blood

War Photographer, Shantiswaruplaara

 

At a distance the photograph of the bombing

of Gaza portrays only streaks of light.

It is those who are bombed who smell the blood,

hear the screams, and see the panic as dead

children are pulled from the rubble. The victors have bulldozers, tanks, drones, the homes of those they've evicted. The poor have slingshots, but like ancient David they will prevail against this modern

Goliath. It is time for the UN to mediate and enforce a peace treaty.


SHANTISWARUPLAARA


Sanskrit for a human being fashioned of peace

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Knife's Edge

I stare at my blade,
And all I see is a tool of war,
Made not for a time of peace,
But for a moment of war,
To inflict pain and suffering,
Not to help and ease,
People say they are proud,
Of there kill count with a blade,
The cold, sharp and unforgiving edge,
That does not discriminate,
On who it inflicts it's pain,
The edge is hungry,
And wants to be fed,
With the blood of it's victims
Can you resist,
It's call for blood

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Blood [Fiverse: Poem of Five Lines]

Blood


Like flood


Flows from mind


Creating an ocean terrific

 

Of thoughts good and horrific 

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tags:

Nature

Look at the soil, full of nutrients and life

Look at the deer, it prances happily as it dances

Look at the bird, fluttering with beauty and grace

But if you look at the human, it will punch you in the face

If you see their smile, you look at their crooked mouth

If you look into their eyes, you get trapped inside and can't get out

So, don't look anymore, gouge out your eyes and stop getting trapped

Rip them out, one by one or by the same time so you can learn to say goodbye

Learn to let go and learn to go let learn

because the blind truly sees what the mind can't comprehend

An endless sea of agony where one would wish he was dead

Cold hands grabbing onto a warm heart, still pumping, lub-dub, lub-dub

It squeezes lub-dub-lub-dub-lub-dub, it squeezes and squeezes until the heart opens

You smile because you've finally seen the insides of the heart, but it was terrifying,

The blood was everywhere, and when you went right, there was nothing left,

So, you went left, where nothing was right, and still to this day you are still trying to wipe off the blood

Still smiling with that crooked smile while the deer is still dancing and the bird still has its beauty and grace, some things never change, like their grace, or the human urge to punch something in the face.

We love it though, the blood, we want to be just like it, leave a lasting impression where nothing can wipe us away, we want to be here to stay, even if the sight of us makes some sick, we love it though, don't we.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We all have urges that we must control, it may not be directly violent.

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Face me...

As the deathly, Icey slices of the shattered glass fly towards my face, unzipping the skin…

I knew. They. Were. Here.

 

The cold sweat pours down my face as I search for a plan…

I can’t hear myself think!

The deafening sound of bullets showering on your cover

The yelling of young men

…and the last shrieks of the female nurses, who have now fallen

contributes to the foul smell

The foul smell of the empty shells where the souls lived.

 

Fuck!”

 

My long hesitation on the battlefield has paid off…

O’, the exquisite beauty of the sharp pain

One glance down…to view the left shoulder

As the metal drowns into my flesh…

 

Harsh Rubber of their soles thuds

Thuds. Sound surrounds, me

 

Up

 

Only to see the points of those guns

Only to see the strings of life

Face. Me.

 

BANG!

 

-Sachi Ruaya

 

 

*Written within the time limit of 15 minutes (phew)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

STUDENT REFLECTION:
I would consider this poem as one of my most abstract, descriptive works.
I used my critical thinking to choose the appropriate words, text structure and ‘story’ structure since I strived to emotionally impact the reader with the words, metaphors and other linguistic features. 
I have taken many risks such as using sentence structure in which the reader may have to think deeply to comprehend the meaning using the context. *At the end of this poem I have placed the translated meaning of any statements that may have confused the reader.
Skills Discussion 
I have deliberately structured the sentences to enhance the text according to the audience and purpose, successfully involved the reader by the use of literary devices such as metaphor, simile, onomatopoeia, abstract and technical terms appropriately in context, control and manipulate the linguistic and structural components of writing to enhance clarity and impact and chose to manipulate or abandon conventional text forms to achieve impact.

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Unwanted - I am a constant reminder of your pain

Unwanted – I am a constant reminder of your pain

 

She gave birth to a beautiful little boy

No pain, no sadness, all he brought was pure joy

A new life into this world, for her to love and to hold and call your very own

Her biggest wish was to have more children, her little boy’s clone

 

Pity she didn’t know that it would be her biggest woe

A horror memory engraved in her heart and soul, a memory she will never be able to let go

If she knew, would she have still gone through following her heart’s desires?

