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Quotes about bruised, page 2

Honest Questions

Can you see
Honest questions in my heart this hour
opening like a flower
To the rain?
And do you know the silent sorrows
of a never ending journey
through the pain?
Do you see a brighter day for me?
Another day?
A day?
Do you wonder what's in store for me?
The cure for me?
The way?
Oh look down 'n see the tears I've cried
The lives I've lived
The deaths I've died
But you've died them too
And all for me
and you say (faded)
"I will pour my water down

[...] Read more

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Georgic 4

Of air-born honey, gift of heaven, I now
Take up the tale. Upon this theme no less
Look thou, Maecenas, with indulgent eye.
A marvellous display of puny powers,
High-hearted chiefs, a nation's history,
Its traits, its bent, its battles and its clans,
All, each, shall pass before you, while I sing.
Slight though the poet's theme, not slight the praise,
So frown not heaven, and Phoebus hear his call.
First find your bees a settled sure abode,
Where neither winds can enter (winds blow back
The foragers with food returning home)
Nor sheep and butting kids tread down the flowers,
Nor heifer wandering wide upon the plain
Dash off the dew, and bruise the springing blades.
Let the gay lizard too keep far aloof
His scale-clad body from their honied stalls,
And the bee-eater, and what birds beside,
And Procne smirched with blood upon the breast
From her own murderous hands. For these roam wide

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Sara Teasdale

The New Moon

Day, you have bruised and beaten me,
As rain beats down the bright, proud sea,
Beaten my body, bruised my soul,
Left me nothing lovely or whole --

Yet I have wrested a gift from you,
Day that dies in dusky blue:
For suddenly over the factories
I saw a moon in the cloudy seas --

A wisp of beauty all alone
In a world as hard and gray as stone --
Oh who could be bitter and want to die
When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?

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Crazy Dream

we tip toe around the edges,
as we orbit and tilt.
we watch the planet wobble,
like a tossed coin thrown into
this well.

its a crazy dream, and its
bruised and bumped.
its a crazy dream, and its
making me ill.

we tip toe around the edges,
only to fall asleep, its the end
we are concernd with, not the
beginning or the middle.

and its a crazy dream, and its
bruised and bumbed, its a crazy
dream, and its making me ill.

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Blueness

Blue moon
shrill dandelion and
a pocket of fallen teeth
happen once
in a bruised moon.

The noon when mother
sugarcoated
her skin
when civil rights movement
painted its face-skin white
commedians dell'arte
locked jaws
a pocket of fallen teeth
shrill dandelion and
a bruised moon
happened once
in a blue noon.

Mother painted her body

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The House Of Pain

welcome
to the house
of pain...

rehab pain
driving insane
intense agony

dark legacy
of an instant
of an accident

all muscles
instant torn
in right leg

limp weep on
limp on pain
to recovery?

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Edgar Lee Masters

Indignation Jones

You would not believe, would you
That I came from good Welsh stock?
That I was purer blooded than the white trash here?
And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders
And Virginians of Spoon River?
You would not believe that I had been to school
And read some books.
You saw me only as a run-down man,
With matted hair and beard
And ragged clothes.
Sometimes a man's life turns into a cancer
From being bruised and continually bruised,
And swells into a purplish mass,
Like growths on stalks of corn.
Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of life
Into which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,
With a slattern for a wife, and poor Minerva, my daughter,
Whom you tormented and drove to death.
So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days
Of my life.

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~not Easily Broken~

a love freely offered
by a courageous heart
is eagerly admired and
marvelled over as
a rare find
a precious treasure
reverently encased
behind fine glass
and placed on a pedestal
appreciated for
its beauty
its purity
its innocence
from a far
but remains
fearfully unaccepted
by a Soul
blinded by the
deceptions of fear
that whisper lies

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Averted Violence

Stripped to the buff they circled round,
And jagged and swung and crossed;
To uppercut and smash and pound
No chances either lost;
Till folks opined, in some alarm,
That they might do each other harm.

Fiercely, they swung the left and right,
With punch and bash and clout:
Each grimly hopeful that he might
Secure the glad knock-out.
And, as they watched the 'claret' spurt,
The crowd feared someone might be hurt.

The ribs of one were bruised and sore,
His chin was badly gashed;
The other's face was streaked with gore;
And yet they biffed and bashed.
And someone said, 'It this goes on
There'll be an injury anon.'

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Whatever Suits You Before You Split

How's the field you're playing on?
You appear to be bruised,
And mentally battered.

How has your cruising been?
Have you picked up anything...
Worthy to be the next 'him'!

How has the charading of ages gone?
Are you still passing...
Or giving shade to those,
Who can see a youth lost...
You make attempts to propose!

And now you wish me to assist,
With the licking of your wounds!
You believe I provide understanding,
With a forgiveness you assume!
You want me to make room,
In a heart you left for your escapades made.

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