Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction It's all I want to do while here.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
Yesterday 6:24pm
Yesterday 6:24pm
Change
Where are you to lay
when basic fucking
city harshness
cuts your breath from you,
eats those shoulderblades,
when your right hand
no longer speaks
to your left?
Where are you to take
those camel stored dreams,
the sustenance that comes
from mandolins and ochre,
the scent of a golden root
so strong it pierces eyes?
Where will you hide
from natural severing,
who rides you as an ocean whale
singing songs to an ageing grief?
Will you make a new home
when tsunamis of truth
have flat-washed the...
when basic fucking
city harshness
cuts your breath from you,
eats those shoulderblades,
when your right hand
no longer speaks
to your left?
Where are you to take
those camel stored dreams,
the sustenance that comes
from mandolins and ochre,
the scent of a golden root
so strong it pierces eyes?
Where will you hide
from natural severing,
who rides you as an ocean whale
singing songs to an ageing grief?
Will you make a new home
when tsunamis of truth
have flat-washed the...
#grief
#home
#environment
9 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Nov 2021 8:43pm
25th Nov 2021 8:43pm
Seasoned
Your heart was done, mine a quiver
where there we ran, in Autumn leaf,
and you were blind, I a dither,
I caught your eye, you caught my sleeve.
Upon a tree, my head softly rested,
your hands in hair despite the breeze,
those cold fingers, tender tested -
how close was close, not just to tease.
How long we've wandered what it meant
to bend the spirit out for light,
to go on yearning when you're spent,
sink unsatisfied, into that good night
between our skulls we hum for spring,
a...
where there we ran, in Autumn leaf,
and you were blind, I a dither,
I caught your eye, you caught my sleeve.
Upon a tree, my head softly rested,
your hands in hair despite the breeze,
those cold fingers, tender tested -
how close was close, not just to tease.
How long we've wandered what it meant
to bend the spirit out for light,
to go on yearning when you're spent,
sink unsatisfied, into that good night
between our skulls we hum for spring,
a...
#love
#nature
34 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
24th Nov 2021 11:40pm
24th Nov 2021 11:40pm
Spectator
Spectator
And when the arrows came
for your body as fast hands,
chest, back, face
mutilated by sweat,
when the heels
of your shoes were burnt by tarmac,
never grown wings
when the urine infused railings
held your mind to gutter
more than any man could,
when I watched, when I stopped,
when the world kept turning
and your screams
when I moved off
and your face
upon locked restaurant doors,
and when a safe pull over
took too much time,
by the time I'd called,
looped round,
all was...
And when the arrows came
for your body as fast hands,
chest, back, face
mutilated by sweat,
when the heels
of your shoes were burnt by tarmac,
never grown wings
when the urine infused railings
held your mind to gutter
more than any man could,
when I watched, when I stopped,
when the world kept turning
and your screams
when I moved off
and your face
upon locked restaurant doors,
and when a safe pull over
took too much time,
by the time I'd called,
looped round,
all was...
#anger
#regret
#hate
#violence
#weakness
31 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Nov 2021 9:59pm
23rd Nov 2021 9:59pm
fatal
I haven't felt this washed out in ages,
and she wasn't even mine
but one day she could be,
she could be mine
never making it home,
in a place I can't save her,
with a narrative of trauma
or an end I can't change
and by statistics that's likely,
it's criminal.
and she wasn't even mine
but one day she could be,
she could be mine
never making it home,
in a place I can't save her,
with a narrative of trauma
or an end I can't change
and by statistics that's likely,
it's criminal.
#women
27 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
17th Nov 2021 8:27am
17th Nov 2021 8:27am
Time
I'm turnin' thir'y,
and I've binned lace pants,
underwire bras,
contraceptive pills,
the belief we stay forever
in anything,
that we can ever feel
too safe,
that pride is positive,
that dancing is for anyone
but the ocean
within your soul.
I lay in a king-size bed,
revel in surprise
as a highlight to be found
everywhere,
that forgiveness takes work,
that no one deserves goodness
they have to keep striving,
that striving for life
is not some pessimistic statement
but the magic
of...
and I've binned lace pants,
underwire bras,
contraceptive pills,
the belief we stay forever
in anything,
that we can ever feel
too safe,
that pride is positive,
that dancing is for anyone
but the ocean
within your soul.
I lay in a king-size bed,
revel in surprise
as a highlight to be found
everywhere,
that forgiveness takes work,
that no one deserves goodness
they have to keep striving,
that striving for life
is not some pessimistic statement
but the magic
of...
#confessional
#aging
46 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Nov 2021 2:28am
15th Nov 2021 2:28am
Too bare
too bare
You burn
through a nitrite sky,
fueled by the composition
of grief
you can't taste
and I am exhausted
empathising with the embolism
caused by that gelatinous weight.
You have a destruct button you'll press
regardless of collateral,
be damned those on the ground
so I'm sitting this one out,
settling down into a bunker,
far away from the noise,
one filled with journals
and black ball point pens,
avoiding the bile
of another cycle,
another of your feral,
unpredictable moods.
You burn
through a nitrite sky,
fueled by the composition
of grief
you can't taste
and I am exhausted
empathising with the embolism
caused by that gelatinous weight.
