Submissions by Junco (H. D. Jaster)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My name is Helena. My primary genre is short fiction/horror, though as this suggests, I do often find myself transfixed by poetry. I do not shy away from violence, or the darker aspects of our living and dreaming lives.
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Nov 2022 3:29am
18th Nov 2022 3:29am
Gripping Too Hard
I hold onto her too hard
never knowing if she is staying
or leaving.
And I cannot say I know
whether this is me, and my pain,
or something she stirs up in me.
Some days I know
that it will be okay
and some nights
the fear crashes over me
and I silently cry more than I'd like.
Because ever time I worry
that she will leave instead of stay
I am failing,
always failing,
to trust her.
To know I have a place
in her life.
But I cannot say whether it is me
or it is her
that ultimately knows
why I...
never knowing if she is staying
or leaving.
And I cannot say I know
whether this is me, and my pain,
or something she stirs up in me.
Some days I know
that it will be okay
and some nights
the fear crashes over me
and I silently cry more than I'd like.
Because ever time I worry
that she will leave instead of stay
I am failing,
always failing,
to trust her.
To know I have a place
in her life.
But I cannot say whether it is me
or it is her
that ultimately knows
why I...
#anxiety
#love
#shame #fear
#shame #fear
208 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2021 10:38pm
22nd Nov 2021 10:38pm
Eyes Symmetry
It speaks to me of symmetry, and of tender little lies.
The little lies we tell ourselves, when we look into our eyes.
"These eyes are even," we seek to say. "They align in a way just right."
But we know inside, that this little lie, is purely a construction of spite.
And though this creature sought me out, and offers up its hands,
It sees things in such wicked ways, I wish I didn't understand.
It spoke to me of symmetry, and of painful, awful lies.
And now my eyes have symmetry, in a face I don't recognize.
The little lies we tell ourselves, when we look into our eyes.
"These eyes are even," we seek to say. "They align in a way just right."
But we know inside, that this little lie, is purely a construction of spite.
And though this creature sought me out, and offers up its hands,
It sees things in such wicked ways, I wish I didn't understand.
It spoke to me of symmetry, and of painful, awful lies.
And now my eyes have symmetry, in a face I don't recognize.
#secrets
#monsters
#FeelingTrapped
#temptation
#bittersweet
295 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Oct 2020 3:57am
28th Oct 2020 3:57am
Blood Wasn't Enough
I see your blood upon my skin,
I faded out and back again.
I needed time.
You thought of me with hate and fire,
but I couldn't feel anything but desire,
for what was lost
Things aren't the way they were when I was happy,
and though I have tried so desperately
To find my peace
I'm stuck on you.
I'm stuck on you.
The last thing I want to do is think of you,
but your memory leaves me with no choice.
Five years is a long time to hurt over.
Four months...
I faded out and back again.
I needed time.
You thought of me with hate and fire,
but I couldn't feel anything but desire,
for what was lost
Things aren't the way they were when I was happy,
and though I have tried so desperately
To find my peace
I'm stuck on you.
I'm stuck on you.
The last thing I want to do is think of you,
but your memory leaves me with no choice.
Five years is a long time to hurt over.
Four months...
#grief
#heartbroken
#IMissYou
313 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jan 2020 4:18am
21st Jan 2020 4:18am
Standstill
I have seen my history, though I use that term lightly.
Tread upon the grounds I once walked
and seen how I could have bettered them.
Hindsight grants me this, but also it has brought
me grief.
For though I have worked hard to grow and change,
by walking those familiar places I have found
that I am not far removed from where I started.
I see the same things in the cup of coffee at a cafe,
and feel the same things when I drink in a good
book, or when I make love to someone beautiful.
Age has changed me in ways that matter, but not
in...
Tread upon the grounds I once walked
and seen how I could have bettered them.
Hindsight grants me this, but also it has brought
me grief.
For though I have worked hard to grow and change,
by walking those familiar places I have found
that I am not far removed from where I started.
