Least Read Story Poems
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poetry about Dreams, Fantasy and Fiction
Find an undiscovered masterpiece in the DU Poetry least read poems.
FeNyX
Poem Published
23rd Jan 2021 00:38am
23rd Jan 2021 00:38am
k- Support Your Local Knight
Who does a god confess to?
Who gives a god absolution?
Penance
Who judges the judge?
Who counsels the almighty?
What laws govern a god's actions?
How does one hold a god accountable?
How does one police a god?
How does one stop a god from hurting instead of helping?
What if a god is fallen?
How does one kill a god?
How does one save a god?
How does one know when a god needs saving?
How does a god know he needs help?
When a god fails ...
Who gives a god absolution?
Penance
Who judges the judge?
Who counsels the almighty?
What laws govern a god's actions?
How does one hold a god accountable?
How does one police a god?
How does one stop a god from hurting instead of helping?
What if a god is fallen?
How does one kill a god?
How does one save a god?
How does one know when a god needs saving?
How does a god know he needs help?
When a god fails ...
#love
#conflict
13 reads
4 Comments
Cyndi_Moone
Poem Published
22nd Jun 2018 11:20pm
22nd Jun 2018 11:20pm
SLEEPAWAKEALOMA
i]/sleep-uh-wake-uh-low-mah/
verb - as in psychiatry:
-The subtle act of harming or taking one’s own life or the life of another - or other living beings - while in a deep state of unconsciousness – as one who sleepwalks. - [/i]
Awakening from slumber, I rise from the bed
One glance out the window, the moon glows red.
Digital time stopped ticking at six-six-six.
At a far-off distance, faucet runs drip-drip-drip.
A look at my hands, bathed in blood
Following footprint-trails of dirt and mud. ...
verb - as in psychiatry:
-The subtle act of harming or taking one’s own life or the life of another - or other living beings - while in a deep state of unconsciousness – as one who sleepwalks. - [/i]
Awakening from slumber, I rise from the bed
One glance out the window, the moon glows red.
Digital time stopped ticking at six-six-six.
At a far-off distance, faucet runs drip-drip-drip.
A look at my hands, bathed in blood
Following footprint-trails of dirt and mud. ...
#dark
#confusion
16 reads
4 Comments
LunaGreyhawk
Poem Published
4th Apr 2022 1:31am
4th Apr 2022 1:31am
her.
I saw an old wheelchair, dusty
forgotten in the corner
of an even older thrift store.
Lost in imagination, I saw her
pull it next to my front window,
a giant, ego-shaped blot
in the view of my glorious sun.
She scratches her shitty sketches
of my wind chimes, turning
to ask almost wistfully, on a sigh.
Why, should she have an Etsy store?
All with legs held downward,
as if she’s a 1920’s starlet, having
dramatically lost the use of her legs.
forgotten in the corner
of an even older thrift store.
Lost in imagination, I saw her
pull it next to my front window,
a giant, ego-shaped blot
in the view of my glorious sun.
She scratches her shitty sketches
of my wind chimes, turning
to ask almost wistfully, on a sigh.
Why, should she have an Etsy store?
All with legs held downward,
as if she’s a 1920’s starlet, having
dramatically lost the use of her legs.
#anger
#family
#dreams
19 reads
7 Comments
I_IS_ME
Poem Published
28th Nov 2022 2:49pm
28th Nov 2022 2:49pm
Girl's Night Out
#women
#men
#conflict #humankind
#conflict #humankind
20 reads
4 Comments
Cyndi_Moone
Poem Published
27th Jun 2018 6:53am
27th Jun 2018 6:53am
Dance of the Dead
Peering out the old cottage window, facing the cemetery across the street
Bored with nothing to do, to go, and no one to meet.
The pale moon shines full and bright with no clouds to cover.
The night breeze gently blows-open the shutters;
it’s a perfect night for such a long summer.
Grandpa’s old clock strikes at midnight; without expecting anything spectacular
I take, in my hands, grandpa’s bird-watching binoculars. ...
Bored with nothing to do, to go, and no one to meet.
The pale moon shines full and bright with no clouds to cover.
The night breeze gently blows-open the shutters;
it’s a perfect night for such a long summer.
Grandpa’s old clock strikes at midnight; without expecting anything spectacular
I take, in my hands, grandpa’s bird-watching binoculars. ...
#ghosts
#nightmares
21 reads
6 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
14th Feb 2019 00:13am
14th Feb 2019 00:13am
the beat of the flats
the veil of the clock drops
along rungs of the shying sun
the day’s final crackling
swings an off switch
propel a toe to heel back to front
onto a still pulsation of pagan rope
fire fingers wildness, water palms stacco
earth hairs happenstance, air limbs bright
upon an unbearable openness
as stars dip scooping land
love to our own devices
that drive neon masks breathless stomp vibratoless
I am the Gnome when digging the Foxes
I be the Tinkerbell guide to...
along rungs of the shying sun
the day’s final crackling
swings an off switch
propel a toe to heel back to front
onto a still pulsation of pagan rope
fire fingers wildness, water palms stacco
earth hairs happenstance, air limbs bright
upon an unbearable openness
as stars dip scooping land
love to our own devices
that drive neon masks breathless stomp vibratoless
I am the Gnome when digging the Foxes
I be the Tinkerbell guide to...
