Flesh and Blood and Feelings

Flesh and Blood and Feelings long poem

I am flesh and blood and feelings
Amongst other things..
But I am first and most importantly
skin, bones, muscles,
blemishes, pimples, scars
freckles, moles, and dry skin
and blood – running through my veins,
gushing out of scraped knees,
peeping through flushed, drunk cheeks
and yes, actually, I menstruate
And I am feelings – happy,
eccentric, reserved and reckless and repressed real feelings

But when you see me… what do you see?
You see my pierced nose,
my tattooed arm,
the clothes and shoes and friends that I wear
and you say ‘yes, I’ve met her’
but have you?
Have you met me? or have you only glanced at me?
I am flesh and blood and feelings and I absolutely refuse to be anything less.
I refuse the place markers you assign my personality
The drawers you sort me into, in the schemas you’ve constructed
I am not that girl who’s kind of shy at parties
I am not that girl who’s too loud sometimes
I am not the reluctant smoker or the non smoker or the pack a day smoker
I am not the smart one or the vapid one
I am not the writer, the dreamer, the one standing in the corner
I am not my name
not my friend’s friend
not where I come from, where I am or where I’m going
I refuse you the convenience of labeling my place with any of the labels above
or any of the ones that don’t even apply to me
Because I didn’t choose them
They happened to me
Just like they seemed to have
just kind of happened to you
I am flesh and blood and feelings because those are the only things I am sure of.
Because I change
Like fall suddenly turns into spring and winter was just the transition in retrospect
But I still bleed
I am still driven by chemical induced manias and hell I wish I wasn’t
but I still am getting scars and blemishes on my skin
and I will
until we’re spinning in this tornado of life
until we aren’t anymore.
So I refuse to be identified as anything less real than the simple.
Because I am not complicated
and not anyone else
I am not a stranger or an acquaintance
I am you, if you look at the pieces of yourself
I am you, in a different concoction of
and blood
and feelings
and you would love me if you saw me in the mirror
looking at you from within your reflection
instead of meeting you at the front porch of a really busy college party about to be broken up
or in the library
or just in passing
you would love me the way you love you
and then we can can build a real relationship
between our real flesh
and blood
and feelings

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (3 votes, average: 3.33 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

4 Comments on "Flesh and Blood and Feelings"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

Once in a while one encounters a piece of writing as brilliant as this and it rakes up a storm in the self and uproots long held beliefs and stereotypes that life imposes on us..Extraordinary talent is what we can see here and @Nanya_Jhingran you have the makings of a stupendous writer so please keep writing and we will be proud to be a part of your literary journey!

Editorial Board

Though this poem was submitted a few months ago, it was our unanimous choice as the highest rated poem in terms of writing and content when we introduced this section of the Editors’ favourite poems submitted to the site. There are several reasons for this, It is a young poem, written in the style of spoken word poetry, the language used cannot be faulted even for a single word, it hits you hard even as you read it and most readers will in some way or the other relate to this poem because it is about those fears and flaws that we have sense about the self and in that respect it breaks moulds and is an immensely brave and honest piece of writing. We would encourage all visitors to this page to take a few minutes off and read this verse – this is the future of poetry! Kudos @Nanya_Jhingran


This type of writing poem apeals to my senses so much, I enjoyed reading and have come back a few times. It is always the same the voice the flows the words and the story.


Blood Draped

Blood Draped short poem

It was coming up, the politics like dirty sex in tall Parthenium grass. The panther was hiding on a steppingstone watching the hot, field hockey played with skulls of peers. Mauled, the peach skin was entertaining sunlight in the metaphoric

Blood Diary

Blood Diary short poem

Writing on sleeves to remember your departure and becoming a stray cloud. The maternal touch of the sky, you can sleep whole life on dense logics. White sheets were burning unannounced in the home. I lost the key, to open

Blood Fruits

Blood Fruits short poem

Beyond the sex he was sleepwalking in shame hiding his faith ingloriously. A poacher in harem of politics, where you stack the hidden virility for killing the money. A single mate must die making love on screen in the vicinity

The Blood Of A Child Cried Louder Than A Roaring Lion

The Blood Of A Child Cried Louder Than A Roaring Lion short poem

I am your child,yet you choose to ignore that fact I am your flesh the fruit that proved other trees that said you can not bear wrong. I shamed your enemies Wrapped their faces in shame with believe that you’re

Blood On My Roses

Blood On My Roses sonnet poems

Brambly winds has shaken the buds of your may And may be your coral is much more red And in the blue Mediterranean where she has lay The dreams of a crystalline streams by her bed Past her garden where