Submissions by MadameLavender
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
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
30 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
54 reads
8 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
40 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
37 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
43 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
47 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd May 2019 5:23pm
3rd May 2019 5:23pm
Mothers and Daughters
(written for "Dark Creatures" comp)
There are no creatures darker than
daughters and their mothers, and
even all the Japanese monsters
and living things from Lovecraft’s psyche,
run
run
run
from the fury that collides between us.
“Have mercy! You win!”
they cry in haste to retreat to safe places, hidden
from our opinions
and insults.
They watch, fearful,
as you judge me for my décor,
my food
my clothing
my income
which you have no fucking clue about
until….....
There are no creatures darker than
daughters and their mothers, and
even all the Japanese monsters
and living things from Lovecraft’s psyche,
run
run
run
from the fury that collides between us.
“Have mercy! You win!”
they cry in haste to retreat to safe places, hidden
from our opinions
and insults.
They watch, fearful,
as you judge me for my décor,
my food
my clothing
my income
which you have no fucking clue about
until….....
#motherhood
#conflict
#daughter
70 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Apr 2019 4:44am
30th Apr 2019 4:44am
Everyone Had Cooties in 1973
(written for Missy's "Pinky Promise" comp---true story from first grade, 1973)
Surely, there had never been a more
hateful woman
to teach the children, than
Old Mrs. Aalto…..her ruler
cracking, smacking
against her desk side, to silence
murmers, giggles, lest we be cracked
ourselves
by the dreaded wooden measuring stick.
Surely, our six-year old minds
grasped the concept of
“Cooties”
those imaginary,
invisible
contagious
germs
caught from the dirty kids,
the socially...
Surely, there had never been a more
hateful woman
to teach the children, than
Old Mrs. Aalto…..her ruler
cracking, smacking
against her desk side, to silence
murmers, giggles, lest we be cracked
ourselves
by the dreaded wooden measuring stick.
Surely, our six-year old minds
grasped the concept of
“Cooties”
those imaginary,
invisible
contagious
germs
caught from the dirty kids,
the socially...
#school
48 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Apr 2019 4:05pm
26th Apr 2019 4:05pm
Tremont, Calling
(written for "Poetry Noir" comp)
Chinatown glistens in rains—
mists, not heavy enough to dampen
streets beyond mild sullenry.
The Asians go to and fro, materializing
through sewer steam and neon
then disappear into alleyways, amid
taxi horns.
I walk—
casual observer, careful
not to look the pushers in the eye.
Frank no longer stands
with his “Anything Helps” sign
where Kneeland meets Tremont—
I saw him for years, then
he just didn’t come back
one day.
...
Chinatown glistens in rains—
mists, not heavy enough to dampen
streets beyond mild sullenry.
The Asians go to and fro, materializing
through sewer steam and neon
then disappear into alleyways, amid
taxi horns.
I walk—
casual observer, careful
not to look the pushers in the eye.
Frank no longer stands
with his “Anything Helps” sign
where Kneeland meets Tremont—
I saw him for years, then
he just didn’t come back
one day.
...
#city
#rain
79 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Apr 2019 4:49pm
21st Apr 2019 4:49pm
Old Roses
(written for "Best day Ever" comp)
I was the child
in the yellow dress, beaming
in July heat
at wild roses, growing
as heaving clumps across
rusted fences.
Polaroid preserved,
snapshots to live by, when
the ground dropped out, and
I fell between frames.
I walk the shoreline, now.
It is July 4th again.
I see her once more,
the roses-girl, me, pictures
brought back from vivid attar scents
of beach blooms on costal winds.
I walk the shoreline, now.
It is...
I was the child
in the yellow dress, beaming
in July heat
at wild roses, growing
as heaving clumps across
rusted fences.
Polaroid preserved,
snapshots to live by, when
the ground dropped out, and
I fell between frames.
I walk the shoreline, now.
It is July 4th again.
I see her once more,
the roses-girl, me, pictures
brought back from vivid attar scents
of beach blooms on costal winds.
I walk the shoreline, now.
It is...
#separation
85 reads
11 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th Apr 2019 00:23am
16th Apr 2019 00:23am
"And the Sea Said There Were No Bounds"
(written for Amelia's "We Are Water" comp)
So I took it for its word, and
found truths as old as
the gnarled shells, spat
upon the sands by waves.
I became fluid on shores, speckled
with popplestones, those sentinels
to tides and
hearts of mariners, long gone.
I melted in offshore winds, releasing
my soul, to endless miles of dunes, grasses
rooted and fixed.
I reached the end of the Earth, and
marveled at how simply alone I was, yet
filled with expectation
waiting on the Lord, where...
So I took it for its word, and
found truths as old as
the gnarled shells, spat
upon the sands by waves.
I became fluid on shores, speckled
with popplestones, those sentinels
to tides and
hearts of mariners, long gone.
I melted in offshore winds, releasing
my soul, to endless miles of dunes, grasses
rooted and fixed.
I reached the end of the Earth, and
marveled at how simply alone I was, yet
filled with expectation
waiting on the Lord, where...
#sea
#beach
#water
62 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
15th Apr 2019 11:56pm
15th Apr 2019 11:56pm
Truth or Dare
(written for Michael's "Blasphemy or The Truth" comp)
There is no religion, only
truth
and those who would dare
to tempt the Lord, testing
His mercies with bags of serpents.
Would you dare, just believing
the Truth
as it would fill the body, like
waters rising
and verily, cast out demons
through faith?
We speak in new tongues, as
words become flesh, holy
unto Creation.
Harmed, not, we are by poisons
imbibed
in the spirit, not corporeal bodies
for herein lies true...
There is no religion, only
truth
and those who would dare
to tempt the Lord, testing
His mercies with bags of serpents.
Would you dare, just believing
the Truth
as it would fill the body, like
waters rising
and verily, cast out demons
through faith?
We speak in new tongues, as
words become flesh, holy
unto Creation.
Harmed, not, we are by poisons
imbibed
in the spirit, not corporeal bodies
for herein lies true...
#God
#Christian
74 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by MadameLavender
