Submissions by MadameLavender
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Aug 2019 8:05pm
8th Aug 2019 8:05pm
On A Lazy Afternoon
(for the "I Need Some Tranquility " comp)
Lungs protest with
allergies
(or sickness)
bubbling up to throatfuls
of itchiness—
I just want to sleep
but I shall miss the waves
of water
and white linen laundry, clothes-pinned
on lines
puffed out like Viking ship sails
commandeer’d by the wind.
Dragonflies and grasshoppers
have knocked on my door—
“Won’t you come out, with us?”
Why yes, I believe I will….
we shall pluck blooms from gardens
and make...
Lungs protest with
allergies
(or sickness)
bubbling up to throatfuls
of itchiness—
I just want to sleep
but I shall miss the waves
of water
and white linen laundry, clothes-pinned
on lines
puffed out like Viking ship sails
commandeer’d by the wind.
Dragonflies and grasshoppers
have knocked on my door—
“Won’t you come out, with us?”
Why yes, I believe I will….
we shall pluck blooms from gardens
and make...
#sea
#nature
23 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Jul 2019 11:58pm
27th Jul 2019 11:58pm
Spartan Verses Poems
(3 entries written for Daniel's "Spartan Verses" comp)
Vintage Handkerchiefs
What tales they tell—
tears they’ve caught,
whispers overheard, cigarette
ashes from bygone times
when white gloved hands were
of fashion.
I’m now their keeper.
Three Said “Edith”
My world melted
when three kerchiefs
revealed the name “Edith”
Sewn in, decades ago—
someone else with Grandmother’s name,
gave me a hug from heaven.
Linen Prep
Delicate...
Vintage Handkerchiefs
What tales they tell—
tears they’ve caught,
whispers overheard, cigarette
ashes from bygone times
when white gloved hands were
of fashion.
I’m now their keeper.
Three Said “Edith”
My world melted
when three kerchiefs
revealed the name “Edith”
Sewn in, decades ago—
someone else with Grandmother’s name,
gave me a hug from heaven.
Linen Prep
Delicate...
#memories
#historical
38 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jul 2019 4:54pm
23rd Jul 2019 4:54pm
Musings From Pearl
(written for Luna's "Who I Am" comp)
So I thought I would tell you that
cats can indeed, speak
and as much as she hides her smile
behind me,
Mom isn’t that much of an enigma
once you get inside her head, and
have a look around.
To the casual observer
it may seem that she’s a
fucking lunatic
pulling furniture and other quality items
from the dumpster
and roadside piles, but
hell, if she doesn’t rake in
a hundred dollars each week, refinishing
and selling the stuff.
As...
So I thought I would tell you that
cats can indeed, speak
and as much as she hides her smile
behind me,
Mom isn’t that much of an enigma
once you get inside her head, and
have a look around.
To the casual observer
it may seem that she’s a
fucking lunatic
pulling furniture and other quality items
from the dumpster
and roadside piles, but
hell, if she doesn’t rake in
a hundred dollars each week, refinishing
and selling the stuff.
As...
#identity
52 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Jul 2019 4:01pm
23rd Jul 2019 4:01pm
Everything, For Sale
(written for Jade's "Fly Me To The Moon" comp)
What shall be more
magnificent
than steps, outside the Earth?
Boundaries broken, to
become antiquated
with time,
in time—
it all grows old, and
dead Presidents on paper
are traded for memories.
It’s all been sold—
the music
the masses
the world
and the moon shall be next.
They’ll find a way.
The very footprints of man
are given for wealth, and
Neil Armstrong waves goodbye
from heavenly heights
auctioned...
What shall be more
magnificent
than steps, outside the Earth?
Boundaries broken, to
become antiquated
with time,
in time—
it all grows old, and
dead Presidents on paper
are traded for memories.
It’s all been sold—
the music
the masses
the world
and the moon shall be next.
They’ll find a way.
