Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction It's all I want to do while here.
LOVE POEM
Published
6th May 2021 4:54pm
6th May 2021 4:54pm
I should warn you
And in pieces,
I tore my flesh
hoping you might make holy the bones,
knowing no setting
will replace
those pools of earthy grain
that make a home
and bring tendrils flowing from wrists so tightly wound
and though
mouth bound, feet rooted
eyes make rivers
that run the distance to you
wondering if you feel them, flooding the veins of you
when they are
gushing.
I wonder if your limbs fall off
when my heart makes a flesh wound
of itself, takes itself apart,
and if
after all this time
the...
I tore my flesh
hoping you might make holy the bones,
knowing no setting
will replace
those pools of earthy grain
that make a home
and bring tendrils flowing from wrists so tightly wound
and though
mouth bound, feet rooted
eyes make rivers
that run the distance to you
wondering if you feel them, flooding the veins of you
when they are
gushing.
I wonder if your limbs fall off
when my heart makes a flesh wound
of itself, takes itself apart,
and if
after all this time
the...
#sadness
#love
#aging
51 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
3rd May 2021 7:40am
3rd May 2021 7:40am
Song of the Praying Mantis
#identity
#home
#SelfReflection
44 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Mar 2021 5:28pm
19th Mar 2021 5:28pm
Ancient languages
I would send you primroses, you know,
tongue tumbled posies, feathered messages on air,
that affair once inferred now distilled and bottled,
fermenting on the shelf at your Mums.
I would send you primroses,
where Victoria, who knew your name,
would labour it echoing
into an unaccounted room,
staff only coming to re-turn out the lights.
I would send you primroses,
one for every day my heart has seemed astray,
you left believing I was indifferent to your face,
displaced from my garden, rested at your door,
a...
tongue tumbled posies, feathered messages on air,
that affair once inferred now distilled and bottled,
fermenting on the shelf at your Mums.
I would send you primroses,
where Victoria, who knew your name,
would labour it echoing
into an unaccounted room,
staff only coming to re-turn out the lights.
I would send you primroses,
one for every day my heart has seemed astray,
you left believing I was indifferent to your face,
displaced from my garden, rested at your door,
a...
#love
#flowers
82 reads
3 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
16th Mar 2021 7:51pm
16th Mar 2021 7:51pm
Learn to love what doesn't cost too much
Could I have loved you more than when you grew your hair,
extended those sorrow-pickled bones out, and open, and earnest,
in a flurry of little, and late,
where I've instead
stretched my flesh around a thing to love,
long
scratched out the willingness to fall in love but grow it, harvest
and cherish it
more than any other beating thing
on this beautiful, green planet,
where I have found too much peace
to ever come to you with a war on my hands,
those lost battle cries done? ...
extended those sorrow-pickled bones out, and open, and earnest,
in a flurry of little, and late,
where I've instead
stretched my flesh around a thing to love,
long
scratched out the willingness to fall in love but grow it, harvest
and cherish it
more than any other beating thing
on this beautiful, green planet,
where I have found too much peace
to ever come to you with a war on my hands,
those lost battle cries done? ...
#teens
#nature
#aging
25 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Mar 2021 8:19pm
12th Mar 2021 8:19pm
Blueness
Sometimes tea
doesn't cure all, the house a state,
mind a quarry
once a mound
for springtime to burrow,
it's been said
I'll quiver at the
touch
of too much kindness,
too few apologies.
I also try to plant bulbs
in places with plenty
of light,
blue screen buzzing,
stolen twenties,
but there's no way to connect these days without
'online',
I tell myself that,
all the while, her eyes on mine.
doesn't cure all, the house a state,
mind a quarry
once a mound
for springtime to burrow,
it's been said
I'll quiver at the
touch
of too much kindness,
too few apologies.
I also try to plant bulbs
in places with plenty
of light,
blue screen buzzing,
stolen twenties,
but there's no way to connect these days without
'online',
I tell myself that,
all the while, her eyes on mine.
#technology
#humankind
#pandemic
20 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Mar 2021 8:06pm
12th Mar 2021 8:06pm
Caught upon raindrops
You,
cerulean blue,
hue of aether,
a body surrendered
to time.
A freeze frame.
Dancing through black
felt better, to me,
tunneling down
bewildered youth
of ancients
dousing,
over, over,
ends
never ending.
cerulean blue,
hue of aether,
a body surrendered
to time.
A freeze frame.
Dancing through black
felt better, to me,
tunneling down
bewildered youth
of ancients
dousing,
over, over,
ends
never ending.
#love
#power
#rain
26 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Feb 2021 4:11pm
28th Feb 2021 4:11pm
Rendlesham
Rendlesham
Stuff of Gods those woods to me,
Galilee that tastes of oil,
burns feral amber
come 'tumn time
when evergreen,
fungi fiesta,
and in the Spring they do lay,
erect and in such profile lines
waiting on a bank transfer,
goods of which are never theirs.
The humans call it forestry,
to me it seems hardly fair
yet stuff of Gods those woods to me
and I rest fetal,
barefoot, there.
Photo credited to Mrs Bellamy.
