Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
Yesterday 7:42pm
Yesterday 7:42pm
The Middle-lands
Sometimes I drink myself,
deep wells of water drowning my insides and pouring back out as rivers
that seek you out and egg you on,
inciting you
to chase,
bounding as stag in heat
across the guts of wide, open hillside.
I hear your throat reverberating my name -
top of challenging Tor,
caught and carried upon vast, cutting winds,
salted and frosted in unpredictable air.
I don't call back,
I don't dare.
My heart wiser, taught by time, steadied on song,
mind though, still too...
deep wells of water drowning my insides and pouring back out as rivers
that seek you out and egg you on,
inciting you
to chase,
bounding as stag in heat
across the guts of wide, open hillside.
I hear your throat reverberating my name -
top of challenging Tor,
caught and carried upon vast, cutting winds,
salted and frosted in unpredictable air.
I don't call back,
I don't dare.
My heart wiser, taught by time, steadied on song,
mind though, still too...
#love
#nature
#learning #SelfDiscovery
#learning #SelfDiscovery
31 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jan 2020 4:02am
21st Jan 2020 4:02am
Wilderbeast
I dream in old rivers,
the beds of ancients bestowed,
rolled round as pebbles chased
downstream
on Spring tide a' storm
that hum the great babbling
of cold, Winter days,
where leaves rest wild rotting
in drift, sand, grain bays.
Naked trees on the banks
hang hands down to pray,
though the buds are a-coming,
swell by the dawn and by day
My toes are a-curling for freedom and chase.
My mind too erratic to ever erase.
I drown her by river,
the wood sets a-blaze.
I...
the beds of ancients bestowed,
rolled round as pebbles chased
downstream
on Spring tide a' storm
that hum the great babbling
of cold, Winter days,
where leaves rest wild rotting
in drift, sand, grain bays.
Naked trees on the banks
hang hands down to pray,
though the buds are a-coming,
swell by the dawn and by day
My toes are a-curling for freedom and chase.
My mind too erratic to ever erase.
I drown her by river,
the wood sets a-blaze.
I...
#trees
#water
#nature
34 reads
13 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jan 2020 4:12pm
19th Jan 2020 4:12pm
The Lido
Distance 300m, air temp -2.8, water temp 9.8, frosty and dry
I take to water,
left of the dual carriageway
on a frosty, January morning.
I take no time for fear,
don't swallow it, don't let it swallow me.
I listen to the birdsong, imagine the horseshoe bats taking flight behind my eyelids
on a dimlit night,
channel their screams, carried in silence upon human ear.
My toes curl into the metal grate of a step, fingers lick the edge of water
as if a long-lost lover's remeeting.
I picture you, between the pool edge and I, ...
I take to water,
left of the dual carriageway
on a frosty, January morning.
I take no time for fear,
don't swallow it, don't let it swallow me.
I listen to the birdsong, imagine the horseshoe bats taking flight behind my eyelids
on a dimlit night,
channel their screams, carried in silence upon human ear.
My toes curl into the metal grate of a step, fingers lick the edge of water
as if a long-lost lover's remeeting.
I picture you, between the pool edge and I, ...
#water
#nature
#freedom
42 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Jan 2020 8:21pm
13th Jan 2020 8:21pm
On a Spring tide *Cyclical poetry
On a Spring tide
(Cyclical poetry - attempting to write every month on the first day of my bleed. Please omit if not your jam. 😂)
The moon slithers,
tumbles across the, wide as ocean, sky
and I howl up to her, in her glory
still,
as only days before
when choruses howled up, up at the Penumbral
cloaked in cloud. Give gutteral
thanks in my smallness,
for the bleed suffering within my womb,
walls collapsing in, storms rushing through
as if carried upon a Spring tide.
The neap tide is a-coming.
I hold my...
(Cyclical poetry - attempting to write every month on the first day of my bleed. Please omit if not your jam. 😂)
The moon slithers,
tumbles across the, wide as ocean, sky
and I howl up to her, in her glory
still,
as only days before
when choruses howled up, up at the Penumbral
cloaked in cloud. Give gutteral
thanks in my smallness,
for the bleed suffering within my womb,
walls collapsing in, storms rushing through
as if carried upon a Spring tide.
