Submissions by LunaGreyhawk
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction What is art, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable? Compelled to feel?
SELF POEM
Published
30th May 2020 9:58pm
30th May 2020 9:58pm
Journey of the Ordinary
one foot in front of the other,
winds race wildly across the plains
whipping my hair into a frenzy;
sand from painted canyons
growing old
attacks my unprotected cheeks,
mounting a stinging, angry defense
this season has been impossibly hard
my thoughts wander every bit
as aimlessly as I do,
finding us both in a field
in the middle of somewhere
out in the middle of nowhere
a plain white styrofoam cup,
the kind found on cheap tables
in basement group meetings
where coffee is stale
and...
winds race wildly across the plains
whipping my hair into a frenzy;
sand from painted canyons
growing old
attacks my unprotected cheeks,
mounting a stinging, angry defense
this season has been impossibly hard
my thoughts wander every bit
as aimlessly as I do,
finding us both in a field
in the middle of somewhere
out in the middle of nowhere
a plain white styrofoam cup,
the kind found on cheap tables
in basement group meetings
where coffee is stale
and...
#nature
#memories
#SelfReflection #meditation
#SelfReflection #meditation
119 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th May 2020 4:05pm
6th May 2020 4:05pm
A Quick Word On Life and Death
it’s hard to know
the honeyed sweetness
from the ripest plum
bursting on your tongue
unless you’re also
willing to embrace
the sharp tartness
of it’s skin
the honeyed sweetness
from the ripest plum
bursting on your tongue
unless you’re also
willing to embrace
the sharp tartness
of it’s skin
#death
#LifeCycle
243 reads
9 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Apr 2020 4:48pm
27th Apr 2020 4:48pm
Reminiscence
bring me a fancy time machine
I want to go backwards!
dial up the bygone days
when the emerald grass
was cool and waxy
beneath my tanned bare feet
while cicadas sang loudly,
their high-pitched death song
the perfect accompaniment
to long, hot afternoons
spent rubbing buttercups
under my still-smooth chin
and gulping ice cold water
from hot metal fountains
after waiting my turn,
sweating in the high sun
I want to go backwards!
dial up the bygone days
when the emerald grass
was cool and waxy
beneath my tanned bare feet
while cicadas sang loudly,
their high-pitched death song
the perfect accompaniment
to long, hot afternoons
spent rubbing buttercups
under my still-smooth chin
and gulping ice cold water
from hot metal fountains
after waiting my turn,
sweating in the high sun
#NaPoWriMo2020
147 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Apr 2020 7:58pm
25th Apr 2020 7:58pm
Sorceress of String
sitting quietly, my eyes fixed
on my mother’s slender hands
a rare point of connection -
my own are miniature replicas;
I want to talk to her about this
yet I know better
than to disturb her concentration
she has always been
a bit of a practical witch,
perfecting the frustrating art
(if her softly muttered curses
are any indication)
of transformation;
turning a ball of soft string
into a delicate, lacy blanket
is nothing short of sorcery
to my budding imagination,
and I feel honored to...
on my mother’s slender hands
a rare point of connection -
my own are miniature replicas;
I want to talk to her about this
yet I know better
than to disturb her concentration
she has always been
a bit of a practical witch,
perfecting the frustrating art
(if her softly muttered curses
are any indication)
of transformation;
turning a ball of soft string
into a delicate, lacy blanket
is nothing short of sorcery
to my budding imagination,
and I feel honored to...
#NaPoWriMo2020
146 reads
SELF POEM
Published
21st Apr 2020 5:15am
21st Apr 2020 5:15am
An Honest Catharsis
my mind swirls,
like water to the drain
whenever I’ve finally gotten
the moxie to pull the plug
I want to let it all go,
rapidly, fluidly
slipping
through the grate,
nothing to stop me
from disappearing
I don’t want to write
or spill
or create;
I don’t want to share
myself with you
anymore
I want to scream,
my voice clawing
it’s way from my throat
until every dark thing
hiding in my bones
finds itself staring
at me from the outside
I...
like water to the drain
whenever I’ve finally gotten
the moxie to pull the plug
I want to let it all go,
rapidly, fluidly
slipping
through the grate,
nothing to stop me
from disappearing
I don’t want to write
or spill
or create;
I don’t want to share
myself with you
anymore
I want to scream,
my voice clawing
it’s way from my throat
until every dark thing
hiding in my bones
finds itself staring
at me from the outside
I...
#NaPoWriMo2020
143 reads
11 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Apr 2020 5:39am
19th Apr 2020 5:39am
Ugly Brown Grass
clouds made of cotton
shuffle languidly across
the solid cornflower sky,
a perfect canvas
marred only
by silvery-white vapor
with soft brushstrokes
in varying degrees of gray
blending along their edges,
casting shadows
on only half my leg
as I sit in with my face
to the glorious sun,
begging for its warmth;
the ugly yellow grass
crunchy beneath me,
winter’s icy breath
still hanging on
by a thread
shuffle languidly across
the solid cornflower sky,
a perfect canvas
marred only
by silvery-white vapor
with soft brushstrokes
in varying degrees of gray
blending along their edges,
casting shadows
on only half my leg
as I sit in with my face
to the glorious sun,
begging for its warmth;
the ugly yellow grass
crunchy beneath me,
winter’s icy breath
still hanging on
by a thread
#NaPoWriMo2020
75 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
17th Apr 2020 4:03pm
17th Apr 2020 4:03pm
Subcisivus
if words could carve skin
as deeply as the cutting edge
with which you’ve learned
to throw them at me,
I’d have long ago bled out
cut to the bone
your weapons honed
with razor-sharp precision,
tempered in the flames
of your lacking;
this internal inferno
stoked to blazing
when you throw whiskey
on an already roaring fire
with point-blank accuracy,
all so you can feel
temporarily better, considering
what you really are
in my fear and silence
I’ve enabled you...
as deeply as the cutting edge
with which you’ve learned
to throw them at me,
I’d have long ago bled out
cut to the bone
your weapons honed
with razor-sharp precision,
tempered in the flames
of your lacking;
this internal inferno
stoked to blazing
when you throw whiskey
on an already roaring fire
with point-blank accuracy,
all so you can feel
temporarily better, considering
what you really are
in my fear and silence
I’ve enabled you...
