Submissions by LunaGreyhawk
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction What is art, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable? Compelled to feel?
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
Yesterday 9:05pm
Yesterday 9:05pm
Cloud Bound
cornflower edges fill my vision,
hint of blue water in the interim;
I’m cloud bound to the hoping
in a cloudless sky
sunshine hiding it’s face from me
here, but not really here;
chased away by icy winds,
taking warmth with it
hint of blue water in the interim;
I’m cloud bound to the hoping
in a cloudless sky
sunshine hiding it’s face from me
here, but not really here;
chased away by icy winds,
taking warmth with it
#nature
35 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
Yesterday 6:52pm
Yesterday 6:52pm
Are You There?
Dear God,
it’s me;
where the hell have you been?
don’t mean to bug you -
I can see how busy you are,
watching little girls lose
their innocence
while evil prevails
~but I’m lost, treading water~
and you’re just never around;
they told me if I’d only believe
and confess with my mouth,
you’d come to me
in my time of need;
but you never did,
not once
were you there,
when the endless parade
of men without morals
standing with ego-laced humility,
gripping the edge of podiums ...
it’s me;
where the hell have you been?
don’t mean to bug you -
I can see how busy you are,
watching little girls lose
their innocence
while evil prevails
~but I’m lost, treading water~
and you’re just never around;
they told me if I’d only believe
and confess with my mouth,
you’d come to me
in my time of need;
but you never did,
not once
were you there,
when the endless parade
of men without morals
standing with ego-laced humility,
gripping the edge of podiums ...
#anger
#religion
#God
33 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Jan 2020 00:11am
18th Jan 2020 00:11am
Eminentia
sliding like honey
when there’s time,
in those stolen moments
in broad daylight -
it’s not right;
but I’m here, all the same
because my selfishness
has no bounds
and I want to be sorry,
but I’m not
this Aries’ fury burns
way too bright,
and I’ve never been good
at dimming my flame -
the essence yet restrained
will still consume you;
I know it and I don’t care,
even though
I often wonder if I should
forgive me if I’m spitting
all over you;
it’s a hard habit to break, ...
when there’s time,
in those stolen moments
in broad daylight -
it’s not right;
but I’m here, all the same
because my selfishness
has no bounds
and I want to be sorry,
but I’m not
this Aries’ fury burns
way too bright,
and I’ve never been good
at dimming my flame -
the essence yet restrained
will still consume you;
I know it and I don’t care,
even though
I often wonder if I should
forgive me if I’m spitting
all over you;
it’s a hard habit to break, ...
#relationships
#friendship
#SelfReflection
#PTSD
#healing
57 reads
9 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Jan 2020 5:54pm
14th Jan 2020 5:54pm
Synthetic Symphonia
solid to liquid,
~dripping~
thick paint on this canvas;
sexy fat droplets,
hip rolls on rivulets
sliding against
the repeating fugue
in a sultry dance
of heavy baritone
diffused into low static,
across the wanton stage
of synthetic fantasy,
an invitation to act
the luscious tempo
of ominous clouds
gathering low
in the sky,
of the moment
your head drops to mine
in submission
~give me what I want~
of kisses against the wall,
the undulating berceuse ...
~dripping~
thick paint on this canvas;
sexy fat droplets,
hip rolls on rivulets
sliding against
the repeating fugue
in a sultry dance
of heavy baritone
diffused into low static,
across the wanton stage
of synthetic fantasy,
an invitation to act
the luscious tempo
of ominous clouds
gathering low
in the sky,
of the moment
your head drops to mine
in submission
~give me what I want~
of kisses against the wall,
the undulating berceuse ...
#erotic
#music
107 reads
13 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Jan 2020 8:08am
9th Jan 2020 8:08am
The Raven’s Shadow
#depression
#night
#apathy
98 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Jan 2020 4:54am
8th Jan 2020 4:54am
Slim, Black Letters
tires wrapped in cages
ride tenuously along
this icy highway,
white wind howling
against the passenger window
where my head rests
softly in my warmest hat;
my breath escapes,
expanding outward
across the glass
in a heated fog;
I’m suddenly so tempted
to scrawl my name,
slim black letters
against the lacy surface,
raising my finger
with intention
yet, instead returning
the errant hand
to my lap
my mother’s voice -
awfully loud
for not being there
at...
ride tenuously along
this icy highway,
white wind howling
against the passenger window
where my head rests
softly in my warmest hat;
my breath escapes,
expanding outward
across the glass
in a heated fog;
I’m suddenly so tempted
to scrawl my name,
slim black letters
against the lacy surface,
raising my finger
with intention
yet, instead returning
the errant hand
to my lap
my mother’s voice -
awfully loud
for not being there
at...
#mother
#childhood
#SelfReflection
77 reads
15 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Jan 2020 10:27pm
4th Jan 2020 10:27pm
Behind Eyes That Hide Their Own Irises
words slow
to a trickle
from my empty,
tired head;
fingers grip this pen
like some kind of sense
can be forced
from it,
but I know better
c’mon, give me something
spilling for therapy
gets the best of me,
makes you think
you can know who I am,
like you can decipher
what I’m made of
deeper, behind eyes
that hide
their own irises;
trust me you won’t
though
not unless I let you;
these rough facets
exposed on paper
are only the...
to a trickle
from my empty,
tired head;
fingers grip this pen
like some kind of sense
can be forced
from it,
but I know better
c’mon, give me something
spilling for therapy
gets the best of me,
makes you think
you can know who I am,
like you can decipher
what I’m made of
deeper, behind eyes
that hide
their own irises;
trust me you won’t
though
not unless I let you;
these rough facets
exposed on paper
are only the...
