Submissions by IntoTheRain
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
When it gets heavy, the pen feels so light. That’s why I write. If something is taking up space in my mind, on the paper it goes. “Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance.” -Carl Sandburg
SELF POEM
Published
30th Oct 2022 3:58am
30th Oct 2022 3:58am
Three times the charm.
I’ve always kept my hands
busy.
Toiling with the scraggly pieces of denim laying frayed at my knee holes while my parents fight in the car.
Tapping my cheek with my mouth open just so I can hear that hollow noise, one two three. Three times the charm. I’m still here.
I would crack all ten of my knuckles and still try for that second round.
Like I said,
I’ve always kept my hands
busy.
As a little girl they would always tell me to stop fidgeting. Interesting how adults seem to have all the wrong solutions to adolescent...
busy.
Toiling with the scraggly pieces of denim laying frayed at my knee holes while my parents fight in the car.
Tapping my cheek with my mouth open just so I can hear that hollow noise, one two three. Three times the charm. I’m still here.
I would crack all ten of my knuckles and still try for that second round.
Like I said,
I’ve always kept my hands
busy.
As a little girl they would always tell me to stop fidgeting. Interesting how adults seem to have all the wrong solutions to adolescent...
#anxiety
#hope
#addiction
#gratitude
#vulnerability
376 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st May 2022 5:01am
21st May 2022 5:01am
Nebraska.
You we’re a Pisces, with skin the color of leather.
Tough as they come.
In oil-stained Wranglers and mud dusted boots, your hands callused.
Humor came so easily to you, effortless really.
I can still hear that wild howl.
You were my father’s only brother, with you I was safe.
Still alive in my visons of younger days, boxing with our Dad in the attic.
Humid summer nights, loud rock accompanying.
Always singing Good Bye Blue Sky.
With my eyes closed, I can go back.
Sepia hued photos, a baseball glove and pitcher...
Tough as they come.
In oil-stained Wranglers and mud dusted boots, your hands callused.
Humor came so easily to you, effortless really.
I can still hear that wild howl.
You were my father’s only brother, with you I was safe.
Still alive in my visons of younger days, boxing with our Dad in the attic.
Humid summer nights, loud rock accompanying.
Always singing Good Bye Blue Sky.
With my eyes closed, I can go back.
Sepia hued photos, a baseball glove and pitcher...
#regret
#grief
505 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th May 2022 6:23am
7th May 2022 6:23am
Slipped by
The inner child’s ardent longing - for days that have come to pass. Hearken back to infinite summers, accompanied by contented nights. Carelessly floating on unlimited dreams, uninterrupted imagination. Flawlessly innocent, untouched by the stagnant weight this aging brings. The longing of ethereality and youthful wonder.
#anxiety
#confessional
#aging
#emptiness
#pandemic
323 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th May 2022 5:11am
7th May 2022 5:11am
Seeking Fortune
Dreamt of a Palmist
Who studies hand riverbeds Teach me what you see.
Who studies hand riverbeds Teach me what you see.
#spiritual
#mirror
#SelfReflection
#acceptance
#choices
270 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Apr 2020 5:19am
4th Apr 2020 5:19am
The Times.
Feel that trouble ahead? It is like a bent hanger heated, as it sinks to lie deep in my skin. Blues come dancing, when they feel you can’t catch em’. Does the madness win? Storms have passed us, we have dodged some daggers, but this one is aimed at our back. Ominous forces, take over the land. To choose faith or fact.
#anxiety
547 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st May 2018 5:38am
1st May 2018 5:38am
There - she will grow.
Down the hill, there is a gate. Red roses grow, a golden summer awaits. Is it still a vivid green? The mossy stones along the stream. A leafy forest lay quiet as the song birds sing. Is this the place children go to dream?
#childhood
#dreams
#forest
#nature
#peace
699 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Nov 2017 3:49pm
4th Nov 2017 3:49pm
Rear View Mirror
It was two months before I let myself cry over it.
Sitting alone on the bed,
it crushed me like a mountain.
It laid me out flat and cold.
I cried until my eyes went red and fell out.
I knew then I still had some healing to do.
That night I felt like an empty field.
Every tune on the radio broke my heart all over again.
When I woke in the morning- the feeling still remained.
