Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
“Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
The Woman Who is With Me
I should draw breath
of fire into lungs,
a chanting ritual built
upon drum beat and smoke.
Her soft tanned, leather dress
flows with many hands of making,
her hair a flutter of feathers.
Upon my cold, shivering body
laid deep into the earth
she covers me with a blanket
old as death itself.
Knelt at my crown she whispers
as tiny bells in the trees—
This is your season of listening.
of fire into lungs,
a chanting ritual built
upon drum beat and smoke.
Her soft tanned, leather dress
flows with many hands of making,
her hair a flutter of feathers.
Upon my cold, shivering body
laid deep into the earth
she covers me with a blanket
old as death itself.
Knelt at my crown she whispers
as tiny bells in the trees—
This is your season of listening.
#spiritual
181 reads
5 Comments
Journey to the Stars
There are no more holes
to bury secrets.
Standing in the chasm between
body and spirit, I am unbroken.
Taking back my time, my being,
my every last piece that once was dismantled,
walking into a new life
here, or into another dimension
replete with love:
this is the measure of life.
Emerging in starlight as
dust to earth
heat to fire
breath to air
weightless to water.
My journey to the stars
may be long…
But it is healing.
to bury secrets.
Standing in the chasm between
body and spirit, I am unbroken.
Taking back my time, my being,
my every last piece that once was dismantled,
walking into a new life
here, or into another dimension
replete with love:
this is the measure of life.
Emerging in starlight as
dust to earth
heat to fire
breath to air
weightless to water.
My journey to the stars
may be long…
But it is healing.
#death
#stars
#TruthOfLife #LifeCycle
#TruthOfLife #LifeCycle
285 reads
12 Comments
To the Ends
A loss of faith
pronounced
immediate
confusion…
Resolution is fire.
pronounced
immediate
confusion…
Resolution is fire.
#TruthOfLife
283 reads
10 Comments
Ancestors
Dead leaves tap-dance
across pebbled pavement,
enticing a lazy day
to guard my energy,
allowing it to flow along channels
unseen by eyes that watch
gray clouds swirl into
soft, pastel hues.
Chilled fingers
grip downy blanket edges,
eyes rocking body to sleep.
The nightscape,
in languid rotation, swallows
the light, and it is here--
They speak in tongues.
across pebbled pavement,
enticing a lazy day
to guard my energy,
allowing it to flow along channels
unseen by eyes that watch
gray clouds swirl into
soft, pastel hues.
Chilled fingers
grip downy blanket edges,
eyes rocking body to sleep.
The nightscape,
in languid rotation, swallows
the light, and it is here--
They speak in tongues.
#sleep
272 reads
11 Comments
The Inside Place
I’m gathering the hem
of overhanging skirts in preparation
for the deepest journey
my spirit has yet to breathe through.
Who is the wayward child, skipping
Sunday morning in favor
of rocks and blessed be.
Her heart swears in sailor-tongue,
jars filled a-plenty with quarters
and frog eyes.
It’s sawdust and maple leaves, turning
circles in open galleys, stretching from
dawn to twilight.
She reckons with no one.
of overhanging skirts in preparation
for the deepest journey
my spirit has yet to breathe through.
Who is the wayward child, skipping
Sunday morning in favor
of rocks and blessed be.
Her heart swears in sailor-tongue,
jars filled a-plenty with quarters
and frog eyes.
It’s sawdust and maple leaves, turning
circles in open galleys, stretching from
dawn to twilight.
She reckons with no one.
#identity
376 reads
19 Comments
Whatever
Here we are, the day before
bruised knees find
solace in nothing.
A predilection for
dark harmonies floating
as soft smoke from incense
burning away at perfection.
Feel my gaze saturate
your thoughts, undiluted
and slack inside.
It never calcifies in ways
we expect: growing into this
ruptures those
little girl dreams.
We’re past all that now.
Stepping around truth
will always be thorns
with no roses.
bruised knees find
solace in nothing.
A predilection for
dark harmonies floating
as soft smoke from incense
burning away at perfection.
Feel my gaze saturate
your thoughts, undiluted
and slack inside.
It never calcifies in ways
we expect: growing into this
ruptures those
little girl dreams.
We’re past all that now.
Stepping around truth
will always be thorns
with no roses.
#NaPoWriMo2023
381 reads
13 Comments
Untitled XXVII
Magnetized metal;
a mostly blank slate
for exception of squiggly
lined heartbeats
and a hearse.
Was a gift. A memory,
maybe dream, whisked
away like balloons in the wind.
Do you have stolen
flights of fancy, rendering
hands useless, mind restless;
take a tally,
discover how many hopes
have been lost.
Barely breathing, stepping
off cliff side, bound for greatness,
clutching one final phantasm.
a mostly blank slate
for exception of squiggly
lined heartbeats
and a hearse.
