Submissions by 7wednesdays
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I love doing art and poetry is one of 'em
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jun 2012 4:59am
19th Jun 2012 4:59am
Seemingly Unattainable
As my fingers graze
and my senses just begin to grasp...
It disappears
into the haze.
I search for it, and in a daze
I spot it--
a blur in my peripheral...
And then it is lost in the maze.
My eyes glaze,
wet with longing
and lack of sleep.
I feel myself spiraling into a delirious craze.
The tide has turned.
I clutch now
that of which with desire I had oft burned.
I want it not, 'twas merely a phase,
a trick of the mind, no substance, just glaze.
and my senses just begin to grasp...
It disappears
into the haze.
I search for it, and in a daze
I spot it--
a blur in my peripheral...
And then it is lost in the maze.
My eyes glaze,
wet with longing
and lack of sleep.
I feel myself spiraling into a delirious craze.
The tide has turned.
I clutch now
that of which with desire I had oft burned.
I want it not, 'twas merely a phase,
a trick of the mind, no substance, just glaze.
642 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jun 2012 4:48am
19th Jun 2012 4:48am
she is
floating sinking
gripping breaking
she rises above the canopy
is the canopy
of igneous of quartz
of lava of flesh
the all-encompassing centrifical force
pushing down pulling up
swiveling into swirling away
away into the abyss
disintegrating into chaos
dissolving into calm
she floats she falls
she sinks she sings
she fondles flowers with her tongue
and blows a baby bird from the bloom
"circles are everywhere"
she sings she swoons she croons
"our circles encircle us all"
gripping breaking
she rises above the canopy
is the canopy
of igneous of quartz
of lava of flesh
the all-encompassing centrifical force
pushing down pulling up
swiveling into swirling away
away into the abyss
disintegrating into chaos
dissolving into calm
she floats she falls
she sinks she sings
she fondles flowers with her tongue
and blows a baby bird from the bloom
"circles are everywhere"
she sings she swoons she croons
"our circles encircle us all"
751 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2012 5:48am
2nd Jun 2012 5:48am
How I wish I could camp...
Tossing and turning--
my body in this sleeping bag.
Whimpering and screaming--
my bladder in this body.
Howling and moaning--
the wicked wind outside of this tent.
How silly of me to forget!
I have a magic pee stick!
I fill my pee bottle and sleep sound with my dick.
my body in this sleeping bag.
Whimpering and screaming--
my bladder in this body.
Howling and moaning--
the wicked wind outside of this tent.
How silly of me to forget!
I have a magic pee stick!
I fill my pee bottle and sleep sound with my dick.
655 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
31st May 2012 2:12pm
31st May 2012 2:12pm
Intent of a Black Cat
If ever
I was a black cat
I would mess with your mind
I'd meander the alleyways
with a melancholy glare
and an icy surreptitious stare
I'd swirl the senses
with your superstitions
and my sinister stealth
You would be increasingly paranoid
over the fate of your health
Oh yes
as a black cat
I would dare
to unfurl your emotions
and ensnare
your darkest despair
With just my black coat
and penetrating pupils
I watch with pleasure
as you come undone
and purrrrr
I was a black cat
I would mess with your mind
I'd meander the alleyways
with a melancholy glare
and an icy surreptitious stare
I'd swirl the senses
with your superstitions
and my sinister stealth
You would be increasingly paranoid
over the fate of your health
Oh yes
as a black cat
I would dare
to unfurl your emotions
and ensnare
your darkest despair
With just my black coat
and penetrating pupils
I watch with pleasure
as you come undone
and purrrrr
739 reads
5 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
31st May 2012 2:09pm
31st May 2012 2:09pm
Before Breakfast
Slugs meet their ends
as the morning stretches its wings.
The flowers survive
at the expense of said bug.
It's just you and I
with the salt and morning breeze.
Killing and loving.
Breaking and bonding.
Everyone is asleep,
but we make mini-pancakes
on the presumption
that they will wake.
