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.
DARK POEM
Published
17th Feb 2013 7:16pm
17th Feb 2013 7:16pm
Death Rattle
it started
a darkness with a
scraping across the tiles of my /nothingness/
that's a poor substitute of
words but it's all I have so it's what i use a
necessity of invention
an invention of necessity (some people are made for it)
it continued
a coldness and a
scratching, a removal of the skin encapsulating this
time this
thought this
face
there's such a fright in the mirror
a flash
and suddenly it's
my nightmare,
or someone's anyway
it ended
a screaming
a crawling
a thought process revoked...
a darkness with a
scraping across the tiles of my /nothingness/
that's a poor substitute of
words but it's all I have so it's what i use a
necessity of invention
an invention of necessity (some people are made for it)
it continued
a coldness and a
scratching, a removal of the skin encapsulating this
time this
thought this
face
there's such a fright in the mirror
a flash
and suddenly it's
my nightmare,
or someone's anyway
it ended
a screaming
a crawling
a thought process revoked...
864 reads
4 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2013 3:59am
23rd Jan 2013 3:59am
A Lamentation of the Plundered
We have our own grief.
A stone setting quietly between our lungs,
something cold that never goes away.
We are intruded upon.
And dismissed.
Less than you.
This is our own source of mourning.
There is no denying the way you see us.
You pretend we are equals,
a low and tasteless joke. We hear you
when you think our ears are too far away.
We see the assault of your eyes.
We smell the sweat and anger on you.
Taste our own fear.
We feel you when your hands touch whatever they want.
And other parts of you.
The rape of...
A stone setting quietly between our lungs,
something cold that never goes away.
We are intruded upon.
And dismissed.
Less than you.
This is our own source of mourning.
There is no denying the way you see us.
You pretend we are equals,
a low and tasteless joke. We hear you
when you think our ears are too far away.
We see the assault of your eyes.
We smell the sweat and anger on you.
Taste our own fear.
We feel you when your hands touch whatever they want.
And other parts of you.
The rape of...
805 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
16th Jan 2013 4:00am
16th Jan 2013 4:00am
Adieu
I knew this would be the last time.
The door is shut.
Do Not Disturb.
Move the hair
from your neck,
and replace it
with my lips.
You shiver, a low moan escapes you.
Pull away and your hands reach for my
face and you caress me,
the only time you've
ever done it.
"Can't we stay the way we are?"
I ask because I have to ask.
You shake your head and
my hope dies, unresolved, undelivered.
"There's just too much."
Too much knowledge,
too much pain,
too much fear...
The door is shut.
Do Not Disturb.
Move the hair
from your neck,
and replace it
with my lips.
You shiver, a low moan escapes you.
Pull away and your hands reach for my
face and you caress me,
the only time you've
ever done it.
"Can't we stay the way we are?"
I ask because I have to ask.
You shake your head and
my hope dies, unresolved, undelivered.
"There's just too much."
Too much knowledge,
too much pain,
too much fear...
1055 reads
5 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Jan 2013 2:39am
10th Jan 2013 2:39am
Between the Breaths
Inhale.
And hold the moment closer than
you dare.
I've spent my whole life in the spaces
in between breaths,
I think. At least until you
managed to break through.
The world never held much appeal,
tired and official,
tied and superficial. Reality is a
side effect, unfortunate though that may be.
Good God, woman, what you do,
with those eyes, I say nothing and I'm still in
trouble. I wish that I could make a statement
that made sense
to you.
When you came
to this little house
did you think the...
And hold the moment closer than
you dare.
I've spent my whole life in the spaces
in between breaths,
I think. At least until you
managed to break through.
The world never held much appeal,
tired and official,
tied and superficial. Reality is a
side effect, unfortunate though that may be.
Good God, woman, what you do,
with those eyes, I say nothing and I'm still in
trouble. I wish that I could make a statement
that made sense
to you.
When you came
to this little house
did you think the...
664 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
12th Dec 2012 4:32am
12th Dec 2012 4:32am
Perseverare
On your knees.
Shokeling,
wailing,
prostration.
Finger the beads.
Eyes open,
eyes closed,
somewhere in between.
Call on
who you have to call on.
Different for us all,
so says the rabbi,
and the priest.
Heads covered,
uncovered,
hidden and in the sight of
(who you have to call on).
We wait
for the moment
when the Presence is near.
To heal our wounds,
to soothe our worries,
to remind us that
to be human is alright.
Sometimes it takes
longer...
Shokeling,
wailing,
prostration.
Finger the beads.
Eyes open,
eyes closed,
somewhere in between.
Call on
who you have to call on.
Different for us all,
so says the rabbi,
and the priest.
Heads covered,
uncovered,
hidden and in the sight of
(who you have to call on).
We wait
for the moment
when the Presence is near.
To heal our wounds,
to soothe our worries,
to remind us that
to be human is alright.
Sometimes it takes
longer...
647 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Dec 2012 7:42pm
11th Dec 2012 7:42pm
To Wake
A lazy morning,
gossamer light filtering through
window shades drawn against
whatever we fear.
I roll over and carelessly
fumble for your skin,
wish I could
(inhale you)bring you closer
rib to spine, we mingle for a moment.
And the second comes, turn your head
just enough
I'm hungry for that look in your eye.
Slow, smoky smile, make me close my
eyes and bring in the scent on a deep breath
(the smell of your sleep, ah god yes)
and exhale
and my hands need
someplace to be
can you find such a place
for me?
I thought...
gossamer light filtering through
window shades drawn against
whatever we fear.
