Submissions by 3ampoems (Celine Belli)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Writer, Sound Engineer, Musician, Artist, Lover.
SELF POEM
Published
4th Feb 2014 2:28pm
4th Feb 2014 2:28pm
blindspot
these times are hard.
i lose grip of my thoughts
shaking in viral, contagious despair
in a locked room where white walls and crumpled clothes leer at me
because i have so much more to prove, yet there i stay
in the mockery, in the humiliation until i can
find a sane expression to sew onto my face
for i cannot afford to shed anymore tears
in a world full of rain.
i am the tension of guitar strings,
the sharp edge of broken glass.
i bite back works so carefully strung
until i unravel and say the words i meant to keep in the middle,...
i lose grip of my thoughts
shaking in viral, contagious despair
in a locked room where white walls and crumpled clothes leer at me
because i have so much more to prove, yet there i stay
in the mockery, in the humiliation until i can
find a sane expression to sew onto my face
for i cannot afford to shed anymore tears
in a world full of rain.
i am the tension of guitar strings,
the sharp edge of broken glass.
i bite back works so carefully strung
until i unravel and say the words i meant to keep in the middle,...
965 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Jan 2014 1:29am
9th Jan 2014 1:29am
come forth, from the dark.
i watch the line of collected dust
dance to Sigur Ros, shy
in the corner of my walls,
and i weep for the subtle grace of the world
that are left unnoticed and swept away.
my tears fall for all the saints and
deities who cannot help her,
for the truths that lie at her feet
like candy wrappers.
my tears fall for the many miles
that fail to take her pain away to spread
across the wind.
our words have run dry,
peeling off like cheap wallpaper
in the den of her mind.
i see her blurred figure,
from 5 years ago...
dance to Sigur Ros, shy
in the corner of my walls,
and i weep for the subtle grace of the world
that are left unnoticed and swept away.
my tears fall for all the saints and
deities who cannot help her,
for the truths that lie at her feet
like candy wrappers.
my tears fall for the many miles
that fail to take her pain away to spread
across the wind.
our words have run dry,
peeling off like cheap wallpaper
in the den of her mind.
i see her blurred figure,
from 5 years ago...
711 reads
9 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
7th Sep 2013 00:21am
7th Sep 2013 00:21am
Nails Bitten Black III
Part III: acceptance of all that is.
my mind is a fossil, preserved and frail with the weight of the world soiling it to the depths of its buried, tired self. i am sometimes hollow like a shell abandoned, sometimes full like the entire existence of motion, sight, sound, smell, touch infiltrating every inch of everything we see and encompass around our lives. full of wonders, of hopes, of failures, of dreams, of questions, on wonders, on hopes, on failures, on dreams, on questionable existence of time and how it offers its own two hands to the entire movement of a galaxy. the idea of...
my mind is a fossil, preserved and frail with the weight of the world soiling it to the depths of its buried, tired self. i am sometimes hollow like a shell abandoned, sometimes full like the entire existence of motion, sight, sound, smell, touch infiltrating every inch of everything we see and encompass around our lives. full of wonders, of hopes, of failures, of dreams, of questions, on wonders, on hopes, on failures, on dreams, on questionable existence of time and how it offers its own two hands to the entire movement of a galaxy. the idea of...
723 reads
1 Comment
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
23rd Aug 2013 00:20am
23rd Aug 2013 00:20am
Nails Bitten Black II
PART II: appreciation of all that belongs.
i weep.
i weep like a newborn, my senses screaming in exaggeration as i feel so many unsaid words and so much suppressed emotions seeping through my pores like osmosis. I feel.
i feel like the pollen of lavender being lifted by the wind, like the breath of a last chord sinking through the audience. i am overwhelmed and in absolute ecstasy because i have a life of everything i have never dreamt of but always knew i wanted.
my life is passing, and the colours are returning in paler shades of what was once a vibrant burst...
i weep.
i weep like a newborn, my senses screaming in exaggeration as i feel so many unsaid words and so much suppressed emotions seeping through my pores like osmosis. I feel.
i feel like the pollen of lavender being lifted by the wind, like the breath of a last chord sinking through the audience. i am overwhelmed and in absolute ecstasy because i have a life of everything i have never dreamt of but always knew i wanted.
my life is passing, and the colours are returning in paler shades of what was once a vibrant burst...
841 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
10th Jul 2013 4:17pm
10th Jul 2013 4:17pm
Nails Bitten Black I
PART I: anger at what shouldn't be.
in a fetal position, i call out to my mother. i am scared and vulnerable, i convulse and stray from where all is calm, where my thoughts do not overlap nor overproduce. self destruction is a clinical satisfaction. it is the willingness to push the boundaries like children scraping their knees before knowing some things cannot be done without getting hurt. the walls, the sharp edges of everything i can trace my skin upon and shards of broken glass and blades are my friends and also my worst enemies. i had nothing to be ashamed of, until i fell in...
in a fetal position, i call out to my mother. i am scared and vulnerable, i convulse and stray from where all is calm, where my thoughts do not overlap nor overproduce. self destruction is a clinical satisfaction. it is the willingness to push the boundaries like children scraping their knees before knowing some things cannot be done without getting hurt. the walls, the sharp edges of everything i can trace my skin upon and shards of broken glass and blades are my friends and also my worst enemies. i had nothing to be ashamed of, until i fell in...
950 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th Apr 2013 2:57pm
11th Apr 2013 2:57pm
bending sideways
I am drained with what I do to myself.
I try very hard to make the ends meet beginnings,
So I do not fall between the gaps of a stagnant being,
I try very hard to keep my world from
Quakes and a faceless pain,
Pushing plates down until they have to crack.