You have a destruct button you'll press
regardless of collateral,
be damned those on the ground
so I'm sitting this one out,
settling down into a bunker,
far away from the noise,
one filled with journals
and black ball point pens,
avoiding the bile
of another cycle,
another of your feral,
unpredictable moods.
#learning
#SelfWorth
54 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Nov 2021 4:01pm
14th Nov 2021 4:01pm
Compass
Compass
Do you think the bracken
felt her fingers,
bit the bones
of Summer clean,
that blinding light
of wintered sun
was bestowed
by lids of God?
Do you tumble slow
up Gallants Bower
hillscapes drenched
in refined war,
trade chests
for pursed mens penance,
watch tourists tumble 'long
mouth's sore ridge?
Do you long for birds
who soar on high,
over castles,
shaded sails,
between beech caped woods,
sod beneath sealed
in abandoned leaves?
Their naked mothers ...
Do you think the bracken
felt her fingers,
bit the bones
of Summer clean,
that blinding light
of wintered sun
was bestowed
by lids of God?
Do you tumble slow
up Gallants Bower
hillscapes drenched
in refined war,
trade chests
for pursed mens penance,
watch tourists tumble 'long
mouth's sore ridge?
Do you long for birds
who soar on high,
over castles,
shaded sails,
between beech caped woods,
sod beneath sealed
in abandoned leaves?
Their naked mothers ...
#home
#nature
32 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
8th Nov 2021 1:45pm
8th Nov 2021 1:45pm
Uphaul in Winter
Uphaul in Winter
Buying a house is alot like
assembling a picture,
painting a plot,
analysing, with foresight,
the yellowing of time,
the scientific things
one body needs
to make it homely
and then the frames
moving with in that
and within those
there is the consideration
of leaving,
of neglecting grief.
They'll be required to view
objectively the restart identified,
kill off warnings of transition,
add foliage to ideas and ideals,
give that new dig an identity,
erode the old one ...
Buying a house is alot like
assembling a picture,
painting a plot,
analysing, with foresight,
the yellowing of time,
the scientific things
one body needs
to make it homely
and then the frames
moving with in that
and within those
there is the consideration
of leaving,
of neglecting grief.
They'll be required to view
objectively the restart identified,
kill off warnings of transition,
add foliage to ideas and ideals,
give that new dig an identity,
erode the old one ...
#home
#winter
39 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Nov 2021 9:31pm
6th Nov 2021 9:31pm
Recall My Great-Grandparents Home
Recall My Great-Grandparents Home
In the extension
of an architect's
drawn up dream
a recorder
I played,
and My Little Pony
and Pokemon,
marbles, piles
of Polly Pocket,
played God
on the floor.
There was a black
cassette Walkman,
and a bureau
with endless
types of paper,
happening - graph,
trace, lined
and graceless,
scribbles,
stuffed.
I could be,
not be
within it,
disappear
faceless,
all hair
rich air,
the love ...
In the extension
of an architect's
drawn up dream
a recorder
I played,
and My Little Pony
and Pokemon,
marbles, piles
of Polly Pocket,
played God
on the floor.
There was a black
cassette Walkman,
and a bureau
with endless
types of paper,
happening - graph,
trace, lined
and graceless,
scribbles,
stuffed.
I could be,
not be
within it,
disappear
faceless,
all hair
rich air,
the love ...
#love
#parent
#home
35 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Nov 2021 2:23pm
6th Nov 2021 2:23pm
Clean
Clean
I walked upon chords today
in ways I've forgotten,
echoed between rain,
brushed before becoming
full grown
for no reason
than to be on the path,
to go where it wills,
to make a pattern,
to recall
a not so long ago
and make the picture
of a small girl,
bony promises
brought home,
to hone skills,
to learn
how to linger
beside a throat
upon kings
of virgin keys,
give over such
innocent openings,
recarve ancient channels
as drops on my skin,
left as...
I walked upon chords today
in ways I've forgotten,
echoed between rain,
brushed before becoming
full grown
for no reason
than to be on the path,
to go where it wills,
to make a pattern,
to recall
a not so long ago
and make the picture
of a small girl,
bony promises
brought home,
to hone skills,
to learn
how to linger
beside a throat
upon kings
of virgin keys,
give over such
innocent openings,
recarve ancient channels
as drops on my skin,
left as...
#hope
#music
#healing
44 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Nov 2021 8:05am
6th Nov 2021 8:05am
affections
where the crown
of a turtledove moon
meets your sure
waterline eyes,
while I
get distracted
by fireworks
and harsh, overwhelming
gun powder noise,
when thought dissolves
upon that pure,
herringbone skull,
after we've evolved.
Let's face
that you can't make
sky-stretched shapes
of my muscle and sinew
with your fingers,
colours of destiny
are not bright
green, red or blue
but buried roots
all shooting
unobtainable hues,
and that perhaps,
between heady sound ...
of a turtledove moon
meets your sure
waterline eyes,
while I
get distracted
by fireworks
and harsh, overwhelming
gun powder noise,
when thought dissolves
upon that pure,
herringbone skull,
after we've evolved.
Let's face
that you can't make
sky-stretched shapes
of my muscle and sinew
with your fingers,
colours of destiny
are not bright
green, red or blue
but buried roots
all shooting
unobtainable hues,
and that perhaps,
between heady sound ...
#love
#moon
#sky #fire
#sky #fire
37 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
