Submissions by Fiftysevenhours
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Moments of the day that take me on my way.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Apr 2025 9:28pm
30th Apr 2025 9:28pm
Tangible dreams
There was a flower today,
Blooming beside where we used to play.
The first,
Since you passed away.
If you weren't who you were,
Unrestrained and revelling,
Amongst all of life's temptations.
You could be Eve,
Were summer to turn and leave.
Though then as now,
You'd bear no guilt.
It stands two tangs towards the sky,
And you'd,
Aptly rub along the back,
Of a pitch forked,
Branching tree.
Instead,
It rises where you lay,
Turning you,
Back towards a stretching sky.
Turning you,
Into a...
Blooming beside where we used to play.
The first,
Since you passed away.
If you weren't who you were,
Unrestrained and revelling,
Amongst all of life's temptations.
You could be Eve,
Were summer to turn and leave.
Though then as now,
You'd bear no guilt.
It stands two tangs towards the sky,
And you'd,
Aptly rub along the back,
Of a pitch forked,
Branching tree.
Instead,
It rises where you lay,
Turning you,
Back towards a stretching sky.
Turning you,
Into a...
#death
#dreams
#NaPoWriMo2024
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SELF POEM
Published
29th Apr 2025 5:51pm
29th Apr 2025 5:51pm
That I
It is there,
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
#NaPoWriMo2024
47 reads
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SELF POEM
Published
28th Apr 2025 9:56pm
28th Apr 2025 9:56pm
Become a gain
I give myself more each day,
To what holds weight,
And stays.
Give myself more,
To what remains,
Letting loose those,
Surplus grains amongst the rains.
Watch each washed,
Become a gain,
As in each,
I rise, a little lighter.
There is still a beach within my hand,
Still a weight within my step,
A strain upon the line of sight.
And as I die,
Between the dusk’s of nine to five.
My hand,
Feels the feign of a silver sand.
A ghost amongst the passage.
And I,
Mair fain tae fecht,
Leave wondering, ...
To what holds weight,
And stays.
Give myself more,
To what remains,
Letting loose those,
Surplus grains amongst the rains.
Watch each washed,
Become a gain,
As in each,
I rise, a little lighter.
There is still a beach within my hand,
Still a weight within my step,
A strain upon the line of sight.
And as I die,
Between the dusk’s of nine to five.
My hand,
Feels the feign of a silver sand.
A ghost amongst the passage.
And I,
Mair fain tae fecht,
Leave wondering, ...
#NaPoWriMo2024
38 reads
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SELF POEM
Published
27th Apr 2025 9:41pm
27th Apr 2025 9:41pm
Awake
Is place,
A part of pattern?
Or can what I feel,
What I see,
Be both,
Simultaneous,
And irrespectively,
Separate?..
Devoid,
Of where I sit?
In the void,
Of this mental state?
In part conflict and,
Departed possession.
In heart,
Hope,
For some other,
Direction.
The binding of inanimate dreams,
The tangible,
Symbology,
Of retold,
Stories.
Their reluctance knows,
My reluctance,
To face that final sleep,
And leave,
The confines of what we know, restricts.
To...
A part of pattern?
Or can what I feel,
What I see,
Be both,
Simultaneous,
And irrespectively,
Separate?..
Devoid,
Of where I sit?
In the void,
Of this mental state?
In part conflict and,
Departed possession.
In heart,
Hope,
For some other,
Direction.
The binding of inanimate dreams,
The tangible,
Symbology,
Of retold,
Stories.
Their reluctance knows,
My reluctance,
To face that final sleep,
And leave,
The confines of what we know, restricts.
To...
#NaPoWriMo2024
65 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Apr 2025 12:23pm
27th Apr 2025 12:23pm
A blind demise
The sun rose but once,
An only chance.
For such,
As those,
Lonely,
Lament the twist of fate.
Torment their saints,
With a blind demise,
Of a lost,
And passing prize.