#confessional
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
72 reads
12 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2020 1:12pm
2nd Jan 2020 1:12pm
Insomnia Concerto Sensoriale
3:27am
I’m awake
like the sun
with only
the moonlight
keeping me company;
words flow
grow
they know
I need sleep -
eyes full of sand
but a mind full
of patterns
colors
shapes, unidentifiable
at least until
I look them up
in the light
of later today
converging melodies
written upon
the shifting amalgam
~of thoughts~
too many to detail,
colliding in their hurry
to pique my interest,
showing off to grab
my full...
I’m awake
like the sun
with only
the moonlight
keeping me company;
words flow
grow
they know
I need sleep -
eyes full of sand
but a mind full
of patterns
colors
shapes, unidentifiable
at least until
I look them up
in the light
of later today
converging melodies
written upon
the shifting amalgam
~of thoughts~
too many to detail,
colliding in their hurry
to pique my interest,
showing off to grab
my full...
#insomnia
83 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st Dec 2019 7:41pm
31st Dec 2019 7:41pm
Undressing
she peered
eyes wide open
deeply into herself,
into the only mirror
that really matters
~anymore~
her nose wrinkled
at the reflection;
who the hell
had she become?
the woman staring back,
a stranger
wearing her mother’s shirt,
decidedly not her color
with its pattern of chaos
sewn into mismatched joining
and her father’s Sermon Tie,
fashioned like a noose
threatening to strangle
her words,
cutting off her breath
without warning
as was always his way
...
eyes wide open
deeply into herself,
into the only mirror
that really matters
~anymore~
her nose wrinkled
at the reflection;
who the hell
had she become?
the woman staring back,
a stranger
wearing her mother’s shirt,
decidedly not her color
with its pattern of chaos
sewn into mismatched joining
and her father’s Sermon Tie,
fashioned like a noose
threatening to strangle
her words,
cutting off her breath
without warning
as was always his way
...
#SelfReflection
#SelfDiscovery
99 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Dec 2019 6:23pm
20th Dec 2019 6:23pm
The Empath Speaks
I saw you in line,
uncomfortably stuck
between
the harried mom
snapping commands
at her wild brood
and
the businessman
in the expensive suit,
shifting from one
Italian loafer to the other,
impatience his resting place;
your insecurity screeches at me
loudly in its lack of words ~
please release me;
bright red-orange flames
fill your aura
and I can feel you
burning
the pain of existing
etched into your face,
your identity borrowed
from faded purple hair ...
uncomfortably stuck
between
the harried mom
snapping commands
at her wild brood
and
the businessman
in the expensive suit,
shifting from one
Italian loafer to the other,
impatience his resting place;
your insecurity screeches at me
loudly in its lack of words ~
please release me;
bright red-orange flames
fill your aura
and I can feel you
burning
the pain of existing
etched into your face,
your identity borrowed
from faded purple hair ...
#SelfReflection
#art
#SelfWorth
149 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Dec 2019 7:53am
16th Dec 2019 7:53am
Please Say Something
tell me again
it will be alright,
because back to
normal
is starting to feel
a lot like a place
I’ve never been
my lungs
are antique iron,
rusted and unforgiving;
constricted
like my heart,
compressed tightly
beyond my ability
to breathe deep
by a world
full of intentions
I can’t ever seem
to recover from
completely
muscles and tendons
that refuse to relax,
screaming obscenities;
dull, tarnished...
it will be alright,
because back to
normal
is starting to feel
a lot like a place
I’ve never been
my lungs
are antique iron,
rusted and unforgiving;
constricted
like my heart,
compressed tightly
beyond my ability
to breathe deep
by a world
full of intentions
I can’t ever seem
to recover from
completely
muscles and tendons
that refuse to relax,
screaming obscenities;
dull, tarnished...
#illness
#suffering
130 reads
13 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Dec 2019 5:46pm
13th Dec 2019 5:46pm
These Dark Clouds, Colored Luna Grey
silky words
seep slowly
into
my crowded head,
each one
pulling
vibrant colors
from
the atmosphere
~and they sing~
images flutter,
landing softly
across
these dark clouds,
colored luna grey
with the melancholy
of existing
in skin
that doesn’t fit;
each stolen
from memory,
or
my insatiable
imagination,
it’s hard to tell
sometimes
~they all sing~
...
seep slowly
into
my crowded head,
each one
pulling
vibrant colors
from
the atmosphere
~and they sing~
images flutter,
landing softly
across
these dark clouds,
colored luna grey
with the melancholy
of existing
in skin
that doesn’t fit;
each stolen
from memory,
or
my insatiable
imagination,
it’s hard to tell
sometimes
~they all sing~
...
#identity
134 reads
14 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by LunaGreyhawk
