#Blood

2164 posts
  • in_fragments 1w

    Yay for lifelong medical battles... cancer... autoimmune diseases... bloodwork and hospital appointments since childhood... at least I'm turning it all into something creative that feels worth something now. I'm not just a guinea pig anymore.
    #pod #poem #blood #work #medical #trauma #thoughts #mentalhealth #mentalillness #selfcare #recovery @miraquill @writersnetwork @writersbay

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    Blood Work

    A tourniquet, tied tightly
    around my arm once again
    as I squeeze my fist
    to find the perfect vein-
    tap it, watch it rise
    to the surface of my skin like a wire;
    clean the spot with alcohol,
    look away and prepare
    for the thousandth little pinch
    of the familiar and stoic needle...

    Blood pulls away from me
    into the doctor's long glass tubes-
    their syringe fills up with vibrant,
    vermillion liquid, sloshing up fast.
    I feel it pushing out of me,
    red soda sucked through a straw
    between two thirsty lips;
    after so many decades,
    the flow is recognizably rhythmic
    and draws the sanguine fluid out
    on beat; a little heart force,
    a pulsating sensation
    in the soft side of my right elbow-
    a little bit of draining, all up my arm;
    a piece of life being tugged away
    from me, later be used to create me.

    Switch out another cylinder,
    until I watch them fill up three-
    cover the spot with a cotton pad,
    with the needle still inside,
    then taken quickly out
    just as easily as it came in.
    There is an art to drawing blood,
    and every three months
    I am required to collaborate
    to create my own clean
    hemoglobin masterpieces-
    for under microscopes
    and through test tubes,
    you can measure every chemical
    and mutation inside, monitor
    the uncontrolled cells that make up
    your own personal madness.

    From now on, the needle is my pen,
    turning chronic illness into creativity,
    another long and deep well
    to draw from.

    My dried life force lies
    in between pages and poems,
    betwixt the tiles of childhood bathrooms,
    stained on old long sleeves.
    Emotions linger like dust
    in the silent spaces
    between language and thought.
    I am not gone. I have been in
    and out of test tubes for decades,
    in biohazard bins all across the coast,
    seen only by a privileged few
    who were smart enough to handle me.

    My artwork is the real blood work,
    the pen can suck me through it
    like a tiny medical needle
    and I spill my truths all over the canvas.
    You need blood to create art,
    so for the rest of my life,
    as I give myself continuously to tubes,
    and machines and medications
    and disorders- a lifelong battle,
    I've accepted my fate;
    the art is the only channel
    I have ever had for all that blood.
    A pen is a needle, gliding across
    white paper like skin,
    pushing words in with sharp tips
    that protrude from the page like veins.

    For my sanity, it's all the same to me.
    ©in_fragments

  • gypsycal 1w

    BLOOD

    It's strange how a disturbed scar generates fresh blood as a dead memory spawn darkness.
    Be it history or even today,
    he who has given blood is always remembered.
    Even if its just to a person.
    As much as he who has darkened your memory always lingers and seeps in every inch of your thoughts.
    The comparison seems absurd and contrasting .
    It's like a HERO compared to a VILLAIN.
    But what is life if not absurd and contrasting? It's not about HERO VS VILLAIN , but HERO WITH VILLAIN. The real battle is not between them but where your mind lies. Just so you know, your mind doesn't create Good and Evil. It is, GOOD AND EVIL. Both. Co-existing. Seeped into you.
    What do you decide now? Sulk between them or be one of them?

    ©heartwritten

  • naqsaif 2w

    #death#dress#blood#hyacinth#hyacinthus#apollo#willow#winter#flower
    @miraquill
    @writersnetwork
    @writersbay
    @mirakeeassistant
    #wod
    #pod


    "As the seed buried in the earth cannot imagine itself as an orchid or hyacinth, neither can a heart packed with hurt imagine itself loved or at peace. The courage of the seed is that once cracking, it cracks all the way." ~ Mark Nepo

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    Hyacinths

    In a white dress
    Stained with blood
    I stood among the
    Blooming hyacinths
    Looking down
    At your cold grave
    Half wet with rain
    Half with my tears
    My throat coughed blood
    And my nails digged
    The soil beneath your grave

    I screamed your name
    Till I passed out
    The hyacinths on your grave
    Told me to leave
    Rainy days
    Turned colder
    The hyacinths
    Died from winter
    Lucky were they
    To be found by death
    Before the next winter

    While I stil await
    In my white dress
    Kissing the dead hyacinths
    On your frozen grave
    Hoping that
    The next time it rains
    These hyacinths
    Will bloom
    on My grave.



    ©naqsaif

  • away_with_words 3w

    Family isn't blood.... its who's there when you're bleeding.

  • cleopatra_verse 4w

    Shots

    On my worst days,
    I pour a little water
    In my favorite cup,
    Swirl all my problems into it,
    And knock it back like a pro.

