Submissions by Kymberly
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
21st Jan 2010 4:18am
21st Jan 2010 4:18am
How the vanity convinced us otherwise
and the lamp will keep this quill damp.
although I know to start with the translation,
of these numbers in their boxes.
and I wonder if the hunger
is enough. To crave this knowledge,
is that enough?
will the ability I desire come,
from the suckling of my mind,
against this book I call God. This book that is-
My Bible.
although I know to start with the translation,
of these numbers in their boxes.
and I wonder if the hunger
is enough. To crave this knowledge,
is that enough?
will the ability I desire come,
from the suckling of my mind,
against this book I call God. This book that is-
My Bible.
695 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
21st Jan 2010 4:15am
21st Jan 2010 4:15am
To bind yourself
sometimes the fabric belongs around your hands-
the tearing and destruction
man can wreak.
woman can wreak.
this flesh will give
under the blow of humanity’s
strike of religious persecution.
the blood will be bled
for nothing.
other times the fabric belongs around your mouth-
the screaming and spitting
we burn worlds
with out tongues.
and young children will be left
to carry themselves in their arms
and to raise their pups
as if they were more
and to pin this task on their wrist
to leave them with...
the tearing and destruction
man can wreak.
woman can wreak.
this flesh will give
under the blow of humanity’s
strike of religious persecution.
the blood will be bled
for nothing.
other times the fabric belongs around your mouth-
the screaming and spitting
we burn worlds
with out tongues.
and young children will be left
to carry themselves in their arms
and to raise their pups
as if they were more
and to pin this task on their wrist
to leave them with...
703 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jan 2010 7:05pm
20th Jan 2010 7:05pm
Young curiosity (2)
The light,
The light that shines
Underneath mommy and daddy’s bedroom door
The light that shines between the sliver-cracks of my bedroom window
Through the happy green canopy of leaves, projecting that vert melody onto my freckled skin.
The light that shines
Underneath mommy and daddy’s bedroom door
The light that shines between the sliver-cracks of my bedroom window
Through the happy green canopy of leaves, projecting that vert melody onto my freckled skin.
699 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jan 2010 6:59pm
20th Jan 2010 6:59pm
Young curiosity
I skipped-
Skipped a stone and fell.
My knees were scraped, the skin fell open in petals.
Little red-pearl droplets danced out and onto the stone path.
And my fascination with it, my utter curiosity more powerful than the stinging.
Skipped a stone and fell.
My knees were scraped, the skin fell open in petals.
Little red-pearl droplets danced out and onto the stone path.
And my fascination with it, my utter curiosity more powerful than the stinging.
1029 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Jan 2010 4:58am
20th Jan 2010 4:58am
On how the peasants were killed.
I’ll eat these withered buds,
these roses all the food
we have left.
in the rotten fields
people dig
to keep their values,
their valuables,
their children.
Safe.
these roses all the food
we have left.
in the rotten fields
people dig
to keep their values,
their valuables,
their children.
Safe.
693 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Jan 2010 4:47am
20th Jan 2010 4:47am
When I was a bird.
I forgot once
to quiet the bird before dawn.
And forever but only one day
I listened and wept
while she sang,
and sang.
The next day her mother called,
she demanded from me
the date of her death.
She wept and beat
her fists on my feathered chest
and I sang.
At her funeral I drank quietly
in the back
because it rained
and rained.
And I didn’t know how to quiet my thirst
as her body was lowered into the Earth.
to quiet the bird before dawn.
And forever but only one day
I listened and wept
while she sang,
and sang.
The next day her mother called,
she demanded from me
the date of her death.
She wept and beat
her fists on my feathered chest
and I sang.
At her funeral I drank quietly
in the back
because it rained
and rained.
And I didn’t know how to quiet my thirst
as her body was lowered into the Earth.
849 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Kymberly
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