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.
SONG LYRICS
Published
6th Oct 2014 5:43pm
6th Oct 2014 5:43pm
Escape From The Night
She left me with this feeling that keeps my cuts from healing/and it's been a few years now, since I kept my heart open for stealing/so it seems like my cards keep getting dealt/the same as my last hand and the way I felt/when she said that it was my last straw/so I lit my cigarette, and turned my back to draw/but she was steady as Hell, and fast on the gun/she shot first, had my heart bleeding with me on the run/and as I recall that night, dying by the midnight sun/I couldn't help but fall in love with the dark of death/ and count my unlucky stars for the girl I had left/so the reaper took...
639 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Sep 2014 7:48pm
24th Sep 2014 7:48pm
Settling In
His footprints are heavy;
a trail of setting concrete
covers the household.
She fears that she won't be
able to remove
what remains
of the final settling;
if only their relationship
could be cured.
He works harder than
the concrete mixed into his hair;
she is becoming colder
than the stone path leading to
their doorstep in the depth of winter.
She doesn't know what will
become of the love they share
for their children;
he can't help but try to change
for the sake of his family.
...
a trail of setting concrete
covers the household.
She fears that she won't be
able to remove
what remains
of the final settling;
if only their relationship
could be cured.
He works harder than
the concrete mixed into his hair;
she is becoming colder
than the stone path leading to
their doorstep in the depth of winter.
She doesn't know what will
become of the love they share
for their children;
he can't help but try to change
for the sake of his family.
...
592 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
15th Sep 2014 11:40pm
15th Sep 2014 11:40pm
Addicted To What Comes Next
I keep telling myself that I can
get through work without
wanting her,
make supper without
smiling at her,
watch a movie without
winking at her,
fall asleep without
kissing her goodnight,and
wake up without
her warm body waiting for me.
I keep telling myself that I can
live without
her and the way she makes me feel,
yet, as I lay here in bed
staring at her slender body,
the room begins to spin,
I've had too much of her tonight;
every ounce I leave behind,
there's only so much I can handle.
It's as if...
get through work without
wanting her,
make supper without
smiling at her,
watch a movie without
winking at her,
fall asleep without
kissing her goodnight,and
wake up without
her warm body waiting for me.
I keep telling myself that I can
live without
her and the way she makes me feel,
yet, as I lay here in bed
staring at her slender body,
the room begins to spin,
I've had too much of her tonight;
every ounce I leave behind,
there's only so much I can handle.
It's as if...
614 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
12th Sep 2014 11:25pm
12th Sep 2014 11:25pm
Ad: Dresses
Ad: Dresses
He used to be my world, now he's just a stone grinding me into nothing. I try to support myself; wearing this crutch.
The years have blown by, the way my dress used to blow in the wind; I haven't been able to change for some time.
My daughter is turning five, she can't wait until the big day; I promised her a new dress. She's so beautiful, looks just like me when I was her age. I used to love when my mother got me a new dress to wear. I felt so free when I twirled around in our backyard as my dress danced in the air.
He wants to leave us, says...
He used to be my world, now he's just a stone grinding me into nothing. I try to support myself; wearing this crutch.
The years have blown by, the way my dress used to blow in the wind; I haven't been able to change for some time.
My daughter is turning five, she can't wait until the big day; I promised her a new dress. She's so beautiful, looks just like me when I was her age. I used to love when my mother got me a new dress to wear. I felt so free when I twirled around in our backyard as my dress danced in the air.
He wants to leave us, says...
617 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Aug 2014 2:00am
30th Aug 2014 2:00am
In The Name Of Love
I find myself
searching for the words
to change
the way we look
at what we name love;
we don't call it,
we define it,
give it purpose.
I say "I love you"
because I can survive
without you,
I have a life all my own,
yet you make it worth fighting
to stay together.
I love my family,
my friends,
my passions,
my hobbies,
and my love for you
differs from them all.
It's a feeling that takes over
my body and I can feel it
when I'm with you
and without you.
So say our love...
searching for the words
to change
the way we look
at what we name love;
we don't call it,
we define it,
give it purpose.
I say "I love you"
because I can survive
without you,
I have a life all my own,
yet you make it worth fighting
to stay together.
I love my family,
my friends,
my passions,
my hobbies,
and my love for you
differs from them all.
It's a feeling that takes over
my body and I can feel it
when I'm with you
and without you.
So say our love...
679 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Aug 2014 9:42pm
28th Aug 2014 9:42pm
Love Left (To Hold)
He pours a drink
everyday of the week
as he awakes,
the hours and days blur
together,
he can't tell
Monday from Friday,
yet he always knows
when it's Sunday;
the church bells chime,
he keeps his sins sealed
inside his heavy head.
Black glasses shade his bloodshot eyes,
the sun shines too brightly,
he stumbles to the coffee shop
without looking up,
or out for himself,
reaking of booze and body odour.
The cashier can barely withstand
the stench swirling around him,
as if she could see it
floating...
everyday of the week
as he awakes,
the hours and days blur
together,
he can't tell
Monday from Friday,
yet he always knows
when it's Sunday;
the church bells chime,
he keeps his sins sealed
inside his heavy head.
Black glasses shade his bloodshot eyes,
the sun shines too brightly,
he stumbles to the coffee shop
without looking up,
or out for himself,
reaking of booze and body odour.
The cashier can barely withstand
the stench swirling around him,
as if she could see it
floating...
