Submissions by Bonang
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write everything- poetry,short stories, novels(plots and bits and pieces- no full works yet!).
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Dec 2011 4:22pm
14th Dec 2011 4:22pm
Revolution
Strangers sing familiar songs
that strike a chord deep in the heart.
On imminent righting of wrongs
strangers sing familiar songs.
I hear the chimes,I hear the gongs
as each musician plays his part:
strangers sing familiar songs
that strike a chord deep in the heart.
that strike a chord deep in the heart.
On imminent righting of wrongs
strangers sing familiar songs.
I hear the chimes,I hear the gongs
as each musician plays his part:
strangers sing familiar songs
that strike a chord deep in the heart.
619 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th Dec 2011 1:40pm
7th Dec 2011 1:40pm
Poetic Delusions
Is there a point in symmetry,
all learned by heart, by rote?
Is it really true poetry,
when words are lain there smote?
These literary homilies,
with sibilants and similes,
so light and fleeting as a breeze:
not worthy of a quote.
Is it ever so rich with rhyme,
or just an illusion?
Is it really so sublime,
or wily delusion?
It is just a sly decoy,
each and every line a ploy,
playing your mind like a toy:
hiding my confusion.
Hidden...
all learned by heart, by rote?
Is it really true poetry,
when words are lain there smote?
These literary homilies,
with sibilants and similes,
so light and fleeting as a breeze:
not worthy of a quote.
Is it ever so rich with rhyme,
or just an illusion?
Is it really so sublime,
or wily delusion?
It is just a sly decoy,
each and every line a ploy,
playing your mind like a toy:
hiding my confusion.
Hidden...
617 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
7th Dec 2011 1:35pm
7th Dec 2011 1:35pm
Danse Macabre, Death and his horse
I don the sacred, flowing robes of night,
I sheath my scythe and gird my loins.I mount
my steed and nudge his girth.So far from light
we glide.Our task is writ,"To stem a fount."
My steed of chestnut sheen and steel-clad hoof
bestirs the dust of charcoal at his feet.
Yes him and I, we ride alone, aloof,
for each man's fate our task it is to meet.
So sad it is, so few prepare the way
for when a life shall shrivel like a prune.
They shriek, they howl, they weep in their dismay.
Its lost on me, it all seems so jejune.
And...
I sheath my scythe and gird my loins.I mount
my steed and nudge his girth.So far from light
we glide.Our task is writ,"To stem a fount."
My steed of chestnut sheen and steel-clad hoof
bestirs the dust of charcoal at his feet.
Yes him and I, we ride alone, aloof,
for each man's fate our task it is to meet.
So sad it is, so few prepare the way
for when a life shall shrivel like a prune.
They shriek, they howl, they weep in their dismay.
Its lost on me, it all seems so jejune.
And...
546 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Nov 2011 12:03pm
9th Nov 2011 12:03pm
Villanelle: Little Boy Lost
I'm lost in lands of unknown clime
with clouds for sun and sky obscure,
and I have no yardstick for time
Palpating the air like a mime
with movements jerky and unsure:
I'm lost in lands of unknown clime
My eyes covered with cobwebbed grime
of rooms left shut since age of yore
and I have no yardstick for time
I bite into bittersweet lime,
a taste my heart will swift abjure:
I'm lost in lands of unknown clime
My mind is as a spinning dime
that knows not what it shall endure,
and I have no yardstick for time
...
with clouds for sun and sky obscure,
and I have no yardstick for time
Palpating the air like a mime
with movements jerky and unsure:
I'm lost in lands of unknown clime
My eyes covered with cobwebbed grime
of rooms left shut since age of yore
and I have no yardstick for time
I bite into bittersweet lime,
a taste my heart will swift abjure:
I'm lost in lands of unknown clime
My mind is as a spinning dime
that knows not what it shall endure,
and I have no yardstick for time
...
673 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
9th Nov 2011 12:01pm
9th Nov 2011 12:01pm
Of Father and the Nun
Breasts,lips and loins the four stations of her cross,
So sacrosanct to a self-definition devoid of self-esteem
The felt bristles of her fedora flagellate her areola
A single scintilla traverses her spine
Her concupiscent self-awareness belied by deadpan stare
Nudity, the only cloak of modesty from appraisingly disapproving eyes
She arches her head touching her soft flax against the fiery nape of her neck.
A wave of heat washes over her back in immolation
Drips of flame rush down between her thighs: her pelvis murmurs with...
So sacrosanct to a self-definition devoid of self-esteem
The felt bristles of her fedora flagellate her areola
A single scintilla traverses her spine
Her concupiscent self-awareness belied by deadpan stare
Nudity, the only cloak of modesty from appraisingly disapproving eyes
She arches her head touching her soft flax against the fiery nape of her neck.
A wave of heat washes over her back in immolation
Drips of flame rush down between her thighs: her pelvis murmurs with...
795 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
26th Jul 2011 3:23pm
26th Jul 2011 3:23pm
From the minaret
Coming from the minaret,
and wafting hazily in air,
fluid tones of clarinet,
coming from the minaret.
Notes flow in a rivulet,
from a player of great flair,
coming from the minaret,
and wafting hazily in air.
and wafting hazily in air,
fluid tones of clarinet,
coming from the minaret.
Notes flow in a rivulet,
from a player of great flair,
coming from the minaret,
and wafting hazily in air.
624 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Jul 2011 3:20pm
26th Jul 2011 3:20pm
Nostalgia
I sigh with nostalgia,
for the kingdom I once knew.
Ruins and dystopia.
I sigh with nostalgia,
for my erstwhile utopia,
all faded, gone from view.
I sigh with nostalgia,
for the kingdom I once knew.
for the kingdom I once knew.
Ruins and dystopia.
I sigh with nostalgia,
for my erstwhile utopia,
all faded, gone from view.
I sigh with nostalgia,
for the kingdom I once knew.
767 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Bonang
Page:
