Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Words are my life. Writing poetry for 20 years. It's one of the greatest loves of mine. I have hopes of becoming a published/payed writer. Feel free to comment, or message me about my writing/questions you may have.I appreciate any interest in my work.
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Feb 2015 00:38am
10th Feb 2015 00:38am
We Had Left
There I was,
broken
like a coffee cup
in the sink.
No longer strong,
bitter, or even sweet,
simply drained
of everything
we had left.
broken
like a coffee cup
in the sink.
No longer strong,
bitter, or even sweet,
simply drained
of everything
we had left.
784 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th Feb 2015 7:51pm
8th Feb 2015 7:51pm
Looking Through The Glass
Her eyes are like a snowglobe;
beautiful when it storms.
She is the centrepiece of the scene,
yet every time her world is turned
upside down,
she feels one with the weather,
because it too may never change.
Snowflakes become colder
and the wind causes her to drift
into unconscious thinking
of what dreams that she has left.
Does she escape from this place
made up of make-believe,
or break out of the glass
that her inner beauty could not see?
beautiful when it storms.
She is the centrepiece of the scene,
yet every time her world is turned
upside down,
she feels one with the weather,
because it too may never change.
Snowflakes become colder
and the wind causes her to drift
into unconscious thinking
of what dreams that she has left.
Does she escape from this place
made up of make-believe,
or break out of the glass
that her inner beauty could not see?
560 reads
3 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Feb 2015 1:52am
2nd Feb 2015 1:52am
Holding Tanks
Chapter 1
It's daylight again and the bushes are still red with blood. It was all so beautiful before it was born.
The town was small, a few hundred residents at most, the majority of them worked at the waste water and treatment plant, the others at several goods and services shops. It was a Wednesday in the middle of summer when the accident happened. Nobody knew how to stop it, nobody that could at least.
It was a routine day like every other, except there was this strange noise coming from the basement level. The workers ignored it for most of the day, but it...
It's daylight again and the bushes are still red with blood. It was all so beautiful before it was born.
The town was small, a few hundred residents at most, the majority of them worked at the waste water and treatment plant, the others at several goods and services shops. It was a Wednesday in the middle of summer when the accident happened. Nobody knew how to stop it, nobody that could at least.
It was a routine day like every other, except there was this strange noise coming from the basement level. The workers ignored it for most of the day, but it...
831 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Feb 2015 1:14am
1st Feb 2015 1:14am
Watered Down
I watch two ice cubes
chatter together
in my cold glass of boredom,
melting more with every whisper
I leave them there
floating in a small ocean
of expensive tragedy;
at least they have each other.
The air in the room is drunk,
the bread in the cupboard
already toast,
the compost reaks of yesterday,
the crumbs on the carpet are careless,
the door buzzer sounds
obnoxious,
my drink is getting watered
down,
and so am I.
chatter together
in my cold glass of boredom,
melting more with every whisper
I leave them there
floating in a small ocean
of expensive tragedy;
at least they have each other.
The air in the room is drunk,
the bread in the cupboard
already toast,
the compost reaks of yesterday,
the crumbs on the carpet are careless,
the door buzzer sounds
obnoxious,
my drink is getting watered
down,
and so am I.
856 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st Jan 2015 3:20am
31st Jan 2015 3:20am
Hung Out 'Til It Was Over
We went out like she meant it, my money, I spent it, all on her, now she vanished. Call it over, fuck it, I aint sober, so call me in the morning; hungover.
675 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Jan 2015 1:20am
30th Jan 2015 1:20am
Alliteration
The booze and the blackouts
brought on by the bitter
taste in my mouth
from the blood
on the lip
of every chipped
bottle,
has made me
no Saint,
rather a bit more
human
than I used to be.
A great writer
once said that a poet
can never write
in peace,
and I believe that
to be true,
because every time I pick up
my pen,
I feel this sickness
rooted like a rotten tree
deep in my gut,
knowing that I've become this
time and time again,
just so that I might write
a few words down
that...
brought on by the bitter
taste in my mouth
from the blood
on the lip
of every chipped
bottle,
has made me
no Saint,
rather a bit more
human
than I used to be.
A great writer
once said that a poet
can never write
in peace,
and I believe that
to be true,
because every time I pick up
my pen,
I feel this sickness
rooted like a rotten tree
deep in my gut,
knowing that I've become this
time and time again,
just so that I might write
a few words down
that...
798 reads
3 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
29th Jan 2015 1:27am
29th Jan 2015 1:27am
Love of The Light
She's sat in that skin of hers
for too long holding
a handful of glass and cash,
blowing it all on kaleidoscope stones
she thought would give her
beautiful peace,
instead they became her
demons of destitution.