I imagined the day they would come get me.
“You are leaving West Virginia”,
reads the sign in the rear view mirror.
We would drive miles through...
Sitting alone on the bed,
it crushed me like a mountain.
It laid me out flat and cold.
I cried until my eyes went red and fell out.
I knew then I still had some healing to do.
That night I felt like an empty field.
Every tune on the radio broke my heart all over again.
When I woke in the morning- the feeling still remained.
I imagined the day they would come get me.
“You are leaving West Virginia”,
reads the sign in the rear view mirror.
We would drive miles through...
#LifeAsAWriter
807 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jul 2017 1:29am
19th Jul 2017 1:29am
It is like they moved away.
It is like being a tree in Autumn,
I am a tree without any leaves.
It is like viewing a couple less colors,
when I open my eyes in the morning to see.
It is like losing a thumb,
you only notice it's gone when you pick up a cup.
It is like seeing a miracle,
and turning around to have no one there to tell.
It is like sleeping the days away,
but telling everyone that you are well.
It is like a deep heart ache,
one that time doesn't help heal.
It is like losing the inner you,
and not knowing how you should feel.
I am a tree without any leaves.
It is like viewing a couple less colors,
when I open my eyes in the morning to see.
It is like losing a thumb,
you only notice it's gone when you pick up a cup.
It is like seeing a miracle,
and turning around to have no one there to tell.
It is like sleeping the days away,
but telling everyone that you are well.
It is like a deep heart ache,
one that time doesn't help heal.
It is like losing the inner you,
and not knowing how you should feel.
767 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Jun 2017 1:52am
13th Jun 2017 1:52am
Our Atlantic
I question the time I stay there,
the place where my soul becomes a sea.
The deep blue is limitless,
the majestic and mysterious me.
Hearts are intimate and tranquil you'll find,
but unstable and crashing is the mind.
Wondrous and daring, it teaches us to grow.
The ominous waves we must row, we must row.
the place where my soul becomes a sea.
The deep blue is limitless,
the majestic and mysterious me.
Hearts are intimate and tranquil you'll find,
but unstable and crashing is the mind.
Wondrous and daring, it teaches us to grow.
The ominous waves we must row, we must row.
975 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st May 2017 4:01pm
21st May 2017 4:01pm
Into The Rain - Part II
I sit and look out the window,
as the rain performs a dance.
It is the last time I will think of this.
Soon, like the storm, it will pass.
My hands seem cold,
so I tuck them in my pocket.
These painful memories release,
like the opening of a locket.
Relief, that this hurt is healing.
This storm will be gone by the evening.
as the rain performs a dance.
It is the last time I will think of this.
Soon, like the storm, it will pass.
My hands seem cold,
so I tuck them in my pocket.
These painful memories release,
like the opening of a locket.
Relief, that this hurt is healing.
This storm will be gone by the evening.
744 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st May 2017 3:52pm
21st May 2017 3:52pm
We must remember.
We crawled up from sea,
After the wreckage of battles once born.
We’ve been sailing ships at broken heart harbor,
Boarding runaway trains down lonely night tracks.
We are not accustom to these revolution prairies,
Even though we were born natives and pioneers of pain.
New arrivals to the unknown,
We are restlessly searching for the light halos
On the horizons of today.
Carrying pages of the past,
They are still dripping from the journey.
We move onward towards tomorrow.
Creating a wind to dry them
For the readings of...
After the wreckage of battles once born.
We’ve been sailing ships at broken heart harbor,
Boarding runaway trains down lonely night tracks.
We are not accustom to these revolution prairies,
Even though we were born natives and pioneers of pain.
New arrivals to the unknown,
We are restlessly searching for the light halos
On the horizons of today.
Carrying pages of the past,
They are still dripping from the journey.
We move onward towards tomorrow.
Creating a wind to dry them
For the readings of...
923 reads
13 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
14th May 2017 7:35pm
14th May 2017 7:35pm
Follow
A flexible mind,
all it requires.
An open heart,
free of desires.
To meet pain with understanding,
rage with peace.
An important task,
one I seek.
all it requires.
An open heart,
free of desires.
To meet pain with understanding,
rage with peace.
An important task,
one I seek.
867 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by IntoTheRain
