Submissions by Annanias (Jon Z)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
God's Fairins
An I pit ma trust in masel. An in the bruckle pouer o man, an the shog o his inwit (whather God pit baith o thir there...?).
Wi thir twa things, we can chynge the yird - whather in unco muckle weys, or juist in the raisin o weans tae leir tae luve amang aw the ill-will o the yird.
An God micht weil gie us the pouer an the inwit, bot it is wirsels wha wale whit we dae. An hell is on wir ain heids alain. God haes gien us enou hulp. An a puckle wheen mair, gin we wad bot speir fer it.
Wi thir twa things, we can chynge the yird - whather in unco muckle weys, or juist in the raisin o weans tae leir tae luve amang aw the ill-will o the yird.
An God micht weil gie us the pouer an the inwit, bot it is wirsels wha wale whit we dae. An hell is on wir ain heids alain. God haes gien us enou hulp. An a puckle wheen mair, gin we wad bot speir fer it.
856 reads
2 Comments
An old man chooses his own way
An old man stands at the window
of a house that has seen better days.
The roof is leaky,
the walls have crumbled,
the boards are bald and bare.
The rain falls lightly
diluting the salt tears
diluting the crimson blood.
But there is always more
He glances at the room behind him
happy memories
forever gorgeous and light.
He dies with the new dawn in sight,
beneath the window where he was born.
a secret smile on his lips, his gaze forever strong.
of a house that has seen better days.
The roof is leaky,
the walls have crumbled,
the boards are bald and bare.
The rain falls lightly
diluting the salt tears
diluting the crimson blood.
But there is always more
He glances at the room behind him
happy memories
forever gorgeous and light.
He dies with the new dawn in sight,
beneath the window where he was born.
a secret smile on his lips, his gaze forever strong.
773 reads
2 Comments
A Gentle Grinding
softly
softly with your fingertips
sweetly
so sweetly with your eyes
slow controlled graces
so different from the rages
of sex come before
a burlesque fantasy
creaking leathers
and ruffled feathers
and lives lost for an instant
as the tongue brushes
feather light against sensitivities
yet scoring marks through
the passion of nails and teeth
straining against chainlinked bonds
through gritted teeth slide tortured sighs
and half forced exclamations
yet through it all
there is barely a movement
...
softly with your fingertips
sweetly
so sweetly with your eyes
slow controlled graces
so different from the rages
of sex come before
a burlesque fantasy
creaking leathers
and ruffled feathers
and lives lost for an instant
as the tongue brushes
feather light against sensitivities
yet scoring marks through
the passion of nails and teeth
straining against chainlinked bonds
through gritted teeth slide tortured sighs
and half forced exclamations
yet through it all
there is barely a movement
...
1249 reads
2 Comments
3 states were 4
Madness is:
three man cubicle
cocaine expeditions
and lonely beds
on casino tables.
stitched up feet
burned out calves
Beauty is:
hotel haze muddying
light from faces
of clocks, 3 am
doe-eyed gazing.
fistfuls of snow
on dead tree branches
Frustration is:
8 o'clock awakenings
bursting stanzas
broken leads
and bleary eyes.
No more matches
under flickering lights
three man cubicle
cocaine expeditions
and lonely beds
on casino tables.
stitched up feet
burned out calves
Beauty is:
hotel haze muddying
light from faces
of clocks, 3 am
doe-eyed gazing.
fistfuls of snow
on dead tree branches
Frustration is:
8 o'clock awakenings
bursting stanzas
broken leads
and bleary eyes.
No more matches
under flickering lights
863 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Annanias (Jon Z)