The very footprints of man
are given for wealth, and
Neil Armstrong waves goodbye
from heavenly heights
auctioned...
#money
#memories
31 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Jul 2019 5:50pm
10th Jul 2019 5:50pm
5 Short Poems
(For Josh’s Comp)
Sometimes
Sand slips through my hand;
the sea becomes my marrow,
and I find my soul.
I Think
I am best, alone—
in God, I trust, for this life;
love left me jaded.
Too Much
Seconds seem too long —
what shall be my legacy
when time finally ends?
And Find
Vintage linens—yes!
I am a keeper of time.
My collection, grows .
Everything and Nothing
Patience has a way
of pissing me off, teaching
what I need to...
Sometimes
Sand slips through my hand;
the sea becomes my marrow,
and I find my soul.
I Think
I am best, alone—
in God, I trust, for this life;
love left me jaded.
Too Much
Seconds seem too long —
what shall be my legacy
when time finally ends?
And Find
Vintage linens—yes!
I am a keeper of time.
My collection, grows .
Everything and Nothing
Patience has a way
of pissing me off, teaching
what I need to...
#identity
51 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Jun 2019 8:48pm
26th Jun 2019 8:48pm
Little Bits of Life: Goddess in White Roses
(written for Aemelia's "Sisters of the Earth" comp)
Perhaps it’s better, not
to be able to see into the future.
Too surreal, it would have been, seeing
your coffin wheeled down the center aisle, standing
room only in the church.
We draped you in white roses, a testament
to the healer you were—
nurse, yet wife, mother, daughter, friend, and
they were the color of your clothing
in the dream, where you now live.
They spoke in Latin as the incense bell waved its scent
across the aisles, and ah, this life— ...
Perhaps it’s better, not
to be able to see into the future.
Too surreal, it would have been, seeing
your coffin wheeled down the center aisle, standing
room only in the church.
We draped you in white roses, a testament
to the healer you were—
nurse, yet wife, mother, daughter, friend, and
they were the color of your clothing
in the dream, where you now live.
They spoke in Latin as the incense bell waved its scent
across the aisles, and ah, this life— ...
#grief
#death
62 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Jun 2019 1:47pm
19th Jun 2019 1:47pm
I Don’t Want Your Goat
(Written for Snug’s “Troll Me” Comp)
It’s probably covered
with fleas and ticks
and poison ivy, too.
But you could have at least
told us
how many times we’re allowed
to try and get said goat,
nasty little farm varmint,
milk dripping from ugly
hanging teats
into the mouths of
snorting little baby goats,
progeny destined
to grow up like that from
which they were spawned.
It’s probably covered
with fleas and ticks
and poison ivy, too.
But you could have at least
told us
how many times we’re allowed
to try and get said goat,
nasty little farm varmint,
milk dripping from ugly
hanging teats
into the mouths of
snorting little baby goats,
progeny destined
to grow up like that from
which they were spawned.
#animals
#funny
73 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Jun 2019 9:45pm
12th Jun 2019 9:45pm
There's Only One God, and It's Not You
(written for "Pompous Poet" comp)
Legends live in their own minds,
narcissist, showing all the signs
of “worship me”, God of Verse—
ah, master dink of the universe.
Brooks Brother suit, Mensa pipe—
high price for facades of hype
for seeming the Gatsby of the pen,
typical of shallow men.
I’ll not need your approval rating
when inside, ‘tis only you, you’re hating.
Smugly, how you preen and fawn,
the poet whore of Babylon….
XOXO Madame Lavender
Legends live in their own minds,
narcissist, showing all the signs
of “worship me”, God of Verse—
ah, master dink of the universe.
Brooks Brother suit, Mensa pipe—
high price for facades of hype
for seeming the Gatsby of the pen,
typical of shallow men.
I’ll not need your approval rating
when inside, ‘tis only you, you’re hating.
Smugly, how you preen and fawn,
the poet whore of Babylon….
