Miscellaneous Poems Seeking Friendly Advice
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Random, diverse and unusual poetry
Friendly feedback has been requested for these poems.
Magnetic
The storm tonight
Creating Northern Lights
Creating Northern Lights
#nature
#storm
82 reads
24 Comments
Electric Burning Light
The fake lights have turned on
The brighter ones
I like the lighter ones
The ones with the real candle flickering in them
But it’s hard to be live light sometimes
I understand I understand I understand I understand I understand I understand
The brighter ones
I like the lighter ones
The ones with the real candle flickering in them
But it’s hard to be live light sometimes
I understand I understand I understand I understand I understand I understand
#emotions
#support
46 reads
4 Comments
Rain's Sorrow
Petals were puckered.
Drooping with fat drops of rain.
Sorrow drenched mind's bloom.
Drooping with fat drops of rain.
Sorrow drenched mind's bloom.
#flowers
#haiku
#rain #sadness
#rain #sadness
47 reads
6 Comments
Fresh Flesh Fiction.
A sudden mint washed over me.
I guess this feeling of emptiness hadn't quite gone away as i'd thought it had.
I'll push it further underground. Further into the windy weeds,i've nurtured,to slowly grow around it. Surrounding it.Must tame this feeling.
A sudden mint washes over me.
I'm not lonely.
When will I be touched by an unusual energy walking the earth alone,
Like me?
At work I'm misunderstood.
Can't wait to get home and stroke my Madame pussy.
Such blissfully serene release.
At the weekend. I go...
I guess this feeling of emptiness hadn't quite gone away as i'd thought it had.
I'll push it further underground. Further into the windy weeds,i've nurtured,to slowly grow around it. Surrounding it.Must tame this feeling.
A sudden mint washes over me.
I'm not lonely.
When will I be touched by an unusual energy walking the earth alone,
Like me?
At work I'm misunderstood.
Can't wait to get home and stroke my Madame pussy.
Such blissfully serene release.
At the weekend. I go...
#bittersweet
#emptiness
27 reads
0 Comments
The Collage Artist
(A poem I was fortunate to have published in Wicked Alice literary journal. Inspired by the work of the collage artist Joseph Cornell.)
https://www.sundresspublications.com/wickedalice/scales.html
THE COLLAGE ARTIST
for Joseph Cornell
You leafed through bits of paper,
discarded starlets,
fragments of others’ hope.
Blue swan, opaque rhythm,
perpetual dance.
Stroboscopic saints
were numbered, pigeonholed.
A doll was your mother;
trees grew beneath her dress
when she became a flower....
https://www.sundresspublications.com/wickedalice/scales.html
THE COLLAGE ARTIST
for Joseph Cornell
You leafed through bits of paper,
discarded starlets,
fragments of others’ hope.
Blue swan, opaque rhythm,
perpetual dance.
Stroboscopic saints
were numbered, pigeonholed.
A doll was your mother;
trees grew beneath her dress
when she became a flower....
#art
67 reads
4 Comments
Jungle Bird
Perched upon a branch.
High in the jungle trees
Toucan Sam
When darkness looms
Nothing sees
Amongst the cricket seas
Mother Nature’s
Fog breath
Frogs breathe
Beneath
Her
Home
Nothingness
abandoned seeds
Wild echoes
Oh the
Parrot breeds
Strange quest
No witness
Blind The lizard,
Blind The serpent
The princess
Alone
The queen
Upon her
Throne
Never left
Always
Home
High in the jungle trees
Toucan Sam
When darkness looms
Nothing sees
Amongst the cricket seas
Mother Nature’s
Fog breath
Frogs breathe
Beneath
Her
Home
Nothingness
abandoned seeds
Wild echoes
Oh the
Parrot breeds
Strange quest
No witness
Blind The lizard,
Blind The serpent
The princess
Alone
The queen
Upon her
Throne
Never left
Always
Home
#birds
#nature
31 reads
0 Comments
Flying Free
I eat with gusto with panache and belch
and fart as teeth crack crunch and suck marrow,
from bones of my mother's tongue all nigh squelched
within my lexicon, sleeping, fallow...
An alphabetical herd most unheard
words hobbled, clipped-winged, bridled and hamstrung
corralled within my dictionary, tamed,
dusty unused and now, sadly, grown dumb.
