Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction “Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
1st Aug 2020 10:48pm
1st Aug 2020 10:48pm
High School -- Four Shorts (Part II)
Junior Year 1992-93
Entered at age 15
Somehow my grades Sophomore year were good enough to play volleyball my Junior year, so I made the team. Varsity, even. To be quite honest, I didn’t care as much about playing as I did about being part of something. I was withdrawn from all of my A.P. (advanced placement) classes and put into classes that didn’t require much out of me. I had a small group of friends, four of us who chummed around a bit. We went to home football games; toting water bottles a quarter full of orange juice. A guy that I would end up dating would bring a...
Entered at age 15
Somehow my grades Sophomore year were good enough to play volleyball my Junior year, so I made the team. Varsity, even. To be quite honest, I didn’t care as much about playing as I did about being part of something. I was withdrawn from all of my A.P. (advanced placement) classes and put into classes that didn’t require much out of me. I had a small group of friends, four of us who chummed around a bit. We went to home football games; toting water bottles a quarter full of orange juice. A guy that I would end up dating would bring a...
#teens
#school
#TruthOfLife
#memories
#nostalgia
31 reads
8 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
1st Aug 2020 10:42pm
1st Aug 2020 10:42pm
High School -- Four Shorts (Part I)
Freshman Year 1990-91
Entered at age 13
In high school I floundered. A complete and utter fish-out-of-water. Where I came from and what I walked into were worlds apart, two different planets. In eighth grade I was one in a class of 12, and half of us had been in school together since preschool and first grade. We made tight bonds during the most formative years of our lives and then we all dispersed, out into the public high schools in the cities we lived in.
Three of us started together (we lived in the same city) and all of the kids in our freshman class knew...
Entered at age 13
In high school I floundered. A complete and utter fish-out-of-water. Where I came from and what I walked into were worlds apart, two different planets. In eighth grade I was one in a class of 12, and half of us had been in school together since preschool and first grade. We made tight bonds during the most formative years of our lives and then we all dispersed, out into the public high schools in the cities we lived in.
Three of us started together (we lived in the same city) and all of the kids in our freshman class knew...
#teens
#TruthOfLife
#memories
#honesty
#nostalgia
35 reads
10 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Jul 2020 10:54pm
28th Jul 2020 10:54pm
Her Name Was Breonna
#breonnataylor
#breonnataylorsayhername
#breonnataylorslifematters
#breonnataylorsayhername
#breonnataylorslifematters
#respect
62 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Jul 2020 10:12am
25th Jul 2020 10:12am
Pre-paid
Months of emailing
lush novels wasn’t enough.
She bought a burner.
lush novels wasn’t enough.
She bought a burner.
#friendship
#funny
62 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jul 2020 00:43am
21st Jul 2020 00:43am
A Journey of Self-Expression
The Snake}
The snake must learn to
telescope the core self,
otherwise, heavy hands
would fashion its destiny.
Shimmering scales slink
through the molten landscape,
burnt by every fiery
fathom of discourse.
Yet, despite this ravage
of hot tongues fanning
the flame, there
is still a tiny, white light,
burning heat of its own.
Dawn creeps
over the horizon and
from the chaos, healing
is born.
...
The snake must learn to
telescope the core self,
otherwise, heavy hands
would fashion its destiny.
Shimmering scales slink
through the molten landscape,
burnt by every fiery
fathom of discourse.
Yet, despite this ravage
of hot tongues fanning
the flame, there
is still a tiny, white light,
burning heat of its own.
Dawn creeps
over the horizon and
from the chaos, healing
is born.
...
#LifeCycle
#metaphor
#philosophical
85 reads
14 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Jul 2020 2:53am
16th Jul 2020 2:53am
“Flip Book”
Rummaging through
my bedside table
uncovered
things I had forgotten
about.
There was this
one particularly
bad night up in
the bathroom,
sick as a dog,
trying to pray
the misery away.
When I got
back to bed
I pulled the mini
Post-it notes
out and wrote
“You are strong”.
I only wrote
three notes in
total, but I read
them many
times.
I cried when
I found it. Not
because I
thought I had
lost it, but
because the
things...
my bedside table
uncovered
things I had forgotten
about.
There was this
one particularly
bad night up in
the bathroom,
sick as a dog,
trying to pray
the misery away.
When I got
back to bed
I pulled the mini
Post-it notes
out and wrote
“You are strong”.
I only wrote
three notes in
total, but I read
them many
times.
I cried when
I found it. Not
because I
thought I had
lost it, but
because the
things...
#sadness
#anxiety
#illness
79 reads
22 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th Jul 2020 2:19pm
11th Jul 2020 2:19pm
Reality
..it’s not always pretty.
It’s not always a neatly
folded origami swan; all paper
plumes and elegance.
Sometimes it’s shocking...
...and unmanaged.
One cannot simply settle in.
We draw from deep wells
to separate and insulate.
