Submissions by Donchonorgo (Louis Lee Warner)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th Jan 2010 1:54pm
8th Jan 2010 1:54pm
Totem.
I am nailed to the centre of a rotating wheel,
With nine unique podiums protruding erratically from the middle-
Each one has upon it a sacred animal,
With cables and leads winding from their limbs, a conducting menagerie:
They feed me from their fertile elements,
But I am overfed, and cannot excel in any given extremity-
I exist only as a puffy average.
Beneath my wheel is a hanging cage, bearing within the solemn Serpent,
She will cry to fill her bowl, and she will sleep to kill her prey.
Above my head is the dancing Seal, frolicking and...
With nine unique podiums protruding erratically from the middle-
Each one has upon it a sacred animal,
With cables and leads winding from their limbs, a conducting menagerie:
They feed me from their fertile elements,
But I am overfed, and cannot excel in any given extremity-
I exist only as a puffy average.
Beneath my wheel is a hanging cage, bearing within the solemn Serpent,
She will cry to fill her bowl, and she will sleep to kill her prey.
Above my head is the dancing Seal, frolicking and...
1004 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Jan 2010 1:52pm
8th Jan 2010 1:52pm
Frozen.
Winter blanket, come to me-
Bearing all your threaded tongue.
Winter blanket, smother me-
Melt the snow with filaments.
In this blizzard, white with prudery,
There is no hope for warming protection.
Strangers find the attire so garish:
Orifice sewn into fleshy linen,
A mantle that writhes with wanton passion
Is all I need to survive the ice-
To cover the desolate, shrivelled sapling:
Pinkly roots - once nibbled by Eros.
For without you, my form will be iced
And my status as a mortal will be put
Permanently Into stasis....
Bearing all your threaded tongue.
Winter blanket, smother me-
Melt the snow with filaments.
In this blizzard, white with prudery,
There is no hope for warming protection.
Strangers find the attire so garish:
Orifice sewn into fleshy linen,
A mantle that writhes with wanton passion
Is all I need to survive the ice-
To cover the desolate, shrivelled sapling:
Pinkly roots - once nibbled by Eros.
For without you, my form will be iced
And my status as a mortal will be put
Permanently Into stasis....
1030 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th Jan 2010 00:53am
8th Jan 2010 00:53am
Gallery.
Today I went to the gallery; I wore my spectacles so I could see the shapes clearly:
A portrait in the gallery, blessed with a platinum frame,
It shimmers under the display lights like a spoilt child,
Ignorant to dimness encasing the glow - the shade around a star.
No man can agree from what the paper had been made,
But, if something looked white enough,
Then it was credible to the curators.
For it was, of course, the grotesque truth upon in that invited his sisters to flock:
The shadowy King with fingers that sharpened at the tips,
Like...
A portrait in the gallery, blessed with a platinum frame,
It shimmers under the display lights like a spoilt child,
Ignorant to dimness encasing the glow - the shade around a star.
No man can agree from what the paper had been made,
But, if something looked white enough,
Then it was credible to the curators.
For it was, of course, the grotesque truth upon in that invited his sisters to flock:
The shadowy King with fingers that sharpened at the tips,
Like...
945 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th Jan 2010 00:51am
8th Jan 2010 00:51am
The Church.
Doors gape open:
Bony wood-beams arching, a labyrinth of cloisters,
With articulation of breathing - wheezing - vibrating.
Canals carve up the hierarchy of the village:
The leader sits on his pelvis chair -
Sacrums of gold and silver.
He acts as the holy vessel to the outer-lands
Creaking from misuse and dripping burgundy.
Stapes shiver in reflex,
Knell, Wedding Bell, Knell again.
The peasants sleep on the coccyx-tissue,
Soaking up the leftover maroons-
Which they rapidly suck with parched lips,
Rusty jaws.
...
Bony wood-beams arching, a labyrinth of cloisters,
With articulation of breathing - wheezing - vibrating.
Canals carve up the hierarchy of the village:
The leader sits on his pelvis chair -
Sacrums of gold and silver.
He acts as the holy vessel to the outer-lands
Creaking from misuse and dripping burgundy.
Stapes shiver in reflex,
Knell, Wedding Bell, Knell again.
The peasants sleep on the coccyx-tissue,
Soaking up the leftover maroons-
Which they rapidly suck with parched lips,
Rusty jaws.
...
870 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Jan 2010 2:59pm
6th Jan 2010 2:59pm
Coffin.
I am trapped in a tomb - one knitted of straw,
My legs sewn together like a mud-covered mermaid,
I am cursed by the high and praised by the meagre.
I am beyond god - I am beyond human.
My hair is in pieces, like tongues of a snake,
And venom drips from my scalp into my fervent eyes-
Causing them to glaze like condensation on two windows,
Making my discernment misty and distorted.
My arms are spread, homage to a misguided sun,
Sacrificing my weaved flesh for talons of the fearful,
They may come, or they may not.
Now I am more...
My legs sewn together like a mud-covered mermaid,
I am cursed by the high and praised by the meagre.
I am beyond god - I am beyond human.
My hair is in pieces, like tongues of a snake,
And venom drips from my scalp into my fervent eyes-
Causing them to glaze like condensation on two windows,
Making my discernment misty and distorted.
My arms are spread, homage to a misguided sun,
Sacrificing my weaved flesh for talons of the fearful,
They may come, or they may not.
Now I am more...
1001 reads
7 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
6th Jan 2010 2:57pm
6th Jan 2010 2:57pm
Gas.
Entombing fashion of the ages,
Enforcing air to be courageous,
Inflated pupils and diluted rote,
A Mollusk nature saves the throat.
Leathery bubbles of empty thesis,
The nation relying on toxikinesis:
That if a pin prick - formed of gasses:
Struck the grey wombs of the masses,
Their hearty spirits shall be enthralled,
But on the streets, their bodies sprawled.
And whilst ascending from their cadaver -
Escaping the walls of the engorged larva,
If one was to turn around and see,
Upon the streets - the fleshy debris.
They’d see...
Enforcing air to be courageous,
Inflated pupils and diluted rote,
A Mollusk nature saves the throat.
Leathery bubbles of empty thesis,
The nation relying on toxikinesis:
That if a pin prick - formed of gasses:
Struck the grey wombs of the masses,
Their hearty spirits shall be enthralled,
But on the streets, their bodies sprawled.
And whilst ascending from their cadaver -
Escaping the walls of the engorged larva,
If one was to turn around and see,
Upon the streets - the fleshy debris.
They’d see...
1048 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Donchonorgo (Louis Lee Warner)