I see the same things in the cup of coffee at a cafe,
and feel the same things when I drink in a good
book, or when I make love to someone beautiful.
Age has changed me in ways that matter, but not
in...
#identity
#confessional
#memories
#aging
#nostalgia
392 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
31st Oct 2019 1:00am
31st Oct 2019 1:00am
I Lose Him More Every Day
I'm held together by purpose but not reason,
for there is nothing sane about what I am doing.
It is the sleep of reason in the name of the love
I have for the person I have as my charge.
I am haunted by a living man,
A person truly aware of what he has lost
and what he is losing. He started his life
at a deficit, and yet he keeps finding unique
ways to ground himself, to find a way through
the fog.
I am proud of him in ways I can never
communicate to him. Perhaps that is something
I should have shared with him long ago. ...
for there is nothing sane about what I am doing.
It is the sleep of reason in the name of the love
I have for the person I have as my charge.
I am haunted by a living man,
A person truly aware of what he has lost
and what he is losing. He started his life
at a deficit, and yet he keeps finding unique
ways to ground himself, to find a way through
the fog.
I am proud of him in ways I can never
communicate to him. Perhaps that is something
I should have shared with him long ago. ...
#grief
#friendship
#death #MentalHealth
#death #MentalHealth
382 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
28th Aug 2018 5:46am
28th Aug 2018 5:46am
The Lovers
I wish to be with you tonight
laying next to one another,
souls entwined.
Nothing else to focus on
except your breathing
and mine.
You are special
in ways I can scarcely express
and hardly match.
But I try to be more.
To be everything you are to me.
Every day.
And though space separates us
that need keeps us together
Our souls are drawn to one another,
like a match and a striker.
All we need to set the spark
is to touch.
laying next to one another,
souls entwined.
Nothing else to focus on
except your breathing
and mine.
You are special
in ways I can scarcely express
and hardly match.
But I try to be more.
To be everything you are to me.
Every day.
And though space separates us
that need keeps us together
Our souls are drawn to one another,
like a match and a striker.
All we need to set the spark
is to touch.
#relationships
#FallingInLove
586 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Aug 2017 6:35am
22nd Aug 2017 6:35am
Sheila
It is amazing how when we miss someone,
truly miss someone,
how our lives become a series of reminders.
Even the bad things are things we miss.
One more fight, one more mess,
another clink on the glass when they take a drink.
It gets worse at night.
We think we hear them, even though they are gone,
and that just deepens the inescapable sense of longing
We know this most when it was someone who needed us,
who we invested time and effort into
to try and make their life better
and in the process fill a place in our home. ...
truly miss someone,
how our lives become a series of reminders.
Even the bad things are things we miss.
One more fight, one more mess,
another clink on the glass when they take a drink.
It gets worse at night.
We think we hear them, even though they are gone,
and that just deepens the inescapable sense of longing
We know this most when it was someone who needed us,
who we invested time and effort into
to try and make their life better
and in the process fill a place in our home. ...
602 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
5th Jan 2017 5:26am
5th Jan 2017 5:26am
The Dependent
A deep, encompassing fear.
Of the now and of the then.
Something that filters everything.
Every sight and emotion.
The tangible things as well.
I can't help but feel his hand in mine
everywhere
this child I call uncle.
He needs me or maybe not.
I cannot tell.
But my life has become a pattern
with him as the orchestrator.
My life as the mundane caregiver.
I buy him food and take him out,
perhaps if only for a walk
a trip to the library.
But the divide is immense.
He comes from a different time.
And yet his mind isn't of...
Of the now and of the then.
Something that filters everything.
Every sight and emotion.
The tangible things as well.
I can't help but feel his hand in mine
everywhere
this child I call uncle.
He needs me or maybe not.
I cannot tell.
But my life has become a pattern
with him as the orchestrator.
My life as the mundane caregiver.
I buy him food and take him out,
perhaps if only for a walk
a trip to the library.
But the divide is immense.
He comes from a different time.
And yet his mind isn't of...
