Submissions by Laurbaerson
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Entropy fan
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2014 11:42am
22nd Nov 2014 11:42am
Haiku
Gulp down furlough words
the sky eyelid felt like tears -
- liquor did outpour
the sky eyelid felt like tears -
- liquor did outpour
470 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Apr 2014 11:30pm
1st Apr 2014 11:30pm
To get lost in town
One summer’s afternoon
While I was strolling by the alleys
blushed like the cheeks of a girl,
I stumbled upon an old man
who was waiting for the sunset of his heart.
He’d simply stand there, slanting under the oblique rays of light,
and smoke his pipe, sighing spirals into the wind.
And he’d laugh, and weep, leafing through the book of time.
Oh, the castles he’d build in that pearly cloud
like when he was a child by the seaside.
A sudden tear began flowing down his wrinkles
It was turquoise then...
While I was strolling by the alleys
blushed like the cheeks of a girl,
I stumbled upon an old man
who was waiting for the sunset of his heart.
He’d simply stand there, slanting under the oblique rays of light,
and smoke his pipe, sighing spirals into the wind.
And he’d laugh, and weep, leafing through the book of time.
Oh, the castles he’d build in that pearly cloud
like when he was a child by the seaside.
A sudden tear began flowing down his wrinkles
It was turquoise then...
666 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Mar 2014 6:26pm
26th Mar 2014 6:26pm
Harvest
Come to me, my lady
you who linger in the torpor of my mind
when the last ray of fire is engulfed by the sea
and the mantle of the night is sewn in the loom of the sky
and the owls awaken from the dead trunks of winter
snapping their branches, stretched like fingers
whose flesh is being strip by ravens.
Come to me, please.
I don’t want to hear their moans anymore
these crying infants who rend this heart of darkness
because they’re drowning and cannot breathe
because their mothers are...
you who linger in the torpor of my mind
when the last ray of fire is engulfed by the sea
and the mantle of the night is sewn in the loom of the sky
and the owls awaken from the dead trunks of winter
snapping their branches, stretched like fingers
whose flesh is being strip by ravens.
Come to me, please.
I don’t want to hear their moans anymore
these crying infants who rend this heart of darkness
because they’re drowning and cannot breathe
because their mothers are...
561 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Feb 2014 00:01am
6th Feb 2014 00:01am
First snow
There is a subtle pleasure
in the air of an early morning.
I bother the stillness of this newborn
strolling on the crackling frozen dewdrops
I walk on this white carpet made of first snow
enjoying the sight of dying leaves.
in the air of an early morning.
I bother the stillness of this newborn
strolling on the crackling frozen dewdrops
I walk on this white carpet made of first snow
enjoying the sight of dying leaves.
529 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jan 2014 3:57pm
15th Jan 2014 3:57pm
Santiago de Compostela
on the path of pilgrims
I’d go, paving the way for my soul.
Of the many friends I have
I’d carry only a few companions
A walking stick
a biro, the blank book of destiny
my charity, and my words.
Really, I need nothin’ more.
I’d go, hearin’ the gravel
crush under my steps
(oh, sweet sound of mine…)
Would you be my friend?
follow me, inhale my ink
just for a while.
On the path of pilgrims I’d go
as a prophet, I’d carry redemption
”God is askin’ to die...
I’d go, paving the way for my soul.
Of the many friends I have
I’d carry only a few companions
A walking stick
a biro, the blank book of destiny
my charity, and my words.
Really, I need nothin’ more.
I’d go, hearin’ the gravel
crush under my steps
(oh, sweet sound of mine…)
Would you be my friend?
follow me, inhale my ink
just for a while.
On the path of pilgrims I’d go
as a prophet, I’d carry redemption
”God is askin’ to die...
610 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jan 2014 3:56pm
15th Jan 2014 3:56pm
Revoluciòn!
During my life
I’ve had many bosses
that’s inevitable.
Yet, somewhat I’ve always managed
not to have them for long.
I’ve always felt like those Christmas spruces
so little, constricted roots
into minuscules pots.
They’d always die
no matter the water and the light
you’d give them.
I didn’t want my life to end
in captivity, like this.
So, after a while, I’ve always left.
First there was my Dad
He was so harsh, to me
and it was difficult, believe me...
I’ve had many bosses
that’s inevitable.
Yet, somewhat I’ve always managed
not to have them for long.
I’ve always felt like those Christmas spruces
so little, constricted roots
into minuscules pots.
They’d always die
no matter the water and the light
you’d give them.
I didn’t want my life to end
in captivity, like this.
So, after a while, I’ve always left.
First there was my Dad
He was so harsh, to me
and it was difficult, believe me...
678 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
14th Jan 2014 12:43pm
14th Jan 2014 12:43pm
Steady stream
Every second of every hour
of every day of every week:
It makes no difference, to me.
