Submissions by Dulcea
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
~esoteric microcosm of inspired vibrations~
Shadows of Fear
Her feet
could hardly
keep up
with her
heartbeat.
Shadows played
their fear-inducing
games.
Every gust
of wind,
the sudden
choking hand
of the unknown -
grasping her throat,
seizing her breath.
She may as well
have been blind,
as she couldn’t
see a thing,
and every gust
of wind
assumed
to generate
from tattered
demon wings,
whose maleficent motions
caused a crawling
of her skin.
In foolishness
& haste,
I...
could hardly
keep up
with her
heartbeat.
Shadows played
their fear-inducing
games.
Every gust
of wind,
the sudden
choking hand
of the unknown -
grasping her throat,
seizing her breath.
She may as well
have been blind,
as she couldn’t
see a thing,
and every gust
of wind
assumed
to generate
from tattered
demon wings,
whose maleficent motions
caused a crawling
of her skin.
In foolishness
& haste,
I...
680 reads
7 Comments
Midnight Hour of Power
The midnight clock
Levitated upon
The surreal vigor of
The Great Voice,
Discovered accidentally.
Landmarks staked mentally.
Marked within me.
Muscle memory.
Lifted gently.
Levitated upon
The surreal vigor of
The Great Voice,
Discovered accidentally.
Landmarks staked mentally.
Marked within me.
Muscle memory.
Lifted gently.
633 reads
3 Comments
Worlds of Wonder
May mesmerizing moon-wine
loosen your lips.
Important, my journey.
Demanding, my quest.
"Detail, I need them quick!"
The things you can hear with a curious ear.
You'd better heed what you hear!
Careful listenings
of cautious whisperings
in haunts of travellers
from lands unknown.
Guided by megalith stones
to silver fountains
and sacred bones.
Lotuses exposed
and tethered with a lucid rope.
Within sunset cites
(the shimmering mirage)
you'd be lucky to awake.
Torch-lit paths...
loosen your lips.
Important, my journey.
Demanding, my quest.
"Detail, I need them quick!"
The things you can hear with a curious ear.
You'd better heed what you hear!
Careful listenings
of cautious whisperings
in haunts of travellers
from lands unknown.
Guided by megalith stones
to silver fountains
and sacred bones.
Lotuses exposed
and tethered with a lucid rope.
Within sunset cites
(the shimmering mirage)
you'd be lucky to awake.
Torch-lit paths...
599 reads
5 Comments
Sentiments Towards the Non-Sentimental
The more I get to know certain people, the more I realize I never really knew them.
I watch as those who I once considered “good but somewhat distraught” steal, betray, lie, and break the hearts of others with which I’ve made an acquaintance - who I consider friends. But do I really have any friends? Would any of them ever drop anything for my sake? Is there anything in this world for which they find self-sacrifice worthy? Today’s average people have so little that they live or would die for. Sure, I may be inconsequential to them (I can deal. I grow indifferent), but it seems to me...
I watch as those who I once considered “good but somewhat distraught” steal, betray, lie, and break the hearts of others with which I’ve made an acquaintance - who I consider friends. But do I really have any friends? Would any of them ever drop anything for my sake? Is there anything in this world for which they find self-sacrifice worthy? Today’s average people have so little that they live or would die for. Sure, I may be inconsequential to them (I can deal. I grow indifferent), but it seems to me...
606 reads
3 Comments
Foreshadows of Fall
Chilled bare feet
on midnight porches.
Citronella oil torches.
Bonfire ablaze.
Mazes of maise.
The brisk embrace.
The brief caress
foreshadows
bountiful hues
of pleasant
autumn days.
------------------------------------------------------
entry in competition "the ending of summer beginning of fall"
on midnight porches.
Citronella oil torches.
Bonfire ablaze.
Mazes of maise.
The brisk embrace.
The brief caress
foreshadows
bountiful hues
of pleasant
autumn days.
------------------------------------------------------
entry in competition "the ending of summer beginning of fall"
617 reads
3 Comments
In the Center, Is Man
Heaven & Hell are merely varying tunes.
Dissonance for the dissidents.
Conducting agony & doom.
Passionate.
Diligent.
Scrupulous.
Hidden in attics
of incredulous idealists.
&
You've wisely left soom room
to accommodate the shifting weight
of things taken past tombs;
Through uppermost gates
where spiraling
infinite gardens bloom.
