Submissions by Honnha
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I have been writing since childhood in a variety of genres.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Apr 2017 12:37pm
29th Apr 2017 12:37pm
Madness
I want to live with Madness,
passion and wild truth mated to action,
prying into the backs of skulls
filled with hidden, forgotten rooms...
-to hurl strings of exquisite words
crammed into nonsensical sentences,
crushed together like smoke and breath,
stirring visceral senses,
mingling their magic into one, grotesque thing
of immense and terrible beauty...
-to spew life over walls and ceilings and floors,
flinging the joined meats of mind and will
out and over everything
until they cluster in glistening...
passion and wild truth mated to action,
prying into the backs of skulls
filled with hidden, forgotten rooms...
-to hurl strings of exquisite words
crammed into nonsensical sentences,
crushed together like smoke and breath,
stirring visceral senses,
mingling their magic into one, grotesque thing
of immense and terrible beauty...
-to spew life over walls and ceilings and floors,
flinging the joined meats of mind and will
out and over everything
until they cluster in glistening...
480 reads
2 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Dec 2016 11:48am
26th Dec 2016 11:48am
Epic
Life can be the most epic form of suicide,
a marathon of racing,
of living,
of dying,
fighting through the days, hours, minutes
laid before our feet
in a gauntlet of blood and fire.
We can race to the mountain's crest
panting, flying,
fighting the odds
in an effort to be
everything
we are.
Raking through rejection,
clambering against self-loathing,
clawing past the pain
of false starts and failures,
we can fling ourselves upwards,
launching with the fuel
of will, of mind, of flesh and bone
to reach the crest,...
a marathon of racing,
of living,
of dying,
fighting through the days, hours, minutes
laid before our feet
in a gauntlet of blood and fire.
We can race to the mountain's crest
panting, flying,
fighting the odds
in an effort to be
everything
we are.
Raking through rejection,
clambering against self-loathing,
clawing past the pain
of false starts and failures,
we can fling ourselves upwards,
launching with the fuel
of will, of mind, of flesh and bone
to reach the crest,...
668 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Dec 2016 1:38pm
18th Dec 2016 1:38pm
Names in a Box
The first name he was given went unheard as he cured inside the gaunt shell of his momma’s belly when they were forced from home and sent out into the world alone. When he was born down the back of a red-dirt road his thirteen-year-old mother carefully printed the letters “U R S T O N S T R O M A D A M S” in childish block letters on the front page of a new bible. It would be a few years before he knew it was his.
Other names would come first. As a baby wrapped in her thin arms, the head filled with wild, black curls was christened “Dark, Gypsy Angel”. Pressed deep, it was stamped...
Other names would come first. As a baby wrapped in her thin arms, the head filled with wild, black curls was christened “Dark, Gypsy Angel”. Pressed deep, it was stamped...
720 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Dec 2016 11:00am
18th Dec 2016 11:00am
The Making of Maps
My journey is mapped
by the cracks of my breaking.
Forking chasms lie in the borderlands behind me.
Jagged lines race into roads before me.
A forest of fracturing channels
soaring across the days of my living,
spreading throughout the bodies of my being.
Electric flame-
This lightening
veins throughout me
illuminating the whole of my existence
with stark so-real flashes
where no-thing hides:
not illusions, not lies
no beginnings without endings
no tomorrow without possibilities.
Born of my history
they birth bridges to my...
by the cracks of my breaking.
Forking chasms lie in the borderlands behind me.
Jagged lines race into roads before me.
A forest of fracturing channels
soaring across the days of my living,
spreading throughout the bodies of my being.
Electric flame-
This lightening
veins throughout me
illuminating the whole of my existence
with stark so-real flashes
where no-thing hides:
not illusions, not lies
no beginnings without endings
no tomorrow without possibilities.
Born of my history
they birth bridges to my...
605 reads
7 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Dec 2016 9:15am
16th Dec 2016 9:15am
Run!
Run, Woman!
Run wild:
free
and aflame,
feet obliterating
to ashes
the echoing voices
of those frightened
by the bloodstains
in the coliseum.
Run, Man!
Run fierce:
fear
cast aside,
freed by the force
of remembering
your soul
was forged
from the steel
glittering in the eyes
of God.
Run, Wild!
Run, Free!
Open the cages
of beasts
longing
to run beside you.
For unbound
we are
an inferno
burning down
a world
built
by trembling hands.
© 2016, H....
Run wild:
free
and aflame,
feet obliterating
to ashes
the echoing voices
of those frightened
by the bloodstains
in the coliseum.
Run, Man!
Run fierce:
fear
cast aside,
freed by the force
of remembering
your soul
was forged
from the steel
glittering in the eyes
of God.
Run, Wild!
Run, Free!
Open the cages
of beasts
longing
to run beside you.
For unbound
we are
an inferno
burning down
a world
built
by trembling hands.
© 2016, H....
653 reads
6 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Dec 2016 9:22am
14th Dec 2016 9:22am
Just Suppose
Suppose, for a moment
-just suppose-
that each rip and
every scar
carved into the fabric
of your being
was not put there to disfigure
or deform you
but to define you.
Fold your mind
around the chance that maybe
– just maybe –
those gashes
and wounds
are the standard of a clan
and the banner of a people
who have survived.
