Submissions by Darkbee (DB)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I try to write poetry on a wide variety of topics, sometimes easily accessible, others requiring a little more thought. I put effort into writing it so you might need to put effort into reading it. I have been published in a few local magazines.
Payback's a Bitch
769 reads
8 Comments
City Hustle Blues
Woke up this mornin',
same routine but different day.
Woke up this mornin',
same routine but different day.
There ain't no job for me around here,
but somehow gotta make my pay.
There are sirens in the distance
always somethin' goin' down.
There are sirens in the distance
always somethin' goin' down.
funny thing to me is
ain't no cop when you need one around.
There's a hooker on the corner.
There's a beggar down the street.
There's a hooker on the corner.
There a beggar down the street,
he's rootin' through a trash can,...
same routine but different day.
Woke up this mornin',
same routine but different day.
There ain't no job for me around here,
but somehow gotta make my pay.
There are sirens in the distance
always somethin' goin' down.
There are sirens in the distance
always somethin' goin' down.
funny thing to me is
ain't no cop when you need one around.
There's a hooker on the corner.
There's a beggar down the street.
There's a hooker on the corner.
There a beggar down the street,
he's rootin' through a trash can,...
904 reads
11 Comments
Save Your
For Mike's "Minutiae" challenge.
The forgotten, dirty bronze
so hard to keep tabs on
swallowed by earth-tones couch,
in wishing-well-washing-machine,
or in a decorative shelf-piece.
Why is there always one in some
ornament on a shelf?
I'm glad of the times you hide in my jean pocket,
under the rubber mat on the center console,
or cower in quiet corner of floor mats,
after I've filled up my vehicle with momentary spasm
causing the tiniest of overages.
Save me.
In the checkout line,
I give...
The forgotten, dirty bronze
so hard to keep tabs on
swallowed by earth-tones couch,
in wishing-well-washing-machine,
or in a decorative shelf-piece.
Why is there always one in some
ornament on a shelf?
I'm glad of the times you hide in my jean pocket,
under the rubber mat on the center console,
or cower in quiet corner of floor mats,
after I've filled up my vehicle with momentary spasm
causing the tiniest of overages.
Save me.
In the checkout line,
I give...
870 reads
12 Comments
Train of Thought
For Jack's "Triolet" challenge.
As hills roll by aboard the train
I think of you with deep regret
joyous smiling my lips do feign
As hills roll by aboard the train
wind mocks lone church's weather vane
empty silence when last we met
As hills roll by aboard the train
I think of you with deep regret
Triolet by DB (07/20/2011)
As hills roll by aboard the train
I think of you with deep regret
joyous smiling my lips do feign
As hills roll by aboard the train
wind mocks lone church's weather vane
empty silence when last we met
As hills roll by aboard the train
I think of you with deep regret
Triolet by DB (07/20/2011)
#regret
#triolet
861 reads
7 Comments
Stillness
small
sack
steeps
green leaves
stewing
steam spirals
from glazed ceramic
steeping
still...
By DB (07/19/2011)
sack
steeps
green leaves
stewing
steam spirals
from glazed ceramic
steeping
still...
By DB (07/19/2011)
705 reads
8 Comments
Poems About Clouds
Fluffy, cotton balls rolling by aimlessly.
The Chaise Lounges of gods and
trampolines of naughty sky spirits.
inanimate, yet immortal,
they speak to watchers in found, familiar shapes.
The age-old story of the sun-side sky.
Dank, vaguely translucent droplets colliding in quiet chaos.
Virtually weightless cradles no weight and
no rebound, just earth bound for the weighted.
They dissipate in forceful collapse
with no thoughtful intent or utterance.
The book, long been written but always worth rereading.
By DB...
The Chaise Lounges of gods and
trampolines of naughty sky spirits.
inanimate, yet immortal,
they speak to watchers in found, familiar shapes.
The age-old story of the sun-side sky.
Dank, vaguely translucent droplets colliding in quiet chaos.
Virtually weightless cradles no weight and
no rebound, just earth bound for the weighted.
They dissipate in forceful collapse
with no thoughtful intent or utterance.
The book, long been written but always worth rereading.
By DB...
660 reads
4 Comments
One in a Million
A grain of sand,
unique among the seemingly infinite,
but lost all the same
found among others
gold, brown, white and black,
but each neighboring speck no more significant than the prior
insignificant, at the mercy
of the whipping winds,
to be displaced as they see fit
the grain, at rest, is home
but solitude takes no interest in sharing feelings,
one particle among millions
a grain of sand,
no more, no less.
It merely is.
