Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction “Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
SELF POEM
Published
24th May 2020 2:27am
24th May 2020 2:27am
Dandelion (A Study of Self)
a turbulent
sea of
vibrant,
yellow florets
grow with
natural dissipation
they never
consider that
some
find them to
be a blight upon
the civilized
palate-
an irksome weed
requiring
annihilation
despite this notion
of noxious
impropriety, there
lies a genus of
prescriptive
healing
properties
the seedhead,
a magic
wish maker, is
cunning in its
defiance- a
light wisp of
breath
scatters the
tiny pods ...
sea of
vibrant,
yellow florets
grow with
natural dissipation
they never
consider that
some
find them to
be a blight upon
the civilized
palate-
an irksome weed
requiring
annihilation
despite this notion
of noxious
impropriety, there
lies a genus of
prescriptive
healing
properties
the seedhead,
a magic
wish maker, is
cunning in its
defiance- a
light wisp of
breath
scatters the
tiny pods ...
#flowers
#nature
#LifeCycle
#metaphor
#SelfWorth
75 reads
11 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th May 2020 11:46pm
20th May 2020 11:46pm
I Will Not Go Quietly to My Death
Moments are now
defined by a
magician waving a wand
of clandestine
magic; alakazam!
little white
rabbits are turned
to fear.
If your hands will not
touch me,
I will acquiesce. Your form
drawn in, shriveled
and drying- do
you grieve
our absence?
I am not a weepy,
bleeding heart, nor have
I cared so much to feel
yours beating
against my chest; but…
the monotony of day
after day after
day of deliberate
isolation changes
one’s soul.
A sudden,...
defined by a
magician waving a wand
of clandestine
magic; alakazam!
little white
rabbits are turned
to fear.
If your hands will not
touch me,
I will acquiesce. Your form
drawn in, shriveled
and drying- do
you grieve
our absence?
I am not a weepy,
bleeding heart, nor have
I cared so much to feel
yours beating
against my chest; but…
the monotony of day
after day after
day of deliberate
isolation changes
one’s soul.
A sudden,...
#TruthOfLife
#illness
#determination #pandemic
#determination #pandemic
81 reads
26 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Jan 2020 1:12pm
12th Jan 2020 1:12pm
coming undone
come in and take a seat.
join me for this little confessional.
I’m laying down honesty, because
why hold a lie? we can’t wade
through water this thick with
concrete feet. too many things
have become too hot to touch.
our house burns a strange fury—
its quiet but it hangs in the
air, heavy and stifling.
it’s no secret I’ve changed.
you—so used to a specific me. So used to
it in fact, that you are fully engaged with
your typical modus operandi.
I clean mud from the silk,
but stains are...
join me for this little confessional.
I’m laying down honesty, because
why hold a lie? we can’t wade
through water this thick with
concrete feet. too many things
have become too hot to touch.
our house burns a strange fury—
its quiet but it hangs in the
air, heavy and stifling.
it’s no secret I’ve changed.
you—so used to a specific me. So used to
it in fact, that you are fully engaged with
your typical modus operandi.
I clean mud from the silk,
but stains are...
#relationships
210 reads
20 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
11th Jan 2020 1:45pm
11th Jan 2020 1:45pm
Extradimensional
Trouble is, the veil has always
been thin—
one hand weaves its weird
magic inside the nether world;
meanwhile, feet are
planted in this desolate reality.
Eyes assimilate imposing forms—
they creep around the bends.
Nothing corrupt will come of it.
The light is bright enough
to keep the darkness
outside the window—
Glaring {gnashing teeth}
chest heaving liquid
skin, slick like oil.
Fascination drives curiosity.
Sometimes, these hands touch
things they shouldn’t.
been thin—
one hand weaves its weird
magic inside the nether world;
meanwhile, feet are
planted in this desolate reality.
Eyes assimilate imposing forms—
they creep around the bends.
Nothing corrupt will come of it.
The light is bright enough
to keep the darkness
outside the window—
Glaring {gnashing teeth}
chest heaving liquid
skin, slick like oil.
Fascination drives curiosity.
Sometimes, these hands touch
things they shouldn’t.
#death
145 reads
23 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Nov 2019 3:39pm
7th Nov 2019 3:39pm
The Random Things I Think About {exhibit A}
I always take care
to be gentle,
so not to pull
your already
fading hair.
So not to burn
your soft, thin
skin.
So not to rap
your head with
the hard plastic dryer.
Typically you look
peaceful,
with an occasional mix
of ever-so-slight
irritation.
I roll the brush around,
focused and
contemplative;
wondering sometimes
if you remember.
I think of the silent
scream that rose
in my chest, stopped
short at my throat.
The pain of hair
yanked at...
to be gentle,
so not to pull
your already
fading hair.
So not to burn
your soft, thin
skin.
So not to rap
your head with
the hard plastic dryer.
Typically you look
peaceful,
with an occasional mix
of ever-so-slight
irritation.
I roll the brush around,
focused and
contemplative;
wondering sometimes
if you remember.
I think of the silent
scream that rose
in my chest, stopped
short at my throat.
The pain of hair
yanked at...
#childhood
#memories
#SelfWorth
247 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Nov 2019 1:23am
2nd Nov 2019 1:23am
Don’t Bother
Tears become
Locked in my throat
Like a stone; ran
Roughshod
Around
My
Inability
To
Ever
Speak my
Deepest fear.
For here, we
Live
Under
A silver lining;
Devised
By one who
Seeks
To
Avoid the harsh
Glare of
Reality.
I live in
A hell,
Ripe with
“How are you”—
while
Drowning
In closed ears.
Locked in my throat
Like a stone; ran
Roughshod
Around
My
Inability
To
Ever
Speak my
Deepest fear.