XOXO Madame Lavender
#hate
87 reads
9 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Jun 2019 9:26pm
7th Jun 2019 9:26pm
Autoimmune
(written for Webmiss' "Tolerance" visual comp)
White cells, bandits
in the breakdown
of self-tolerance, form
little mutinies,
civil wars in veins,
antibodies shredding
DNA—
life winds down, self
lost to self; such
cruel intents of proteins
deaf to their master in ugly
displays of wasting away.
White cells, bandits
in the breakdown
of self-tolerance, form
little mutinies,
civil wars in veins,
antibodies shredding
DNA—
life winds down, self
lost to self; such
cruel intents of proteins
deaf to their master in ugly
displays of wasting away.
#science
61 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2019 9:49pm
2nd Jun 2019 9:49pm
Here Come the Storm Clouds
(written for Snug's "Controversial Music Video" comp)
Rolling, roiling
they come—
from over the horizon,
pent-up greens turned charcoal
in clouds like monsters, hulking
across the plains.
The rains
the rains
come—
and wash away the blood;
I hope God doesn’t hate me
for wishing he’d shoot Bonnie
and her prima donna bitches
and Dan the I-love-me, quarterback
and Nelson and Tyler and Ashley and—
and everyone except me
because he did, the shooter—
shot them...
Rolling, roiling
they come—
from over the horizon,
pent-up greens turned charcoal
in clouds like monsters, hulking
across the plains.
The rains
the rains
come—
and wash away the blood;
I hope God doesn’t hate me
for wishing he’d shoot Bonnie
and her prima donna bitches
and Dan the I-love-me, quarterback
and Nelson and Tyler and Ashley and—
and everyone except me
because he did, the shooter—
shot them...
#death
#school
66 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
31st May 2019 5:50pm
31st May 2019 5:50pm
Thought Process
(written for Missy's "Talking Stick" comp)
Thought Process
One year left
and I can save for the house—the one
near the ocean
with a pantry
and backstairs.
Calculate. Calculate.
How much can I pay down the truck in a year?
“Bronson—stop opening the cabinet doors!”
I’ve got to find it—
the places where I’m to go
and buy things, old things they don’t want
but I do.
Free things—you tossed it, it’s mine
now.
I need to know what to keep,
what to sell—
God...
Thought Process
One year left
and I can save for the house—the one
near the ocean
with a pantry
and backstairs.
Calculate. Calculate.
How much can I pay down the truck in a year?
“Bronson—stop opening the cabinet doors!”
I’ve got to find it—
the places where I’m to go
and buy things, old things they don’t want
but I do.
Free things—you tossed it, it’s mine
now.
I need to know what to keep,
what to sell—
God...
#identity
#LifeCycle
61 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd May 2019 7:15pm
23rd May 2019 7:15pm
Whydah 1717
(For Amelia’s Shipwreck Comp)
Wind and waves which sang, before,
and drove our ship to foreign shores,
have tossed our stern, aft, to and fro
as tangled riggings dive below.
O’ come along , a siren’s song
beckoned on the rocks, in throngs
of mangled marble, granite teeth,
to tear our hull, sheaf from sheaf .
“Mercy, Lord!” our voices go’ed
within the eddy’s tidal flow
of lashing swells, a-hurricane—
ah, Whydah Gally, was her name.
Through snapping mast and creaking groan,
the...
Wind and waves which sang, before,
and drove our ship to foreign shores,
have tossed our stern, aft, to and fro
as tangled riggings dive below.
O’ come along , a siren’s song
beckoned on the rocks, in throngs
of mangled marble, granite teeth,
to tear our hull, sheaf from sheaf .
“Mercy, Lord!” our voices go’ed
within the eddy’s tidal flow
of lashing swells, a-hurricane—
ah, Whydah Gally, was her name.
Through snapping mast and creaking groan,
the...
#sea
#storm
88 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by MadameLavender