By DB (07/14/2011)
unique among the seemingly infinite,
but lost all the same
found among others
gold, brown, white and black,
but each neighboring speck no more significant than the prior
insignificant, at the mercy
of the whipping winds,
to be displaced as they see fit
the grain, at rest, is home
but solitude takes no interest in sharing feelings,
one particle among millions
a grain of sand,
no more, no less.
It merely is.
By DB (07/14/2011)
679 reads
3 Comments
Behind the Curtain
For anandosen's "Raught-Caught" challenge
You charm the light
with every click.
You own the catwalk
with every step.
You steal eyes
with every glance,
but it is a deserted glance
from behind the curtain.
Your world is dirty, and not Hefner dirty,
but stained with shoe prints:
of step-stool giants with scarves and stripes,
who look over you and down at you
when it suits the season,
and high-heel indentations,
not quite sharp enough to pierce the skin
but leave behind small scars just the same. ...
You charm the light
with every click.
You own the catwalk
with every step.
You steal eyes
with every glance,
but it is a deserted glance
from behind the curtain.
Your world is dirty, and not Hefner dirty,
but stained with shoe prints:
of step-stool giants with scarves and stripes,
who look over you and down at you
when it suits the season,
and high-heel indentations,
not quite sharp enough to pierce the skin
but leave behind small scars just the same. ...
911 reads
4 Comments
LOL on the Text Line
For Violet's "I want Cliche'... A Terrible Challenge" challenge
FML!!!
sup babe?
dat bitch callie
wat she done?
startin roomerz
bout u?
nah, bout ur mom. yeah bout me!!
wat she say?
i fcked Luke Chambers in the locka room
its true tho!
i know but i dont want ppl thinkin ima slut
ur my slut tho
Lukey, ur such a jerk sumtimes. lol <3
FML!!!
sup babe?
dat bitch callie
wat she done?
startin roomerz
bout u?
nah, bout ur mom. yeah bout me!!
wat she say?
i fcked Luke Chambers in the locka room
its true tho!
i know but i dont want ppl thinkin ima slut
ur my slut tho
Lukey, ur such a jerk sumtimes. lol <3
952 reads
4 Comments
Dead Line
Bowie and Mercury sang it best;
pushing down on me
red-tape-express ride
through paper mountains
all downhill from here.
Bring on the Clone Army.
I'll type, while myself dictates,
faster than a Japanese bullet.
All aboard!
Slow motion train-wreck captivates all,
except scurrying rat-riders.
Tickets please!
pushing down on me,
under pressure.
By DB (07/05/2011)
For LunaObscura's "The Great Decline" challenge.
pushing down on me
red-tape-express ride
through paper mountains
all downhill from here.
Bring on the Clone Army.
I'll type, while myself dictates,
faster than a Japanese bullet.
All aboard!
Slow motion train-wreck captivates all,
except scurrying rat-riders.
Tickets please!
pushing down on me,
under pressure.
By DB (07/05/2011)
For LunaObscura's "The Great Decline" challenge.
797 reads
10 Comments
The Tale of the Young Apprentice
Grandpa
head rests on hand
eyes glancing this way and
that, as he surveys the chess board.
Thinking.
Grandpa
taught him to play.
A boy of about six
too many pieces on the board
poor boy.
Grandpa
died and the boy
wept. He played on and still.
He has a son, there will be no
checkmate.
Cinquains By DB (09/08/2006)
head rests on hand
eyes glancing this way and
that, as he surveys the chess board.
Thinking.
Grandpa
taught him to play.
A boy of about six
too many pieces on the board
poor boy.
Grandpa
died and the boy
wept. He played on and still.
He has a son, there will be no
checkmate.
Cinquains By DB (09/08/2006)
675 reads
2 Comments
Quit While You're Ahead
When your arrogance
has more passport stamps than you do,
you know it's time to quit.
When your ego
has its own shadow, casting over
those you look, frown, upon,
It's time to call it a day.
If humility, all disheveled
walked up to you in the Subway and
asked for some change,
merely enough for a cup of Joe,
would you have any to spare?
If the selfless, visibly anxious
tapped you on the shoulder
and asked you for directions,
to the nearest place of worship.
Would you proclaim them
your followers, and continue on...
has more passport stamps than you do,
you know it's time to quit.
When your ego
has its own shadow, casting over
those you look, frown, upon,
It's time to call it a day.
If humility, all disheveled
walked up to you in the Subway and
asked for some change,
merely enough for a cup of Joe,
would you have any to spare?
If the selfless, visibly anxious
tapped you on the shoulder
and asked you for directions,
to the nearest place of worship.
Would you proclaim them
your followers, and continue on...
1081 reads
12 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Darkbee (DB)