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Bits of Poetry

~ Linda R Davis, Raven of Peace & Poetry

Bits of Poetry

Tag Archives: Hate

Have You Seen a Heart?

21 Sunday Aug 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Hate, heart, Life, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Revenge, Woman, Women's Poems

Forever and ever,

They have underestimated

Women.

Elizabeth

Would not be queen.

Born to a whore.

(They define whores.)

Do you see the difference?

The threat?

Does a man scare you the same way,

As a woman with a feline sway?

No, it is a woman

who brought down Troy,

And toys with the heart in you.

Have you seen a heart?

Not the one you scribble

In pen,

But the ripped out organ,

Still beating blood

Into your hands.

What Was Lost in the Trade

15 Sunday May 2022

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Children, Division, Divorce, Family, Hate, Healing, Life, Longing, Loss, Love, Love Poems, Marriage, Memory, Mothers, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sacred, Self, Souls, Women's Poems, Yearning

The push, and pull, of memory,

When you left me I got sadness, despair,

When I left you, I got amnesia.

Be careful what you forget,

Memories, hostage to one another,

Shoved into the abyss, together they go,

What was beautiful, too,

The joy of holding his babies at my breasts,

The sound of love in first words;

Hope, like a childhood dream,

You’re embarrassed you believed.

And now, no plumbing the hole

With dirty hands, arms not long enough

To reach what was so easily given away;

(The hurt was not traded for living,

As I’d hoped,) no, I want them all back,

Though they bring you, with the sadness, too.

Blood In the Air

26 Tuesday Jan 2021

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Anger, Blood, Civil War, Death Poems, Divorce, Forgiveness, Hate, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, Violence, War

If air could bleed,

the space between us

would, indeed, pour out.

Hate is a balm

for our hurt,

and the danger

we fear,

becomes anger.

My dear,

Are we beyond healing?

Or, is there yet

a latent spark

of forgiveness?

Remember when

we so easily embraced:

bone against bone,

a crushing lust,

our mutual love.

But now there’s dust,

and if the space between

could bleed,

it would drown us.

Smoke Taint: 2020 Vintage

09 Friday Oct 2020

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Anger, Chaos, Civil War, CoronaVirus, Covid19, Death, Death Poems, Division, Fear, Fighting, Hate, Hope, hopelessness, Life, Longing, Loss, Memory, Napa, normal, Poem, Poems, Poetry, politics, Smoke Taint, Sonoma, Survival, Wine, Yearning

What does fire taste like in the glass,

Our fear, red with hate, the flames

of civil war? The skin, and the smoke,

cannot be divided; they say

it tastes like ash, what is left

when the smoke clears.

We can see the devastation.

Remnants of a vineyard;

what was there, before tragedy

made our eyes cry with anger.

The tree and native grasses

are poured out, consumed together,

while the vine exists in water it stored,

but cannot save its fruit.

Its creation, aging in the hot fog

of dreams. Life was supposed to be

the taste of flowers, plums, currants,

and only hints of tobacco,

swirled in our glass.

Our Once Shared Existence of Earth, and How the Virus Undid Us

02 Sunday Aug 2020

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

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Tags

Alone, Chaos, CoronaVirus, Covid19, Death, Divorce, Dying, Fear, Forgiveness, Hate, Healing, Hope, Horses, Life, Loneliness, Longing, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, politics, Self, Soul, Soul Poetry, Souls, Spokane, Women's Poems, Yearning

In this season, of triple digit days,

Anger gives way. It withers.

I said, I’m argued out about living,

What it means to be free, and human.

She is right, after all, I’m not an expert.

What do I know about a virus,

Which isn’t informed by the trees,

or clouds, or the way a horse sounds

when it calls to me in the dark?

I can only speak of the heart,

and even that, with authority of one,

my own heart, and how it breaks

To see the growing cries for help. Hate,

A distant thrum, beating, what it means

To be hurt, and hurt back harder.

Is any of this new? Or unique?

But we sought each other anyway,

To stake claim on our opinions;

The lost way, of friendship and loving,

Something which came easy to us, once,

When we valued living over living,

A life we could touch with our hands,

sending our fingers deep into the dark soil;

To be truly clean meant dirt under our nails,

For weeks, for months, dirt under our nails.

Christchurch

17 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Afterlife, Beauty, Chaos, Courage, Death, Death Poems, Division, Dying, Fear, Freedom, Hate, Loss, Poem, Poems, Poetry, politics, Sadness. Sorrow, Soul, Spirit, Suffering

Can you be in awe

of how much some

are expected to suffer

in this lifetime—

we are often given

more than we can—

I saw a moth

with a broken wing,

and though it struggled,

I could not crush it—

but placed him, instead,

among the leaves of jasmine,

and walked away.

Still Part of this Loud, Hurting World

23 Wednesday Jan 2019

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Appreciation, Beauty, Car Accident, Death, Gratitude, Hate, Hope, Life, Noise, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Snow

Beasts, bigots, build the wall:

the sound of lives

beating like a drum

in our face, a chant,

a cheer we hear

thousands of miles away.

Yet, you sing me a song louder

than the thunder of hate,

breath of bird and caress,

snow sound, breaking of twig,

and I must confess

I need to feel as fresh

as the five inches of snow

we nearly left the world to last night

when the light turned green,

but she couldn’t stop her car

from sliding. The beauty of brake lights

glowing off an infinity of snowflakes,

all seen through a fog-window.

And the sound of twisted metal,

sirens, the spark in my soul

when I realized

I’m still alive,

and still part of this loud,

hurting world.

The dead don’t know anything.

But I know

I walked away from the dead

to the sound of your poems,

songs written from the cries

of your heart,

siren calls begging us all

to look the other way,

for a moment,

look, look, look the other way.

The End of Hate

12 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

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Tags

Birth, Division, Hate, Lies, Other, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Social Media, Unity

Hate

feels to me now

like a ten month pregnancy;

ready to cut it out,

or just birth the thing.

Has to be better

than stretch and ache,

and what feels like the breaking of bones.

Come To Me, I Am Free

24 Sunday Jun 2018

Posted by Linda R Davis Poetry in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Beauty, Bitterness, Forgiveness, Grace, Hate, Hurt, Life, Poem, Poems, Poetry

Hate, stealing our moments

And sometimes our lives,

Hanging on to grievance

As if it were a solid thing,

Like a rock, a sturdy branch.

Someone told me,

Bitterness is like drinking poison

And waiting for the other person to die.

Wisdom, like a real branch,

More solid than grief,

Sometimes, more solid

Than the hurt we carry

Like a bag of stones

Over our backs,

Always thinking our burden heavy,

Unable to set it down

And see the world opening

Like the blossoms of the Serviceberry,

Peeking from under pines,

Saying, come to me, I am free,

And, for a moment, we rest

In their waxy, white peace.

The world is a strange place,

How we look to its ugly spots,

So rare,

Compared to its lovely ripples:

The trembling leaves,

The musty smell of grass,

Blue lakes, like mirrors,

Waiting for us to jump free.

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