Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction “Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
Yesterday 9:41pm
Yesterday 9:41pm
Marbled Skin
Polished marble
chiseled in
ripples of veil and skirts,
cascade with pearly
sheen.
A cold divot or two
beckons the fingers
to run a course
from neck to toes,
searching for
warmer textures.
There are none to
be found.
It’s my ruse—
a doorway, blocked
with intention.
Maybe I’ll morph,
slip into a new skin—
open my eyes
to softer surroundings;
lift the mortar
to pull down the bricks
of anonymity.
These bones are
magic; dipped in sparkle
splendor,...
chiseled in
ripples of veil and skirts,
cascade with pearly
sheen.
A cold divot or two
beckons the fingers
to run a course
from neck to toes,
searching for
warmer textures.
There are none to
be found.
It’s my ruse—
a doorway, blocked
with intention.
Maybe I’ll morph,
slip into a new skin—
open my eyes
to softer surroundings;
lift the mortar
to pull down the bricks
of anonymity.
These bones are
magic; dipped in sparkle
splendor,...
#SelfReflection
20 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Sep 2019 11:01pm
2nd Sep 2019 11:01pm
Pretty As a Picture
Losing a part of oneself
creates a strange tactility
that gnaws at all of the senses.
A well crafted puzzle pulled
apart in irritation due to
a couple of lost pieces.
The full picture no longer
matters; it will never be complete.
My acceptance meter
is low on cash; I know
better than to stay parked
for too long.
Perhaps tomorrow I will
fire up this pretty vessel
and again look
lovingly at my imperfect
picture.
creates a strange tactility
that gnaws at all of the senses.
A well crafted puzzle pulled
apart in irritation due to
a couple of lost pieces.
The full picture no longer
matters; it will never be complete.
My acceptance meter
is low on cash; I know
better than to stay parked
for too long.
Perhaps tomorrow I will
fire up this pretty vessel
and again look
lovingly at my imperfect
picture.
#anger
#frustration
#acceptance
113 reads
15 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Aug 2019 3:29am
25th Aug 2019 3:29am
Loss For Gain
The pain.
I don’t talk about it too much.
It sounds like a skip in
the crackle of a scratched record.
Therapy demands a discomfort
that gets worse before it subsides;
even then, pain syndrome might
oblige me to find a switch
in my brain to flicker off—
There is no guarantee for relief.
I find myself steeped in quiet
contemplation; lost in a spinning
kaleidoscope of colors that
mock my reserves.
I am not built for pain—
yet it kisses me everyday with
its injurious...
I don’t talk about it too much.
It sounds like a skip in
the crackle of a scratched record.
Therapy demands a discomfort
that gets worse before it subsides;
even then, pain syndrome might
oblige me to find a switch
in my brain to flicker off—
There is no guarantee for relief.
I find myself steeped in quiet
contemplation; lost in a spinning
kaleidoscope of colors that
mock my reserves.
I am not built for pain—
yet it kisses me everyday with
its injurious...
#grief
#strength
#courage #illness
#courage #illness
104 reads
22 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Aug 2019 2:33am
15th Aug 2019 2:33am
Expansion
Light bulbs illuminate
my mind; moments of
absolute, brilliant clarity.
Filling the darkest spaces
with white-hot euphoria.
I need to understand a
new path; roll it around,
pinch its middles—
to know I can navigate
the terrain.
It feels like feather-light
skin; rising above a
canyon that walled me in.
If I glow, it’s because
I intended to do so.
Peeling back the dark
veil has been painful...
...but rotting under its hollow
ridge would be certain...
my mind; moments of
absolute, brilliant clarity.
Filling the darkest spaces
with white-hot euphoria.
I need to understand a
new path; roll it around,
pinch its middles—
to know I can navigate
the terrain.
It feels like feather-light
skin; rising above a
canyon that walled me in.
If I glow, it’s because
I intended to do so.
Peeling back the dark
veil has been painful...
...but rotting under its hollow
ridge would be certain...
#StreamOfConsciousness
92 reads
20 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th Aug 2019 11:35pm
11th Aug 2019 11:35pm
I Lost July
in a blurry movie reel
pocked with scorch marks.
tucking into the deepest
recess of my mind to
preserve strength.
surface for air...
...return to the deep.
pocked with scorch marks.
tucking into the deepest
recess of my mind to
preserve strength.
surface for air...
...return to the deep.
#strength
#courage
97 reads
21 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Aug 2019 5:54pm
2nd Aug 2019 5:54pm
F*€k Cancer
For those who are in the know...
Treatment has not gone well and since my body is extra, I get to spend time in hospital, working out my tragedy.
Missing my friends here, miss reading the wonderful poetry and miss writing.
Be back when my body decides to behave itself. So much love to everyone who has poured out their love and encouragement.
Keep writing those beautiful words. It brings light to dark places ♥️
~E
Treatment has not gone well and since my body is extra, I get to spend time in hospital, working out my tragedy.
Missing my friends here, miss reading the wonderful poetry and miss writing.
Be back when my body decides to behave itself. So much love to everyone who has poured out their love and encouragement.
Keep writing those beautiful words. It brings light to dark places ♥️
~E
#LifeChangingMoment
128 reads
24 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jul 2019 2:36am
15th Jul 2019 2:36am
What I Find
Optimism wears a
soft bullet hole; realism
took aim with the gun.
soft bullet hole; realism
took aim with the gun.