I don’t believe so, and those who do, are all liars

 

Two years later she couldn’t wait for the birth of her second baby

This time around, she expected a little girl, but the wait was driving her crazy

This little baby just didn’t want to let go and come out to bloom

Two weeks late after the due arrival she decided to leave the womb

 

Excruciating labour pains for hours is all she felt

Tears streaming down her cheeks while screaming in agony for help

Instead of giving her a caesarean, or calling a doctor, she was told to be silent

The little new-born girl was coming out bridge, large, but no giant

 

The new-born tore her open from side to side

She lost so much blood giving birth, she could have died

Nurses took the baby and called the doctor

Who only arrived a day later and simply gave her pain killers, his carelessness shocked her

 

She didn’t want to see or hear her new-born for days

This little baby girl left her in a constant daze

The baby was to blame for her pain

The baby was to blame that she may never have babies ever again

 

The baby was to blame that she was left alone in a pool of blood

To scream and suffer with so much tears, almost causing a flood

With no one there to ease her pain, no doctor, no friend, no husband, left alone in vain

The baby was to blame for her dismal future which will forever remain

 

Yet, days later she called this child ‘’Desire’’

Funny, that one’s biggest desire could turn out to be your biggest heart’s regret fire

For this poor baby girl was once wanted

But once she greeted this world, she was immediately unwanted

 

Weeks passed, months passed, she loved and cared for a baby girl

But in her mind, she was always reminded of the hell she caused her, this little pearl

Decades passed, the baby grew older into a young precious lady

But still, she could not forgive and forget, she had to tell this child what she did to her as a baby

 

When the child reached her mid-twenties she decided to tell her of the birth from hell

And confessed that she didn’t want anything to do with her for days after the painful spell

She decided to tell her because the child suffered from depression

Showed signs of a cold heart and unlovable, unwanted, signs of death obsession

 

But her confession didn’t change the child’s behaviour

What was done to the new-born decades earlier will leave a lasting scar forever

The feeling of being unwanted, left alone and unloved, no matter how long

That loneliness and empty feeling the child will always carry that burden along

 

It almost seemed to make her happy, taking revenge on her own child, maybe

To remind her daughter on a regular basis of the pain she had caused her as a baby

The regrets that she carries for giving birth and wanting a second child

The regrets that she has still grows very deeply and wild

 

This baby is now 40, and it is me

Three weeks until I turn 41 I was reminded yet again of all the pain I caused her, she is still not free

If I am so unwanted, a constant reminder of your pain

Why then, does God not take me away from your again?

 

Why can’t I just die to ease your horror memories and unforgettable, forgivable pain?

Why does God keep me on this earth in your presence if all you want is revenge over again?

You want to get me back for what I did to you in your womb

You want to hurt my heart and health as much as you can to revenge your pain memories until my doom

 

Once Wanted

Became Unwanted

I am a constant reminder of your misery and pain

 

Why must I be alive? Why does God not take me away? What do you have to gain?

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Blade

Folder: 
Poetry

I sit there all night

blind of the pain and fright 

tis all for naught since they call me a child

 

I laugh since i watch them die,  all the while

I sit and make line after line 

Hearing the voices sending shivers down my spine

 

I take the knife and cringe at the voices

Deeper , longer, deeper, longer

more, more, more is all the voices whisper

 

 

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Its a Slaughter House

 Yesterday I was loved

 today I am crammed 

 crammed into a trailer

there are others here 

 others that were loved

 like I used to be

 I hear nickers and neighs

 I see a sign that says Mexico

 we arrive to a beat up building 

where it reeks of blood




 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I couldnt finish it, I am very passionate about horses. I couldnt write about them dying. Over 100,000 horses every year are sent to slaughter houses... Its a terrible thing... This poem is about bringing awareness, most horses are super sweet and loved by a family. The family then sells them to an unknown home where they end up on the back of a trailer.

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a man's living nightmare

Stormy, stormy ships quietly love a cold, lively sail. 

Carrying soldiers who arrived at the land knowing that war never prevails.
The world didn't want this battle.
Yet our ignorance sent our men into a different angle. 
 
Thousands of bodies fill the entire shore. 
These men fell hard, like rain onto the mainland. 
Come take quickly! Guns of the dead and boots galore! 
Might as well coat our blood on to your enemy's hand. 
 
War consists of destroying the enemy until they surrender
But what we never think about is how the world would be like after 
People back at home are happy that we won using our bombs
Yet they'll never know what it means to fight in the middle of a hell known as Vietnam 
 
Soldiers go home, after watching their friends die
They feel the warmth of their families but could never find that true peace of mind 
These men stand still as they watch the mothers of the deceased cry
And its because they're having a hard time finding tears that once left them blind
 
Celebrations fill the lands of the winners, 
While the enemy suffers from destruction full-scale. 
The most faithful people were turned into sinners 
because of a war that will never prevail.