Everyday is a new day:
A new slew of slugs will die,
another flower will multiply.
And all that really matters
is you and I.
Just the two of us
and the morning haze,
the shaker of salt,
and...
as the morning stretches its wings.
The flowers survive
at the expense of said bug.
It's just you and I
with the salt and morning breeze.
Killing and loving.
Breaking and bonding.
Everyone is asleep,
but we make mini-pancakes
on the presumption
that they will wake.
Everyday is a new day:
A new slew of slugs will die,
another flower will multiply.
And all that really matters
is you and I.
Just the two of us
and the morning haze,
the shaker of salt,
and...
646 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th May 2012 6:33pm
28th May 2012 6:33pm
Prospects
"a promise that the rock of the world was founded securely on a fairy's wing"
~F Scott Fitzgerald
I thrive in knowledge
and cannot cease to think.
Yet my favorite realm
is that of which
I cannot know.
The fleeting mystique--
the glow--
of what was the future
is the present
and will be the past.
It has already occurred
over and over
again and again:
The future has fled
into the tomb of the past.
How I longed to see...
and then it has gone,
lost and deeply covered,
into the already...
~F Scott Fitzgerald
I thrive in knowledge
and cannot cease to think.
Yet my favorite realm
is that of which
I cannot know.
The fleeting mystique--
the glow--
of what was the future
is the present
and will be the past.
It has already occurred
over and over
again and again:
The future has fled
into the tomb of the past.
How I longed to see...
and then it has gone,
lost and deeply covered,
into the already...
626 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
28th May 2012 5:27pm
28th May 2012 5:27pm
El elefante tiene que comer
Elefantes y tigres juegan
conmigo.
Cierro los ojos
y abro el brazo.
Sangre corre arriba y abajo
los suelos sucios.
Mis huesos estaban muy blanco,
pero hay un serpente verde hoy en lugar--
el brazo es verde tambien.
Escuchen
Escuchen
Escuchen al elefante canta dulcemente.
Corran
Siempre corran lejos desde aquí.
El elefante tiene que
comer el tigre
y el llora, llora, llora;
mientras cae en la sangre,
el elefante llora
"Demasiado mucho!
No mas!
No puedo!"
Mas! Mas! Mas!
El mundo grita...
conmigo.
Cierro los ojos
y abro el brazo.
Sangre corre arriba y abajo
los suelos sucios.
Mis huesos estaban muy blanco,
pero hay un serpente verde hoy en lugar--
el brazo es verde tambien.
Escuchen
Escuchen
Escuchen al elefante canta dulcemente.
Corran
Siempre corran lejos desde aquí.
El elefante tiene que
comer el tigre
y el llora, llora, llora;
mientras cae en la sangre,
el elefante llora
"Demasiado mucho!
No mas!
No puedo!"
Mas! Mas! Mas!
El mundo grita...
607 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
27th May 2012 7:59pm
27th May 2012 7:59pm
Tracing Train Tracks
We adventure along windy mountain roads.
Tracing train tracks and
placing pennies peculiarly,
we flatten the frozen faces.
Deeper into the roads,
we visit a time predating our own existence.
Frankie
Aggressor? Victim!
History may say
that she took his blooming days away
and left him no time to God to pray.
But perhaps,
it is he who took her,
rather than she who took his,
days away
on that dark and doleful night
when he beat her body out of right.
I thrive in experiencing these
old historic sites.
Only we--...
Tracing train tracks and
placing pennies peculiarly,
we flatten the frozen faces.
Deeper into the roads,
we visit a time predating our own existence.
Frankie
Aggressor? Victim!
History may say
that she took his blooming days away
and left him no time to God to pray.
But perhaps,
it is he who took her,
rather than she who took his,
days away
on that dark and doleful night
when he beat her body out of right.
I thrive in experiencing these
old historic sites.
Only we--...