The neap tide is a-coming.
I hold my...
#women
#sea
#moon #rebirth
#moon #rebirth
45 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Jan 2020 7:14pm
12th Jan 2020 7:14pm
Gloat
What's the price of privilege?
Turning blind eye on the left
behind
and the left behind
supping from the right
side of the bowl.
I wouldn't mind if it didn't ensure we were speaking in opposites,
more and more we are, lines aren't blurred, people don't play the midfield.
Tribes are out in force
and I
am on a losing team.
We've been losing a long time, my entire voting career I've proudly screamed, red
in the face, from a pew with a pencil in hand.
Your blue
eyes catch mine and I know
we didn't choose the...
Turning blind eye on the left
behind
and the left behind
supping from the right
side of the bowl.
I wouldn't mind if it didn't ensure we were speaking in opposites,
more and more we are, lines aren't blurred, people don't play the midfield.
Tribes are out in force
and I
am on a losing team.
We've been losing a long time, my entire voting career I've proudly screamed, red
in the face, from a pew with a pencil in hand.
Your blue
eyes catch mine and I know
we didn't choose the...
#anger
#politics
#apathy
50 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Jan 2020 7:14pm
10th Jan 2020 7:14pm
Penumbral
Tonight, curled within the shadow of the earth, a wolf
burrows.
Her howl echoed in the bodies of humans
in their tribes drumming, in their homes, in the hums of their vessels throbbing.
She is coming. She is rising and unfurling,
stretching her scarred, grey paws into the sky, parading, unearthing more and more of her fullest self, extending her wonder to the masses below her, those watching.
Deep in her belly she creates magnetic currents, minds the tides here on our planet,
stalks about us as a majestic gypsy warrior
unprepared to take up humble...
burrows.
Her howl echoed in the bodies of humans
in their tribes drumming, in their homes, in the hums of their vessels throbbing.
She is coming. She is rising and unfurling,
stretching her scarred, grey paws into the sky, parading, unearthing more and more of her fullest self, extending her wonder to the masses below her, those watching.
Deep in her belly she creates magnetic currents, minds the tides here on our planet,
stalks about us as a majestic gypsy warrior
unprepared to take up humble...
#moon
#night
#magic
34 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
9th Jan 2020 9:16pm
9th Jan 2020 9:16pm
Until you're home.
And I sang
long, cold symphonies across the dividing sea
which against the current, the heron and oystercatcher
created a cacophony not even a ferry master could ignore -
And in an uncomfortable juxtaposition
chains,
sunken into water, attached to staged boats swayed,
built up a rhythm in their lightness
gave noise to the slam down of my, usually lighter to bear, rage.
I watched a man
pulling metal by metal out of the water.
I hoped it ached.
I wished it was me pulling....
long, cold symphonies across the dividing sea
which against the current, the heron and oystercatcher
created a cacophony not even a ferry master could ignore -
And in an uncomfortable juxtaposition
chains,
sunken into water, attached to staged boats swayed,
built up a rhythm in their lightness
gave noise to the slam down of my, usually lighter to bear, rage.
I watched a man
pulling metal by metal out of the water.
I hoped it ached.
I wished it was me pulling....
#family
#home
#MentalHealth #honesty
#MentalHealth #honesty
59 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Jan 2020 4:15am
4th Jan 2020 4:15am
Fourth esoteric
You rose the day after Perihelion
upon a new winter moon, to a solar eclipse.
January swung to and fro as if Earth was off course at the arrival.
The day after
temperatures soared to above 13°c despite a dry, regular month generally.
Regardless of whether you were born
or whether it all occurred in your first year
it was your experience and so you were and so you existed.
At four am this morning I sat to watch the Quadrantid meteor shower.
Tomorrow
when we wake it'll be Perihelion once more
and as you...
upon a new winter moon, to a solar eclipse.
January swung to and fro as if Earth was off course at the arrival.
The day after
temperatures soared to above 13°c despite a dry, regular month generally.
Regardless of whether you were born
or whether it all occurred in your first year
it was your experience and so you were and so you existed.
