Submissions by Alviola
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
That we be like dogs
She leaps into the car, her tail
electrified, the window rolled
down so she can poke her head out
savor the town's fragrances
a cornucopia of scents, a rush
she cannot know roaming nearby.
What if parents told children to
poke their heads out of car windows
have their feet find asphalt
nearer homes of the unshod, to prowl
past broken doors, to know the clatter
of empty feeding bowls, to hear
not just the screech of classroom chairs
on vinyl floors and the howl of audiences
in ball games...
electrified, the window rolled
down so she can poke her head out
savor the town's fragrances
a cornucopia of scents, a rush
she cannot know roaming nearby.
What if parents told children to
poke their heads out of car windows
have their feet find asphalt
nearer homes of the unshod, to prowl
past broken doors, to know the clatter
of empty feeding bowls, to hear
not just the screech of classroom chairs
on vinyl floors and the howl of audiences
in ball games...
#school
#inequality
#poverty #apathy
#poverty #apathy
166 reads
12 Comments
You think what you don't see won't hurt you
She is twitchy, her skin trembling,
she leans back with head raised, eyes wide,
nostrils flared, shifting her weight from
one leg to the other, she paws the ground
Horses are a nervous lot, what she
does not understand, she sees
as dangerous, so blinders are worn
so she can only see what is ahead:
Children grimy, wordless with empty
bowls and eyes that scream, she sees
the corrupt man cross the road, but
these, that man, she has seen before
But...
she leans back with head raised, eyes wide,
nostrils flared, shifting her weight from
one leg to the other, she paws the ground
Horses are a nervous lot, what she
does not understand, she sees
as dangerous, so blinders are worn
so she can only see what is ahead:
Children grimy, wordless with empty
bowls and eyes that scream, she sees
the corrupt man cross the road, but
these, that man, she has seen before
But...
#corruption
#HumanRights
#inequality #poverty
#inequality #poverty
129 reads
4 Comments
Molave's Secret
Molave flows into hammers then hands
and shoulders of bridges and railroad ties,
a hardwood chosen for forever.
Light gold in interlocking stripes swarming
the expanse of beds and dining tables,
around torsos of heavy furniture
but it shivers when the day changes,
complains with loud reports --barks!
plate tectonics in timber stirring me
in the dark, insinuating into dreams,
in sleep already distressed, like gunshots
in the night but inside the bedroom.
...
and shoulders of bridges and railroad ties,
a hardwood chosen for forever.
Light gold in interlocking stripes swarming
the expanse of beds and dining tables,
around torsos of heavy furniture
but it shivers when the day changes,
complains with loud reports --barks!
plate tectonics in timber stirring me
in the dark, insinuating into dreams,
in sleep already distressed, like gunshots
in the night but inside the bedroom.
...
#disappointment
#heroic
#fear #vulnerability
#fear #vulnerability
163 reads
10 Comments
Soldier Boys in the Flea Market
In the unairconditioned fuss
of a flea market
two American soldier boys
haggled with a young Filipina selling
knives and tools and flashlights
they moved on, to scout for cheaper
presumably,
and passing me
one sniggered to the other
"Did you hear what she said?
-- 'buy one, take me!'"
I swear the day groaned, I chucked
what I wanted to buy back
into the pile of knives and tools
flashlights and bedraggled virtues
of a flea market
two American soldier boys
haggled with a young Filipina selling
knives and tools and flashlights
they moved on, to scout for cheaper
presumably,
and passing me
one sniggered to the other
"Did you hear what she said?
-- 'buy one, take me!'"
I swear the day groaned, I chucked
what I wanted to buy back
into the pile of knives and tools
flashlights and bedraggled virtues
#sadness
#anger
137 reads
1 Comment
Another Door
She did not come by way of heart
She came through skull
And stayed a night
There she hung her songs, pitched tent
Then argued, asked and wildly axxed.
She did not come by way of wink
By courtly summoning of lash
She came through skull
And stayed to parley
She did not come by way of heart
But packed her tongue, moved in to stay.
She came through skull
And stayed a night
There she hung her songs, pitched tent
Then argued, asked and wildly axxed.
She did not come by way of wink
By courtly summoning of lash
She came through skull
And stayed to parley
She did not come by way of heart
But packed her tongue, moved in to stay.
#admiration
220 reads
8 Comments
The Strangers They Become
Children disappear into the grownups
they become, into adult chassis,
behind facial hair, they vanish
into ghost chasers, into bearers of lore
and wisdom and agents of art
we did not see written on the wall.
The formerly frolicsome, children
who ran about in pointless patterns,
they disappear into frowns and causes
The trinkets and trophies sleep in drawers
no longer drawn, fingers now beringed
by graduations or chapel rites.
The clingy and the ones you could leave
alone...
they become, into adult chassis,
behind facial hair, they vanish
into ghost chasers, into bearers of lore
and wisdom and agents of art
we did not see written on the wall.
The formerly frolicsome, children
who ran about in pointless patterns,
they disappear into frowns and causes
The trinkets and trophies sleep in drawers
no longer drawn, fingers now beringed
by graduations or chapel rites.
The clingy and the ones you could leave
alone...
