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
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Dec 2015 1:41am
10th Dec 2015 1:41am
Prose Potatoes
In reading prose poetry, I am bewildered. It seems to me when reading this style of poetry, I am looking at an overcooked baked potato. This object has a crunchy covering, but the center has shrunk away from the shell, and the butter of my eyes melts into it too easily. I come away feeling unsatisfied. Maybe I was expecting a different potato because I loved the potatoes of Keats, and Wilde, and Neruda, and Heaney. Maybe I loved the discovery of the sweet potato fields of Eliot, or Angelou. It could be that I found the little red potatoes of John Ashbury, or Rita Dove too tasty. It is...
639 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
10th Dec 2015 1:30am
10th Dec 2015 1:30am
Pencil and Paper
I am the pencil.
You are the paper.
I draw .
You are tickled.
I leave an impression.
You accept my squiggles.
I start at the top.
You offer suggestions.
I write words
You hold tight.
I love your surface
You love my graphite.
I change you.
You change me.
Together a pair.
You are the paper.
I draw .
You are tickled.
I leave an impression.
You accept my squiggles.
I start at the top.
You offer suggestions.
I write words
You hold tight.
I love your surface
You love my graphite.
I change you.
You change me.
Together a pair.
817 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
9th Dec 2015 3:02am
9th Dec 2015 3:02am
Beauty in the Broken
Seasonal neglect and upheaval
left this clay vessel
disfigured and discolored.
Shattered spirit against a wall.
Shadows of a million pieces.
But your hands gathered
even the dust of my soul,
and mixed the elixir of life,
So I would become more beautiful
than I was before I was broken.
The beauty in the broken.
The beauty in every breath.
The beauty in the genesis of
of every moment, of every eye-full,
Taste, and scent.
You found the treasure in life's scars.
You found the beauty in the broken.
Tender fingers...
left this clay vessel
disfigured and discolored.
Shattered spirit against a wall.
Shadows of a million pieces.
But your hands gathered
even the dust of my soul,
and mixed the elixir of life,
So I would become more beautiful
than I was before I was broken.
The beauty in the broken.
The beauty in every breath.
The beauty in the genesis of
of every moment, of every eye-full,
Taste, and scent.
You found the treasure in life's scars.
You found the beauty in the broken.
Tender fingers...
760 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Dec 2015 3:00am
9th Dec 2015 3:00am
Soul Shadow
The outlines of my being are vague.
I struggle to exist, to gulp the air.
To feel is an illusion. The pain hoped for
Is an evident demonstration of realities,
that are not beheld.
I am but a shadow of your reality.
A nebulous existence I suffered.
I disappeared in the shadows
The light emanating from your passion
defined my borders that I dare not cross.
Something that will never be has dominated me.
I crave the flutter of your touch,
The whisper your breath...
To hope for your kiss, to long for your touch.
The warmth...
I struggle to exist, to gulp the air.
To feel is an illusion. The pain hoped for
Is an evident demonstration of realities,
that are not beheld.
I am but a shadow of your reality.
A nebulous existence I suffered.
I disappeared in the shadows
The light emanating from your passion
defined my borders that I dare not cross.
Something that will never be has dominated me.
I crave the flutter of your touch,
The whisper your breath...
To hope for your kiss, to long for your touch.
The warmth...
538 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
8th Dec 2015 1:39am
8th Dec 2015 1:39am
Coffee Cup
Here
I stand.
Alone.
Empty.
Ready
to serve.
Ready
to be filled by you.
Fill
me completely.
Give
me all of your cream and sugar.
Sooth
the bean in me.
Satiate
me in your liquidity.
Empty
me down your throat.
Fill
me again with your hot liquid.
Put
me to your lips.
Repeat!
Repeat!
Lucky cup.
I stand.
Alone.
Empty.
Ready
to serve.
Ready
to be filled by you.
Fill
me completely.
Give
me all of your cream and sugar.
Sooth
the bean in me.
Satiate
me in your liquidity.
Empty
me down your throat.
Fill
me again with your hot liquid.
Put
me to your lips.
Repeat!
Repeat!
Lucky cup.
869 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
8th Dec 2015 1:36am
8th Dec 2015 1:36am
For the love of Scotch
Like a sip of the peaty scotch
that you love so much, and
that you taught me to love too.
That smokey smoothness
flows through me;
becomes me.
Those Laphroaig vapors
elevate me, but not the way
you can. I remember our convo
your glass my lips rub,
still half filled with booze golden.
How you drew the hardwood smoke
out from deep within my cask
with a pop of the cork, and a slow
gurgle into your glass.
Just as the wood scorched would
breath the spirits in and out,
so you have done to my soul,
keeping...
that you love so much, and
that you taught me to love too.
That smokey smoothness
flows through me;
becomes me.
Those Laphroaig vapors
elevate me, but not the way
you can. I remember our convo
your glass my lips rub,
still half filled with booze golden.
How you drew the hardwood smoke
out from deep within my cask
with a pop of the cork, and a slow
gurgle into your glass.
Just as the wood scorched would
breath the spirits in and out,
so you have done to my soul,
keeping...
643 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Dec 2015 11:39pm
6th Dec 2015 11:39pm
Tulpa Time
In my tulpa time
I would,
I would talk
To tombs where
Oblivion sat .
She would taunt
Worst
when Flowers
Bloomed
Brightest
In spring...
