Submissions by Handcuffs (et al)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
"On the plains of hesitation bleach the bones of countless millions, who, on the dawn of victory sat resting, and resting...died." - Sam Euwing
EROTIC POEM
Published
24th Feb 2016 8:34am
24th Feb 2016 8:34am
Ghosts of our Love
Sometimes, I see the ghosts
passing between the thoughts
like the spirits of the muse, they lead me
straight to you, sometimes.
Sometimes, however, they take me around
to the back way along the worn dirt path
where the grasses reach, touching the skin
in soft genuflection of our love.
Sometimes, these specters lead me through
fields of clover, and Queen Ann's Lace filled
with buzzing so loud it gives you pause
to see where the sound is coming from.
It is then you see the bees all around,
and simply marvel at their sound....
passing between the thoughts
like the spirits of the muse, they lead me
straight to you, sometimes.
Sometimes, however, they take me around
to the back way along the worn dirt path
where the grasses reach, touching the skin
in soft genuflection of our love.
Sometimes, these specters lead me through
fields of clover, and Queen Ann's Lace filled
with buzzing so loud it gives you pause
to see where the sound is coming from.
It is then you see the bees all around,
and simply marvel at their sound....
745 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
12th Feb 2016 3:06am
12th Feb 2016 3:06am
Diamond drop tears
These diamond tear drops
fall softly;
tears from the holy mines within
flow when i think of your lovingness.
How you shaped this coal miner's son;
How your warmth, your pressure
molded this coal-heart into
carbon clear. And the tears,
Etching like diamonds in the cheek;
they tumble and shine in
the glow of the moonlight.
I pick one up in the corner of my knuckle.
A shine within a shine it has,
glistening in joy as it drops to my lap.
One by one, these diamonds
sing of our love;
...
fall softly;
tears from the holy mines within
flow when i think of your lovingness.
How you shaped this coal miner's son;
How your warmth, your pressure
molded this coal-heart into
carbon clear. And the tears,
Etching like diamonds in the cheek;
they tumble and shine in
the glow of the moonlight.
I pick one up in the corner of my knuckle.
A shine within a shine it has,
glistening in joy as it drops to my lap.
One by one, these diamonds
sing of our love;
...
792 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
11th Feb 2016 00:37am
11th Feb 2016 00:37am
Shades
The shades of my eyes
draw shut at the end
of a day of days, where
weary and worn and
I see you
in the distance,
in the purple shades
of my mind as a
luminescent oscillation.
Floating near, your
radiance turns to
red silk that wraps
the pulsing body.
Pressurized blood
throbbing throughout,
as the watershed of
my existence
responds to the rainfall
of your love, and
of you, I am
filled, and flow
into your froth,
into your sea,
I empty...
draw shut at the end
of a day of days, where
weary and worn and
I see you
in the distance,
in the purple shades
of my mind as a
luminescent oscillation.
Floating near, your
radiance turns to
red silk that wraps
the pulsing body.
Pressurized blood
throbbing throughout,
as the watershed of
my existence
responds to the rainfall
of your love, and
of you, I am
filled, and flow
into your froth,
into your sea,
I empty...
1052 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Feb 2016 1:47pm
6th Feb 2016 1:47pm
Caution [may contain nuts]
We label everything
and everyone in life.
Like so many canning
jars in the fall. The beans,
pickles, and relishes,
and veggies of all sorts
sitting on the dusty
shelves heading down to the
dirt floor cellar, walls lined
with stones from Fountain Springs.,
like in my grandma's house.
Labels facing front, as
if we couldn't see through
the clear to the cargo
inside. Wouldn't it be
nice if people came that
way too? Forehead labels
worn like bandannas with
their tails bouncing behind.
You could imagine some...
and everyone in life.
Like so many canning
jars in the fall. The beans,
pickles, and relishes,
and veggies of all sorts
sitting on the dusty
shelves heading down to the
dirt floor cellar, walls lined
with stones from Fountain Springs.,
like in my grandma's house.
