Submissions by Istra
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write because I want to filter all the chaos in my head, and get the truth of the experience out. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it's crap. But I keep trying.
LOVE POEM
Published
26th Aug 2022 9:41am
26th Aug 2022 9:41am
See My
Evil.
See it from the inside out . Know that this is where my strength lies. Know that all my softness,
all my warmth,
is only because I carry this cold hardness up front. It seems too much, too sharp, for polite society;
something I would
impale
myself on. And I did. For reasons known and lamented.
But - Love,
I have turned the spikes outward and I wait for my enemies to pounce even though
(they never do they never do it's a neverending vigil gods christ I wait so strainingly so fervently for something that isn't coming)...
See it from the inside out . Know that this is where my strength lies. Know that all my softness,
all my warmth,
is only because I carry this cold hardness up front. It seems too much, too sharp, for polite society;
something I would
impale
myself on. And I did. For reasons known and lamented.
But - Love,
I have turned the spikes outward and I wait for my enemies to pounce even though
(they never do they never do it's a neverending vigil gods christ I wait so strainingly so fervently for something that isn't coming)...
#meditation
258 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
12th Sep 2015 11:36pm
12th Sep 2015 11:36pm
Genesis and Revelations
My solar system lies
between the thighs
of the most beautiful woman I know.
And when I stroke its sun
with the tip
of my tongue,
I know something of eternity.
The scent of her heaven will stay
within me the rest of the day
and remind me that I am immortal,
because which each thrust and moan
my soul has grown
to epic proportions and I
know what it is to be like God, to live forever.
There is no tomorrow, no yesterday,
nothing held back or kept at bay
when I kiss her planets, tease her stars,...
between the thighs
of the most beautiful woman I know.
And when I stroke its sun
with the tip
of my tongue,
I know something of eternity.
The scent of her heaven will stay
within me the rest of the day
and remind me that I am immortal,
because which each thrust and moan
my soul has grown
to epic proportions and I
know what it is to be like God, to live forever.
There is no tomorrow, no yesterday,
nothing held back or kept at bay
when I kiss her planets, tease her stars,...
994 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Aug 2015 5:34am
11th Aug 2015 5:34am
Unfamiliar Heart
You love her, so
you reach inside her
and take
her oldest and most secret pain. You hold it,
softly,
against your chest. There, you let it rest,
for the night.
In the morning, she takes it back,
to carry with her throughout her day, as
she has always done.
You return it willingly,
because it's hers and
you know
that some things are
not yours to
truly
share.
But now and again,
at work, or the mall,
or your regular seat at
the coffee shop,
you...
you reach inside her
and take
her oldest and most secret pain. You hold it,
softly,
against your chest. There, you let it rest,
for the night.
In the morning, she takes it back,
to carry with her throughout her day, as
she has always done.
You return it willingly,
because it's hers and
you know
that some things are
not yours to
truly
share.
But now and again,
at work, or the mall,
or your regular seat at
the coffee shop,
you...
742 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Oct 2013 2:06am
18th Oct 2013 2:06am
How You Left Me
In a greater sin than I could ever slither into
in the recesses of my homo-fabulous mind.
In pain.
Bewildered at the consequence of something I didn't believe in
(what now? This was never supposed to happen).
On foot, both of us.
Angry at the world for giving me something so beautiful and then cruelly
twisting it out of my grasp. Some things are better left unknown to the heart.
I would rather it be so, anyway.
So alone, without a friend in the world who could fix what was broken,
although they tried, my God, how they tried....
in the recesses of my homo-fabulous mind.
In pain.
Bewildered at the consequence of something I didn't believe in
(what now? This was never supposed to happen).
On foot, both of us.
Angry at the world for giving me something so beautiful and then cruelly
twisting it out of my grasp. Some things are better left unknown to the heart.
I would rather it be so, anyway.
So alone, without a friend in the world who could fix what was broken,
although they tried, my God, how they tried....
872 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
11th May 2013 11:16pm
11th May 2013 11:16pm
Voyeurism
I love how the sun sees you.
Golden and tethered to the rock
of him, in a field of dead grass that hasn't yet
revived from winter's angry attack.
Your hair curtaining off the view of your face but
from the top your knees are in frame and stick out
in front of you, a testament to your geometry.
And how the grass feels you, the flat of your calf
cool and long, resting on the sediment of him and
pressing firm and real on each withered blade.
Rythmic movement of a rocking horse thought.
Back and forth, back and forth, slower, faster,
first...
Golden and tethered to the rock
of him, in a field of dead grass that hasn't yet
revived from winter's angry attack.
Your hair curtaining off the view of your face but
from the top your knees are in frame and stick out
in front of you, a testament to your geometry.
And how the grass feels you, the flat of your calf
cool and long, resting on the sediment of him and
pressing firm and real on each withered blade.
Rythmic movement of a rocking horse thought.
Back and forth, back and forth, slower, faster,
first...
835 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th May 2013 1:54pm
5th May 2013 1:54pm
Yes, Beautiful
We stumble.
Stumble and flutter, like
birds against a pane of glass.
"It's full of rocks. Blue things,
little blue things, everywhere. You can see them,
you can taste them. Blue."
I hold her hand and nod,
trying to dive into her mind, just a little.
Her eyes pleading with me, pleading.
We flounder.
Thrashing around, flailing for a saving grace to grab in these
deep waters, and neither of us can swim.
"Have you seen her?
They're up on the hill.
There upon the hill, I think they're all dead now."...
Stumble and flutter, like
birds against a pane of glass.