With the
Honeysuckle
Fragrance
that would
Shift,
shift on the wind, and
Life
sprang from
mud.
Where fig seeds lay,
The bruxism of skull
After skull would
Sound as,
as taranta,
A warning.
A warning to all:
“Cheaper to Keep...
I would,
I would talk
To tombs where
Oblivion sat .
She would taunt
Worst
when Flowers
Bloomed
Brightest
In spring...
With the
Honeysuckle
Fragrance
that would
Shift,
shift on the wind, and
Life
sprang from
mud.
Where fig seeds lay,
The bruxism of skull
After skull would
Sound as,
as taranta,
A warning.
A warning to all:
“Cheaper to Keep...
679 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Dec 2015 11:34pm
6th Dec 2015 11:34pm
Stone Wall
Where are you going, deep in your thicket?
A shaped estuary of stone by the hands of men.
Standing against time, you flow forth;
Rivulets of rock cutting into the landscape.
Streaming across time; hugging
The contours of the old sod,
Like a flowing river of stone in sand,
You melt into the landscape, only to reemerge.
Granite heaps in eddies filling the hollows;
Sandstone brooks branching off; disappearing under the leaves.
Rose Quartz pops up like salmon spawning upstream.
Stonework carefully placed so long ago,
Spills onto the forest floor in...
A shaped estuary of stone by the hands of men.
Standing against time, you flow forth;
Rivulets of rock cutting into the landscape.
Streaming across time; hugging
The contours of the old sod,
Like a flowing river of stone in sand,
You melt into the landscape, only to reemerge.
Granite heaps in eddies filling the hollows;
Sandstone brooks branching off; disappearing under the leaves.
Rose Quartz pops up like salmon spawning upstream.
Stonework carefully placed so long ago,
Spills onto the forest floor in...
660 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th Dec 2015 1:06pm
6th Dec 2015 1:06pm
Love Letter
I wanted to write a story about us making love. I wanted to imagine touching your body in ways that would delight you … that would cause the perspiration and palpitation of your form. I wanted to describe how I would mold your naked body before me into a cluster of sexual energy going supernova. . To kiss you. To touch you. To do things to you that would cause you to quake in pleasure and scream to the heavens out of release.
But I find my mind moving laterally, reviewing all of your wonderful words. Thinking of the kind of person you are. How special you are to me. I...
But I find my mind moving laterally, reviewing all of your wonderful words. Thinking of the kind of person you are. How special you are to me. I...
1096 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th Dec 2015 1:04pm
6th Dec 2015 1:04pm
American Rose
An American Rose in West Sussex
The sun shines warmest whenever you are with your lover; Be that in Scotland, Ireland, or England.
She is poised as a solitary rose against the majestic garden of her sisters, Seven Sisters to be precise....
We Stand there looking out over the white chalk cliffs that undulate against the light blue sky. The sister's grass-green hair waving in the light breeze as they rise and fall on these ancient hills that are dissolving slowly into the sea.
Below us, the sounds of waves churning the seaweed over and over as...
The sun shines warmest whenever you are with your lover; Be that in Scotland, Ireland, or England.
She is poised as a solitary rose against the majestic garden of her sisters, Seven Sisters to be precise....
We Stand there looking out over the white chalk cliffs that undulate against the light blue sky. The sister's grass-green hair waving in the light breeze as they rise and fall on these ancient hills that are dissolving slowly into the sea.
Below us, the sounds of waves churning the seaweed over and over as...
1185 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
5th Dec 2015 9:31pm
5th Dec 2015 9:31pm
No debate
No debate
when the harvest of Sandy Hook is
no catalyst for change even
when the shredded mozzarella hearts
melt like the candle wax that fills
the green and yellow dixie cups held.
when empty school chairs in
common schools become
common place in the
sarcophagus of the mind;
when we tolerate the harvest
of cheeping souls and all that is left
are the shadows dancing in
underwater sunbeams.
Art and death mingle in the
translucent light of a parent's
everyday daydream.
Arms, grief...
when the harvest of Sandy Hook is
no catalyst for change even
when the shredded mozzarella hearts
melt like the candle wax that fills
the green and yellow dixie cups held.
when empty school chairs in
common schools become
common place in the
sarcophagus of the mind;
when we tolerate the harvest
of cheeping souls and all that is left
are the shadows dancing in
underwater sunbeams.
Art and death mingle in the
translucent light of a parent's
everyday daydream.
Arms, grief...
844 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
5th Dec 2015 9:23pm
5th Dec 2015 9:23pm
Good Night Kiss
May the twinkles
of the stars blush
at the dreams that rise
from your soul tonight,
because if I could,
I would
be the good night
kiss of your lips.
Craving
each night
to taste the
salt of your earth;
to feel the warmth
of intertwining limbs.
Sex scented as a rose
handcuffed
to the bedpost,
blindfolded.
The feathers of my fingers
give your plumage play
as you liquefy
into the...
of the stars blush
at the dreams that rise
from your soul tonight,
because if I could,
I would
be the good night
kiss of your lips.
Craving
each night
to taste the
salt of your earth;
to feel the warmth
of intertwining limbs.
Sex scented as a rose
handcuffed
to the bedpost,
blindfolded.
The feathers of my fingers
give your plumage play
as you liquefy
into the...
8306 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Handcuffs (et al)
