Submissions by Lee
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am. What else it there to say? My likes, dislikes, loves and wishes, mean nothing if I do not acknowledge that I simply am. That I breathe and experience. There is no greater explanation.
LOVE POEM
Published
13th Feb 2019 4:19pm
13th Feb 2019 4:19pm
Tale-tell Quiets
Quiet.
There are wraiths inside this atmosphere
and you keep swallowing them down.
He asks you what you are thinking
you say birthmarks
you say tunnel vision,
you say powerlines in drowned river valleys
oceans turned lake when landslides converged.
You say faith
you say hope
you say your name doesn’t know how to fit
into either of those.
You say tempestuous walls
and roads
and cracks in all of your bones.
Quiet.
There are hymns you’ve yet to learn
singing around four empty chairs at a dining room table. ...
There are wraiths inside this atmosphere
and you keep swallowing them down.
He asks you what you are thinking
you say birthmarks
you say tunnel vision,
you say powerlines in drowned river valleys
oceans turned lake when landslides converged.
You say faith
you say hope
you say your name doesn’t know how to fit
into either of those.
You say tempestuous walls
and roads
and cracks in all of your bones.
Quiet.
There are hymns you’ve yet to learn
singing around four empty chairs at a dining room table. ...
#memories
628 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
13th Feb 2019 4:09pm
13th Feb 2019 4:09pm
2 Cups Ricocheting Pieces
There are coffee cups in the sink
and I’m wondering how I missed the conversation
in between.
Maybe there never was a brewing moment,
maybe we just found ourselves half full
of a tarnished liquid
we all thought would wake us up.
Maybe this sky spills light every morning
because it knows there are secrets in the night
it isn’t privy to.
Jealousy is a pock marked reflection
on an eye in the sky that tips every month.
Suddenly this is all counter space
and I’m taking up too much room.
He loves to cook,
but...
and I’m wondering how I missed the conversation
in between.
Maybe there never was a brewing moment,
maybe we just found ourselves half full
of a tarnished liquid
we all thought would wake us up.
Maybe this sky spills light every morning
because it knows there are secrets in the night
it isn’t privy to.
Jealousy is a pock marked reflection
on an eye in the sky that tips every month.
Suddenly this is all counter space
and I’m taking up too much room.
He loves to cook,
but...
#love
516 reads
2 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
11th Feb 2019 00:22am
11th Feb 2019 00:22am
Fool Proof 125
Your name is One More
late night glass and avalanching priorities
like ache
like smother
like waiting for the better
between ‘please stop’
and ‘leave me the hell alone’.
Winter winds are not
breaths you are willing to claim
and that sticky wood beneath trembling fingers
might know your real name
your face
your dna
the things you’re trying to whisk away -
that makes you no less responsible for their actions.
and you’ve monsters on your skin
that you are unsure how to bridal;
you are a gas line
a...
late night glass and avalanching priorities
like ache
like smother
like waiting for the better
between ‘please stop’
and ‘leave me the hell alone’.
Winter winds are not
breaths you are willing to claim
and that sticky wood beneath trembling fingers
might know your real name
your face
your dna
the things you’re trying to whisk away -
that makes you no less responsible for their actions.
and you’ve monsters on your skin
that you are unsure how to bridal;
you are a gas line
a...
#SelfHarm
760 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
10th Feb 2019 4:48pm
10th Feb 2019 4:48pm
Lost has too many syllables to scream
I am alive. With gorilla hands meant more for destruction than gentle winds made of promise. I think there are four walls in my brain but I keep opening windows to smell the rain. Dust and dry land in sight. Jump, it begs me, like I know I know the color of dawn at midnight.
Hands remind me of articulation, five pointed sentences with chapters swimming between veins. Call them flooded river valleys. Call them hydrothermal vents. Canyons, maybe. Erosion. Change made of tears or joys or two eyes that only know to handle wild fires when it is devouring its own color. Wood smoke keeps...
Hands remind me of articulation, five pointed sentences with chapters swimming between veins. Call them flooded river valleys. Call them hydrothermal vents. Canyons, maybe. Erosion. Change made of tears or joys or two eyes that only know to handle wild fires when it is devouring its own color. Wood smoke keeps...