Was a gift. A memory,
maybe dream, whisked
away like balloons in the wind.
Do you have stolen
flights of fancy, rendering
hands useless, mind restless;
take a tally,
discover how many hopes
have been lost.
Barely breathing, stepping
off cliff side, bound for greatness,
clutching one final phantasm.
#dreams
#NaPoWriMo2023
267 reads
6 Comments
Untitled XXVI
Afraid.
Read that again.
Let it sink into the
pit of your stomach.
Are you—
Afraid.
So many things.
More than half
burnt stars,
fish prowling
deep seas.
Flippant.
Yes.
Slept many years
under ravenous
mountains, right
between earths
atmosphere
and fiery core.
These ideas tinge
fibers already colored
by shitty reality.
Anger sweeps
through, lightning
biting parched lips.
Afraid.
...
Read that again.
Let it sink into the
pit of your stomach.
Are you—
Afraid.
So many things.
More than half
burnt stars,
fish prowling
deep seas.
Flippant.
Yes.
Slept many years
under ravenous
mountains, right
between earths
atmosphere
and fiery core.
These ideas tinge
fibers already colored
by shitty reality.
Anger sweeps
through, lightning
biting parched lips.
Afraid.
...
#NaPoWriMo2023
285 reads
8 Comments
Untitled XXIV
I didn’t think I’d post
thoughts on your chest
when my head found
the perfect groove.
Words expand
and compress,
floating haphazardly
through the vine
and thicket.
You capture radiance
as fireflies bound
in glass encasement.
Beauty describes every
syllable, breathing into
existence a force of love.
This is how we fall into parallels,
minds joining, hearts bleeding,
love, eternal.
thoughts on your chest
when my head found
the perfect groove.
Words expand
and compress,
floating haphazardly
through the vine
and thicket.
You capture radiance
as fireflies bound
in glass encasement.
Beauty describes every
syllable, breathing into
existence a force of love.
This is how we fall into parallels,
minds joining, hearts bleeding,
love, eternal.
#love
#NaPoWriMo2023
424 reads
14 Comments
Untitled XXII
Hot concrete burns my soul.
Nothing but weeds grow in
half-inch crevices, reaching
out for sun and wind.
A nuisance vein of green,
spreading along tiny stones
resistant to insects
seeking nourishment.
Roots anchor deep into
underworlds unseen
by naked eyes.
Swift currents bury seeds,
cultivating useless,
lifelong parody.
Nothing but weeds grow in
half-inch crevices, reaching
out for sun and wind.
A nuisance vein of green,
spreading along tiny stones
resistant to insects
seeking nourishment.
Roots anchor deep into
underworlds unseen
by naked eyes.
Swift currents bury seeds,
cultivating useless,
lifelong parody.
#NaPoWriMo2023
314 reads
15 Comments
Untitled XVII
Winter curls fingers back
just to jab us unexpectedly.
Shivers demanded a sweater
today, unable to shake the chill:
but I love these cold, dreary
days. They play sweet melodies
to my melancholic temperament.
There is always something
deep in the mist and moonlight
calling to me with residual
essence of another time quite
unlike the present.
There are memories that I cannot
fully bring into focus.
Perhaps my childish daydreams
paint scenes so lavish that reality
pales in...
just to jab us unexpectedly.
Shivers demanded a sweater
today, unable to shake the chill:
but I love these cold, dreary
days. They play sweet melodies
to my melancholic temperament.
There is always something
deep in the mist and moonlight
calling to me with residual
essence of another time quite
unlike the present.
There are memories that I cannot
fully bring into focus.
Perhaps my childish daydreams
paint scenes so lavish that reality
pales in...
#happiness
#NaPoWriMo2023
274 reads
3 Comments
Untitled XVI
My feelings have always betrayed me.
Black-ringed irises spilling into deep
caverns, as water rushing into a sinkhole,
every naked part of me exposed,
crushed under the heel of my boot
as I attempted to snuff it out.
A wall so thick and so high, built
to dam the force of constant destruction
imbuing me with a woeful ability
to absorb the emotions of others.
A complicated distortion keeping me locked
in fight-or-flight, looking for any small
opening to flee through, as I stared
into the nothingness...
Black-ringed irises spilling into deep
caverns, as water rushing into a sinkhole,
every naked part of me exposed,
crushed under the heel of my boot
as I attempted to snuff it out.
A wall so thick and so high, built
to dam the force of constant destruction
imbuing me with a woeful ability
to absorb the emotions of others.
A complicated distortion keeping me locked
in fight-or-flight, looking for any small
opening to flee through, as I stared
into the nothingness...
#TruthOfLife
#NaPoWriMo2023
294 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eerie