They come
rushing forward
rolling off your tongue,
spitting through your lips.
as they fly
through the air,
you never realize
what damage they
will do.
They hit me
with a force
unimaginable
unfathomable
unreal.
like a spear stabbing
straight through my heart
i feel as if i
am dying.
physical abuse can
heal with time
but words
will nestle within
and haunt you forever.
2 Comments | tags: air, come, damage, dying, fly, force, forever, haunt, heart, hit, lips, nestle, original poetry, originalpoetry.org, physical abuse, Poem, poems, poetry, rolling, rushing, spear, spear stabs, tongue, travel, unfathomable, unimaginable, unreal, vacation, verbal abuse, words | posted in Uncategorized
With strength and courge
and a furrowed brow,
the old man picked up his rusty plow.
He walked out to the field
bent down, kneeled,
and prayed before begining.
He prayed for past days,
the ones withered away.
He prayed he was far from his dying day.
But once in the field,
he never did yield
to the task he was set to do.
Once he was done
in the blistering sun
and his shadow was long and thin,
he took back to his house
where he sat with a bottle of gin.
3 Comments | tags: begining, bent, brow, courage, days, done, dying, field, gin, house, long, man, old, plow, poetry, prayed, strength, task, the farmer, thin, withered | posted in Uncategorized
Original Poetry