#redemption
511 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
10th Apr 2014 3:46pm
10th Apr 2014 3:46pm
Only Time shows love between magma and Oceans
You shouldn’t touch me,
I’ve got semi-solid fragments in my veins and
I tend to suffocate what I try to keep.
I’ve got soot boiling my bones,
magma swirling in my stomach
and pyroclastic clouds fluttering on my tongue.
I try to hold it all in,
but Love, sometimes its too strong
sometimes it’s been building too long.
And four-wheel drive
isn’t enough to get you over the slopes
of my hesitance when I’m spilling acidic rain,
darkening the skies with rolling memories.
On the beds of the Pacific
I met a volcanologist
who said my...
I’ve got semi-solid fragments in my veins and
I tend to suffocate what I try to keep.
I’ve got soot boiling my bones,
magma swirling in my stomach
and pyroclastic clouds fluttering on my tongue.
I try to hold it all in,
but Love, sometimes its too strong
sometimes it’s been building too long.
And four-wheel drive
isn’t enough to get you over the slopes
of my hesitance when I’m spilling acidic rain,
darkening the skies with rolling memories.
On the beds of the Pacific
I met a volcanologist
who said my...
852 reads
9 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Apr 2014 4:10am
6th Apr 2014 4:10am
This should not be a safe place for my shadows
Carefully crafted half-truths
have never learned to ignore
all the things I’ve failed at being.
Like when the hand struck at noon
and I tried to dance across your sunburns
to ease your discomfort in the way you were exposed,
but I ended up with blistered feet,
and regrets that scalded my esophagus
with the bewilderments sitting in your eyes.
You are five-layered uncertainty
and I only have a mouthful of understandings
to offer you comfort.
Lay it down.
Release it.
Meet eye to eye, teeth to skin
you are more than the whisper...
have never learned to ignore
all the things I’ve failed at being.
Like when the hand struck at noon
and I tried to dance across your sunburns
to ease your discomfort in the way you were exposed,
but I ended up with blistered feet,
and regrets that scalded my esophagus
with the bewilderments sitting in your eyes.
You are five-layered uncertainty
and I only have a mouthful of understandings
to offer you comfort.
Lay it down.
Release it.
Meet eye to eye, teeth to skin
you are more than the whisper...
796 reads
3 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Apr 2014 00:35am
4th Apr 2014 00:35am
The Ocean isn’t afraid to kiss the sky Goodnight
Notice has been percolating throughout justifiable auditions.
I’ve seen you try to stave off
chimney tops spiraling out of cracking planets.
Watch your step,
those hands of yours must be careful
handling cosmic deviations
even if the constellations spell your name
and know your face
and love the lines at the corners of your eyes
as they appear when you swallow sunsets.
When the world watches too much,
slip below.
Don’t be afraid of the dark
or the pressure it lays on the high ridges of your shoulders,
sunlight is only an option...
I’ve seen you try to stave off
chimney tops spiraling out of cracking planets.
Watch your step,
those hands of yours must be careful
handling cosmic deviations
even if the constellations spell your name
and know your face
and love the lines at the corners of your eyes
as they appear when you swallow sunsets.
When the world watches too much,
slip below.
Don’t be afraid of the dark
or the pressure it lays on the high ridges of your shoulders,
sunlight is only an option...
871 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
4th Apr 2014 00:33am
4th Apr 2014 00:33am
These fingers are still counting Today
Today’s poem is not about forgiving or forgetting
although I think at some strike of lightening
it has invested in at least one.
Today’s poem is a locked door wedged against
a breast bone tormented by too many apologies.
Today’s poem is a start to a beginning that has only ever fed on end.
Today’s poem is blistered finger prints,
whimsical ideals in the dead drifts of frost
where honey and promise meet
over and over and over again.
Today’s poem is full of isn’t
and packed past veins and sinew with is.
I want to tell you that it’s okay to...
although I think at some strike of lightening
it has invested in at least one.
Today’s poem is a locked door wedged against
a breast bone tormented by too many apologies.
Today’s poem is a start to a beginning that has only ever fed on end.
Today’s poem is blistered finger prints,
whimsical ideals in the dead drifts of frost
where honey and promise meet
over and over and over again.