And if this were true,
perhaps
-just perhaps-
they are there
for you to recognize
the trials that formed you,
the fires that forged you,
and the souls of other...
-just suppose-
that each rip and
every scar
carved into the fabric
of your being
was not put there to disfigure
or deform you
but to define you.
Fold your mind
around the chance that maybe
– just maybe –
those gashes
and wounds
are the standard of a clan
and the banner of a people
who have survived.
And if this were true,
perhaps
-just perhaps-
they are there
for you to recognize
the trials that formed you,
the fires that forged you,
and the souls of other...
1052 reads
11 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2016 10:32am
3rd Dec 2016 10:32am
Legos
Interchangeable people,
ephemeral parts,
segmented smiles
flash
the bait
of transient fraternity.
It means nothing -
less than nothing -
because they are
not
the sum
of their wandering segments.
Nothing ventured
nothing gained
but the
loss
of mercurial people
with interchangeable hearts.
© H. Newberry
ephemeral parts,
segmented smiles
flash
the bait
of transient fraternity.
It means nothing -
less than nothing -
because they are
not
the sum
of their wandering segments.
Nothing ventured
nothing gained
but the
loss
of mercurial people
with interchangeable hearts.
© H. Newberry
641 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Dec 2016 9:35am
1st Dec 2016 9:35am
Out the Window
Grey on grey.
Like ripples of bad watercolors.
Too ugly to be fake,
Too poignant to be real.
Defined and packaged,
Explained and exorcised,
Trod upon and forgotten
Like the cheap, plastic brushes
On the carpets of talentless children.
A layered surface, slopped together,
Concealing truths and birthing lies,
Forcing the eye to look within
And find the face of God.
A visage of Mystery
Drifts closer to the brain
Coaxing the creature,
Stirring the discarded believer
Yet wonder, stripped of all its beauty,
Is offered...
Like ripples of bad watercolors.
Too ugly to be fake,
Too poignant to be real.
Defined and packaged,
Explained and exorcised,
Trod upon and forgotten
Like the cheap, plastic brushes
On the carpets of talentless children.
A layered surface, slopped together,
Concealing truths and birthing lies,
Forcing the eye to look within
And find the face of God.
A visage of Mystery
Drifts closer to the brain
Coaxing the creature,
Stirring the discarded believer
Yet wonder, stripped of all its beauty,
Is offered...
690 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Nov 2016 4:01pm
30th Nov 2016 4:01pm
In Lieu of Salutations
Nice ass!”
he brayed
as I passed him in
the gift wrap aisle.
My jaw jerked
as words aimed at me
splattered onto the back
of the woman
bent over the stroller
parked in front of a jutting crotch
parenthesized by hairy thumbs.
“Not today,”
I offered quietly in a tone
whetted by her red-faced cringe,
“but I’m sure she’s still hoping you’ll evolve.”
© 2016, H. Newberry
he brayed
as I passed him in
the gift wrap aisle.
My jaw jerked
as words aimed at me
splattered onto the back
of the woman
bent over the stroller
parked in front of a jutting crotch
parenthesized by hairy thumbs.
“Not today,”
I offered quietly in a tone
whetted by her red-faced cringe,
“but I’m sure she’s still hoping you’ll evolve.”
© 2016, H. Newberry
602 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Nov 2016 9:56am
28th Nov 2016 9:56am
Paladin
He comes to me
without the shield of ignorance,
Eyes a wounded standard,
Bleeding the blood of others,
Battered by their wounds,
Muscles tightened against the blows
Raining on soft and tender skin.
Hands curled into empty fists
He asks me,
“How?”
“How do I make it stop?”
i look up
my gaze lingering on those eyes
scarred by reality,
by the hurt
of seeing,
needing my words to be
maps to find the field of battle,
to engage some enemy,
to ride down the ugliness
and fight the everyday horrors.
my...
without the shield of ignorance,
Eyes a wounded standard,
Bleeding the blood of others,
Battered by their wounds,
Muscles tightened against the blows
Raining on soft and tender skin.
Hands curled into empty fists
He asks me,
“How?”
“How do I make it stop?”
i look up
my gaze lingering on those eyes
scarred by reality,
by the hurt
of seeing,
needing my words to be
maps to find the field of battle,
to engage some enemy,
to ride down the ugliness
and fight the everyday horrors.
my...
670 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Nov 2016 11:44am
27th Nov 2016 11:44am
Naked
Let's get naked.
Peel off all the lies
makeup and hair gel,
and wipe the stains of
red and pink shit
off our lips.
We can swap sins
like madams in a
brothel bartering virginity
to see who can sell it fastest.
We'll curl up - eager-
in a tight space
where the whispers
of our confessions are
the only tangible things
weaving a world
out of something
more real than the
glossy, billboard life
we're all pretending to live.
Let's strip for real
and have a real life
kind of moment
where I listen as you...
Peel off all the lies
makeup and hair gel,
and wipe the stains of
red and pink shit
off our lips.
We can swap sins
like madams in a
brothel bartering virginity
to see who can sell it fastest.
We'll curl up - eager-
in a tight space
where the whispers
of our confessions are
the only tangible things
weaving a world
out of something
more real than the
glossy, billboard life
we're all pretending to live.
Let's strip for real
and have a real life
kind of moment
where I listen as you...
835 reads
11 Comments
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