Labels facing front, as
if we couldn't see through
the clear to the cargo
inside. Wouldn't it be
nice if people came that
way too? Forehead labels
worn like bandannas with
their tails bouncing behind.
You could imagine some...
678 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
30th Jan 2016 3:50am
30th Jan 2016 3:50am
Simple as the Sunrise
As pure and simple as the sunrise
over the Atlantic blue
are syllables of love that slip
from your lip each day.
Words that carry me on
their pinions, protected and
secured in our nested conversation.
Throughout the day you are with me.
And as the sun breaths its last
I retreat to the hyperbaric chambers
of my heart to recover the joy in life;
Your words heal in pressurized ways.
Your affirmations fill the
cells of my existence as I sit
limped out after dealing with the
used tea-bag personalities...
over the Atlantic blue
are syllables of love that slip
from your lip each day.
Words that carry me on
their pinions, protected and
secured in our nested conversation.
Throughout the day you are with me.
And as the sun breaths its last
I retreat to the hyperbaric chambers
of my heart to recover the joy in life;
Your words heal in pressurized ways.
Your affirmations fill the
cells of my existence as I sit
limped out after dealing with the
used tea-bag personalities...
1240 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
27th Jan 2016 10:27am
27th Jan 2016 10:27am
Guillotine
I lay under the guillotine
face up,
seeing the Gillette
razor twinkling
in the light
of the full
moon;
ready to taste,
taste
the curdled milk
of my existence .
Cracked leather straps
of licorice candy
holding me down smell
so sweet
so intoxicating causing me
sojourn among a
plethora o' praises
of all of the Black Jack
Kehoughs, Kirwins, and Quinns.
But who am I?
A dried up leaf...
face up,
seeing the Gillette
razor twinkling
in the light
of the full
moon;
ready to taste,
taste
the curdled milk
of my existence .
Cracked leather straps
of licorice candy
holding me down smell
so sweet
so intoxicating causing me
sojourn among a
plethora o' praises
of all of the Black Jack
Kehoughs, Kirwins, and Quinns.
But who am I?
A dried up leaf...
747 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Jan 2016 9:10pm
25th Jan 2016 9:10pm
Snowflakes
Snowflakes, falling so softly,
Blanching old leaves in a clean bed of white.
Winds, rushing, deafening echos of frost,
Rows of saplings bowing to King Winter.
Long emerald pines quilted on the boughs,
Layered in the serenity of snow.
The sky goes gray as the snow,
In soft pearly quietness, falls softly
Past the crusty Ice tinsel in the boughs
Covering flora and fauna in white,
As blue light of the low sun in winter
dances over the forest floor of frost .
Glazing touches of Jack Frost
Cover in low vale and...
Blanching old leaves in a clean bed of white.
Winds, rushing, deafening echos of frost,
Rows of saplings bowing to King Winter.
Long emerald pines quilted on the boughs,
Layered in the serenity of snow.
The sky goes gray as the snow,
In soft pearly quietness, falls softly
Past the crusty Ice tinsel in the boughs
Covering flora and fauna in white,
As blue light of the low sun in winter
dances over the forest floor of frost .
Glazing touches of Jack Frost
Cover in low vale and...
628 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
25th Jan 2016 1:05pm
25th Jan 2016 1:05pm
shucking my soul
I shuck my soul
to find the love
you leave behind.
To find the pearls
that shimmer like
the moon when its
drinking the last
of the sun's rays.
Each word you speak
engraved as nacre
inside this gray
mollusk that I
call my heart. And
while my fingers
may bleed, bleed
may they in the
search of of each
pearl you leave behind.
to find the love
you leave behind.
To find the pearls
that shimmer like
the moon when its
drinking the last
of the sun's rays.
Each word you speak
engraved as nacre
inside this gray
mollusk that I
call my heart. And
while my fingers
may bleed, bleed
may they in the
search of of each
pearl you leave behind.
