Submissions by Nixprty
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write the words my tongue can’t speak, and for those who can still see clearly through the foggy windows.
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
31st May 2024 7:12am
31st May 2024 7:12am
The Smell of Home
Someone once told me I smelled great.
‘What do you use?’ He asked.
I paused for a moment.
I thought of the dimly lit bathroom,
The mornings while brushing my teeth.
Gagging on the intensely artificial scent of vanilla perfume my sister would coat her entire body in.
I thought of the floral sweetness that my mother carried,
Jasmine or lavender,
A hint of faintly browned sugar.
I thought of the powerful citrus my father wore,
I often thought he smelled how he looked,
Huge and powerful,
The slightest hint...
‘What do you use?’ He asked.
I paused for a moment.
I thought of the dimly lit bathroom,
The mornings while brushing my teeth.
Gagging on the intensely artificial scent of vanilla perfume my sister would coat her entire body in.
I thought of the floral sweetness that my mother carried,
Jasmine or lavender,
A hint of faintly browned sugar.
I thought of the powerful citrus my father wore,
I often thought he smelled how he looked,
Huge and powerful,
The slightest hint...
#family
90 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
31st May 2024 7:02am
31st May 2024 7:02am
Gifted
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel wrapped in silver foil and gold leaf
I feel like earth
I feel cloaked in leaves and swallowed in dark
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel royal blue or emerald green
I feel like earth
I feel like red earth and browning leaves
I don’t feel gifted
Perhaps gifted was just a way of saying different
I don’t feel wrapped in silver foil and gold leaf
I feel like earth
I feel cloaked in leaves and swallowed in dark
I don’t feel gifted
I don’t feel royal blue or emerald green
I feel like earth
I feel like red earth and browning leaves
I don’t feel gifted
Perhaps gifted was just a way of saying different
#Autism
#childhood
150 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2024 7:15pm
25th May 2024 7:15pm
Tell my Father
Tell my father it’s music
Or at least that I’m bleeding
He’ll know what it means
Ask him to come home
Or at least that I’m listening for him
He’ll know what it means
Give him a warning
Or at least a hug
He’ll know what it means
Tell my father
His son is picking at the splintered wood of an old guitar that’s lost its shine
His son is cutting his fingers on the rusty steel strings of a bass
His son is getting blood on the dusty drum heads
His son wants him to sing.
Or at least that I’m bleeding
He’ll know what it means
Ask him to come home
Or at least that I’m listening for him
He’ll know what it means
Give him a warning
Or at least a hug
He’ll know what it means
Tell my father
His son is picking at the splintered wood of an old guitar that’s lost its shine
His son is cutting his fingers on the rusty steel strings of a bass
His son is getting blood on the dusty drum heads
His son wants him to sing.
#aging
#father
155 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th May 2024 6:56pm
25th May 2024 6:56pm
Rhyme and Reason
I wonder if the bleeding ink bleeds because it cannot scar.
If the rushing water rushes because it cannot escape.
If the weeping willow weeps because it cannot laugh.
If the running mouse in the wheel runs because it cannot move.
If the I write what I write because I have not the bravery to speak it.
If the rushing water rushes because it cannot escape.
If the weeping willow weeps because it cannot laugh.
If the running mouse in the wheel runs because it cannot move.
If the I write what I write because I have not the bravery to speak it.
#loneliness
#philosophical
153 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
22nd May 2024 7:36am
22nd May 2024 7:36am
Hot and Cold
The chilling desperation to be noticed,
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the...
The molten humiliation of being seen.
Can I freeze?
Can I burn?
Can I hold warmth in my arms,
A comfortable warmth that doesn’t stain my skin red.
Have I ever known warmth?
Will I ever know warmth?
Must I always stick my hands into fire;
Must I always dip my body in freezing waves?
The thrill of the heat,
The rush of the cold;
I thrive in it as much as it kills me.
I was born in it,
I was built for a war.
I was built for the...
#MentalHealth
110 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd May 2024 7:22am
22nd May 2024 7:22am
The Loneliness of a Crowded Room
The feeling of pure joy,
The moment of ecstasy when we all cheer as one.
I scream so loud,
I clapped until my hands burned.
I’m surrounded by my brothers and sisters,
My team.
But there’s an isolating darkness,
Just beyond me.
It lies in wait.
Feeling alone,
In a room full of people.
The moment of ecstasy when we all cheer as one.
I scream so loud,
I clapped until my hands burned.
I’m surrounded by my brothers and sisters,
My team.
But there’s an isolating darkness,
Just beyond me.
It lies in wait.
Feeling alone,
In a room full of people.
#loneliness
98 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
20th May 2024 5:35pm
20th May 2024 5:35pm
Ask Mother
Ask Mother;
Can we bask in the rolling meadows,
swim in the sea of blue skies?
Only until dark.
Ask Mother.
Can we dance to the symphony of sounds just out past the trees,
singing its sweet promise of tomorrow.