#parent
#teens
#childhood
#LifeCycle
#aging
234 reads
6 Comments
The Last Time I Saw Him Not Smiling
The glasses of beer were raised more often
clinked with less care as the night progressed
the last time I saw him laugh himself red
When I peered into his room months later,
he was grumbling and fanning his loins
hospital sheets tossed in a wide tumble
the painter's gentle hand gripped my arm
with the burliness of pain, his nails
dug into my flesh to own my eyes
The last time I saw him not smiling
he glowered for my full attention
as one could of a close friend really
his eyes sought to tell me how...
clinked with less care as the night progressed
the last time I saw him laugh himself red
When I peered into his room months later,
he was grumbling and fanning his loins
hospital sheets tossed in a wide tumble
the painter's gentle hand gripped my arm
with the burliness of pain, his nails
dug into my flesh to own my eyes
The last time I saw him not smiling
he glowered for my full attention
as one could of a close friend really
his eyes sought to tell me how...
#sadness
#friendship
#death #illness
#death #illness
323 reads
14 Comments
Baby Pictures of a Universe
We will reach back into time and hope
to catch echoes of the hand of God,
just after the swizzling of the waters,
after joyfully making many
He hung the planets on trees of light
while shy galaxies peep from behind
cosmic cliffs, waiting, the wakes of each
finger limning ghostly jets and swirls
We see his breath in nurseries of stars,
here was a god pleased with handiwork,
creating not yet soured by creation
Did he balk before making the man?
Did he sigh when it crawled out, traded
fins for limbs,...
to catch echoes of the hand of God,
just after the swizzling of the waters,
after joyfully making many
He hung the planets on trees of light
while shy galaxies peep from behind
cosmic cliffs, waiting, the wakes of each
finger limning ghostly jets and swirls
We see his breath in nurseries of stars,
here was a god pleased with handiwork,
creating not yet soured by creation
Did he balk before making the man?
Did he sigh when it crawled out, traded
fins for limbs,...
#science
#universe
#God
#humankind
#astronomy
190 reads
7 Comments
Stress Test
The chest tightens as I struggle to stay longer on the treadmill. It is an early stage. “Look forward, think of something pleasant, a pleasant time in your life,” the doctor advised.
I walk into warm waters, into a strait of
wavelets drawing the edge of Toledo City
I walk until I can not, until
I have to use my arms and legs
Chest knotting, I pause while paddling
to look back at the shore, at life, at work
'How are you feeling, sir?'
The treadmill inclines with a loud whir
and I feel the sand between my toes...
I walk into warm waters, into a strait of
wavelets drawing the edge of Toledo City
I walk until I can not, until
I have to use my arms and legs
Chest knotting, I pause while paddling
to look back at the shore, at life, at work
'How are you feeling, sir?'
The treadmill inclines with a loud whir
and I feel the sand between my toes...
#aging
#nostalgia
177 reads
13 Comments
The Patience of the Sun
The sun winks me awake through the wrinkle
and bend of the venetian blinds
dusting off sleep, stumbling out of bed
I pray they will let me go out to play
they no longer smile when they shake
their heads ‘you are not well enough, no’
So I argue as if reason mattered
haggle with a hardly disguised glower
"we are never well enough anymore
the lungs are past the age of just able
the spryness is imagined, we are
never one hundred percent anymore"
the slice of sunlight...
and bend of the venetian blinds
dusting off sleep, stumbling out of bed
I pray they will let me go out to play
they no longer smile when they shake
their heads ‘you are not well enough, no’
So I argue as if reason mattered
haggle with a hardly disguised glower
"we are never well enough anymore
the lungs are past the age of just able
the spryness is imagined, we are
never one hundred percent anymore"
the slice of sunlight...
#sadness
#anxiety
#aging
230 reads
8 Comments
Threads of Lives
I scrolled down the newsfeed of my phone
and walked into a babbling of friends,
years spoke for them, retirement was flashed
as badges and permission to whinge.
Gouty fingers misspelled their rancor,
they reached for devices upon waking,
a frown, a retort before coffee,
responding to barbs before breakfast,
the ribald before the washbasin,
before thanking whichever god
they pray to for the bearable aches,
for allowed liquor, for fairish lives.
Once I counted twelve in one thread,
We had talks that...
and walked into a babbling of friends,
years spoke for them, retirement was flashed
as badges and permission to whinge.
Gouty fingers misspelled their rancor,
they reached for devices upon waking,
a frown, a retort before coffee,
responding to barbs before breakfast,
the ribald before the washbasin,
before thanking whichever god
they pray to for the bearable aches,
for allowed liquor, for fairish lives.
Once I counted twelve in one thread,
We had talks that...
#death
#aging
314 reads
8 Comments
The Pandemic Stole My Magic Hour
The poison in the air gnawed
through the time inexorably
my magic hour is now truncated
the wise and esteemed could not
tell us when the rot would end
what would remain of my last hour
The sun did peep after a while
warily, seemingly chastened
sniffing for the evil in the air
But the glisten is gone, the gold
the sun throws at all it sees
during that magical hour
rooftops and cars, boats at sea
and the irises of children
that glow is now wan and cautious
Unlike the sun, I will, with ...
through the time inexorably
my magic hour is now truncated
the wise and esteemed could not
tell us when the rot would end
what would remain of my last hour
The sun did peep after a while
warily, seemingly chastened
sniffing for the evil in the air
But the glisten is gone, the gold
the sun throws at all it sees
during that magical hour
rooftops and cars, boats at sea
and the irises of children
that glow is now wan and cautious
Unlike the sun, I will, with ...
#sadness
#sun
#aging
#redemption
#disappointment
280 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Alviola