Torn Poems - Poems For Torn
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Tortoise Shout - Poem by David Herbert Lawrence
I thought he was dumb,
I said he was dumb,
Yet I've heard him cry.
First faint scream,
Out of life's unfathomable dawn,
Far off, so far, like a madness, under the horizon's dawning rim,
Far, far off, far scream.
Tortoise in extremis.
Why were we crucified into sex?
Why were we not left rounded off, and finished in ourselves,
As we began,
As he certainly began, so perfectly alone?
A far, was-it-audible scream,
Or did it sound on the plasm direct?
Worse than the cry of the new-born,
All tiny, tiny, far away, reptile under the first dawn.
War-cry, triumph, acute-delight, death-scream reptilian,
Why was the veil torn?
The silken shriek of the soul's torn membrane?
The male soul's membrane
Torn with a shriek half music, half horror.
Male tortoise, cleaving behind the hovel-wall of that dense female,
Mounted and tense, spread-eagle, out-reaching out of the shell
Long neck, and long vulnerable limbs extruded, spread-eagle over her house-roof,
And the deep, secret, all-penetrating tail curved beneath her walls,
Reaching and gripping tense, more reaching anguish in uttermost tension
Till suddenly, in the spasm of coition, tupping like a jerking leap, and oh!
Opening its clenched face from his outstretched neck
And giving that fragile yell, that scream,
From his pink, cleft, old-man's mouth,
Giving up the ghost,
Or screaming in Pentecost, receiving the ghost.
His scream, and his moment's subsidence,
The moment of eternal silence,
Yet unreleased, and after the moment, the sudden, startling jerk of coition, and at once
The inexpressible faint yell --
And so on, till the last plasm of my body was melted back
To the primeval rudiments of life, and the secret.
So he tups, and screams
Time after time that frail, torn scream
After each jerk, the longish interval,
The tortoise eternity,
Agelong, reptilian persistence,
Heart-throb, slow heart-throb, persistent for the next spasm.
I remember, when I was a boy,
I heard the scream of a frog, which was caught with his foot in the mouth of an up-starting snake;
I remember when I first heard bull-frogs break into sound in the spring;
I remember hearing a wild goose out of the throat of night
Cry loudly, beyond the lake of waters;
I remember the first time, out of a bush in the darkness, a nightingale's piercing cries and gurgles startled the depths of my soul;
I remember the scream of a rabbit as I went through a wood at midnight;
I remember the heifer in her heat, blorting and blorting through the hours, persistent and irrepressible;
I remember my first terror hearing the howl of weird, amorous cats;
I remember the scream of a terrified, injured horse, the sheet-lightning
And running away from the sound of a woman in labor, something like an owl whooing,
And listening inwardly to the first bleat of a lamb,
The first wail of an infant,
And my mother singing to herself,
And the first tenor singing of the passionate throat of a young collier, who has long since drunk himself to death,
The first elements of foreign speech
On wild dark lips.
And more than all these,
And less than all these,
Strange, faint coition yell
Of the male tortoise at extremity,
Tiny from under the very edge of the farthest far-off horizon of life.
The wheel on which our silence first is broken,
Sex, which breaks up our integrity, our single inviolability, our deep silence
Tearing a cry from us.
Sex, which breaks us into voice, sets us calling across the deeps, calling, calling for the complement,
Singing, and calling, and singing again, being answered, having found.
Torn, to become whole again, after long seeking for what is lost,
The same cry from the tortoise as from Christ, the Osiris-cry of abandonment,
That which is whole, torn asunder,
That which is in part, finding its whole again throughout the universe.
Poems About Torn
- 1. Tortoise Shout , David Herbert Lawrence
- 2. The Slave’s Lament , Robert Burns
- 3. Queen Mab: Part Iv. , Percy Bysshe Shelley
- 4. I Come From The Nigger Yard , Martin Carter
- 5. Patches , James B. Earley
- 6. Temora - Book Iii , James Macpherson
- 7. A Bag Of Air! , veeraiyah subbulakshmi
- 8. Torn Shades , Thomas Lux
- 9. ' My Heart That Is' , 'Bri' Bri
- 10. Soul Mate , neo riddick
- 11. What Is Passion , Dee Daffodil
- 12. #140 , Chris Todd, Jr.
- 13. Torn Between Two Lives , David Harris
- 14. Love: Definition 2 , Zach Stahle
- 15. The Pauper And The Prince , Amitava Sur
- 16. A Poem From The Unborn , Andrew G. Collins, Sr.
- 17. Hymn To Diana , Callimachus
- 18. Torn , Silent Speaker
- 19. Torn And Tattered Heart , louis rams
- 20. Sometimes , naida supnet
- 21. My Rose , Christian ...
- 22. Valentine , nimal dunuhinga
- 23. Torn Between Two , Amy
- 24. Tears From Your Eyes , john tiong chunghoo
- 25. Still Point, You , Ben Paynter
- 26. She Will Get My Romance , Meagan Peters
- 27. Broken Hearts , Rose Favela
- 28. Torn , Kenneth Caron Jr.
- 29. Open Poem , Mohammad Rafiq
- 30. A Tale Of Two Cities , MOHAMMAD SKATI
- 31. Steppingstone , Andrew Hudgins
- 32. Eulogy To The Memory Of My Mother , James B. Earley
- 33. Do You Believe In Love? , Tiana Webb
- 34. Triumphant Flag , john tiong chunghoo
- 35. Down To Streets , Geetha Jayakumar
- 36. You Keep The Sea , Naveed Akram
- 37. A Lifeless Existence, I Have , Payyton Egerstaffer
- 38. Hearts , kia pidd
- 39. It Won'T Last Forever! , Emma Jane Rae
- 40. Tortured, Tormented And Torn , Danny Speicher
- 41. Vietnam Travel Haiku - Saigon War Museum , john tiong chunghoo
- 42. Fox Hunting Is Banned In Britain , Francis Duggan
- 43. Poem For A Child , Joyce Hemsley
- 44. The Age Of Innocence , Miroslava Odalovic
- 45. By Day And By Night , MOHAMMAD SKATI
- 46. Pain Clouding , NaNa Nana
- 47. Torn Soul , Douglas McAntagart
- 48. Where Is My Angel? , Ace Of Black Hearts
- 49. 'I'M Not Ok' , Harley My Last Name
- 50. Hiding Emotion In Metaphors , Audrey Marie Kay
New Torn Poems
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- The Torn Bag Was Ugly., Sushruta Mishra
- Torn Ear, Ima Ryma
- Our Flag, George McKinney
- A Tale Of Two Cities, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Chapped Lips, Ebony Austin
- You Are Everything To Me, junior marcano
- A Torn Flower, Devanshi Khetarpal
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- carpe diem