"It's full of rocks. Blue things,
little blue things, everywhere. You can see them,
you can taste them. Blue."
I hold her hand and nod,
trying to dive into her mind, just a little.
Her eyes pleading with me, pleading.
We flounder.
Thrashing around, flailing for a saving grace to grab in these
deep waters, and neither of us can swim.
"Have you seen her?
They're up on the hill.
There upon the hill, I think they're all dead now."...
780 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2013 4:12am
23rd Apr 2013 4:12am
Maybe Misandry
I heard the thunder and remembered my broken bones.
There is a word for what you brought about in me,
but I forget.
Icy rain bleeding down the window panes, a casualty of the demands
of the water cycle. Watching them, little droplets dragged and stretched
into rivulets of liquid crystal, I remembered my broken bones.
How they ached
and shot me through with sudden arrows of unexpected pain.
It was more than that, though, wasn't it?
There was a little bit
of the martyr in me.
The curling taste of alcohol undulated on my tongue
and I...
There is a word for what you brought about in me,
but I forget.
Icy rain bleeding down the window panes, a casualty of the demands
of the water cycle. Watching them, little droplets dragged and stretched
into rivulets of liquid crystal, I remembered my broken bones.
How they ached
and shot me through with sudden arrows of unexpected pain.
It was more than that, though, wasn't it?
There was a little bit
of the martyr in me.
The curling taste of alcohol undulated on my tongue
and I...
814 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
6th Apr 2013 2:07am
6th Apr 2013 2:07am
A Meditation On Trust
"I don't want to fuck you."
Removing her blazer carefully, folded and
draped (just-so) over the back of my chair.
"Well, you weren't going to be fucked, so I suppose that's a
relief."
Silk blouse, a cautious blue, (mother-of-pearl) buttons
flashing under fingers
well manicured and clean,
hands soft and no longer so
utilitarian.
On top of the blazer.
The bra, beige and lace,
straps wide,
cups firm,
wire heavy.
On top of the blouse.
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself."...
Removing her blazer carefully, folded and
draped (just-so) over the back of my chair.
"Well, you weren't going to be fucked, so I suppose that's a
relief."
Silk blouse, a cautious blue, (mother-of-pearl) buttons
flashing under fingers
well manicured and clean,
hands soft and no longer so
utilitarian.
On top of the blazer.
The bra, beige and lace,
straps wide,
cups firm,
wire heavy.
On top of the blouse.
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself."...
1075 reads
6 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
20th Mar 2013 11:35pm
20th Mar 2013 11:35pm
Dance When It Hurts To Stand
I miss you like the end of a sentence,
always waiting
to hear that last word. And the ever-ready
snicker, you're so pleased with
yourself.
You're the drumbeat, baby.
Without you, the song got kind of slow
and sad.
Just me and my Epiphone, here,
tooling around.
But I'm still here, I'm still tuning,
and I'm not giving up.
Dancing by myself
in the middle of the dining room,
because I know that's what
I gotta do.
Go ahead, laugh. Ain't gonna stop me.
(dance with me like you do)
Told you I loved you,
didn't...
always waiting
to hear that last word. And the ever-ready
snicker, you're so pleased with
yourself.
You're the drumbeat, baby.
Without you, the song got kind of slow
and sad.
Just me and my Epiphone, here,
tooling around.
But I'm still here, I'm still tuning,
and I'm not giving up.
Dancing by myself
in the middle of the dining room,
because I know that's what
I gotta do.
Go ahead, laugh. Ain't gonna stop me.
(dance with me like you do)
Told you I loved you,
didn't...
930 reads
4 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2013 4:21am
2nd Mar 2013 4:21am
What It Was Like Before He Died
He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.
A misanthropy.
She set the kettle to the fire and waited.
Long, drawn out stories of the self are evident.
In time.
Broken glass and a hundred regrets make for a tale long suppressed, a much-needed release.
He leaves nothing to the imagination.
A drag, a drag,
an insistence,
a delusion.
Nothing too sane, only the believable.
And with the colors and the waves crashing,
with the rantings and the tears and growlings,
it comes out,
it...
A misanthropy.
She set the kettle to the fire and waited.
Long, drawn out stories of the self are evident.
In time.
Broken glass and a hundred regrets make for a tale long suppressed, a much-needed release.
He leaves nothing to the imagination.
A drag, a drag,
an insistence,
a delusion.
Nothing too sane, only the believable.
And with the colors and the waves crashing,
with the rantings and the tears and growlings,
it comes out,
it...
859 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
20th Feb 2013 7:33pm
20th Feb 2013 7:33pm
Sever
I pulled you in.
The air hot,
sluggish.
Old blood oozing throught the
empty spaces,
dragging in and out
of lungs denied.
Long denied.
Cracks in the earth,
waiting,
wanting.
I pulled you in,
ivory against my
fingerprints,
fingernails,
fingertips,
however you like it.
And I touched
rose petals
to crumpled paper.
A soft, consuming, honest pressing.
Let the water flow.
There were 168 pleas in this kiss.
Long denied.
...
The air hot,
sluggish.
Old blood oozing throught the
empty spaces,
dragging in and out
of lungs denied.
Long denied.
Cracks in the earth,
waiting,
wanting.
I pulled you in,
ivory against my
fingerprints,
fingernails,
fingertips,
however you like it.
And I touched
rose petals
to crumpled paper.
A soft, consuming, honest pressing.
Let the water flow.
There were 168 pleas in this kiss.
Long denied.
...
747 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Istra