I will digest and regurgitate those
not lame, damaged not able to be freed,
into the wild for rhyme and, for some, prose,
the brute the lamb, there they go, flying free... ...
and fart as teeth crack crunch and suck marrow,
from bones of my mother's tongue all nigh squelched
within my lexicon, sleeping, fallow...
An alphabetical herd most unheard
words hobbled, clipped-winged, bridled and hamstrung
corralled within my dictionary, tamed,
dusty unused and now, sadly, grown dumb.
I will digest and regurgitate those
not lame, damaged not able to be freed,
into the wild for rhyme and, for some, prose,
the brute the lamb, there they go, flying free... ...
#sonnet
18 reads
2 Comments
Poets are not poets (on the seventh day they rest)
Poets are not poets
nor voices of reason
but memories of the past
and trumpeters for the future
Slamming hands in car doors
just write the reasons why
there are no hot coals
poets haven't roasted feet upon
and all the knives are dull
cutting open their minds
Athena once split Zeus's head asunder
now that must have hurt like hell
yet poet's seem jealous of the pain
as they tear insides out
I know, let's have some fun
practicing sacrificial rituals
just to write a compelling poem
with the...
nor voices of reason
but memories of the past
and trumpeters for the future
Slamming hands in car doors
just write the reasons why
there are no hot coals
poets haven't roasted feet upon
and all the knives are dull
cutting open their minds
Athena once split Zeus's head asunder
now that must have hurt like hell
yet poet's seem jealous of the pain
as they tear insides out
I know, let's have some fun
practicing sacrificial rituals
just to write a compelling poem
with the...
#MentalHealth
#WritingPoetry
50 reads
2 Comments
An iridescent bow of hope
May the light
Wrap around you
In its pearl opulence
Dressed in silk
Tied up with
An iridescent bow
of hope
Wrap around you
In its pearl opulence
Dressed in silk
Tied up with
An iridescent bow
of hope
#happiness
#hope
#kindness
#motivational
#strength
61 reads
4 Comments
counting
i enjoy
these
late hours,
i am
sprawled
out and
loitering
on my
nearby lawn,
face up
and looking
toward heaven,
counting stars
as wishes,
and then
a rain
shower
appears,
i lay
there
on the
wet grass,
looking up
and counting
raindrops.
these
late hours,
i am
sprawled
out and
loitering
on my
nearby lawn,
face up
and looking
toward heaven,
counting stars
as wishes,
and then
a rain
shower
appears,
i lay
there
on the
wet grass,
looking up
and counting
raindrops.
#night
#rain
#stars
46 reads
5 Comments
Let the sun put its hat on .
I watch the night pull down the shutter it's Pj time and cocoa and getting ready to tuck yourself in . I stand a while in the crisp cool air looking to find that one lone star, who looks out of sorts mirroring me. I found one way past my garden tree it looks like it's lost its sparkle or maybe it's having a snooze.
I just want though to nudge the sun and say come on you up there you have work to be done. Shine as we are all in this together let's not forget that and send your rays and vibes to all who need to feel a warm comfort blanket when they feel that nobody cares. I make my...
I just want though to nudge the sun and say come on you up there you have work to be done. Shine as we are all in this together let's not forget that and send your rays and vibes to all who need to feel a warm comfort blanket when they feel that nobody cares. I make my...
#courage
#happiness
#inspirational
#strength
#wisdom
36 reads
0 Comments
If the tides stopped
If the tides stopped,
I’d etch my name into the sand until I run out of room.
I’d dig at the sand until my skin was red and raw just for the chance that someone,
someday,
will know I was here.
I was here when the tides stopped.
If the tides stopped, I’d draw in the sand.
As I would watch the sun set over the still waters the weight of my actions would set in.
I’ll drag mounds of sand around trying to repair the broken shore.
Tears will fall down my cheeks as I sob for what I’ve destroyed with my bare hands. ...
I’d etch my name into the sand until I run out of room.
I’d dig at the sand until my skin was red and raw just for the chance that someone,
someday,
will know I was here.
I was here when the tides stopped.
If the tides stopped, I’d draw in the sand.
As I would watch the sun set over the still waters the weight of my actions would set in.
I’ll drag mounds of sand around trying to repair the broken shore.
Tears will fall down my cheeks as I sob for what I’ve destroyed with my bare hands. ...
#aging
29 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Miscellaneous Poems Seeking Advice - Random, Diverse and Unusual Poetry (Page 2)