    Some days I pretend it's vodka,
    Some days it's the blood of Jesus
    Either way, for me,
    This washing is salvation.
    ©cleopatra_verse

  • naqsaif 6w

    Eon : an immeasurably or indefinitely long period of time

    Written from the POV of an injured vampire.who drinks blood off dead animals and dead bodies only.
    He doesn't harm any innocent living being.
    Vampires live on blood.They maybe immortal, but without blood in their bodies they are as good as dead.

    A thirsty vampire is like a drunk man in rain. He is not aware of his actions or his whereabouts.

    "It is how we are made. We are drained, blooded, and buried. When he digs his own way out of a grave, that is when a vampire is born."
    ~cassandra clare

    @miraquill@writersnetwork@writersbay@maiatamarain@fromwitchpen@safi97
    #vampire#blood#POV#dark#death#love#revenge#friendship#nightchildren#pod#wod#poetry#story#poesy


    For simon.

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    Thirst (an incident)

    Blood flowed
    From my sliced throat
    And it adorned
    My slit wrists
    Slowly towards death
    I gently crept

    Until sweet and salty
    Blood dropped upon my lips
    “Drink “said a voice
    And I sucked the fluid of vice

    Then thirst stabbed me
    Like a sword in my guts
    And I pinned down the one
    Who had offered me blood

    And in his neck,
    I bored my fangs
    Soon my head cleared
    And I saw what I feared

    I was drinking blood
    Off a humane lad
    And he was slowly creeping
    Towards pleasant death

    So I, with all my will
    Released his throat
    And in apprehension,
    I went still.

    An eon past,
    His golden eyes
    They gathered mine
    And with pained voice, said I
    "I would have killed you!"
    In the same voice, said he
    "I would have let you".

    ©naqsaif

  • czarcasm 6w

    Existed

    Dark was the night
    That caressed my hair
    Sensual the movement
    The fluidity of the rain
    Enticing



    The tapping of you
    Upon the leaves in the forest
    Distract me from my dilemma
    A peaceful break


    Sticky was the fluid upon my hands
    Barely seen until lightening striked
    A stark red
    Against a background of white


    I had gone too far this time
    I would admit that
    But I always did that
    Something I couldn't control


    I would have to burn these clothes
    The rain only to wash it away
    To get it off my skin
    The copper smell reminded me of pennies


    It amazing how I was able to stand here
    In complete silence
    After the malicious act I had committed
    Calculated
    Premeditated


    And I had enjoyed it
    But I didn't enjoy this
    It welded itself to my skin
    The water in the flashes of light
    A deep red
    Slowly lightening until it was gone


    Everything but me
    And the indistinguishable figure
    On the ground
    Funny
    They themselves had been a serial killer
    And thought I was just another victim


    Little did they know
    That there was something even worse
    Than them
    And now they were dead
    As the many victims before


    And I stood yet again the victor
    Clothes stained in red
    Some would say dead in the eyes


    The body beside him
    Stabbed multiple times
    The memory of blood going everywhere
    A beautiful horror even to me


    What was I?
    A murderer?
    Im just like you
    If I walked past you wouldn't even see me
    Blind are you to the mundane before
    That move about their day


    The sound of the shovel
    The clapping of thunder
    The tapping of rain
    My own concert
    As I dug their last resting place
    They didn't deserve a proper burial
    But I have to do it right
    And when I walk away


    It'll be as if none of us

    Existed

    ©czarcasm

  • czarcasm 7w

    Good and evil

    There was a light
    So very bright
    That shown through the night

    It told me of things
    It showed me the rings
    Of all the fallen Kings

    A droplet of blood so red
    Dropping at its own stead
    Reminded of the demons to be fed

    Good vs Evil
    Millennia of upheaval
    A lone figure perched on a steeple

    Time would tell of the winning team
    Tho nothing is what it can ever seem
    One leg out balancing on a beam
    One can only hope to dream
    A ticket to the winning side you can redeem


    Light and Dark always fighting
    For balance is always a cautious sighting
    Fires marring the heavens always lighting
    Mundane always telling the story with writing


    Yet it all started with a drop of blood
    Because yet again Evil thought it could
    Easily knock down the Light where it stood
    ©czarcasm

  • czarcasm 7w

    The end

    Shadows of my past
    I see though this pane
    A figure staring back at me



    Disfigured it smiles
    Seeing right through me
    With no eyes how can it see
    I don't even move
    I can't feel the wisps of fear


    The thunder claps and lightening strikes, shining down on we
    Light inside reflects on me

    Illuminating the solitary figure
    All I could think before I could blink is why wouldn't it let me be

    I was dying inside
    And wanted to look out
    Before my courage was frail
    Hollowed cheeks reflected
    Back to me
    I looked like something that belonged in Hell

    My attention drawn
    To the droplet of blood
    That trickled down the brow of the face
    It didn't even move
    To wipe it away
    Upon the liquids surface the moon did pace
    Could this be
    A projected outlook of me
    The look of me in the future as time will race

    It finally turned away
    And it was then that I wanted it to stay
    I thought of it without any meaning
    Of befriending this lonely demon
    The storm shook the house
    With the rage of the gods
    As the figure almost dissipated away
    I broke from my trance