833 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
24th Jan 2016 1:27am
24th Jan 2016 1:27am
Listening to you
Let me listen to you
I want to hear your disquieting thoughts.
The feelings that agitate your soul
to the point of sleeplessness.
Let me dispel them like the rain
clouds over a mountain.
Let those winds ride my back
to protect your precious floret.
Let me love you
by believing in you.
Melt yourself into my arms,
I touch the fragile flower.
Let your feelings flow over
my body, and cut into me,
that I may bleed for you,
that I may bleed with you.
Let me listen to my lover
because she has taught me how to...
I want to hear your disquieting thoughts.
The feelings that agitate your soul
to the point of sleeplessness.
Let me dispel them like the rain
clouds over a mountain.
Let those winds ride my back
to protect your precious floret.
Let me love you
by believing in you.
Melt yourself into my arms,
I touch the fragile flower.
Let your feelings flow over
my body, and cut into me,
that I may bleed for you,
that I may bleed with you.
Let me listen to my lover
because she has taught me how to...
823 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2016 2:26am
23rd Jan 2016 2:26am
a dream of you
I revel in your delicious touch;
the touch of Belgian chocolate
when the tongue swims in it,
and it melts on the taste buds
like you do as the dessert of my every night,
when your breasts butter my fingers,
and I taste your words
as vowels strawberry that linger
on your lips so sweetly.
It is then, that this feeling sweeps
down my arms into my hands and I feel
shape and weight and texture and temperature
as if I am actually grasping you.
A tactile sensation menagerie
from our souls meringue
the touch of Belgian chocolate
when the tongue swims in it,
and it melts on the taste buds
like you do as the dessert of my every night,
when your breasts butter my fingers,
and I taste your words
as vowels strawberry that linger
on your lips so sweetly.
It is then, that this feeling sweeps
down my arms into my hands and I feel
shape and weight and texture and temperature
as if I am actually grasping you.
A tactile sensation menagerie
from our souls meringue
849 reads
7 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
21st Jan 2016 2:15am
21st Jan 2016 2:15am
X marks the spot
I have read the map of your soul.
I have searched for the clues in your key.
The compass I use , for true north I can not see.
Weary wanderer that I am.
Traveling through jungles of confusion
and crucible desserts in search of you.
Your treasure is what I seek.
Your war chest bursts, full of booty.
But it is hidden, tucked away
in a safe place known only to you,
Waiting to be discovered.
I know not what your outward appearance is.
It may be sandy and weather beaten.
Years of toil marked on your clasps.
Scratches...
I have searched for the clues in your key.
The compass I use , for true north I can not see.
Weary wanderer that I am.
Traveling through jungles of confusion
and crucible desserts in search of you.
Your treasure is what I seek.
Your war chest bursts, full of booty.
But it is hidden, tucked away
in a safe place known only to you,
Waiting to be discovered.
I know not what your outward appearance is.
It may be sandy and weather beaten.
Years of toil marked on your clasps.
Scratches...
909 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Jan 2016 3:45pm
20th Jan 2016 3:45pm
Flicker
Born dying
this candle neglect.
Its voice is extinguished-
Its flame is nowhere.
Taken away by a breath; instant
A smoldering wick fading. Its
curling fingers belching
upward as cruel apothecary
To wounded memories
of families forgotten;
To century old row houses
with creaky floorboards under
three layer linoleum;
To Yuengling Brothers beer bottles
hanging from attic rafters
like Christmas ornaments.
The flame is gone, and in its place
a mudslide of wax melt a mile long
this candle neglect.
Its voice is extinguished-
Its flame is nowhere.
Taken away by a breath; instant
A smoldering wick fading. Its
curling fingers belching
upward as cruel apothecary
To wounded memories
of families forgotten;
To century old row houses
with creaky floorboards under
three layer linoleum;
To Yuengling Brothers beer bottles
hanging from attic rafters
like Christmas ornaments.
The flame is gone, and in its place
a mudslide of wax melt a mile long
602 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Handcuffs (et al)
