Submissions by Bowtruckled (Shelley Marie)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Images: Gather the smoke from the candle into a jar so that it can be viewed plainly from all angles.
Listening
Closing her eyes,
she feels the music
flow inside of her,
but the path
from ear to heart
is treacherous,
the ups and downs
are sudden
and make her stomach
jump
©Shelley Marie
This was just something that came to my mind and so I quickly jotted it down. My computer currently is too full of photos and music to save any files so I posted it here.
she feels the music
flow inside of her,
but the path
from ear to heart
is treacherous,
the ups and downs
are sudden
and make her stomach
jump
©Shelley Marie
This was just something that came to my mind and so I quickly jotted it down. My computer currently is too full of photos and music to save any files so I posted it here.
1027 reads
2 Comments
Spring at a Bus Stop
Garbage spills out of the waste bin,
paper cups roll on the sidewalk,
the smell of decay, softened mud and
melted snow, cigarette butts
white against the brown grass –
cancer sticks.
(this poem is a work in progress - honest opinions are most welcome!)
©Shelley Marie
paper cups roll on the sidewalk,
the smell of decay, softened mud and
melted snow, cigarette butts
white against the brown grass –
cancer sticks.
(this poem is a work in progress - honest opinions are most welcome!)
©Shelley Marie
628 reads
0 Comments
Walls
What’s going to happen
when I let the walls fall
and you see me standing
on the other side?
You said you’d wait till then
on the other side
waiting
waiting for me.
Why?
Why do you wait for me?
I know you’re being real
but I also know
there’s something deeper –
and I think it makes you nervous.
Will it ever be found?
What will happen if it is?
You know, I’m in love. So are you.
That’s why I’m not sure we should do this.
when I let the walls fall
and you see me standing
on the other side?
You said you’d wait till then
on the other side
waiting
waiting for me.
Why?
Why do you wait for me?
I know you’re being real
but I also know
there’s something deeper –
and I think it makes you nervous.
Will it ever be found?
What will happen if it is?
You know, I’m in love. So are you.
That’s why I’m not sure we should do this.
621 reads
0 Comments
Damaged
I saw a run-down home:
cheap and tattered curtains,
they were yellow and stained,
the grass was overgrown,
the wood paneling on the house
was missing pieces,
I think the paint was blue,
but so much of it had chipped off
it was hard to tell.
The concrete steps leading up
to the open, damaged door
were littered with cigarette butts,
empty bottles, empty cans,
cans of cigarette butts –
one was tipped over and spilling,
here she sat:
her body was large and swollen –
she was pregnant,
but aside from...
cheap and tattered curtains,
they were yellow and stained,
the grass was overgrown,
the wood paneling on the house
was missing pieces,
I think the paint was blue,
but so much of it had chipped off
it was hard to tell.
The concrete steps leading up
to the open, damaged door
were littered with cigarette butts,
empty bottles, empty cans,
cans of cigarette butts –
one was tipped over and spilling,
here she sat:
her body was large and swollen –
she was pregnant,
but aside from...
700 reads
4 Comments
(untitled)
the playlist has ended
in the speakers on my ears
silence in-between heartbeats
this is all I can hear
but my finger hits play
the songs start again
and I wait for the sounds
to bring words to this pen
© Bowtruckled
in the speakers on my ears
silence in-between heartbeats
this is all I can hear
but my finger hits play
the songs start again
and I wait for the sounds
to bring words to this pen
© Bowtruckled
628 reads
0 Comments
The Way I Love You
The way I love you
is like the unfolding
of the petals on a spring blossom –
new, gentle, and willing
to open up in the light,
sway with the changing winds,
and hold on through the storms
that bend the bough.
©Shelley Marie
I'm not really one for love poems... but we all need a little love now and then :)
is like the unfolding
of the petals on a spring blossom –
new, gentle, and willing
to open up in the light,
sway with the changing winds,
and hold on through the storms
that bend the bough.
©Shelley Marie
I'm not really one for love poems... but we all need a little love now and then :)
1198 reads
4 Comments
Madness
My vision becomes blurry:
the impulse begs for control,
muscles twitch in anticipation;
my knees cannot withstand the quaking –
a crack resounds as bone meets stone.
I cry because it is too much to bear!
Grabbing my shirt by the neck,
I rip it – as much as I can –
I destroy it.
I look down: rags, scars
and my nakedness.
Someone gasps,
another whispers.
My vision clears:
I see them all watching,
staring, and gawking
as I wither within –
exposed before them.
But then – ...
the impulse begs for control,
muscles twitch in anticipation;
my knees cannot withstand the quaking –
a crack resounds as bone meets stone.
I cry because it is too much to bear!
Grabbing my shirt by the neck,
I rip it – as much as I can –
I destroy it.
I look down: rags, scars
and my nakedness.
Someone gasps,
another whispers.
My vision clears:
I see them all watching,
staring, and gawking
as I wither within –
exposed before them.
But then – ...
897 reads
3 Comments
The Storm
In the forests,
the woody ancients
bend their brittle spines,
creaking and cracking.
In the streets,
the masses
beneath their umbrellas
reach upwards suddenly,
as their protection
is plucked from them.
©Shelley Marie
the woody ancients
bend their brittle spines,
creaking and cracking.
In the streets,
the masses
beneath their umbrellas
reach upwards suddenly,
as their protection
is plucked from them.
©Shelley Marie
747 reads
4 Comments
With A Ghost
Silence perches on my shoulder,
while the cold rubs a curling finger
down my back.
©Shelley Marie
I went out on a limb for this one. Honest feedback is appreciated!
while the cold rubs a curling finger
down my back.
©Shelley Marie
I went out on a limb for this one. Honest feedback is appreciated!
825 reads
6 Comments
Noose
A rope moans with weight as it slowly rotates
the delicate form it was given as prey:
Her eyes are bloody, yellow, and bulging;
a cloth over her lips hides her
gaping mouth – her last scream
was silenced. Her thin arms are snapped,
bound behind her, trails of blood trace her
legs, and her toes drown in a scarlet stain
beneath her.
© Shelley Marie 2013..
the delicate form it was given as prey:
Her eyes are bloody, yellow, and bulging;
a cloth over her lips hides her
gaping mouth – her last scream
was silenced. Her thin arms are snapped,
bound behind her, trails of blood trace her
legs, and her toes drown in a scarlet stain
beneath her.
© Shelley Marie 2013..
776 reads
2 Comments
Three Young Boys
Three young boys sat
in the wicker porch swing
swinging just enough
to cause a creak
in the weathered chains,
an easy summer’s night
wind teased each head of hair
while in the silence
each young mind cast a wish
upon the star that could be seen
smearing itself
upon a blackened canvas.
©Shelley Marie 2012
in the wicker porch swing
swinging just enough
to cause a creak
in the weathered chains,
an easy summer’s night
wind teased each head of hair
while in the silence
each young mind cast a wish
upon the star that could be seen
smearing itself
upon a blackened canvas.
©Shelley Marie 2012
689 reads
4 Comments
Great Blue Heron
When the sun rises over the eastern hills
and glides across the glassy water
of the Shuswap in the morning
he is stalking his reflection in the shallows
his neck recoiled to his breast
surveying himself in discovery
singing grotesquely.
©Shelley Marie 2012
and glides across the glassy water
of the Shuswap in the morning
he is stalking his reflection in the shallows
his neck recoiled to his breast
surveying himself in discovery
singing grotesquely.
©Shelley Marie 2012
1013 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Bowtruckled (Shelley Marie)