    And stumbled outside
    Knowing I couldn't keep fate at bay
    If tonight I was to die
    I would do it on my own terms
    My loneliness my only friend
    To embrace me as the demon
    Sliced out my heart
    My eyes watching as I bled out, the end
    ©czarcasm

  • samriddhi__ 8w

    Words.
    They cut your flesh deep and mix into your blood and then run throughout your body as acid burning every part of you.
    ©samriddhi__

  • seraphel 8w

    Eucharist

    Your body and blood, O Lord, are sweeter than honey, more delicious than the most exquisite cuisine.
    ©seraphel

  • muskaanbhatt 8w

    ����������...
    She was walking through the street
    Daily coming late was on repeat,
    She thought she was safe
    But lustful eyes and eve tease was all she face,
    In darkness slowly walking down the road
    Somebody from behind grabbed her and made her blind fold,
    Shutting up her mouth with his hand
    Took her to some unknown land,
    Abducted her and made her intoxicated by injected her with drugs
    She tried to fight back but he threw her on the rugs,
    Beat her badly made her bleed
    Tortured her for hours and gave her nothing to feed,
    She crying and screaming in pain
    He picked a sharp knife and cut her wrist vein,
    With blood all over her body she still tried to ran away
    But he was just about to take her respect away and looking her as his prey,
    Torn her clothes and took her everything
    Within no time she lost everything,
    Begging and screaming for her life
    A man faced animal strangulated her and stabbed her 80 times with that knife,
    Finally she died and never got justified
    He still roaming around for new victim and making himself satisfied.
    ©muskaanbhatt

    Based on a true incident . . .






    #love #life #miraquill #shayiri #quotes #women #rape victim #blood
    Thanks for the❤ @writersnetwork

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    Raped

    It's been years of her death
    still her killer openly taking breath.
    ©muskaanbhatt

  • teensheldon_111 9w

    Blood and tears...

    She could see all the promises and vows flowing with the blood from the wounds of his lifeless body and tears of her eyes...

    ©teensheldon_111

  • hrkhanhk 9w

    Ek ek katra lahu dekar, sincha hai Bharat ko...
    Jawani lutakar, maut ko gale laga kar wapas Cheena hai bharat ko...

    Yun hi nahi kehte, hum bhartiye hain..
    62, 65, 71 ho, ya ho 99, har Jung me jeeta hai bharat ko...

    Ye bharat desh nahi, Jaan hai hamari...
    Isiliye shat shat naman hai bharat ko...

    Ek ek katra lahu dekar, sincha hai Bharat ko...

    Happy Independence day

    HR khan
    ©hrkhanhk

  • syncope 9w

    Exsanguinate

    I feel everything yet nothing all at once. I am faceless/graceless. I am the spiderweb that grows unnoticed in the corner of your room. I am a parasite in your brain and I WILL kill you. I live off of your hate and love what you loathe. I've invested years in your fears and I sink my hands into every tender spot. Kneeding the knots digging our plots. My soil is useless an emotionless dustbowl/ but I can see you enjoy rolling in it. I fancy kissing you in an authentic way. I contemplate freeing you so I can free me. We can then be two anemic garden gnomes in this weary desolate landscape/ evenly draining the blood out of an opposum on some unexspecting couples porch.
    ©syncope

  • brainn 10w

    Affection

    Blood drops from my eyes and tears flows through my veins as I try to pen out how affected we are by affections.
    We care less we claim
    But no one been so heartless as to loose it's heart.
    Even the Dead could sometimes show compassion.
    I guess Affection is just a curse we all have been cursed with
    ©brainn

  • kimzee 10w

    You broke every promise we had.
    And after all this, I'm still holding that promise and every night praying not to break like you did.

    Because I was in love with you,I'm in love with you, and I will always love you


    #blood #dripping #my #hand #you #tears #streaming #down #face #broke #every #promise #we #after #holding #night #praying #break #live #always

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    You

    The blood that is dripping from my hand is just because of you.
    The tears that are streaming down my face is just because of you.


    ©kimzee

  • joyfuljoel 10w

    The metallic smell of blood
    As if iron were a thing breathing
    But then, he was hunted down and bleeding
    And he was rot 10 days, yet still living
    And he was pageant both of death and decay
    Taste the fillings on your tongue
    As they rip your tongue
    but you must feed

    Have you ever kissed a vampire ?
    A blood-sucking honey-tasting love
    It's a thing that feels good
    but leaves you dead

    Loving you felt worse than dying

    ©joyfuljoel

  • kimzee 10w

    Love

    Love is one of the purest things in the world. But as pure it is, as evil it can be.

    Falling in love is only pure poison
    Anyway, in the end, you will end up getting hurt.

    Falling in love can be a dangerous experience

    True love is not something you can make, it's something there... Just happens.

    Think about love as a rose, a rose has pure beauty but it can easily hurt you with its sharp thorns.

    Think about love as a blood drop, it can be a sign of life, but also a sign of death.

    ©kimzee

  • sobiya_amin 37w

    دھکا نہیں جو کسی سفید چادر سے
    میرے جنت میں وہ لہو کا نشان تھا
    ©sobiya_amin