And when their eyes,
Tired and tied,
To the west beset.
See not in their shadows rise,
A new dawn,
Full and unbeholden,
Sing,
Climb for the first and last time,
Upon their shadowed,
Shoulders.
An only chance.
For such,
As those,
Lonely,
Lament the twist of fate.
Torment their saints,
With a blind demise,
Of a lost,
And passing prize.
And when their eyes,
Tired and tied,
To the west beset.
See not in their shadows rise,
A new dawn,
Full and unbeholden,
Sing,
Climb for the first and last time,
Upon their shadowed,
Shoulders.
#NaPoWriMo2024
65 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Apr 2025 10:35pm
24th Apr 2025 10:35pm
The 24th, Unnamed
There is something about,
The early realm of mist,
That slips inside,
Consciousness.
That awakes,
An unsung song,
Curled upon the tongue.
As I walk,
Enchanted,
I watch,
A low slung belt of mist,
Riding up the mountain's hips.
The unyielding day,
Pierce the trawling touch of gray,
Casting its breath of light,
Its breath of life,
Through the descent of condensate.
I watch the pallor,
The sickness,
Evaporate.
Expose the swathes of green,
Breaking through the boughs,
The fronds,
The...
The early realm of mist,
That slips inside,
Consciousness.
That awakes,
An unsung song,
Curled upon the tongue.
As I walk,
Enchanted,
I watch,
A low slung belt of mist,
Riding up the mountain's hips.
The unyielding day,
Pierce the trawling touch of gray,
Casting its breath of light,
Its breath of life,
Through the descent of condensate.
I watch the pallor,
The sickness,
Evaporate.
Expose the swathes of green,
Breaking through the boughs,
The fronds,
The...
#NaPoWriMo2024
60 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2025 10:07pm
22nd Apr 2025 10:07pm
Transgression
Home again as if the day,
Has been a held,
Hiatus.
A score of hours,
Ransomed,
For some petty coin.
And this,
Unwanted,
Regression.
Being by any other term,
Known as,
Transgression.
I call the day,
For what it is.
The month,
For what it will.
Biding with the act of binding,
Time in the terms of action.
And this recurrent,
Incessant,
Reflection.
Is raked through the tines,
Of creeping boundaries.
The meddle of Ladies bedstraw,
Lies interwoven with blades of green.
And...
Has been a held,
Hiatus.
A score of hours,
Ransomed,
For some petty coin.
And this,
Unwanted,
Regression.
Being by any other term,
Known as,
Transgression.
I call the day,
For what it is.
The month,
For what it will.
Biding with the act of binding,
Time in the terms of action.
And this recurrent,
Incessant,
Reflection.
Is raked through the tines,
Of creeping boundaries.
The meddle of Ladies bedstraw,
Lies interwoven with blades of green.
And...
#NaPoWriMo2024
45 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Apr 2025 10:58pm
21st Apr 2025 10:58pm
Why
Watching fields of the highest cirrus,
Overrun with the dawn of light,
Throw cascading shadows,
Through branches,
To settle here,
Within the shelter of a broken night.
I rise and drift,
Across the bay,
Through the day.
Through the waves of willow flowers,
Beneath the scatterings of finches.
Through tide after tide,
Passage after passage.
Each blurring moves,
Bits of life,
This way and that.
Easing the pressure,
Easing the strife,
Making space and more,
Creating,
A place.
For pending life...
Overrun with the dawn of light,
Throw cascading shadows,
Through branches,
To settle here,
Within the shelter of a broken night.
I rise and drift,
Across the bay,
Through the day.
Through the waves of willow flowers,
Beneath the scatterings of finches.
Through tide after tide,
Passage after passage.
Each blurring moves,
Bits of life,
This way and that.
Easing the pressure,
Easing the strife,
Making space and more,
Creating,
A place.
For pending life...