#NaPoWriMo2020
116 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Apr 2020 4:55pm
16th Apr 2020 4:55pm
Engloutir
I’ve chopped you
into small morsels,
and sorted your remains
into neat little boxes
according to who
I think you are,
~food for thought~
while I, myself
refuse to be organized
by anyone;
funny, that
I sift through you,
labeling your characteristics
and cross-referencing
my synesthetic symphony
in response to your voice,
I catalogue the butterflies
that won’t stay still
deep in my belly
whenever our paths
have occasion to cross;
I realize this defines me ...
into small morsels,
and sorted your remains
into neat little boxes
according to who
I think you are,
~food for thought~
while I, myself
refuse to be organized
by anyone;
funny, that
I sift through you,
labeling your characteristics
and cross-referencing
my synesthetic symphony
in response to your voice,
I catalogue the butterflies
that won’t stay still
deep in my belly
whenever our paths
have occasion to cross;
I realize this defines me ...
#NaPoWriMo2020
123 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Apr 2020 5:08pm
15th Apr 2020 5:08pm
Sad, Fat Raindrops on Old Glass Windows
melancholy melody
in the midst
of brewing chaos,
like sad, fat raindrops
on old glass windows;
you’re afraid to sit too close
for fear you’ll hear
me shatter,
unexpectedly
drowning us both
and you’ll feel guilty
for having enjoyed
my song, soothing
your tired, aching soul;
you’ll feel as though
you’ve taken
a thing I wasn’t
wholly prepared
to give to you;
while It’s true
I’m far more fragile
than you can know,
I’m so much stronger
than you’ve convinced...
in the midst
of brewing chaos,
like sad, fat raindrops
on old glass windows;
you’re afraid to sit too close
for fear you’ll hear
me shatter,
unexpectedly
drowning us both
and you’ll feel guilty
for having enjoyed
my song, soothing
your tired, aching soul;
you’ll feel as though
you’ve taken
a thing I wasn’t
wholly prepared
to give to you;
while It’s true
I’m far more fragile
than you can know,
I’m so much stronger
than you’ve convinced...
#NaPoWriMo2020
84 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Apr 2020 5:41am
15th Apr 2020 5:41am
Seventy-Four Better Words
I want to say something
anything
exquisite, ephemeral
words rolling
off my silver tongue
to the page,
the tendrils of my emotion
breathing you in deeply
and gently exhaling
understanding
across your worried face,
leaving you a bit
restless;
I’ve struggled against
the restraints
of my frantic mind today,
staring but seeing nothing
ever since my eyes opened
too early this morning
after closing much too late
last night;
so instead I’ll tell you plainly ...
anything
exquisite, ephemeral
words rolling
off my silver tongue
to the page,
the tendrils of my emotion
breathing you in deeply
and gently exhaling
understanding
across your worried face,
leaving you a bit
restless;
I’ve struggled against
the restraints
of my frantic mind today,
staring but seeing nothing
ever since my eyes opened
too early this morning
after closing much too late
last night;
so instead I’ll tell you plainly ...
#NaPoWriMo2020
124 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Apr 2020 6:06pm
14th Apr 2020 6:06pm
A Spring in No Hurry
waiting for the sun
to realize it’s spring;
come on out, my dear
my world could use
the warmth of your lips
on my neck
once again
stop hiding
your bright face
behind snow clouds
that haven’t noticed
they’ve more than met
their seasonal quota
I’m ready
for soft green grass
beneath my feet
and yellow sunflowers
turning to seek
your smile
to realize it’s spring;
come on out, my dear
my world could use
the warmth of your lips
on my neck
once again
stop hiding
your bright face
behind snow clouds
that haven’t noticed
they’ve more than met
their seasonal quota
I’m ready
for soft green grass
beneath my feet
and yellow sunflowers
turning to seek
your smile
#NaPoWriMo2020
110 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
12th Apr 2020 3:27am
12th Apr 2020 3:27am
Dewrops
if you don’t believe in
magic tricks,
it can only be because
you’ve never witnessed
the muted shades
of moss and earth
transformed before awed eyes
into daffodil and spring leaf
as the sun makes his way
out from under the covers
swinging lazy legs to the floor
and dusting off his favorite
works of art;
stringing crystal drops of dew
across the fingertips
of petals unfurling in his
warm embrace
Unique Word Count: 57
magic tricks,
it can only be because
you’ve never witnessed
the muted shades
of moss and earth
transformed before awed eyes
into daffodil and spring leaf
as the sun makes his way
out from under the covers
swinging lazy legs to the floor
and dusting off his favorite
works of art;
stringing crystal drops of dew
across the fingertips
of petals unfurling in his
warm embrace
Unique Word Count: 57
#NaPoWriMo2020
93 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by LunaGreyhawk