For here, we
Live
Under
A silver lining;
Devised
By one who
Seeks
To
Avoid the harsh
Glare of
Reality.
I live in
A hell,
Ripe with
“How are you”—
while
Drowning
In closed ears.
#sadness
265 reads
SELF POEM
Published
27th Oct 2019 8:12pm
27th Oct 2019 8:12pm
Grey Walls
I’m done with the
lukewarm
bath of
“checked out”
that
makes up
your
everyday existence.
Pick your
fucking
path
and start
walking.
lukewarm
bath of
“checked out”
that
makes up
your
everyday existence.
Pick your
fucking
path
and start
walking.
#SelfReflection
195 reads
SELF POEM
Published
26th Oct 2019 4:03pm
26th Oct 2019 4:03pm
Reminders
I’ve never processed death
in an average way. The loss
hurts—
but death happens. you go on.
Enter cancer.
If you had
any lingering holdouts
about your
mortality...
...you don’t now.
Enter the group.
We are
all there for the
same purpose. United
by one common thread.
{Survivors}
You see it enough that
you can pull on
any-ole scrap
of cover to hide
your shrieking mortality,
Then one day, the cover
slips—
and like a...
in an average way. The loss
hurts—
but death happens. you go on.
Enter cancer.
If you had
any lingering holdouts
about your
mortality...
...you don’t now.
Enter the group.
We are
all there for the
same purpose. United
by one common thread.
{Survivors}
You see it enough that
you can pull on
any-ole scrap
of cover to hide
your shrieking mortality,
Then one day, the cover
slips—
and like a...
#sadness
#anger
#death
218 reads
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Oct 2019 5:15pm
11th Oct 2019 5:15pm
Seams
There is a (sort of) understated
admiration for the handiwork; but I
can see your penchant for haute
couture. It’s elegant and refined.
You appreciate the silk brocade and
tiny, hand-sewn pearly detail.
But you play it safe...
the only thing you need worry
about is staining that silky cream,
tea-rose adorned gown with a
piping hot cup of English Breakfast.
Give me Avant-Garde!
To burst the head in a halo
of succulent plumes—
the eyes hidden by black organza.
Golden, metal shoulders,...
admiration for the handiwork; but I
can see your penchant for haute
couture. It’s elegant and refined.
You appreciate the silk brocade and
tiny, hand-sewn pearly detail.
But you play it safe...
the only thing you need worry
about is staining that silky cream,
tea-rose adorned gown with a
piping hot cup of English Breakfast.
Give me Avant-Garde!
To burst the head in a halo
of succulent plumes—
the eyes hidden by black organza.
Golden, metal shoulders,...
#love
239 reads
11 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
9th Oct 2019 8:01pm
9th Oct 2019 8:01pm
Black Nectar
A red moon hangs luminous
in the blush of a night sky--
pouring gossamer tendrils of
fire through the canopy
of autumn tinged leaves.
Mistress Night beckons my
lissome steps to the streams edge;
in the murky depths I see
your face, reflected through the ripples
of our ancient time.
My knees are beckoned by the
Earth. Elemental gesture of arched
invocation; you are the impetus
of my sexual birth.
Your fingers pierce the surface
of my mind, leaving...
in the blush of a night sky--
pouring gossamer tendrils of
fire through the canopy
of autumn tinged leaves.
Mistress Night beckons my
lissome steps to the streams edge;
in the murky depths I see
your face, reflected through the ripples
of our ancient time.
My knees are beckoned by the
Earth. Elemental gesture of arched
invocation; you are the impetus
of my sexual birth.
Your fingers pierce the surface
of my mind, leaving...
#dark
#death
441 reads
18 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Sep 2019 1:45am
30th Sep 2019 1:45am
The Angel of Darkness
Like Magic, the lobotomist
ruined everyone’s Great
Expectations—
he was forced to usher in
The Resurrectionist in hopes
of bringing this madman, Drood,
back from the Damned.
The Reanimators failed; and tucked
away in the Mortuary Confidential
one can find the Confessions of a Funeral Director—
spilling his Chronicles of Darkness
about a Survivor bought and paid
for by Original Sin.
Book Titles/Author(s)
The Angel of Darkness ~ Caleb Carr
the lobotomist ~ jack...
ruined everyone’s Great
Expectations—
he was forced to usher in
The Resurrectionist in hopes
of bringing this madman, Drood,
back from the Damned.
The Reanimators failed; and tucked
away in the Mortuary Confidential
one can find the Confessions of a Funeral Director—
spilling his Chronicles of Darkness
about a Survivor bought and paid
for by Original Sin.
Book Titles/Author(s)
The Angel of Darkness ~ Caleb Carr
the lobotomist ~ jack...
#dark
#books
252 reads
20 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Sep 2019 4:59pm
28th Sep 2019 4:59pm
Never The Wise
I could previse the tangled mess
that would arise. Given my proclivity
for pot-valor, it was no surprise.
I wandered about the darkened streets
with a manic cacoethes, to remove all moral
objections that swim ‘round my better
judgement.
Looking for love, I stumbled upon
your glassy eyes.
Drawn to the quick words and distracting
movements of both hands and hips—I fell
under your spell.
Into your bed I tripped; my heart, a tangle
of transpicuous emotion smeared
across the hollow space ...
that would arise. Given my proclivity
for pot-valor, it was no surprise.
I wandered about the darkened streets
with a manic cacoethes, to remove all moral
objections that swim ‘round my better
judgement.
Looking for love, I stumbled upon
your glassy eyes.
Drawn to the quick words and distracting
movements of both hands and hips—I fell
under your spell.
Into your bed I tripped; my heart, a tangle
of transpicuous emotion smeared
across the hollow space ...
#conflict
#choices
284 reads
25 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eerie
