Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write poetry on a range of subjects and in a range of styles. My privacy is extremely important to me, though I hope that you enjoy my work and that I enjoy yours.
DARK POEM
Published
12th May 2022 1:07pm
12th May 2022 1:07pm
The Party Favour
That's all she was, I suppose:
A piece of chocolate in a bowl,
handed about as a thanks
for attending the bash.
A piece of chocolate in a bowl,
handed about as a thanks
for attending the bash.
#violence
#abuse
279 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
11th May 2022 8:30pm
11th May 2022 8:30pm
Gaslight
You might not remember
what was done by gaslight
but I do.
The figures in the frosted glass
are pressed upon my brain,
no matter how hard you force the lie through.
You might not remember the light in its sconce,
and that’s why
I’ll never love you.
what was done by gaslight
but I do.
The figures in the frosted glass
are pressed upon my brain,
no matter how hard you force the lie through.
You might not remember the light in its sconce,
and that’s why
I’ll never love you.
#abuse
267 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
11th May 2022 2:44pm
11th May 2022 2:44pm
Coming Out to Your Dad
you had a chance
to make me love you,
a chance to be able to know who I am.
but you blew it,
each and every time
you almost put me in the ground.
to make me love you,
a chance to be able to know who I am.
but you blew it,
each and every time
you almost put me in the ground.
#gay
246 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
11th May 2022 11:11am
11th May 2022 11:11am
Not a Bad Word
Not a bad word about Jim, I thought,
until I died and saw the light
shining out an arse or two.
“Always thought no-one could say
a single bad word about him.”
That one hurt the most,
coming from Juliet,
for whom I’d always buy a cup of tea.
until I died and saw the light
shining out an arse or two.
“Always thought no-one could say
a single bad word about him.”
That one hurt the most,
coming from Juliet,
for whom I’d always buy a cup of tea.
#spiritual
295 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
10th May 2022 8:24pm
10th May 2022 8:24pm
Saying
There’s a saying among gay men
that we process it all in our 30s,
can finally mature
once youth has drawn back in its blades.
And like any saying or theme
it filters out
regardless of the heart in its way.
that we process it all in our 30s,
can finally mature
once youth has drawn back in its blades.
And like any saying or theme
it filters out
regardless of the heart in its way.
#LifeStruggles
235 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th May 2022 2:18pm
10th May 2022 2:18pm
Masculine
I thought I couldn’t be a man
but I was just as violent
as any girl-chaser
and just as in need
of something to hit
but I was just as violent
as any girl-chaser
and just as in need
of something to hit
#masculinity
340 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
10th May 2022 11:22am
10th May 2022 11:22am
Little Cruelties
I used to think a lot
about killing him,
not serious, just fantasy,
to make him see
what it was like
to crawl backwards in sheer terror
as hands outstretched and mask in place
towards you walk with murderous intent.
Or when he held my throat and head
across the bathtub as the water gushed
and all that I could think was “this is it;
he’s finally done, or going to do,
the thing that I deserve, and am.”
I thought of killing him,
with chair and knife and implement extreme.
To switch our bodies, boy to man ...
about killing him,
not serious, just fantasy,
to make him see
what it was like
to crawl backwards in sheer terror
as hands outstretched and mask in place
towards you walk with murderous intent.
Or when he held my throat and head
across the bathtub as the water gushed
and all that I could think was “this is it;
he’s finally done, or going to do,
the thing that I deserve, and am.”
I thought of killing him,
with chair and knife and implement extreme.
To switch our bodies, boy to man ...
#abuse
#bullying
#DomesticViolence #manipulation
#DomesticViolence #manipulation
342 reads
6 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
9th May 2022 7:14am
9th May 2022 7:14am
a haunted house
a haunted house is just a place
where thoughts and feelings go to stay
and freely live inside those walls
where thoughts and feelings go to stay
and freely live inside those walls
#ghosts
273 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
8th May 2022 7:52pm
8th May 2022 7:52pm
The Native Thing
there was a time and place
where priests of Catholic bent,
from France, would try
to baptise Native kids,
although of course the Native heart
rebelled and called it blasphemy,
just in their Native tongue.
the priests would then seek other forms
of ritual and with a wet sponge up
their sleeves
would glisten baby heads
and mumble rosary.
a wicked thing, perhaps,
to deny a tribe their tribal rights.
but in their hearts, the priests,
there a was Native thing as well:
the flame of love -
the...
where priests of Catholic bent,
from France, would try
to baptise Native kids,
although of course the Native heart
rebelled and called it blasphemy,
just in their Native tongue.
the priests would then seek other forms
of ritual and with a wet sponge up
their sleeves
would glisten baby heads
and mumble rosary.
a wicked thing, perhaps,
to deny a tribe their tribal rights.
but in their hearts, the priests,
there a was Native thing as well:
the flame of love -
the...
#love
#religion
245 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
8th May 2022 4:50am
8th May 2022 4:50am
the child inside
the grave is never bottomless
regardless of how deep it’s dug
and even if there’s little hope
of reaching its bottom
and rescuing
the child from the box
regardless of how deep it’s dug
and even if there’s little hope
of reaching its bottom
and rescuing
the child from the box
#LifeStruggles
244 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th May 2022 2:29am
8th May 2022 2:29am
Wrinkles
I keep a picture of myself
in my wallet’s display section
and when I say “myself” I mean
the child that I was and am
the little centre staring back at me
from out a rough-edged photograph
retaining shy and gentle grin
although the creases crack the skin
in my wallet’s display section
and when I say “myself” I mean
the child that I was and am
the little centre staring back at me
from out a rough-edged photograph
retaining shy and gentle grin
although the creases crack the skin
#identity
253 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
