Los más leídos ▸
Where all the flowers have gone
the ought-to-have-been couple
raw and pretty to see together
gain a year’s distance
he hit her
that former wit
now well married to a war
Poemas sobre el tema: violence
Poemas sobre el tema «violence» en Poets.by.
Mean drunk
sometimes pleased sometimes eased
evening comes by accident
let Scotch haunt
and scour our house
I fell and made my disturbance
beat her down in the cellar
Oligarch
I tend to business with old
man’s hands
as full of violence
as a small city
two ices that ought to be moons
in a garden gone bad
Louder than words
the gun made an excellent sermon
on the difference between us
I am afraid I have forgot
how not to see
Desperate
Time to draw heads
and hands on pigeons,
to kill somebody for a fan
or join with me in my patent
to improve the night?
Disproportionate
how little a gun
to have come for music and dancing
so pettish a servant
to answer to
Hatchery
a busy pool—
the fry appear so happy
to kill their friends
suffering
sipping your beer
torture with violence
while im here
suffering in silence
One two
One moment,
Two meanings.
One incident,
Two feelings.
Two bodies,
One heart.
Two smiles,
One dark.
One cut,
Two inflictions.
One massacre,
Two victims.
Two deaths,
One day.
Two coffins,
One grave.
Or Flight
face-down i laid on that dusty carpet
acutely aware of the bed above me
mattress heavy enough to crush my lungs if it fell
and your head knocking against the battered walls
thump
thump
thump
because instinct screams at you to run and hide
to listen to every fucking heartbeat of the enemy
when violence lurks nearby
The NeverEnding Story
the love i know ebbs and flows
four days of bliss
three of bitter arguments
seven of physical violence
one of concerned neighbors
two of police check-ins
and months of no communication
until it restarts again and again and again
No Mas
your temper breaks the heavy silence of the air as
your feet cause an earthquake.
one step closer, two steps closer...
rolled up fists, cocked and ready.
eyes bulging red with disdain.
three steps closer, four...five...
i hear the hissing sound of your harsh breaths;
the pressure builds up until i'm not sure if i'll
vomit or implode.
you're in front of me,
close enough that blinking would make me touch you.
back up, please...back up...
a rib cracks.
a bone snaps.
the blood boiling inside me, screaming to do something,
fills up my lungs and drowns me from