At four am this morning I sat to watch the Quadrantid meteor shower.
Tomorrow
when we wake it'll be Perihelion once more
and as you...
#friendship
#nature
#aging
44 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Jan 2020 10:54am
1st Jan 2020 10:54am
New Year Spirit
New Year's Day
The urgent call of sparrow and tit, met by
wings beating in effortless synchronisation,
catching and stilling on the barren branch of an apple.
A crow sings above.
Catkins of hazel catch my eye, drag me from rotting chair to wander.
A gull's frame is captured
in the reflection of gathered water.
Calmness comes in the life of a new Winter's day,
log smoke in the air from last night,
sat with my chosen life partner, righting our wrongs,
acknowledging our rights, navigating rhythm and routine together....
The urgent call of sparrow and tit, met by
wings beating in effortless synchronisation,
catching and stilling on the barren branch of an apple.
A crow sings above.
Catkins of hazel catch my eye, drag me from rotting chair to wander.
A gull's frame is captured
in the reflection of gathered water.
Calmness comes in the life of a new Winter's day,
log smoke in the air from last night,
sat with my chosen life partner, righting our wrongs,
acknowledging our rights, navigating rhythm and routine together....
#loneliness
#identity
#nature #aging
#nature #aging
55 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
29th Dec 2019 10:24am
29th Dec 2019 10:24am
Vehemence
In unctuous moonlight, saturated under streetlight,
my eyes met yours
and devoured them freely -
your restrained flesh stretched across the Winter divide, cloaked in our breath, to my fingers giving shelter to a vice. I knew it - as Earth is round, grass grows green,
I'd hang on your words as faithfully as an illusionist on stage.
I'd wrap your mannerisms as corsets about my ribs, undermeasured,
constricting with minor agony, daring them to exhale again. ...
my eyes met yours
and devoured them freely -
your restrained flesh stretched across the Winter divide, cloaked in our breath, to my fingers giving shelter to a vice. I knew it - as Earth is round, grass grows green,
I'd hang on your words as faithfully as an illusionist on stage.
I'd wrap your mannerisms as corsets about my ribs, undermeasured,
constricting with minor agony, daring them to exhale again. ...
#love
#nature
#humankind #aging
#humankind #aging
61 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Dec 2019 8:42pm
27th Dec 2019 8:42pm
Lifetimes
I don't age,
not really - I wonder if anyone does.
I string my words together as Christmas lights, make them glisten with electric so no one realises most of me is liable to burn out
soon after leaving
Sainsburys.
I don't age,
I quiver staring
over the cliff edge that is my young years, knowing I jump boldly again and again
only to be respawned here,
right here - stamping old grass and old battlegrounds.
I don't age,
or if I do I have aged alive but haunted,
ghost versions of me...
not really - I wonder if anyone does.
I string my words together as Christmas lights, make them glisten with electric so no one realises most of me is liable to burn out
soon after leaving
Sainsburys.
I don't age,
I quiver staring
over the cliff edge that is my young years, knowing I jump boldly again and again
only to be respawned here,
right here - stamping old grass and old battlegrounds.
I don't age,
or if I do I have aged alive but haunted,
ghost versions of me...
#strength
#identity
#aging
53 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Dec 2019 3:45pm
24th Dec 2019 3:45pm
The Crown of Winter
This bleakness crawls in upon thumb and nail,
bleats across barren Moor,
bares teeth and breaks bones of foals.
Rain falls, it beats fists on wide, heavy dust.
Fire burns in houses of able,
songs from choirs of blanched trees.
Hibernation burrows deep into accepting brains,
borrowing coats and boots to walk
in blinding sun to collect berries and binds.
He invites fallen branches home, carries on shoulder,
uses...
bleats across barren Moor,
bares teeth and breaks bones of foals.
Rain falls, it beats fists on wide, heavy dust.
Fire burns in houses of able,
songs from choirs of blanched trees.
Hibernation burrows deep into accepting brains,
borrowing coats and boots to walk
in blinding sun to collect berries and binds.
He invites fallen branches home, carries on shoulder,
uses...
#winter
#nature
#spiritual
58 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
