Submissions by MadameLavender
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jun 2021 2:23am
15th Jun 2021 2:23am
Rietta
I felt a part of me
grow back
when I drove into the dusty lot
of the flea market.
Sunday crowds blossomed--
early risers, bustling
between tables
already filling their shopping bags
at 6am.
Not a moment to waste--
thoughts of arranging my wares
collided with a tinge of anxiety
over getting one of the last vendor tables left.
Wasn't the one I'd hoped for, but
God was still there in the clear blue sky
and the too-tall grass, damp with dew, making ...
grow back
when I drove into the dusty lot
of the flea market.
Sunday crowds blossomed--
early risers, bustling
between tables
already filling their shopping bags
at 6am.
Not a moment to waste--
thoughts of arranging my wares
collided with a tinge of anxiety
over getting one of the last vendor tables left.
Wasn't the one I'd hoped for, but
God was still there in the clear blue sky
and the too-tall grass, damp with dew, making ...
#God
#peace
26 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
21st Apr 2021 2:01am
21st Apr 2021 2:01am
Praise the Lord, and Pass the Chocolate .
I'm fascinated to know
how it feels to die....
without actually doing it.
Hershey's quells that fear, and
I'll trust Jesus
to ambush me in my sleep,
when it's time...
how it feels to die....
without actually doing it.
Hershey's quells that fear, and
I'll trust Jesus
to ambush me in my sleep,
when it's time...
#death
#fear
69 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Apr 2021 00:24am
20th Apr 2021 00:24am
Lab Tech-ery
One drop of blood, and
I know everything about you,
through my microscope....
I know everything about you,
through my microscope....
#science
83 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Apr 2021 00:17am
20th Apr 2021 00:17am
Eden, On Earth
It was the serpent’s fault—
slimy, slithery thing
gnawing on the roots, and
whispering lies, eating
from below.
Everywhere, a tree—
can we paint it back into existence,
Eden?
It was the woman’s fault—
she told him to taste;
it was good, very good.
And then, the horror
of knowing, came
like deluges of despair—
it was true, and the cord was severed.
It was God’s fault—
He made the woman, who
told him to eat;
(She said she was deceived.
She said she was sorry.)
All...
slimy, slithery thing
gnawing on the roots, and
whispering lies, eating
from below.
Everywhere, a tree—
can we paint it back into existence,
Eden?
It was the woman’s fault—
she told him to taste;
it was good, very good.
And then, the horror
of knowing, came
like deluges of despair—
it was true, and the cord was severed.
It was God’s fault—
He made the woman, who
told him to eat;
(She said she was deceived.
She said she was sorry.)
All...
#learning
68 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Mar 2021 11:34pm
28th Mar 2021 11:34pm
The Groundskeeper
Sometimes, I hum a few notes
for nostalgia—
(when no one’s around…)
I figure I’m old enough, now
to be unrecognizable
(I just wanted to hear the cars hiss by my window…)
so I get daring
(sometimes)
and tip back my hat from my weather-worn face
when the tourists come.
Cameras froze me in time
(and her, too….)
and that’s how the world remembers us—
not like the grandparents we are, now.
(the world, the world—I really didn’t want it, “now”….)
You see, we live right over there
and I’ve been the...
for nostalgia—
(when no one’s around…)
I figure I’m old enough, now
to be unrecognizable
(I just wanted to hear the cars hiss by my window…)
so I get daring
(sometimes)
and tip back my hat from my weather-worn face
when the tourists come.
Cameras froze me in time
(and her, too….)
and that’s how the world remembers us—
not like the grandparents we are, now.
(the world, the world—I really didn’t want it, “now”….)
You see, we live right over there
and I’ve been the...
#family
120 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Mar 2021 7:06pm
6th Mar 2021 7:06pm
Baptismal Fonts Of Life
She came to me, each month
sometimes when the moon was full,
sometimes with a vengeance.
She would have stories to tell, Aunty--
and they came in whispers
upon her lips;
red stories of battles
and pain in the fullness of childbirth
and of life.
"Ssshhh-- sit down again, child
and let me tell you another, as
time is measured in days."
Aunty cradled me in plump arms
puffed and womb-like, until
waves of contractions
passed unused parts of me,
clots of DNA
not needed this time. ...
sometimes when the moon was full,
sometimes with a vengeance.
She would have stories to tell, Aunty--
and they came in whispers
upon her lips;
red stories of battles
and pain in the fullness of childbirth
and of life.
"Ssshhh-- sit down again, child
and let me tell you another, as
time is measured in days."
Aunty cradled me in plump arms
puffed and womb-like, until
waves of contractions
passed unused parts of me,
clots of DNA
not needed this time. ...
#LifeCycle
127 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Feb 2021 2:05am
21st Feb 2021 2:05am
Bedward
What have I done
with another day?
Relics from times when music
wasn't atrocious
flood my vehicle with raw voices --
And me, one bead
on highways of abacus strings
zipping
back and forth
'twixt the frame of work and sleep.
Ah, to drive at night
when few souls are conscious ..
I own the roadways , then,
until I give into
routines of slumber , each
feline, in their places
among my bedding , where
it no longer matters
what happened to the hours .
with another day?