Only for a moment.
Ask Mother.
We found her sitting beside the stream,
she weeps at her own reflection.
'Can we go back inside?' We ask.
She responds in a voice so faint,
It's like she didn't want us to hear;
'Ask Mother.'
Can we bask in the rolling meadows,
swim in the sea of blue skies?
Only until dark.
Ask Mother.
Can we dance to the symphony of sounds just out past the trees,
singing its sweet promise of tomorrow.
Only for a moment.
Ask Mother.
We found her sitting beside the stream,
she weeps at her own reflection.
'Can we go back inside?' We ask.
She responds in a voice so faint,
It's like she didn't want us to hear;
'Ask Mother.'
#motherhood
124 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th May 2024 12:56pm
19th May 2024 12:56pm
Father
I am the fool who screams,
When I know you’ll smother my words.
Call me the clown.
Father.
When I know you’ll smother my words.
Call me the clown.
Father.
#hurt
179 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:23pm
17th May 2024 2:23pm
Too Loud
I'm still flesh and bone, no matter how much my flesh is bitten off, and my bones broken.
My skin has turned a sickly green from the lack of oxygen. I can't breathe anymore, it's too loud. It's like I could blow out their eardrums with the sound of my blinking.
Don't blink it's too loud. Don't breathe, it's too loud. Don't eat, it's too loud.
It's been 2 years since I took a step, my last one was too loud.
It can't hear me, it can't see me, but it's still too loud.
It's hugs have become tighter, it's trying to squeeze the air out of me, but...
My skin has turned a sickly green from the lack of oxygen. I can't breathe anymore, it's too loud. It's like I could blow out their eardrums with the sound of my blinking.
Don't blink it's too loud. Don't breathe, it's too loud. Don't eat, it's too loud.
It's been 2 years since I took a step, my last one was too loud.
It can't hear me, it can't see me, but it's still too loud.
It's hugs have become tighter, it's trying to squeeze the air out of me, but...
#abuse
#parent
140 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:15pm
17th May 2024 2:15pm
Geodes
Some people say that geodes are like jack-in-the-boxes,
you have to wait to see what's inside.
But I don't think it's as nice.
Geodes need to be hurt to reveal their beauty,
kinda like people,
you know?
Although it's kind of sad, it still makes sense.
You can't be beautiful if you aren't hurt.
At least geodes are pretty cool,
kinda like how hurt people are cool.
Really we're no different from them, we just feel higher.
Humans like being higher up than other beings, it's kinda funny.
We...
you have to wait to see what's inside.
But I don't think it's as nice.
Geodes need to be hurt to reveal their beauty,
kinda like people,
you know?
Although it's kind of sad, it still makes sense.
You can't be beautiful if you aren't hurt.
At least geodes are pretty cool,
kinda like how hurt people are cool.
Really we're no different from them, we just feel higher.
Humans like being higher up than other beings, it's kinda funny.
We...
#philosophical
108 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:53am
17th May 2024 2:53am
Time heals all hurt (Except Hurt without a Weapon)
Your torment was born out of anger,
But I cannot understand its conception.
Have I,
In my actions,
Awakened this beast?
Do I deserve these scars,
Do I deserve these memories?
I cannot ask you,
For the day has long since ended.
I wonder if time will heal this wound,
If this pain will dry like the blood on my skin.
If I close my eyes,
If I pretend it’s not there,
Will you allow me peace?
Can I put my mind off it just long enough,
I...
But I cannot understand its conception.
Have I,
In my actions,
Awakened this beast?
Do I deserve these scars,
Do I deserve these memories?
I cannot ask you,
For the day has long since ended.
I wonder if time will heal this wound,
If this pain will dry like the blood on my skin.
If I close my eyes,
If I pretend it’s not there,
Will you allow me peace?
Can I put my mind off it just long enough,
I...
#breakup
#hurt
153 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
17th May 2024 2:36am
17th May 2024 2:36am
The Bond Between an Extrovert and an Introvert
Why don’t you talk much?
What?
You don’t talk much.
Oh.. I don’t know. I just don’t.
Why not?
I don’t know why I am the way I am, I just.. am.
There has to be a reason; is it me?!
No! I just.. sometimes talking feels like too much, like overfilling a glass with too much water or something.
Wait are you the water.. or the glass?
Does it matter?
I guess not.
Do you hate that I’m quiet?
No! I just get curious sometimes. Because for me, talking makes...
What?
You don’t talk much.
Oh.. I don’t know. I just don’t.
Why not?
I don’t know why I am the way I am, I just.. am.
There has to be a reason; is it me?!
No! I just.. sometimes talking feels like too much, like overfilling a glass with too much water or something.
Wait are you the water.. or the glass?
Does it matter?
I guess not.
Do you hate that I’m quiet?
No! I just get curious sometimes. Because for me, talking makes...
#friendship
151 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Nixprty
