Quotes about bruised, page 9
Bruised
Oval, red
falling through space,
edges turned
beauty spurned.
Falling again, flashes of red
pure blissful dread.
Cut, tampered, distorted
rolling into a whirling mass
of red.
Lifeless, homeless
almost dry,
the petals of a rose flower
A red rose flower
that in their struggle
for survival were
bruised.....
poem by Morning Dew
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Pains Of Predjudice
I have experienced pain
Undeserving and vivid pain
Pains of rejection and pains prejudice
Pain when my rights were wronged.
Pains while others endure undue harm
My heart aches, my mind bruised
From pains of emotional abuse.
I have seen and experienced it
Read about it, still living it.
Pains of prejudice.
poem by C. Albert Andrews
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This Angel
This angel is confused
This angel is bruised
This angel's wings are broken
This angel's words never spoken
This angel has a broken heart
This angel has nothing but broken promises
This angel hopes and prays for her heart to mend,
And that her broken wings will heal and mend.
Written By Confused Cherub
poem by Confused Cherub
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Silence Of The Shadows
In the silence of the shadows
a heart lay in tatters,
torn apart by loves advances
of an unwanted kind.
Bruised and beaten by distant
forays of fear and fist.
The heart once warm and loving,
now in the silence of the shadows
is held by threads of fear,
waits for repair
in the morning light of day.
29 October 2009
poem by David Harris
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A Picture
I strolled last eve across the lonely down;
One solitary picture struck my eye:
A distant ploughboy stood against the sky—
How far he seemed above the noisy town!
Upon the bosom of a cloud the sod
Laid its bruised cheek as he moved slowly by,
And, watching him, I asked myself if I
In very truth stood half as near to God.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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My Family
i dont have any more time
for the 'pretend to be',
the 'wanna be', ...
the jewelled hand,
the insulated mask,
the prideful, the apathetic....
the 'walk away joes'...
only the living, the bruised,
the wounded, the naked....
fighting, struggling, knocking....
standing up even when
they're too weak to go on....
my family!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Tears You Dont Have Time For
the bruised face
with chaptered eyes,
you change the baby....
coffee, no breakfast.
pick up the bottles,
empty the ashtrays....
brush your hair,
try to hide
the telling color....
and off to work.
9.50 an hour,
amid the whispers....
to you, love is a battlefield,
a baby's cry, ... and tears
you dont have time for.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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More Of Your Wounding
You left me sore,
Battered and bruised.
Feeling used to then be dissed.
To then hear from you say,
I am missed and you wish forgiveness.
And suddenly I am reminscing,
That moment we met to touch and kiss.
To forget you left me sore to mend.
As again,
I answer your knock at my door.
Knowing I welcome...
More of your wounding.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Not Even A Number
tiny small hands
curled up in death
that reached for the breasts
of the mother....
lips swollen and parted,
face bruised and distorted,
left to rot.... in a dumpster.
spit out by the system,
trash begats trash...
no one knows the name
of mother or child....
in the land of Jesus,
SUV's and credit cards,
not a prayer....
not even a number!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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From The Biography Of An Unknown Woman: Xxxii
in her sob-weary
eyes is seen the quiescent sky
after a gushing rain
a solitary flower
on an infinite sheet of ice
she dreams dreams of
a loving heart
what color are her dreams?
brief episodes of love
she treasures within
and discards
her bruised skin
she stood there
at the threshold
her lips breaking into
a confident smile
[...] Read more
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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