Stuff of Gods those woods to me,
Galilee that tastes of oil,
burns feral amber
come 'tumn time
when evergreen,
fungi fiesta,
and in the Spring they do lay,
erect and in such profile lines
waiting on a bank transfer,
goods of which are never theirs.
The humans call it forestry,
to me it seems hardly fair
yet stuff of Gods those woods to me
and I rest fetal,
barefoot, there.
Photo credited to Mrs Bellamy.
#spring
#nature
94 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Feb 2021 10:57am
28th Feb 2021 10:57am
Sun After Snow Moon
Sun After Snow Moon
You were Jerusalem's artichoke
condoning winter wet and frost,
where everything else hit a slumber,
tested their peaceful refrain,
you were a billowing jungle,
pillows of vegetation galore
and a frog hid under dank umbrellas,
jagged teeth of the woodland cat.
I promise each year we'll sit together,
and feast on the bulb you create
but I'm no more a baker than writer
and I'm too knee deep in earth, I suppose.
You were Jerusalem's artichoke
condoning winter wet and frost,
where everything else hit a slumber,
tested their peaceful refrain,
you were a billowing jungle,
pillows of vegetation galore
and a frog hid under dank umbrellas,
jagged teeth of the woodland cat.
I promise each year we'll sit together,
and feast on the bulb you create
but I'm no more a baker than writer
and I'm too knee deep in earth, I suppose.
#spring
#nature
64 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Feb 2021 7:35am
14th Feb 2021 7:35am
Valence
Writing of you is likened to eating raw chilli by the pot,
stationing oneself in a lush garden
and vomiting that love back up
over dried hydrangeas and a defenceless crocus similar to involuntary fitting.
There's something in longing
for fondness doused in rejection,
binds of destruction too comforting to untie.
Truth spills over a precipice in increments, overflowing when it rains,
a pipe to human waste,
hounding toward innocent seas.
That said there is musing and a reality, somewhere,
everytime I try to see it,...
stationing oneself in a lush garden
and vomiting that love back up
over dried hydrangeas and a defenceless crocus similar to involuntary fitting.
There's something in longing
for fondness doused in rejection,
binds of destruction too comforting to untie.
Truth spills over a precipice in increments, overflowing when it rains,
a pipe to human waste,
hounding toward innocent seas.
That said there is musing and a reality, somewhere,
everytime I try to see it,...
#love
#identity
#historical
32 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Jan 2021 8:26am
28th Jan 2021 8:26am
Imbolc
Ghosts of your body dart about me as
lambs bleeting,
the ceaseless alarm calling, expanding on a Northern breeze, chopped before meeting
the compassionate ear,
thinning,
thinning
into strawberry dusk.
And you extend
as stretched, white plumes tumbling the sky with endless fascination,
covering and exposing a blinding reality
that you'll disperse
leaving clearer skies.
And sometimes you're the petals of a snowdrop
loosely rocking on my flat, left palm, never the less I love you
and your struck bones ...
lambs bleeting,
the ceaseless alarm calling, expanding on a Northern breeze, chopped before meeting
the compassionate ear,
thinning,
thinning
into strawberry dusk.
And you extend
as stretched, white plumes tumbling the sky with endless fascination,
covering and exposing a blinding reality
that you'll disperse
leaving clearer skies.
And sometimes you're the petals of a snowdrop
loosely rocking on my flat, left palm, never the less I love you
and your struck bones ...
#love
#flowers
#spring
96 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
4th Dec 2020 10:05am
4th Dec 2020 10:05am
And Pears and Plums
Some chords remind me of your tongue,
the way you inhale air
between your teeth and out of your nose,
smoke
revealing,
as if you were made of lava,
while I was born at sea.
Those elevated moments sit
as cathedrals unfinished,
paths unwalked,
unlit by lamplight,
scrutinised
from balcony perches
where half faces are seen, scuttling,
in half cut moonlight.
I tap my bare feet,
as if I've known the songs that play,
virginly heard, lifetime long, ...
the way you inhale air
between your teeth and out of your nose,
smoke
revealing,
as if you were made of lava,
while I was born at sea.
Those elevated moments sit
as cathedrals unfinished,
paths unwalked,
unlit by lamplight,
scrutinised
from balcony perches
where half faces are seen, scuttling,
in half cut moonlight.
I tap my bare feet,
as if I've known the songs that play,
virginly heard, lifetime long, ...
#winter
#shadows
#healing
74 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Nov 2020 8:43pm
25th Nov 2020 8:43pm
Balloon
It's been so quiet
inside these rubber walls
while great finches flit down to peck at the tether.
I wait, in the endless line of our exchange, for claws to break through,
for your moon-coloured hands to dangle me
as a belated balloon with a weighted string
who'd sail across an empty sky,
given half the chance,
before falling
upon someone else's washing line
and spending the rest of her life.
inside these rubber walls
while great finches flit down to peck at the tether.
I wait, in the endless line of our exchange, for claws to break through,
for your moon-coloured hands to dangle me
as a belated balloon with a weighted string
who'd sail across an empty sky,
given half the chance,
before falling
upon someone else's washing line
and spending the rest of her life.
#moon
131 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