Each and every drop
of this steady stream of time
who doesn’t belong to me, who I don’t belong to
is the melancholy of a Sunday,
the blues of a Monday morning.
of every day of every week:
It makes no difference, to me.
Each and every drop
of this steady stream of time
who doesn’t belong to me, who I don’t belong to
is the melancholy of a Sunday,
the blues of a Monday morning.
419 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Dec 2013 11:01pm
22nd Dec 2013 11:01pm
The violinist who'd voyage on trains
m writing a poem
swinging my head.
With thoughtful fingers
I’m evoking octaves
each button a key
like it’d be a melody
Strings on a notebook
Like it’d be a Piano.
I’m too proud to say it
as a man.
Let’s say, instead,
I am a willow, weeping
tears borrowed from rain
A sculpture of sadness and sorrow
as it is winter, and it won’t pour away.
Icicles. I’ll forever cry.
The easiest way I know
to feel alone
is to meet the crowd
As...
swinging my head.
With thoughtful fingers
I’m evoking octaves
each button a key
like it’d be a melody
Strings on a notebook
Like it’d be a Piano.
I’m too proud to say it
as a man.
Let’s say, instead,
I am a willow, weeping
tears borrowed from rain
A sculpture of sadness and sorrow
as it is winter, and it won’t pour away.
Icicles. I’ll forever cry.
The easiest way I know
to feel alone
is to meet the crowd
As...
491 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Dec 2013 11:00pm
22nd Dec 2013 11:00pm
A flash over the Underground
I’m remembering
a voyage in my mind
Sirens’ fingers stroking a string
recalling a melody
Hand swift on the keys
of my heartbeat
the voice of the elder, evoking a gleam
a subtle wind, under my skin
a concoction of feelings
a keen scent of pine, hovers in the breeze
marine stream
a sea of peace.
A Sage, floating.
A nymph, she is murmuring
a light so sweet
I’d weep, I’d seek
I find joy in this melody
Hyperion, she’d sing
she’d kiss me,...
a voyage in my mind
Sirens’ fingers stroking a string
recalling a melody
Hand swift on the keys
of my heartbeat
the voice of the elder, evoking a gleam
a subtle wind, under my skin
a concoction of feelings
a keen scent of pine, hovers in the breeze
marine stream
a sea of peace.
A Sage, floating.
A nymph, she is murmuring
a light so sweet
I’d weep, I’d seek
I find joy in this melody
Hyperion, she’d sing
she’d kiss me,...
462 reads
2 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
18th Dec 2013 2:15pm
18th Dec 2013 2:15pm
pindaric flies
Long sleeves over
blue and red rivers
rubber strings
suppurating white wyrms
born in blistering volcanoes
clinch to cure
violet inkjet
gossamer, inject
a sketch on the floor
snort, I’m anymore
I’m yours
air from windows in my mouth
whistle. Hurts the thistle.
a long sleeve to conceal
Steal
child with chalk on the nose
curls of smoke
a talking hood
paint and glue
to make an artwork
linger like haze
in my...
blue and red rivers
rubber strings
suppurating white wyrms
born in blistering volcanoes
clinch to cure
violet inkjet
gossamer, inject
a sketch on the floor
snort, I’m anymore
I’m yours
air from windows in my mouth
whistle. Hurts the thistle.
a long sleeve to conceal
Steal
child with chalk on the nose
curls of smoke
a talking hood
paint and glue
to make an artwork
linger like haze
in my...
666 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Dec 2013 4:18pm
17th Dec 2013 4:18pm
All about mistery and sick metaphors!
Put a poem about drugs
in the right category
and it'll lose
all of its appeal
in the right category
and it'll lose
all of its appeal
476 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
16th Dec 2013 11:46pm
16th Dec 2013 11:46pm
Cant
a creep that sneaks and a leech
in a creek and the eyes
livor in bulbs now floating now sinking
like oil and they vomit
these ravens perched
and a schreech
I will hang on a branch on this tree
and scream and a cry
of an infant who tears
through the skin o' the night
the galloping mare who'd hear
the nails rend the limbs
I am Jesus Christ I will feel all the pain
and die for your sins I will die
and the spleen who lungs fill
suffocate gurgling bleeding
eat my flesh be my flesh
eat my bones then growl
eat my mouth speak my...
in a creek and the eyes
livor in bulbs now floating now sinking
like oil and they vomit
these ravens perched
and a schreech
I will hang on a branch on this tree
and scream and a cry
of an infant who tears
through the skin o' the night
the galloping mare who'd hear
the nails rend the limbs
I am Jesus Christ I will feel all the pain
and die for your sins I will die
and the spleen who lungs fill
suffocate gurgling bleeding
eat my flesh be my flesh
eat my bones then growl
eat my mouth speak my...
483 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Laurbaerson