639 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
26th Aug 2014 00:17am
26th Aug 2014 00:17am
Dear Retail
Dear retail positions everywhere:
I would like to thank you for poisoning our souls, blackening our hearts and killing our creativity with every hour we spend near you. I would also like to thank you for the generous wage that you provide so we can pay all of our bills and expenses. It's so reassuring that our minimum wage rate can provide us to afford a months basic grocery necessity, rent, student loan payments, general debt, owning a car, or having families with children. I just want to know how you expect the hard working people of this world to survive? How can they afford...
I would like to thank you for poisoning our souls, blackening our hearts and killing our creativity with every hour we spend near you. I would also like to thank you for the generous wage that you provide so we can pay all of our bills and expenses. It's so reassuring that our minimum wage rate can provide us to afford a months basic grocery necessity, rent, student loan payments, general debt, owning a car, or having families with children. I just want to know how you expect the hard working people of this world to survive? How can they afford...
782 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Aug 2014 2:55pm
17th Aug 2014 2:55pm
Hands of our Family
My hands used to be so small,
I could hardly hold my mother's
little finger.
My fathers hands were so big,
he used to hold my head
in his palm and my mother would cry
because he held onto a bottle
that wasn't as white as my mother's milk,
but as dark as the demons in his eyes.
My mother's hands were fragile,
her fingers full of rings
so she could protect herself
from his furious fists.
I never knew why their love
was so different than friend's families,
I just thought that their screaming
between one another was...
I could hardly hold my mother's
little finger.
My fathers hands were so big,
he used to hold my head
in his palm and my mother would cry
because he held onto a bottle
that wasn't as white as my mother's milk,
but as dark as the demons in his eyes.
My mother's hands were fragile,
her fingers full of rings
so she could protect herself
from his furious fists.
I never knew why their love
was so different than friend's families,
I just thought that their screaming
between one another was...
590 reads
1 Comment
DRUGS POEM
Published
12th Aug 2014 4:48pm
12th Aug 2014 4:48pm
Forgetting To Know Myself (mark my end in red)
I've lost so many
memories and nights to the bottle
that I'm beginning to feel
just as empty and useless
as the last one;
I broke down on the floor.
I can't remember my waking
hours spent walking
wasted,
testing my limits
to the point where I can't help
but poison myself,
questioning my luck and my faith;
why am I so protected,
why do the Saints save me
from the consequences
of my actions,
or do they merely consider
my shame sufficient enough?
My friends have seen me
at my worst and...
memories and nights to the bottle
that I'm beginning to feel
just as empty and useless
as the last one;
I broke down on the floor.
I can't remember my waking
hours spent walking
wasted,
testing my limits
to the point where I can't help
but poison myself,
questioning my luck and my faith;
why am I so protected,
why do the Saints save me
from the consequences
of my actions,
or do they merely consider
my shame sufficient enough?
My friends have seen me
at my worst and...
636 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
6th Aug 2014 4:13am
6th Aug 2014 4:13am
Love of Heart
If it's not one poison,
it's the next,
I may not be a good man,
but I do however,
try my best,
to be great at what I love,
yet that which I've come to love
I fear
shall one day kill me
indeed.
My life will end
by that which filled my heart
with happiness and forfillment;
the tribulations that have led me
to write every word of truth
down,
are but a timeline measured
in days counted
from birth until death
and for those many years
I have foresaken myself,
I bare no shame
for the things I have done,...
it's the next,
I may not be a good man,
but I do however,
try my best,
to be great at what I love,
yet that which I've come to love
I fear
shall one day kill me
indeed.
My life will end
by that which filled my heart
with happiness and forfillment;
the tribulations that have led me
to write every word of truth
down,
are but a timeline measured
in days counted
from birth until death
and for those many years
I have foresaken myself,
I bare no shame
for the things I have done,...
604 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Aug 2014 7:41pm
3rd Aug 2014 7:41pm
Name This Life
I sit calmly, my breathing interupted by the call of the crow, thinking of tomorrow and what will become of me in the days ahead; a man Hell bent on feeding his grandiose addictions.
I have poisoned this body born of my family, failed my hardly human heart, and buried all love beneath this world. The damp ground of the graveyard is where I rest my fragile bones among the dead; confessions of a night that befell a poet who writes of his time on this stage we name life.
I have poisoned this body born of my family, failed my hardly human heart, and buried all love beneath this world. The damp ground of the graveyard is where I rest my fragile bones among the dead; confessions of a night that befell a poet who writes of his time on this stage we name life.
525 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Jul 2014 00:18am
28th Jul 2014 00:18am
Lit.
It's hard for me to look
like a gentleman
in her eyes when she smiles,
I can't help
myself from thinking
that she knows
what's on my mind;
I've always been so open
with my emotions
whether I'm calm,
or the weather is violent.
Maybe I want her
to read my work,
or maybe I'll just go
berserk
over
thinking how she speaks;
beneath my lines.
I haven't found a way
to talk to her
about the things that make
me afraid to trust a woman
with my crumpled paper
heart.
Hell,
maybe love ...
like a gentleman
in her eyes when she smiles,
I can't help
myself from thinking
that she knows
what's on my mind;
I've always been so open
with my emotions
whether I'm calm,
or the weather is violent.
Maybe I want her
to read my work,
or maybe I'll just go
berserk
over
thinking how she speaks;
beneath my lines.
I haven't found a way
to talk to her
about the things that make
me afraid to trust a woman
with my crumpled paper
heart.
Hell,
maybe love ...
650 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Ace_Avery (Clint Avery)