I still lose control of myself
And I still lose control of the love I
Try very hard to place in your hands
For your keep,
It is sometimes such a struggle
Watching you look at it and frown at its
Sudden obscurity,
Like you sometimes cannot comprehend
All I give to you.
I...
I try very hard to make the ends meet beginnings,
So I do not fall between the gaps of a stagnant being,
I try very hard to keep my world from
Quakes and a faceless pain,
Pushing plates down until they have to crack.
I still lose control of myself
And I still lose control of the love I
Try very hard to place in your hands
For your keep,
It is sometimes such a struggle
Watching you look at it and frown at its
Sudden obscurity,
Like you sometimes cannot comprehend
All I give to you.
I...
1105 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Mar 2013 4:22pm
24th Mar 2013 4:22pm
learning to breathe
they tell me the same things.
first it was the boy who never learnt to love
then it was my mother and third
was the look in my father's eyes when he realised
everything was wrong.
i know what it feels like to
wear the same clothes and forget the days of the week
dressed in my contorted rib and layers of fresh skin
where cigarette buds and pain once sought ground
like friction.
i get uncomfortably warm
and sick in the gut
when i remember this
for i remember everything else,
like the seconds it took before his eyes went blank...
first it was the boy who never learnt to love
then it was my mother and third
was the look in my father's eyes when he realised
everything was wrong.
i know what it feels like to
wear the same clothes and forget the days of the week
dressed in my contorted rib and layers of fresh skin
where cigarette buds and pain once sought ground
like friction.
i get uncomfortably warm
and sick in the gut
when i remember this
for i remember everything else,
like the seconds it took before his eyes went blank...
871 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Mar 2013 5:01pm
20th Mar 2013 5:01pm
the hatch is open
i dress up in yesterday's clothes
and feel the weight of the pain i left on my sleeves
the bane of my mind on the loose strands clawing on my skin.
i am tired, in body and mind, my entire rattling being,
hearing whispers that seep out from my sleep,
from the core of my thoughts when they are unshaken and still.
i do not respond to them
because something will break, otherwise.
i speak to my mother, putting her mind in place
to feel like i am still capable of healing broken souls.
i cough up my regrets and too many words said,
trying to...
and feel the weight of the pain i left on my sleeves
the bane of my mind on the loose strands clawing on my skin.
i am tired, in body and mind, my entire rattling being,
hearing whispers that seep out from my sleep,
from the core of my thoughts when they are unshaken and still.
i do not respond to them
because something will break, otherwise.
i speak to my mother, putting her mind in place
to feel like i am still capable of healing broken souls.
i cough up my regrets and too many words said,
trying to...
732 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th Mar 2013 00:07am
14th Mar 2013 00:07am
no place for a terrorist
sometimes the air will thicken and compress on my skin
locking me into a most shattering fear
by the emergency exit of a bus or a tram
the backseat of the taxi back to you
or walking around the corner
that a stranger will leave death for me
to endure. i will remain restless and scared for
the "i love you"s and "i'll see you soon"s
i forgot to take with me that day.
i will think about death again
and remember the last conversation i had with him
whilst i lay on my mother's lap wishing it all away
as she prayed for all...
locking me into a most shattering fear
by the emergency exit of a bus or a tram
the backseat of the taxi back to you
or walking around the corner
that a stranger will leave death for me
to endure. i will remain restless and scared for
the "i love you"s and "i'll see you soon"s
i forgot to take with me that day.
i will think about death again
and remember the last conversation i had with him
whilst i lay on my mother's lap wishing it all away
as she prayed for all...
745 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Mar 2013 11:51am
4th Mar 2013 11:51am
alone with four years ago
Within an hour, I have wept seven times.
My most productive thought so far
was counting the seconds somebody will call for help
if a car ran me over.
And if nobody did
will you find me?
These thoughts are familiar, they have plagued my mind
many nights for a long time
until I met you, until I was given more to think about
instead of car crashes, of late night wanders, of escape.
But these thoughts scare me, they push me in
and make me weep like a child with scraped knees.
I cried for all the beautiful things ...
My most productive thought so far
was counting the seconds somebody will call for help
if a car ran me over.
And if nobody did
will you find me?
These thoughts are familiar, they have plagued my mind
many nights for a long time
until I met you, until I was given more to think about
instead of car crashes, of late night wanders, of escape.
But these thoughts scare me, they push me in
and make me weep like a child with scraped knees.
I cried for all the beautiful things ...
731 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2013 4:07pm
2nd Mar 2013 4:07pm
the days we never wait for
these are melancholic times,
wrapped in dried tears and torn laughter;
a sincere smile, a beautiful stagnancy,
like diamond drops on cracked windows
after rain, heat rising from beneath earth,
the aftermath of a stretch broken,
lingering over like a constant hangover.
my mind, it ripples like stoned water,
musing on how perceptions shift with
waves of emotions, but never time.
my eyes are tired, the blackouts blazing past
the shine of my light,
greying everything in sight.
a parquet soul, linear but easily scarred,
i sit in...
wrapped in dried tears and torn laughter;
a sincere smile, a beautiful stagnancy,
like diamond drops on cracked windows
after rain, heat rising from beneath earth,
the aftermath of a stretch broken,
lingering over like a constant hangover.
my mind, it ripples like stoned water,
musing on how perceptions shift with
waves of emotions, but never time.
my eyes are tired, the blackouts blazing past
the shine of my light,
greying everything in sight.
a parquet soul, linear but easily scarred,
i sit in...
741 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by 3ampoems (Celine Belli)