I roll over and carelessly
fumble for your skin,
wish I could
(inhale you)bring you closer
rib to spine, we mingle for a moment.
And the second comes, turn your head
just enough
I'm hungry for that look in your eye.
Slow, smoky smile, make me close my
eyes and bring in the scent on a deep breath
(the smell of your sleep, ah god yes)
and exhale
and my hands need
someplace to be
can you find such a place
for me?
I thought...
646 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Dec 2012 10:57pm
9th Dec 2012 10:57pm
A Prayer
Scratch
scratch
scratch me
please
the skin is too
it's too
too thick and I
need the feel
of the air
inside me so
scratch
scratch me
please
please rip it
rip it open and
make it cooler
and less violent
in here where
where nothing happens
but the passing of time
it may take time
it may take time but
please help me
and scratch
scratch me please
please
and I'll wait...
scratch
scratch me
please
the skin is too
it's too
too thick and I
need the feel
of the air
inside me so
scratch
scratch me
please
please rip it
rip it open and
make it cooler
and less violent
in here where
where nothing happens
but the passing of time
it may take time
it may take time but
please help me
and scratch
scratch me please
please
and I'll wait...
694 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Sep 2012 7:21pm
2nd Sep 2012 7:21pm
Slits
Her legs are like silk,
encased in nylons with seams running
to the Holy Land.
They cross and uncross,
they twitch and they rock.
"I need a cigarette."
Please do.
Well manicured,
subtle and lovely.
She takes out her lighter
and (snick)lights. A drag, eyes closed,
she melts a bit and evaporates,
stress steaming off like the smoke she exhales.
"My mother says I'm wasting my life."
Well, what mother doesn't?
Her golden...
encased in nylons with seams running
to the Holy Land.
They cross and uncross,
they twitch and they rock.
"I need a cigarette."
Please do.
Well manicured,
subtle and lovely.
She takes out her lighter
and (snick)lights. A drag, eyes closed,
she melts a bit and evaporates,
stress steaming off like the smoke she exhales.
"My mother says I'm wasting my life."
Well, what mother doesn't?
Her golden...
823 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
1st Sep 2012 10:20pm
1st Sep 2012 10:20pm
Ripped Awake
And the waking from you was painful.
My drowning-dream, you comforted me,
for far too long, stones in pockets,
I wa(d/it)ed in the river.
And the picture I posed,
the italics embroidered on
the uniform I wore,
they were mine, I held them to me like a
heartbeat
So what now? Light stabs the eyelids,
time slithers round my tongue, what am I to do
in the wide world of senses and dimensions?
I find myself stammering through my thoughts.
There is no trust for my own small...
My drowning-dream, you comforted me,
for far too long, stones in pockets,
I wa(d/it)ed in the river.
And the picture I posed,
the italics embroidered on
the uniform I wore,
they were mine, I held them to me like a
heartbeat
So what now? Light stabs the eyelids,
time slithers round my tongue, what am I to do
in the wide world of senses and dimensions?
I find myself stammering through my thoughts.
There is no trust for my own small...
1030 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Aug 2012 1:06am
26th Aug 2012 1:06am
The Missing Thought
lecherous
the draining
of me
and you never saw it
coming
Let the blood
flow
out
and it spills onto the
ground, cracked and
thirsty.
honorous
the depth
denied me
and you said it was
for good reason
I wait with hands
extended, bring the blade.
We have our own
tradition, don't we?
draconian
the fetching command
of fetching you command
and you didn't...
the draining
of me
and you never saw it
coming
Let the blood
flow
out
and it spills onto the
ground, cracked and
thirsty.
honorous
the depth
denied me
and you said it was
for good reason
I wait with hands
extended, bring the blade.
We have our own
tradition, don't we?
draconian
the fetching command
of fetching you command
and you didn't...
718 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Jun 2012 2:31am
18th Jun 2012 2:31am
Harder Than It Should Be
Most days I just stay away.
Mornings are the worst,
something about the way the light
hits the grass,
and the buildings,
and the sky.
Evenings aren't always great, either.
Especially when your song comes on.
Sitting there, trying to remember
all the good things,
mourning is for the dead, eh?
But still,
most days, i just try to stay away.
Keep my head busy.
Keep my heart absent.
Most days.
Mornings are the worst,
something about the way the light
hits the grass,
and the buildings,
and the sky.
Evenings aren't always great, either.
Especially when your song comes on.
Sitting there, trying to remember
all the good things,
mourning is for the dead, eh?
But still,
most days, i just try to stay away.
Keep my head busy.
Keep my heart absent.
Most days.
633 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Mar 2012 7:22am
11th Mar 2012 7:22am
Sunrise Lover
Watched the sun rise
over hopeless apartment buildings.
Talked about
the rest of the world
according to Us.
Drank imported beer,
smoked cheap cigarettes;
life is about the things that are
important to you.
Philosophy and alcohol
paled in comparison
with knowing that sunrise,
like it was a lover,
or like you were a lover.
Went home that morning
with your name on my lips,
with a hangover from God.
Didn't see you again
for months.
When you called last night,
your voice was like
a sugar-coated violet,
and I...
over hopeless apartment buildings.
Talked about
the rest of the world
according to Us.
Drank imported beer,
smoked cheap cigarettes;
life is about the things that are
important to you.
Philosophy and alcohol
paled in comparison
with knowing that sunrise,
like it was a lover,
or like you were a lover.
Went home that morning
with your name on my lips,
with a hangover from God.
Didn't see you again
for months.
When you called last night,
your voice was like
a sugar-coated violet,
and I...
858 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Istra