628 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th May 2012 7:53pm
27th May 2012 7:53pm
Ode to a Molting Lamb
Wrapped in clouds of existential fluff,
you wonder
whether to chase the butterfly,
or ponder
what ever happened to that locke--
that dread-- which passed you by.
Where from your being did it first depart?
Not Soul, nor Heart.
For if from there it had been ripped,
the tearing would inflict great pain.
Nose: Sensitive cartlidge;
Paw: Lack of fur;
Belly: Ticklish weakness there to blame;
Tail, Tail . . .
O wicked, sinful, conniving Tail!
Circles, circles, circles, circles;
again, again
satanic, demon Tail decieves....
you wonder
whether to chase the butterfly,
or ponder
what ever happened to that locke--
that dread-- which passed you by.
Where from your being did it first depart?
Not Soul, nor Heart.
For if from there it had been ripped,
the tearing would inflict great pain.
Nose: Sensitive cartlidge;
Paw: Lack of fur;
Belly: Ticklish weakness there to blame;
Tail, Tail . . .
O wicked, sinful, conniving Tail!
Circles, circles, circles, circles;
again, again
satanic, demon Tail decieves....
629 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th May 2012 3:55am
27th May 2012 3:55am
Romantic Writer's Block
Forest, ocean, hill, and dale
over the mountain for poetic rhymes.
Sun and moon to no avail;
they have been used too many times.
Damned greed poets never shed a thought
for their posterity.
The riveting mystique of the forest
envelopes your soul . . .
Superfluously poetic! I feel the need
to purge my guts--
the way all of these trees
vomet leaves, berries, and nuts!
Though full of fairies, berries, cherries, and canaries--
highly eligible topics for poetry--
the only untapped source
left in these woods
is the fornicating...
over the mountain for poetic rhymes.
Sun and moon to no avail;
they have been used too many times.
Damned greed poets never shed a thought
for their posterity.
The riveting mystique of the forest
envelopes your soul . . .
Superfluously poetic! I feel the need
to purge my guts--
the way all of these trees
vomet leaves, berries, and nuts!
Though full of fairies, berries, cherries, and canaries--
highly eligible topics for poetry--
the only untapped source
left in these woods
is the fornicating...
657 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th May 2012 3:48am
27th May 2012 3:48am
Vanilla Chai
I cannot function
without coffee.
Tea doesn't cut it
-- never has.
Pumpkin doughnut and
"Rockin' around the Christmas tree",
yet, awake,
I cannot be.
I am going to fall
out of my desk,
and perhaps
never awake at all.
I will continue to fall
through time and space--
tumbling past
the secrets of the universe.
If I could only
open my eyes,
I would achieve
omniscience.
I cannot;
the tea doesn't cut it.
without coffee.
Tea doesn't cut it
-- never has.
Pumpkin doughnut and
"Rockin' around the Christmas tree",
yet, awake,
I cannot be.
I am going to fall
out of my desk,
and perhaps
never awake at all.
I will continue to fall
through time and space--
tumbling past
the secrets of the universe.
If I could only
open my eyes,
I would achieve
omniscience.
I cannot;
the tea doesn't cut it.
708 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2012 2:59pm
25th May 2012 2:59pm
As the Snow Melts
Shimmering heavens
breathe
shadows of Christmas;
bake
green cookies
with white chocolate chips,
melting away
from the heat of the oven;
glisten
sweat that pours down
the rippled backs of runners;
cry
tears that course down
the runny noses and rosy cheeks
of vampire children,
cringing under the sun's
penetrating smirk.
And the trees are green,
again, the white is erased.
breathe
shadows of Christmas;
bake
green cookies
with white chocolate chips,
melting away
from the heat of the oven;
glisten
sweat that pours down
the rippled backs of runners;
cry
tears that course down
the runny noses and rosy cheeks
of vampire children,
cringing under the sun's
penetrating smirk.
And the trees are green,
again, the white is erased.
556 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by 7wednesdays
