is wisdom
LOVE is patience
LOVE is compassion
LOVE is waiting
LOVE is courage
LOVE is our SOUL
LOVE is our ONENESS
That day in the rains
If someone saw us like that
Entangled within each other
They will smile and say:
LOVERS - Under in rain*
LOVERS - became "ONE"
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 4:34 AM UTC
I was thinking about what you are to me.
How would I draw you, what would you be.
You'd be a bird.
But not just an ordinary, typical that everyone knows.
You'd be a beautiful, black bird with three wings and a heart that's torn.
Beautiful because you are.
Your flaws are the most perfect out of all.
Black because you are.
Your eyes, your soul, they own this color the most.
Three winged because you are.
Something new I've discovered for the very first time.
Heart torned because you are.
These people who torn it are gone and I want you to know that I'll try and try until it's whole.
-Tereza Balatkova
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:00 AM UTC
Have you seen the tremble of the gust?
that blows the land without any mercy,
Putting the damage on the lives of lonely people,
Uncontrolled acts that made the wind whistle.
Have you seen the earth shatter,
Mad rumbled and roared like a monster beast,
shivering with extreme grin and violence,
Lands torned apart caring on no one's presence.
Have you seen the water flowing from heaven,
on heavy volumes and unexpected occurence,
killing the lives of the stabled occupations
stumbled upon floods of the dying nation
Have you seen the giant waves of the coast?
or the fatal mud flows from volcanoes,
Can we know the point or we are so blind not to fear
that we are paying our tolls and the apocalypse is getting near.
Mar 13, 2011
Mar 13, 2011 at 6:30 PM UTC
The hurt a girl must feel.
When you take her against her will.
Shattered and torned deep within.
From the attack of a stranger.
Or from someone she thought was a friend.
Secluded in thoughts of pondering why?
Finding no answers to your response.
While he has wrecked your world.
And walking around without feeling guilt
Or he saying you tempted him.
But you're the one feeling hurt.
And what makes it worst.
Some in society's agrees with him.
Yes, the hurt a girl must feel.
Even , if you hear a guilty verdict.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:19 AM UTC
Wandering around the streets barefoot, picking up leftovers from the garbage piles to satisfy the hunger is mere part of a begger's myriad privations. No matter how talented he is born, begging is the only job which he has to perform.
Luxuries? They dont even know something like this.
Roaming around the road with their innocent smiles,
Getting a note of 10rs fills their world with joy.
When asked where they live,
Road was the answer that they give.
Do they own that road? Do they own that street?
Hardships don't scare them anymore,
As they are the free souls.
How strange is it that a smile always find its way on a face of a child who has born with no privilege. How can an eye which has seen only sadness can sparkle like a sunshine.
How can somebody have a carefree slumber knowing the fact that life will always remain cruel to him.
Maybe that is the irony of life, On one hand a person sleeping in king size bed cribs about the quality of his mattress and on the other side a torned blanket is like bounty to
some.
Why our happiness has become so expensive? Why all of us have become so materialistic? Lets learn something from these innocent smiles. Lets not be a slave of money lets try to see life beyond luxuries.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
In the world
of words,
and poems
I am nothing
but the tip
Of a broken wing,
a broken pencil.
In the world of art and paint
Im a torned and broken page
that only you with your love and likes
can mend...
---------------------------------
Book Poems from a Gypsy Soul , Amazon.com
www.evaluna0.blogspot.com
www.evelynrdz.wordpress.com
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
you said you loved me, but the eyes was disgust,
i felt the kisses warm, but tasted hate thrown up,
i held your hand, but your nails dug in my skin, gave me cuts,
i shown you my wrist to let you know ive been already torned up.
you will never get to hurt me like how i hurt my reflection,
you can say you ******** but cant crack my shattered reflection.
you can hate to love me but neglect my reflection, to understand me you have to stand as my reflection.
to see me how i see you, you have shadow my reflection, you cant love me,cause i cant love my reflection.
my esteem is lower than it can possibly, my self esteem is on a hiatus away from me, so why you stay with me????? why is my heart debris, why is my mind a disseas? why im a minor oddity uncommon, yet lost in a common world of shadowed honesty, nothing is never true, but the heart that beats and the lungs that breathe,so why is my heart debris, why am i short of breath? cause i love you and that fillin my blood and arteries with my artistry...