#LifeCycle
#NaPoWriMo2024
59 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Apr 2025 10:05pm
20th Apr 2025 10:05pm
There are days
There are days,
And then there are,
Days….
I hope you know the ones.
Those days if we're living,
We can tally.
Notch upon the staff,
We carry.
Hold them bright,
When their light is sought.
Hold them right,
And they will be,
More than any thought,
Seen beyond our failing sight.
There are days,
Each, special.
There are days,
Which start and,
Being just right,
There end,
Becomes,
An end with us.
And then there are,
Days….
I hope you know the ones.
Those days if we're living,
We can tally.
Notch upon the staff,
We carry.
Hold them bright,
When their light is sought.
Hold them right,
And they will be,
More than any thought,
Seen beyond our failing sight.
There are days,
Each, special.
There are days,
Which start and,
Being just right,
There end,
Becomes,
An end with us.
#NaPoWriMo2024
55 reads
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MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Apr 2025 10:01pm
16th Apr 2025 10:01pm
Blinkered
The preconceptions,
The,
False idolisations.
Those three months,
Six months,
Five year, ten year tendered plans.
Somehow,
Never given ground,
Never found the strength to stand.
A pull cord of a blind,
Pulled blinkered over a mind.
Where a future vision board
Is shut away,
Buried with closed cliché’s..
There is reason,
Many reasons,
Why the future lies curtailed.
Though no future now stands,
Where I unlearn,
What I now know.
The,
False idolisations.
Those three months,
Six months,
Five year, ten year tendered plans.
Somehow,
Never given ground,
Never found the strength to stand.
A pull cord of a blind,
Pulled blinkered over a mind.
Where a future vision board
Is shut away,
Buried with closed cliché’s..
There is reason,
Many reasons,
Why the future lies curtailed.
Though no future now stands,
Where I unlearn,
What I now know.
#NaPoWriMo2024
46 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Apr 2025 5:49pm
15th Apr 2025 5:49pm
A part of me.
There is a part of me,
That looks out into the broad,
The dark and level sea.
A part,
That's always looked out for me.
I see that part standing,
Washed from sand
Upon the waiting gravel
While I,
Exiled,
Unravel.
I've seen that part as it's seen me,
Seen the art it makes of fear,
And,
Seen the fear it's found in me.
Mistakenly.
The line it drew,
I drew,
Near.
The line it knew,
I saw with fear.
And in a break so disturbed
The birds awoke
And broke the sky.
I found,
All...
That looks out into the broad,
The dark and level sea.
A part,
That's always looked out for me.
I see that part standing,
Washed from sand
Upon the waiting gravel
While I,
Exiled,
Unravel.
I've seen that part as it's seen me,
Seen the art it makes of fear,
And,
Seen the fear it's found in me.
Mistakenly.
The line it drew,
I drew,
Near.
The line it knew,
I saw with fear.
And in a break so disturbed
The birds awoke
And broke the sky.
I found,
All...
#NaPoWriMo2024
46 reads
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OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Apr 2025 9:20pm
14th Apr 2025 9:20pm
Affirmations
From waning and fire emblazoned skies,
To mornings such as these,
Waking to the cries,
Of fresh snowfall,
laying before our eyes.
In a world where belief,
Inhibits more than it admonishes.
And perspectives lost,
Indentured more than nurtured.
In a near silence,
I quietly reaffirm that,
Anything, is possible.
Upon black wings paused,
And yellow ringed eyes,
Still following.
Anything,
Is..
To mornings such as these,
Waking to the cries,
Of fresh snowfall,
laying before our eyes.
In a world where belief,
Inhibits more than it admonishes.
And perspectives lost,
Indentured more than nurtured.
In a near silence,
I quietly reaffirm that,
Anything, is possible.
Upon black wings paused,
And yellow ringed eyes,
Still following.
Anything,
Is..
#NaPoWriMo2024
51 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Fiftysevenhours