Their teeth sunk in deep
like a needle drawing blood,
she had no way of letting go
from the feeling of ecstasy
that they gave her;
the escape from reality
was all too real.
She spent her days and nights
lost in one world after the next,
trying to make her bed in one place,
only to find herself in...
for too long holding
a handful of glass and cash,
blowing it all on kaleidoscope stones
she thought would give her
beautiful peace,
instead they became her
demons of destitution.
Their teeth sunk in deep
like a needle drawing blood,
she had no way of letting go
from the feeling of ecstasy
that they gave her;
the escape from reality
was all too real.
She spent her days and nights
lost in one world after the next,
trying to make her bed in one place,
only to find herself in...
643 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Jan 2015 1:12am
28th Jan 2015 1:12am
Another Coat
Has the white corner of the room
always been this beautiful?
It's looks calm and silent,
as if it has
never been touched, or tainted,
it's perfect;
void of damage and stain.
There must be a darker story hidden
somewhere beneath
it's layers of paint.
I wonder what shades lie within
that give it the ability to remain
so strong.
If only I could become
such a wall,
maybe all I need
is another coat of paint.
always been this beautiful?
It's looks calm and silent,
as if it has
never been touched, or tainted,
it's perfect;
void of damage and stain.
There must be a darker story hidden
somewhere beneath
it's layers of paint.
I wonder what shades lie within
that give it the ability to remain
so strong.
If only I could become
such a wall,
maybe all I need
is another coat of paint.
643 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Jan 2015 5:21pm
27th Jan 2015 5:21pm
Running
How am I suppose to find
the words to explain
my reasons for wanting
to be with you?
I doesn't even know
if I can make
things right,
like turning back
in time to when I met you
that first night.
Maybe I messed up
too much being
messed up,
but I'm trying
to be a better man.
If my words were my
downfall,
then maybe they can
lift me back up.
It's almost as if you scooped
up my heart
when I stumbled and lost it,
and kept it wrapped tightly
in your purse pocket;
there's no...
the words to explain
my reasons for wanting
to be with you?
I doesn't even know
if I can make
things right,
like turning back
in time to when I met you
that first night.
Maybe I messed up
too much being
messed up,
but I'm trying
to be a better man.
If my words were my
downfall,
then maybe they can
lift me back up.
It's almost as if you scooped
up my heart
when I stumbled and lost it,
and kept it wrapped tightly
in your purse pocket;
there's no...
566 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jan 2015 2:34am
21st Jan 2015 2:34am
Another Day
I've been digging around my heart for answers, like an addict for a vein; collapsing inward and with every attempt, the bruises become more visable and I can no longer hide behind my own skin.
It's as if there are three torches inside of me keeping my life line lit. One for the lessons learned of yesterday, one for the strength to take on the tasks of today and one for the hope that tomorrow will not be just another day.
It's as if there are three torches inside of me keeping my life line lit. One for the lessons learned of yesterday, one for the strength to take on the tasks of today and one for the hope that tomorrow will not be just another day.
614 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Jan 2015 9:32pm
16th Jan 2015 9:32pm
Regret
Your skin against my fingertips,
such a touch like a lingering kiss,
if only this love was a dinner for two.
If I find my way to your heart again,
don't let me in without knocking first,
just know that I'm a little closer to you.
I can't help but want to choose for you,
but my words are weightless
when all I can do
is think of you.
Don't tell me you can
do any better than this regret.
such a touch like a lingering kiss,
if only this love was a dinner for two.
If I find my way to your heart again,
don't let me in without knocking first,
just know that I'm a little closer to you.
I can't help but want to choose for you,
but my words are weightless
when all I can do
is think of you.
Don't tell me you can
do any better than this regret.
740 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Jan 2015 6:11pm
14th Jan 2015 6:11pm
The Girl
It always starts with the girl,
the one I just met,
the one I used to know,
the one I called a lover,
the one I can't let go.
Then it turns into
the girl I just left,
the girl I want to forget,
the girl I hate seeing another,
the girl I wish wanted me back.
Then it all comes to an end with
the girl I met at the wrong moment,
the girl I can't let myself think about,
the girl I knew could never be mine,
the girl I lose like I always do.
the one I just met,
the one I used to know,
the one I called a lover,
the one I can't let go.
Then it turns into
the girl I just left,
the girl I want to forget,
the girl I hate seeing another,
the girl I wish wanted me back.
Then it all comes to an end with
the girl I met at the wrong moment,
the girl I can't let myself think about,
the girl I knew could never be mine,
the girl I lose like I always do.
844 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