BY: Emmanuel jv Hernandez
5/6/14
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Tormented souled
Ripped off
Heart wrenching
Torned out
Crucified
POEMS
All got
Beaten up by
Cheer lined
Bug fixes
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
It's never just a single moment '
It's a confluence of events
Of my tragic demise
Muted with misery ;
Afraid and paralized .
I cannot rememb'r how't hath happened
' How I lost it all ;
Including my mind .
I'm berefted .
Since I realized ,
I stopped loving the things I loved the most
And nothing rings a bell
Except for a forgotten song
The places change
The pain remain
Lack of entropy
Got no string
Hybridity
Modernization
Temporary
It is, what it is .
Either be dragged
Or, let go
Or be torned '
limb f r o m limb
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 5:45 PM UTC
Sit beside me
by the sunset of your thoughts,
let me be the dawn,
shining upon you.
Hold my hand,
in your solitude,
make me your solace.
Lean on my shoulder,
amidst your fears’ violence,
I shall be your armor.
Feel my embrace,
in the coldness of despair,
I will keep you warm.
Whisper in my ears,
your heart’s torned pieces,
for in between its spaces,
I shall love you better.
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
From deep within our souls confide
The feelings of hatred a great divide
The unity became a war of hearts
Broken,tattered and torned apart
Like hell the anger burns silently strong
Emotions are overwhelming, a new breed is born
Out from the violence chaos and dread
Fear is naked through the eyes of the dead
No matter how far the battle or which side the first blood draws
When the dust settles the war still rages within and so it goes
For centuries its been the same through history we can tell
There's no way a side of a coin meets the other, however it fell
Back to back they see different views but same cause same life
Are taken as blood splatters everywhere death will surely arrive
Cruelty is a gift humanity has given itself that keeps on giving
And so as a present.. We open another path to a merciless killing
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:21 PM UTC
connection intersected
two lonely hearts stopping
each others pulses
changing directions
losing your own shadow
on a
shattered path
with feelings of vulnerability
going far
from yourself
pushing the person you love away
just to fit your
damaged little head
in society of famous faces
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
OUR MOTHER
1959 they took our mother away
Ever since then we are dying day by day
The huge collapse seems doesn't bother anyone
even the blood that runs from the merciless gun
Reds stole away the mother we had
And we are still fighting for that
She used to shine so bright
But now she has barely any light
We remember the catastrophic day of 1959
and I wonder why the world thinks we are still fine
Our mother says
"It shatters my heart to see my children
Children that have lost their lives
Children that have been killed by knives"
Our Mother is waiting for us
Waiting for the sun to burst
We have to try and try
Cause we cannot let her die
She have to live on and on with this pain
But I wish I could put her up in the frame
She can be healed
If only the world could feel
People asks me "WHO IS YOUR MOTHER?"
I hold my head high and say
"My mother is treasured with love
My mother lives high above
My mother lives where the mountains glows
My mother lives where the rivers flows
I am a child of the beautiful mother well known
I am a child of the beautiful mother that have been torned
And Promise me you will never forget
I am a child of the beautiful mother named TIBET"
Our mother will shows us the way
Till then my brothers and sisters do not give up anyway
The light of hope will come and glow
We will smile and say "BHOE GYALO,BHOE GYALO"
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
What?
Do we know about Bill?
Nothing but what we heard.
We wasn't there.
Only the ladies and him.
And selected memory holds weight in various ways.
Especially when you're seeking to be paid..
Not that he is innocent.
This I can't say.
Anymore I can accuse him of being guilty.
A crafted image can always be torned apart.
Like trying to protect your wonderful heart.
But money and fame does attract.
If honest with yourself.
Some were attracted to his name.
Lawyers loves infamous cases.
Simply for the money they hold to gain.
Cause eventually they gonna get paid.
We must wonder down the line of our lives.
That after thirty years if we might be sued.
And the excuse will be I thought no one would believe me.
But truth holds a lot of weight.
If evidence points to the subject of your hurt.
ords spoken is simply that.
Until a court decides to convict you based on your past.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC