PoetryAssignment.com » blood

Learning to walk

Miriam — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 06:33:39 +0000

I walked until my feet bled
On a path I scarcely saw
Lush grasses waved in winds cool
Their rustle driving me mad.
I had run before walking
But I tired, flagged and stumbled.

So I walked and walked and walked
Seeing no stone I trod on.
I walked until my feet bled
And then I fell.

I saw the stones.
They were all I could see.
I knew each as it dug
Into my cheek, my arms, my chest
I finally felt my bleeding feet.

My knees scraped across the path.
I crawled, as one must
Before walking. But,
I am not a child;
I am grown.
I will stand and stop
My now bleeding hands
From shaking.
The grass soothes,
The direction unknown.

I’ll learn to walk again
Before running.

Best Prank Ever

JessAnn — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 09:32:54 +0000

“Why blood red?”
I asked,
A queer look on my face.
His eyes lit up,
“It’s my turn,”
He said with glee.
I rolled my eyes,
“Should have known,”
He and his brother’s
Practical jokes
Have been escalating
Since I first met them,
Four years ago.

I watched as he
Carefully set the scene.
Half the wall was painted green,
A ladder
And painting supplies,
were placed just so.
He poured the small can
Of blood red house paint
On the floor
And hid the can.
I walked away
As he laid down,
His dark hair soaking
In the paint,
And waited,
To prank his brother,
Once again.

“This’ll be the
Best Prank Ever,”
I heard from the other room,
as his brother’s car
Pulled in the drive.

Free Technology

arjune — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 18:34:12 +0000

I’m running in the life of a dreamer,
living a life of lies.
I go to work in a button up
I talk the talk
and walk the walk
waiting for the next advancement.
I’m running
IM RUNNING!
to get to the other side.
Never enough, never enough
yet better than many still,
I want to LIVE
to make a difference
not to sell your stupid shit!
I dream the dream of ages to come,
of live worth living free
but still I’m stuck
living rough
bound tight to the chain of life.
I want to learn, to search, and find
a way to free my mind.
The blood in me boils with unfulfilled
ambition.
To see the stars, and ride the wave
of technological advancement.
To see an age, a revolution, where finance
takes a backseat to science
We have the tools, to live a life of untold plenty.
Where people live free of biological doubt
and ride not the wave of necessity,
but instead the tide of knowledge.

different definitions

red_ascot — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 18:41:24 +0000

they say it does so many things
stains,
boils,
even purifies
when cold it is evil
when hot it can be too
or when it drips,
trickles,
from the wound of a prophet
some say it saves

a symbol of love
and hate alike
of both living and dying
but odd that ‘they’ also say
that when something
can mean anything
it means nothing
what does my blood mean i wonder
perhaps i have a say?
http://poetryassignment.com/2008/12/assignment-blood/

Feeling

muttmutt — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 16:02:46 +0000

She wore long sleeves
In summer, when it was
Hot to hide the scars
It wasn’t shame so much
As it was keeping
A secret about herself
From the prying world

In the peace of her
Bedroom, she sat on
Her bed and admired
Her arms, with their
Neat, parallel lines
The white worm scars
Diagonal cuts of life

She snuck the big
Knife out of the
Kitchen again to
Augment her decorative
Scarification. Finally
She would feel something.

In her bathroom, knife
Held lovingly, she
Drags the tip across
Her flesh, blood pooling
On her skin, tipping
Into the sink below.

Her face, a look of
Pure ecstacy, pain and
Rage. She stares into her
Own eyes as she finishes
The line and wonders
What else she could cut.

See other Blood poems here.

Their Anniversary

JessAnn — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 04:34:08 +0000

The candles were lit and the table was set.
Soft music was playing in the background,
As she poured the champagne.
Everything had to be perfect for him.

She had created this all for him.
It was an anniversary of sorts.
Not hers and his, she knew.
But it was still important.

He knocked twice before opening the door.
He was early, she was just finishing dinner.
She continued stirring as he walked up behind her.
Her heart began to beat faster as their lips pressed together.

Together they ate, talking quietly around the table.
After, they danced slowly to the soft music.
Then they sat on her plush couch, drinking champagne.
That’s when it all fell apart.

He mentioned her name, in passing.
He mentioned the other woman.
The one she was jealous of.
The one whose anniversary it was.

Quickly, she set the glass on the table.
Quietly, she made her way to the kitchen
Worried, he asked what was wrong.
Swiftly, she stuck the knife into his chest.

He fell back against the cushions,
Eyes staring at her.
Wide with fear and wonder.
He tried to reach out to her.

She ran to the bathroom,
Tears stinging her eyes.
Slamming the door behind her,
She stared at herself in the mirror.

It was what she had to do.
What she needed to do.
What she wanted to do,
Since she found out about her.

She quickly turned the faucet.
Hot and cold water mixed,
Washing over her trembling hands.
She didn’t look up at her reflection.

The blood swirled together with the water.
Creating a dull pinkness in the sink.
She watched the pinkness drain,
Until all the water ran clear.

She added more coloring,
Pulling a small knife across her wrist.
The blood drained out of her and into the sink.
“Now you have to be with me.”

http://poetryassignment.com/2008/12/assignment-blood/

We

Heather — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 03:14:57 +0000

We were friends when we were angsty children,
Writing angsty poems about bloody tears,
List’ning to The Cure, because it was deep,
On the phone all night, not wanting to sleep.

We dated in high school; our love was real,
Not just another prom queen with a jock,
We read Neruda under the bleachers,
Just for each other, not for the teachers.

We moved in together, not to the dorms,
Decorated our apartment in black,
Convenient color, as it would turn out
The perfect shade for a funeral shroud.

Though from random crime, we couldn’t defend,
We were together, beginning to end.

Assignment: blood

***
I’m not quite sure what came over me. This is complete fiction, but I picture a couple of friends of mine in high school, who loved each other quietly and wrote poems about black roses, then graduated and were gone from my life for a long time. I recently came to know where and how they ended up, and I promise, it’s nothing like the end of this poem, though I was sorry to hear that their marriage didn’t last very long.