Trees
whose leaves
can reach
the Firmament
must have
infernal
roots.
Dissonance for the dissidents.
Conducting agony & doom.
Passionate.
Diligent.
Scrupulous.
Hidden in attics
of incredulous idealists.
&
You've wisely left soom room
to accommodate the shifting weight
of things taken past tombs;
Through uppermost gates
where spiraling
infinite gardens bloom.
Trees
whose leaves
can reach
the Firmament
must have
infernal
roots.
566 reads
2 Comments
Katasterismoi (Constellations)
Rotated 'round out-reaching souls.
Ephemeral cyclical nights.
Panoramic murals of
dead kings & beasts
(of legend and allegory)
peering through time
The enlightening eyes
of those no longer alive.
Ephemeral cyclical nights.
Panoramic murals of
dead kings & beasts
(of legend and allegory)
peering through time
The enlightening eyes
of those no longer alive.
542 reads
5 Comments
Fetishize ©
The god
of a moment.
The power of present
& of presence
& tending to prescribe
personality & purpose..
Perfectly pliable
& permeated.
Perpetuating patronage
& prayers of the past.
Of faith & of clay.
Alive. Awake!
Are you ready
for what you have made?
of a moment.
The power of present
& of presence
& tending to prescribe
personality & purpose..
Perfectly pliable
& permeated.
Perpetuating patronage
& prayers of the past.
Of faith & of clay.
Alive. Awake!
Are you ready
for what you have made?
585 reads
2 Comments
Waiting to Sting ©
I want
to tear out
your heart
&
my hair.
You make
me aware
of a
fiery scorpion
in me.
I'm waiting to sting . . .
Waiting to indulge in destructive deeds.
to tear out
your heart
&
my hair.
You make
me aware
of a
fiery scorpion
in me.
I'm waiting to sting . . .
Waiting to indulge in destructive deeds.
501 reads
1 Comment
Dream Quest ©
inspired by the world of H.P. Lovecraft*
It's tucked into your bed,
your bound silver thread,
sewn in fleshy cavities,
where hearts do beat.
Pulled astray
from the light of day,
Out of the grey.
Of wonder and dismay.
Plucked just to make minds play,
to resonate dreamscapes.
Drawn through . . .
Lured to . . .
Remembering the nights of before.
Allies of surreal galore.
Determined to find your way
to romanticized cities,
the splendor of which
has carved a deep wish
and caused you to crave
this exalted...
It's tucked into your bed,
your bound silver thread,
sewn in fleshy cavities,
where hearts do beat.
Pulled astray
from the light of day,
Out of the grey.
Of wonder and dismay.
Plucked just to make minds play,
to resonate dreamscapes.
Drawn through . . .
Lured to . . .
Remembering the nights of before.
Allies of surreal galore.
Determined to find your way
to romanticized cities,
the splendor of which
has carved a deep wish
and caused you to crave
this exalted...
658 reads
2 Comments
Westward Sun ©
Closing time
Upon the dawn.
When the allure emerged.
Golden fadings.
Flies twinkling.
Harmony of Otherworlds.
Listen to blackbirds.
Frequencies of guiding songs.
Light your candle.
It's coming to life!
More steadily,
As dwindling light.
Draw horizons into your chest.
Adoring hailings to the west.
The glory of the dusk
Never fails to impress.
Keep all your gold -
Not what I behold
To be the finest element.
Sure, the day's delight
But noontime's far too bright.
I much prefer a precursor to night.
...
Upon the dawn.
When the allure emerged.
Golden fadings.
Flies twinkling.
Harmony of Otherworlds.
Listen to blackbirds.
Frequencies of guiding songs.
Light your candle.
It's coming to life!
More steadily,
As dwindling light.
Draw horizons into your chest.
Adoring hailings to the west.
The glory of the dusk
Never fails to impress.
Keep all your gold -
Not what I behold
To be the finest element.
Sure, the day's delight
But noontime's far too bright.
I much prefer a precursor to night.
...
569 reads
1 Comment
Stoic Moment I
To die, you are deprived of nothing.
(Moments that you never had.)
Fear not anything that’s coming.
May my misfortunes make me glad.
(Moments that you never had.)
Fear not anything that’s coming.
May my misfortunes make me glad.
518 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Dulcea