Tucking into our corners; watching
for eyes that wander...
the acid of insecurity bubbling
to the surface;
sparking a fire that singes
every nerve...
mettle is essential for
withstanding the glottal
scream;
Summoned from the deepest ...
It’s not always a neatly
folded origami swan; all paper
plumes and elegance.
Sometimes it’s shocking...
...and unmanaged.
One cannot simply settle in.
We draw from deep wells
to separate and insulate.
Tucking into our corners; watching
for eyes that wander...
the acid of insecurity bubbling
to the surface;
sparking a fire that singes
every nerve...
mettle is essential for
withstanding the glottal
scream;
Summoned from the deepest ...
#strength
#courage
#illness #SelfWorth
#illness #SelfWorth
98 reads
24 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Jul 2020 2:51am
7th Jul 2020 2:51am
The Dyed Shirt
I thought about throwing it away.
It's not the shirt you wear for
an afternoon date or
a trip to the store
or to an appointment.
Stained with drips
and runs; an offensive brown.
I never understood the
brown, as the end result
was coal black.
A perfect match and
a quick fix for aging
too young.
It's a representation
of a time I no longer
recognize; a piece of
life "before".
Before my heart
softened,
before I realized my
worth, before I met
my strength. ...
It's not the shirt you wear for
an afternoon date or
a trip to the store
or to an appointment.
Stained with drips
and runs; an offensive brown.
I never understood the
brown, as the end result
was coal black.
A perfect match and
a quick fix for aging
too young.
It's a representation
of a time I no longer
recognize; a piece of
life "before".
Before my heart
softened,
before I realized my
worth, before I met
my strength. ...
#SelfReflection
#healing
92 reads
22 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Jul 2020 9:45pm
3rd Jul 2020 9:45pm
To Liberate Myself
I haven’t found a
place to rest
the sadness of
things to come
and
things I know
will never
be.
I must release
these things,
to live
somewhere
far beyond
me.
place to rest
the sadness of
things to come
and
things I know
will never
be.
I must release
these things,
to live
somewhere
far beyond
me.
#sadness
#TruthOfLife
#disappointment
100 reads
14 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Jun 2020 1:36am
24th Jun 2020 1:36am
Luck? LOL never
..and so, I sit here one
year later
all pins and needles, vomit
and nerves
wondering how the
rest of my life is
going to play out
because, you know, I
couldn’t catch a
break if
it walked in, slapped
my ass and
poured a
drink.
year later
all pins and needles, vomit
and nerves
wondering how the
rest of my life is
going to play out
because, you know, I
couldn’t catch a
break if
it walked in, slapped
my ass and
poured a
drink.
#satirical
#illness
#myself
79 reads
13 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jun 2020 2:31am
19th Jun 2020 2:31am
Detached
In the deepest pocket I
find absolute solitude-
seek it out to slip into
its velveteen reprieve.
I’m content here. A
comfort that I
find nowhere else.
Few people can
entice me to crawl
out from my refuge.
I’ve wrestled with the
bastard notion
that there is something
faulty in my wiring.
Broken connections, by
default or design- I can’t tell.
Whatever, it doesn’t
escape my attention. I wish
it would work its magic
and disappear; only
sometimes it lingers. ...
find absolute solitude-
seek it out to slip into
its velveteen reprieve.
I’m content here. A
comfort that I
find nowhere else.
Few people can
entice me to crawl
out from my refuge.
I’ve wrestled with the
bastard notion
that there is something
faulty in my wiring.
Broken connections, by
default or design- I can’t tell.
Whatever, it doesn’t
escape my attention. I wish
it would work its magic
and disappear; only
sometimes it lingers. ...
#loneliness
#music
#SelfReflection
119 reads
13 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jun 2020 2:34pm
18th Jun 2020 2:34pm
{NaPoWriMo2020 Collection: The Every Day}
1/30
Voice-Over
Seven a.m.
Awake. Blurry eyed. Bombarded
by Pirates and Bill Clinton.
{voice-over}
“Argh matey! Are ye gonna stand
there and watch me die? Aye, avast ye
scurvy dog!”
{incoherent muttering}
…something, something about
non sexual relations with
some woman.
His headset and mic are the
great artifacts of a big dream.
Hours of practice; voice-over
currents running through
tiny wires, exploding inside of
a pixelated world entrenched
with god knows who.
...
Voice-Over
Seven a.m.
Awake. Blurry eyed. Bombarded
by Pirates and Bill Clinton.
{voice-over}
“Argh matey! Are ye gonna stand
there and watch me die? Aye, avast ye
scurvy dog!”
{incoherent muttering}
…something, something about
non sexual relations with
some woman.
His headset and mic are the
great artifacts of a big dream.
Hours of practice; voice-over
currents running through
tiny wires, exploding inside of
a pixelated world entrenched
with god knows who.
...
#NaPoWriMo2020
70 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Eerie