#PopCulture
#pagan
#magic #dance
#magic #dance
27 reads
18 Comments
A_Failed_Artist
Poem Published
16th Nov 2022 5:04pm
16th Nov 2022 5:04pm
CREATION OF MAN
The Creator made man in His own image. First, He made Ensio. Then his wife, Amaryllis. They lived at the center of the Earth in peace. When Amaryllis was with child, she failed to cater to Ensio’s desires and Ensio’s desires became restless. A feathered beast came to Ensio crying for help. It said unto him, “Lay your hand upon me, for I am human.” Blinded by lust, Ensio laid with the beast. The Creator punished Ensio for his sins by giving him an egg. He said unto the mortal, “You shall live with the monstrosity you have made.” Frightened, Ensio tried to destroy the egg. He stomped on it,...
#spiritual
#fiction
#ShortStory #mythology
#ShortStory #mythology
27 reads
0 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
13th Nov 2022 12:13pm
13th Nov 2022 12:13pm
nine the goddesses
unbalanced scales
dirty dead weights
helpless from falls
broken on her axis
weighs sloppiness
decorate sentence
own excrescences
countercensus out
nine nuded muses
they sang no song
inhabited the attic
of heated museum
PAR
dirty dead weights
helpless from falls
broken on her axis
weighs sloppiness
decorate sentence
own excrescences
countercensus out
nine nuded muses
they sang no song
inhabited the attic
of heated museum
PAR
#LifeAsAWriter
#MyInspiration
#WritingPoetry #PowerOfWords
#WritingPoetry #PowerOfWords
28 reads
0 Comments
oskar
Poem Published
29th Nov 2022 12:18pm
29th Nov 2022 12:18pm
the brotherhood of man
The brotherhood of man
When he came into the hall, his brother came down
the stairs, he had forgotten to buy milk
Outside, guns blasted his brother fragmented to
a hail of noise and blood on splattered asphalt.
The soldiers, in a killing mood, shot into the hall
he ran up to the third-floor flat where his sons sat
told them to flee to the roof of opposite buildings
They refused and had slingshots to defend themselves
he didn’t try to persuade the boys, undid a window
and jumped on the next roof as bullets of ill will
hissed past...
When he came into the hall, his brother came down
the stairs, he had forgotten to buy milk
Outside, guns blasted his brother fragmented to
a hail of noise and blood on splattered asphalt.
The soldiers, in a killing mood, shot into the hall
he ran up to the third-floor flat where his sons sat
told them to flee to the roof of opposite buildings
They refused and had slingshots to defend themselves
he didn’t try to persuade the boys, undid a window
and jumped on the next roof as bullets of ill will
hissed past...
#grief
#frustration
#greed
#emptiness
#fear
32 reads
0 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
15th Nov 2022 2:16pm
15th Nov 2022 2:16pm
The Guy with No Face
I am the guy without a face
and I’ve been sitting here
for forty-seven years,
the remnant of a bonfire
that no-one cared to move
once all the sticks were packed way
and children gone to bed.
And so the ageing cuffs of hay
about my wooden limbs and head
have stayed slumped on this old sofa,
the only hint of Guy Fawkes night
besides my Worzel Gummdige hat.
I’ve worn to celebrate ball games
the St George flag, with rattles in my fists
and once a vuvuzela stuck between my head
and chest. A Santa hat and suit
with...
and I’ve been sitting here
for forty-seven years,
the remnant of a bonfire
that no-one cared to move
once all the sticks were packed way
and children gone to bed.
And so the ageing cuffs of hay
about my wooden limbs and head
have stayed slumped on this old sofa,
the only hint of Guy Fawkes night
besides my Worzel Gummdige hat.
I’ve worn to celebrate ball games
the St George flag, with rattles in my fists
and once a vuvuzela stuck between my head
and chest. A Santa hat and suit
with...
#God
#ghosts
34 reads
7 Comments
Kou_Indigo
Poem Published
27th Nov 2022 6:42pm
27th Nov 2022 6:42pm
King Arthur and the Cauldron of the Goddess
- King Arthur and the Cauldron of the Goddess -
I shall in these words of verse, thus poetic in the form so woven thereof,
Now tell a tale that shall to certain ears seem to be most passing strange.
When ancient were the days, but never so ancient as what came before...
In the time when the birds of certain goddesses, flew in the skies above,
It was in those days when Glastonbury was an island, ere things changed.
Arthur was a king over the land, and sought to be lord over much more!
Forth he went in questing, with twelve companions marching with...
I shall in these words of verse, thus poetic in the form so woven thereof,
Now tell a tale that shall to certain ears seem to be most passing strange.
When ancient were the days, but never so ancient as what came before...
In the time when the birds of certain goddesses, flew in the skies above,
It was in those days when Glastonbury was an island, ere things changed.
Arthur was a king over the land, and sought to be lord over much more!
Forth he went in questing, with twelve companions marching with...
#fate
#mythology
#pagan
#magic
#epic
35 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Story Poems about Dreams, Fantasy and Fiction
