Submissions by L_Munro
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Feb 2010 7:27am
17th Feb 2010 7:27am
There’s something brutal about a letter
There’s something brutal about a letter.
Each that I receive
stinks of distance,
the bureaucratic stamped postmark
reminds me of hundreds of miles,
and she can’t even say
she misses me.
She says she might miss me,
and she doesn’t say
she doesn’t want me back,
in so many words.
The words say that,
unsaid.
The brutality of a letter.
Each that I receive
stinks of distance,
the bureaucratic stamped postmark
reminds me of hundreds of miles,
and she can’t even say
she misses me.
She says she might miss me,
and she doesn’t say
she doesn’t want me back,
in so many words.
The words say that,
unsaid.
The brutality of a letter.
996 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Feb 2010 7:25am
17th Feb 2010 7:25am
The Grave
Our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside.
We wanted the shortest way
to a snack at the gas station.
It was college,
far from home—
six hours, driving
faster than my parents.
My navy brat girlfriend
grew up around the world,
Panama, Italy, Australia, and finally
West Virginia.
Hillsideman was far from home,
an ocean and more away,
an ocean of time and the ancient Atlantic
divided him from Tipperary.
Yes, our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside. ...
lonely on his hillside.
We wanted the shortest way
to a snack at the gas station.
It was college,
far from home—
six hours, driving
faster than my parents.
My navy brat girlfriend
grew up around the world,
Panama, Italy, Australia, and finally
West Virginia.
Hillsideman was far from home,
an ocean and more away,
an ocean of time and the ancient Atlantic
divided him from Tipperary.
Yes, our wandering shoes brought us to him,
lonely on his hillside. ...
848 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
16th Feb 2010 4:01pm
16th Feb 2010 4:01pm
Skirt
A few paces before me,
a girl
walks with her friends,
wearing
boots, sweater, coat, and
intoxicatingly
short
skirt.
Ihave trouble
unlocking my eyes
from her legs,
as her skirt
flutters,
teases,
reveals
the bottom of
light blue panties.
I watch,
I follow,
wondering if she
notices me.
a girl
walks with her friends,
wearing
boots, sweater, coat, and
intoxicatingly
short
skirt.
Ihave trouble
unlocking my eyes
from her legs,
as her skirt
flutters,
teases,
reveals
the bottom of
light blue panties.
I watch,
I follow,
wondering if she
notices me.
1038 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Feb 2010 3:59pm
16th Feb 2010 3:59pm
Obscene Nihilistic Postmodern Poem 73
Cuntface.
i open with cuntface
to shock you,
because i’m as edgy
as anyone else.
then i explain why i start with cuntface
so you won’t think
that i think
cuntface
is good poetry
because i don’t think that.
but i self-consciously want you to rethink
what you think
is good poetry.
that’s why
i open with cuntface.
and i may as well
end there
too.
i open with cuntface
to shock you,
because i’m as edgy
as anyone else.
then i explain why i start with cuntface
so you won’t think
that i think
cuntface
is good poetry
because i don’t think that.
but i self-consciously want you to rethink
what you think
is good poetry.
that’s why
i open with cuntface.
and i may as well
end there
too.
875 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Feb 2010 1:11am
16th Feb 2010 1:11am
Consumer Paradiso
For Elliot.
Your emancipation
is sitting in a café
and buying a coke,
and then drinking it.
He said.
You can emancipate
yourself
from deodorant.
I want to emancipate
myself
from stale poetry,
bland freedom,
and boring emancipation.
Instead, I think I’ll
chain myself
to Hallmark card sentiment,
romance novel realism,
and the latest edition
of a one time use opinion,
and let consumerism suffice.
Your emancipation
is sitting in a café
and buying a coke,
and then drinking it.
He said.
You can emancipate
yourself
from deodorant.
I want to emancipate
myself
from stale poetry,
bland freedom,
and boring emancipation.
Instead, I think I’ll
chain myself
to Hallmark card sentiment,
romance novel realism,
and the latest edition
of a one time use opinion,
and let consumerism suffice.
644 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
16th Feb 2010 1:08am
16th Feb 2010 1:08am
Bus Station
We went together
to the lonely midnight
bus station.
She picked up her bag
to board.
Desperate,I sought something
to make her not get on,
to make her not go,
to make her stay.
I couldn’t think,
my brain slowed with tears.
Find the right words,
dammit.
Nothing to say
anyhow.
She made up her mind
about a new job,
she made up her mind
about us,
she made up her mind
about me.
We went together
to the lonely midnight
bus station.
Leaving in separate directions.
to the lonely midnight
bus station.
She picked up her bag
to board.
Desperate,I sought something
to make her not get on,
to make her not go,
to make her stay.
I couldn’t think,
my brain slowed with tears.
Find the right words,
dammit.
Nothing to say
anyhow.
She made up her mind
about a new job,
she made up her mind
about us,
she made up her mind
about me.
We went together
to the lonely midnight
bus station.
Leaving in separate directions.
921 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by L_Munro