Today’s poem is full of isn’t
and packed past veins and sinew with is.
I want to tell you that it’s okay to...
815 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
27th Mar 2014 6:18am
27th Mar 2014 6:18am
Threatened
This world is white and cold and heavy.
A battlefield of semipermeable identities
torn asunder by I don’t feel anything I feel too much.
Maybe this world is melting
drip drip dripping down the age lines of my palms
tying my feet with their tears
and I’m not sure which turn of this rotation I will land on.
My legs are bending where they’re not supposed to
sliding sliding sliding off the side of this undirected journey.
I am faltering deviations on black-top roads,
weathered and withered inside panoramic itineraries
promising only junctions...
A battlefield of semipermeable identities
torn asunder by I don’t feel anything I feel too much.
Maybe this world is melting
drip drip dripping down the age lines of my palms
tying my feet with their tears
and I’m not sure which turn of this rotation I will land on.
My legs are bending where they’re not supposed to
sliding sliding sliding off the side of this undirected journey.
I am faltering deviations on black-top roads,
weathered and withered inside panoramic itineraries
promising only junctions...
812 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Mar 2014 8:27am
25th Mar 2014 8:27am
Wished upon a wish, and fell
Nobody told me about all the clouds
in wishes that spills sorrows like leaky faucets,
but I’ve learned not to question which ocean
the dish water will contaminate this time.
I’ve been planting this garden for a decade
and never noticed how brown
had redrawn my finger prints
and dyed my bloodstream with lavender,
even when you slept pressed against my pulse
did I believe you loved it.
White chalk always stood out
like blacktop veins, crusted and stitched
spent hop-scotching over parcels of reality,
where the waving end of fairytale...
in wishes that spills sorrows like leaky faucets,
but I’ve learned not to question which ocean
the dish water will contaminate this time.
I’ve been planting this garden for a decade
and never noticed how brown
had redrawn my finger prints
and dyed my bloodstream with lavender,
even when you slept pressed against my pulse
did I believe you loved it.
White chalk always stood out
like blacktop veins, crusted and stitched
spent hop-scotching over parcels of reality,
where the waving end of fairytale...
740 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
24th Mar 2014 6:13am
24th Mar 2014 6:13am
I’m no damsel, neither am I helpless
You always wanted conversation to explain
all the solitudes I dressed myself with
all the wanderings imbedded in my bones,
but the words found no mold you would accept
because you never understood that the sky
can sometimes be empty and still give flight
to featherless things.
I tried to tell you that black is the only color I know
how to embrace with any kind of explanation,
that touching me meant changing those ears to eyes
when ink is slithering from beneath my fingernails
staining everything I dare to touch.
I can’t bleed out any more...
all the solitudes I dressed myself with
all the wanderings imbedded in my bones,
but the words found no mold you would accept
because you never understood that the sky
can sometimes be empty and still give flight
to featherless things.
I tried to tell you that black is the only color I know
how to embrace with any kind of explanation,
that touching me meant changing those ears to eyes
when ink is slithering from beneath my fingernails
staining everything I dare to touch.
I can’t bleed out any more...
1022 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Mar 2014 5:25pm
11th Mar 2014 5:25pm
How do I unlock this silence you left me in
Your silence was heavy
with all of the things I needed to say,
with full and whole and I was supposed to be a part of you.
I woke up to your promises blistering my wings,
and found myself haloed in feathers
lying weathered on the ground.
Why had I closed my eyes
as you plucked each one from my freedom
and left them in your footprints?
I tried to purge you from my veins,
tried to convince my heart that the clouds
boiling in my lungs weren’t tears,
weren’t watering my oxygen with please please please…
I took step after step after step...
with all of the things I needed to say,
with full and whole and I was supposed to be a part of you.
I woke up to your promises blistering my wings,
and found myself haloed in feathers
lying weathered on the ground.
Why had I closed my eyes
as you plucked each one from my freedom
and left them in your footprints?
I tried to purge you from my veins,
tried to convince my heart that the clouds
boiling in my lungs weren’t tears,
weren’t watering my oxygen with please please please…
I took step after step after step...
1169 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lee