711 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
29th Dec 2013 12:08pm
29th Dec 2013 12:08pm
Into the Night I Go in Struggle
I feel ill in the deepest sense of the word,
watching people use each other, abuse
one another and in the end find that dark place
inside of us is no more closer to being filled.
I have grown weary watching person after
person fade into someplace terrible, watching
as people make promises and break them,
fall in love and fall out, live and die and
experience all those things that make life
a divine comedy.
So many people in my life I watch wander,
and it makes me feel ill because I cannot
separate from the trials of others. They all ...
watching people use each other, abuse
one another and in the end find that dark place
inside of us is no more closer to being filled.
I have grown weary watching person after
person fade into someplace terrible, watching
as people make promises and break them,
fall in love and fall out, live and die and
experience all those things that make life
a divine comedy.
So many people in my life I watch wander,
and it makes me feel ill because I cannot
separate from the trials of others. They all ...
742 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
11th Dec 2013 11:42am
11th Dec 2013 11:42am
Sewer Grate
The rain falters
hesitates and stumbles
as it makes its way down the glass.
A heavy hue of ire
settles over the trees
and the grass
and the water collecting
just along the edge of the curb
emptying into the sewer drain
that swallowed its fair share of buckets
in my youth.
I can recall that time with clarity
rain water filling the insides
of rubber boots,
my yellow rubber raincoat
blocking my peripheral vision,
making the heat stick to my skin.
The sound of rain in the bucket,
the smell of earth and water
and worms is...
hesitates and stumbles
as it makes its way down the glass.
A heavy hue of ire
settles over the trees
and the grass
and the water collecting
just along the edge of the curb
emptying into the sewer drain
that swallowed its fair share of buckets
in my youth.
I can recall that time with clarity
rain water filling the insides
of rubber boots,
my yellow rubber raincoat
blocking my peripheral vision,
making the heat stick to my skin.
The sound of rain in the bucket,
the smell of earth and water
and worms is...
780 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Dec 2013 7:08am
8th Dec 2013 7:08am
I Need a Cataclysm
My most pressing fear
is that tomorrow will be the same
as the day that preceded it.
That little will change in the
broad scheme of things,
that life will be average.
I need a cataclysm,
a rift, a devide in the status
quo. A shift in power from the
torments of my fears to those of
my ambitions.
It is so easy to remain scared,
to sacrifice so much just to stay
in place.
The difficulty is in sacrificing
in search of movement, to give
all that you have just so for a
moment you can see your life in a way
that makes you...
is that tomorrow will be the same
as the day that preceded it.
That little will change in the
broad scheme of things,
that life will be average.
I need a cataclysm,
a rift, a devide in the status
quo. A shift in power from the
torments of my fears to those of
my ambitions.
It is so easy to remain scared,
to sacrifice so much just to stay
in place.
The difficulty is in sacrificing
in search of movement, to give
all that you have just so for a
moment you can see your life in a way
that makes you...
712 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
4th Dec 2013 1:29am
4th Dec 2013 1:29am
The Room
I shiver as my eyes flutter open,
the illumination of the nearby streetlamp
that pools upon the floor providing no sense
of warmth, no matter how imagined it might
be. It has been a long time since I have been
woken up by the cold. Not since years before,
when I was young and those cold winter nights
tugged at those light blankets they gave us
in the home.
My breath comes out in long wisps of smoke, as
I try in vain to stifle the chattering of my
teeth. I readjust the comforter, trying to wrap
myself in a cocoon. The chill lingers,...
the illumination of the nearby streetlamp
that pools upon the floor providing no sense
of warmth, no matter how imagined it might
be. It has been a long time since I have been
woken up by the cold. Not since years before,
when I was young and those cold winter nights
tugged at those light blankets they gave us
in the home.
My breath comes out in long wisps of smoke, as
I try in vain to stifle the chattering of my
teeth. I readjust the comforter, trying to wrap
myself in a cocoon. The chill lingers,...
651 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Junco (H. D. Jaster)