Relics from times when music
wasn't atrocious
flood my vehicle with raw voices --
And me, one bead
on highways of abacus strings
zipping
back and forth
'twixt the frame of work and sleep.
Ah, to drive at night
when few souls are conscious ..
I own the roadways , then,
until I give into
routines of slumber , each
feline, in their places
among my bedding , where
it no longer matters
what happened to the hours .
#sleep
75 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Feb 2021 1:54am
21st Feb 2021 1:54am
"Swithe Me Therefore", Reeks of Spoofery
Hark, ye lovesick heathens
of Castle Anthrax--
your night hath arrived , and
your knight, has arisen!
Anoint him with elderberries
and coconuts, for
your spanks are but flesh wounds
upon his heart of armor.
Rejoice! O'harpies of lust, for
the grail hath fallen into your hands
at last
with a whispered password :
" 'Tis nine meters per hour
as the unladen swallow, flies".
of Castle Anthrax--
your night hath arrived , and
your knight, has arisen!
Anoint him with elderberries
and coconuts, for
your spanks are but flesh wounds
upon his heart of armor.
Rejoice! O'harpies of lust, for
the grail hath fallen into your hands
at last
with a whispered password :
" 'Tis nine meters per hour
as the unladen swallow, flies".
#funny
89 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Feb 2021 9:32pm
12th Feb 2021 9:32pm
For A Short While
Funny, how
life drags us down roads, kicking
and screaming—
two immense years, then
I forgot to put blood
on my doorposts
in our giddiness of amour, so
the Angel of Death, indeed
knew where to come knocking.
Off you went, having been
someone’s firstborn, but
no stranger to inevitables, and
the one who loved me
the most.
The tales, you told—
all of them, true, and
I would have gladly cleaned up
after your nights of heroin and vomit, had
I known you, then.
But I did pluck...
life drags us down roads, kicking
and screaming—
two immense years, then
I forgot to put blood
on my doorposts
in our giddiness of amour, so
the Angel of Death, indeed
knew where to come knocking.
Off you went, having been
someone’s firstborn, but
no stranger to inevitables, and
the one who loved me
the most.
The tales, you told—
all of them, true, and
I would have gladly cleaned up
after your nights of heroin and vomit, had
I known you, then.
But I did pluck...
#love
#death
91 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th Feb 2021 8:45pm
7th Feb 2021 8:45pm
Sister
So you didn’t grasp it, the
first time, you became
a statistic at the end of his fist
…and…
went back for another round?
(Yes, he was STILL not only the asshole,
but also the hair around it.)
His balls belong in a meat grinder.
It looks like YOU might’ve grown a pair, though
(or started to)
because you left him (again)
hopefully for good (this time).
I love you, Sis, but
I really want to shake women like you
by the shoulders
and scream into your face, while
watching your head,...
first time, you became
a statistic at the end of his fist
…and…
went back for another round?
(Yes, he was STILL not only the asshole,
but also the hair around it.)
His balls belong in a meat grinder.
It looks like YOU might’ve grown a pair, though
(or started to)
because you left him (again)
hopefully for good (this time).
I love you, Sis, but
I really want to shake women like you
by the shoulders
and scream into your face, while
watching your head,...
#sister
95 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Feb 2021 7:50pm
4th Feb 2021 7:50pm
Letters
Alas, my soul
Beckons and
Calls, to your
Depths—
Embrace what I am
For I have
Girded up my
Heart, and with my brave
Inkwell, I
Jot these
Knowing
Letters to you.
My thoughts,
Never before,
Opened to this
Pinnacle—
Quick!
Run with me on
Shores and
Take me
Under your
Vast
Waves, where searchlights of
Xenon lamps, burn away
Years of hurts, restoring my
Zeal to love.
Beckons and
Calls, to your
Depths—
Embrace what I am
For I have
Girded up my
Heart, and with my brave
Inkwell, I
Jot these
Knowing
Letters to you.
My thoughts,
Never before,
Opened to this
Pinnacle—
Quick!
Run with me on
Shores and
Take me
Under your
Vast
Waves, where searchlights of
Xenon lamps, burn away
Years of hurts, restoring my
Zeal to love.
#love
93 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Jan 2021 6:39pm
30th Jan 2021 6:39pm
Wind In A Cloudless Sky
Enigma" was the best one , though
"frightening " was perversely pleasing --
words used to describe me, like "unflappable ".
My thoughts are subatomic.
Darkly ordered, where I always come out,
the bruised heroine
(but not without imagining a handful of ways
to watch a few choice people, die, while
I eat popcorn)
Sometimes, I think Jesus weeps
at the convictions
I put upon myself, for
(shyly) anticipating evils that should
befall on those who deserve them .
(But then, again , He laughs at...
"frightening " was perversely pleasing --
words used to describe me, like "unflappable ".
My thoughts are subatomic.
Darkly ordered, where I always come out,
the bruised heroine
(but not without imagining a handful of ways
to watch a few choice people, die, while
I eat popcorn)
Sometimes, I think Jesus weeps
at the convictions
I put upon myself, for
(shyly) anticipating evils that should
befall on those who deserve them .
(But then, again , He laughs at...
#identity
96 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by MadameLavender