#honesty
64 reads
15 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Jul 2019 5:09pm
11th Jul 2019 5:09pm
Grief: In Stages
Denial
is a steadfast
harpy, whispering
her lies to deceive
the heart
Bargaining
is a sharp tool
that bleeds you dry
with nothing to
replace what it takes
Anger
is a fervid
mistress, flaming
her hot embers
until a fire explodes
Depression
blankets the mind
in a blue mist of
sorrow, wrapping it
in cloistered warmth
Acceptance
is the cool water of
reassurance that pours
into the dark crevice, to
wash the soul anew.
is a steadfast
harpy, whispering
her lies to deceive
the heart
Bargaining
is a sharp tool
that bleeds you dry
with nothing to
replace what it takes
Anger
is a fervid
mistress, flaming
her hot embers
until a fire explodes
Depression
blankets the mind
in a blue mist of
sorrow, wrapping it
in cloistered warmth
Acceptance
is the cool water of
reassurance that pours
into the dark crevice, to
wash the soul anew.
#grief
#MovingOn
#acceptance
109 reads
19 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
10th Jul 2019 7:37pm
10th Jul 2019 7:37pm
You Cannot Kill Me
Accepting the raw reality of
this walk into the depths
of hell has been shaky
and unstable; as a bow and
quiver in the
hands of a novice.
Unsure of what way to take
aim, questioned at every turn—
I attempt to throw off the
weight of others’ opinions.
To travel a road, dark and
haunting; finding that I am only
halfway through the gnarled grove,
thick with pain and uncertainty.
Coming to grips with the loss
of my sacred femininity.
Looking for a light in the darkness.
I...
this walk into the depths
of hell has been shaky
and unstable; as a bow and
quiver in the
hands of a novice.
Unsure of what way to take
aim, questioned at every turn—
I attempt to throw off the
weight of others’ opinions.
To travel a road, dark and
haunting; finding that I am only
halfway through the gnarled grove,
thick with pain and uncertainty.
Coming to grips with the loss
of my sacred femininity.
Looking for a light in the darkness.
I...
#motivational
#inspirational
#LifeChangingMoment #uplifting
#LifeChangingMoment #uplifting
100 reads
15 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jun 2019 6:33pm
13th Jun 2019 6:33pm
Lunch, Midday
Raucous laughter from the table over;
I wonder what was so funny.
Judging by the plethora of identical Michael Kors handbags, and “petite” manners, it wasn’t something bawdy.
Yes, I’m judging.
I live in a town full of middle class moms, parading as superstars.
Disapproving eyes glance across my tiny table by the wall.
I am nonplussed.
We all shit in the same reservoir.
And yes, I came into your 40 dollar a plate restaurant for lunch—
wearing my favorite velour sweatpants and gaming hoodie.
I like the pickled watermelon; I can’t get it...
I wonder what was so funny.
Judging by the plethora of identical Michael Kors handbags, and “petite” manners, it wasn’t something bawdy.
Yes, I’m judging.
I live in a town full of middle class moms, parading as superstars.
Disapproving eyes glance across my tiny table by the wall.
I am nonplussed.
We all shit in the same reservoir.
And yes, I came into your 40 dollar a plate restaurant for lunch—
wearing my favorite velour sweatpants and gaming hoodie.
I like the pickled watermelon; I can’t get it...
#food
145 reads
28 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
13th Jun 2019 3:48pm
13th Jun 2019 3:48pm
“It Could Always Be Worse”
is the most ridiculous response
to a person’s grief.
It is akin to a backhanded
compliment— uncouth.
You minimize the pain
for your
own comfort.
Another’s reality does not negate
my sadness. My feelings
are my own; they tinge
their own scars.
I will not wallow in the
panic that I work to
keep at bay.
Likewise, I will not compare
my ordeal to someone else’s.
Find a better fucking response.
to a person’s grief.
It is akin to a backhanded
compliment— uncouth.
You minimize the pain
for your
own comfort.
Another’s reality does not negate
my sadness. My feelings
are my own; they tinge
their own scars.
I will not wallow in the
panic that I work to
keep at bay.
Likewise, I will not compare
my ordeal to someone else’s.
Find a better fucking response.
#grief
#frustration
150 reads
26 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Jun 2019 10:46pm
11th Jun 2019 10:46pm
In the Time of Dragons
I’ve built a home of timber and stone;
filled with exotic treasures found deep in
the caverns of my travels.
Though I am rooted, I am unable
to stay; drowned I would be
by the tending of homestead
and rearing of children.
Adventure calls me; from the winds
of Winterhold to the green of
Falkreath.
I journey between the lands to find my
solace.
I have stood before the
Guardian Stones; enveloped by the aura
that holds my warrior spirit.
Orcish veins burn hot with bloodshed
and battle— my predilections...
filled with exotic treasures found deep in
the caverns of my travels.
Though I am rooted, I am unable
to stay; drowned I would be
by the tending of homestead
and rearing of children.
Adventure calls me; from the winds
of Winterhold to the green of
Falkreath.
I journey between the lands to find my
solace.
I have stood before the
Guardian Stones; enveloped by the aura
that holds my warrior spirit.
Orcish veins burn hot with bloodshed
and battle— my predilections...
#magic
76 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eerie
