Submissions by Razzerleaf
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I have been writing poetry for about 10 years now, still need to crush a lot of coal before I get a rough diamond. I try to improve all the time so really like constructive feedback, Love reading other poets and finding something that takes me away.
If old raincoats could talk
Once, drunk and out dancing
I slid off a bar stool
he didn't even notice, I was carried home
and left to dry out; on a chair.
We used to stride on Lakeland fells,
wind lashed lake side paths,
keeping close we kept each other warm,
I held mint cake he had the guide map.
Now if we go walking it’s late at night,
he’s ashamed to be seen with me
and feels the cold rain passing through thin skin,
I hold dog biscuits and scented bags.
A cig in the garden if I’m lucky
we never really go out any more,
when we do it...
I slid off a bar stool
he didn't even notice, I was carried home
and left to dry out; on a chair.
We used to stride on Lakeland fells,
wind lashed lake side paths,
keeping close we kept each other warm,
I held mint cake he had the guide map.
Now if we go walking it’s late at night,
he’s ashamed to be seen with me
and feels the cold rain passing through thin skin,
I hold dog biscuits and scented bags.
A cig in the garden if I’m lucky
we never really go out any more,
when we do it...
#love
#rejection
490 reads
12 Comments
No Excuses
The pellet hit your breast
and took my breath,
my mind followed a rising panic
of realisation, I had taken a life.
I had laid the breadcrumbs,
hid behind the garden wall
waited in silence as you landed,
lined the sight, squeezed the trigger
it was all my responsibility.
Your body was still warm
as I tried to revive you
soft like you were filled with water.
The colour of your beak
the clarity of your eyes
the perfect design of your feathers
all wasted by me.
I buried you in the garden
and made...
and took my breath,
my mind followed a rising panic
of realisation, I had taken a life.
I had laid the breadcrumbs,
hid behind the garden wall
waited in silence as you landed,
lined the sight, squeezed the trigger
it was all my responsibility.
Your body was still warm
as I tried to revive you
soft like you were filled with water.
The colour of your beak
the clarity of your eyes
the perfect design of your feathers
all wasted by me.
I buried you in the garden
and made...
#regret
#murder
575 reads
11 Comments
August Rain
Begging for sleep, his eyes roll again,
pain keeps them from slumber.
She washes cups in the kitchen,
what else can she do?
He did ask for something,
when his voice could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.
Heat brings a bad day for being caged this way
but she recalls the whispered last request
and meets me on the lawn.
Me, a simple hosepipe,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
she looks to his bedroom
and turns the tap.
...
pain keeps them from slumber.
She washes cups in the kitchen,
what else can she do?
He did ask for something,
when his voice could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.
Heat brings a bad day for being caged this way
but she recalls the whispered last request
and meets me on the lawn.
Me, a simple hosepipe,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
she looks to his bedroom
and turns the tap.
...
#sadness
#loneliness
#illness
511 reads
10 Comments
Hand-Eye Co-ordination
She just stepped out!
two lads in a Corsa
sending her into the air;
no sound came out, only a deep thud.
Tights were torn at the knees
blood darkened in the nylon.
Asking to go home for a cup of tea
I took it to be a good sign,
embarrassed because she’d lost control.
The phone box stunk of piss
handset half melted by some Zippo.
In the panic my lips touched
a gobbed on receiver,
I thought of AIDS and swallowing spittoons.
Ambulance please,
there’s been an accident,
Park road shops,
no they don’t have...
two lads in a Corsa
sending her into the air;
no sound came out, only a deep thud.
Tights were torn at the knees
blood darkened in the nylon.
Asking to go home for a cup of tea
I took it to be a good sign,
embarrassed because she’d lost control.
The phone box stunk of piss
handset half melted by some Zippo.
In the panic my lips touched
a gobbed on receiver,
I thought of AIDS and swallowing spittoons.
Ambulance please,
there’s been an accident,
Park road shops,
no they don’t have...
#frustration
#confusion
349 reads
5 Comments
Steam Trains
In a wet pavement world
conveyed in beige
I sip railway coffee,
eat my lunch from old tin-foil
amongst the drone
of my daily muse.
For all the rolling stock
and countless Big Diesels,
every now and again
a steam train,
bright red or green
polished brass, loud and brash,
spitting coal, untamed, unpredictable.
For those moments
when their tracks run to my door,
I get to climb aboard
pick up the shovel,
see if the furnace holds.
Of course there is a danger
that these engines burn out, ...
conveyed in beige
I sip railway coffee,
eat my lunch from old tin-foil
amongst the drone
of my daily muse.
For all the rolling stock
and countless Big Diesels,
every now and again
a steam train,
bright red or green
polished brass, loud and brash,
spitting coal, untamed, unpredictable.
For those moments
when their tracks run to my door,
I get to climb aboard
pick up the shovel,
see if the furnace holds.
Of course there is a danger
that these engines burn out, ...
#relationships
493 reads
4 Comments
In the Willows
I can still run
I know what's around each corner,
no need for hesitation,
but if I stay too long
I might never go back.
Granddad couldn't remember
how to go from hospital to house,
such vulnerability,
place names he lost
to scrabble, turned over blanks,
always starting a new game.
His Captains map
washed away in a blood clot.
So, I keep my hood up
never make eye contact,
long term memory
more precious than short.
I have my map
it's crumpled,
stained with an old tea bag
for...
I know what's around each corner,
no need for hesitation,
but if I stay too long
I might never go back.
Granddad couldn't remember
how to go from hospital to house,
such vulnerability,
place names he lost
to scrabble, turned over blanks,
always starting a new game.
His Captains map
washed away in a blood clot.
So, I keep my hood up
never make eye contact,
long term memory
more precious than short.
I have my map
it's crumpled,
stained with an old tea bag
for...
#home
#FeelingLost
375 reads
4 Comments
My favourite story
Will be written by a man with a limp
who only writes in the mornings
when the light fills his study
and he wishes he could paint.
He hobbles down a cobblestone path
to buy fresh pastries and strong coffee,
always says good morning to a lady watering
her flowers, she only ever smiles back.
One day she will pick him a buttonhole
and change everything.
He works with an old typewriter,
takes time to ink the ribbon each day
his desk has gold leaf and a brown leather inlay,
the edges are dented and curl in the...
who only writes in the mornings
when the light fills his study
and he wishes he could paint.
He hobbles down a cobblestone path
to buy fresh pastries and strong coffee,
always says good morning to a lady watering
her flowers, she only ever smiles back.
One day she will pick him a buttonhole
and change everything.
He works with an old typewriter,
takes time to ink the ribbon each day
his desk has gold leaf and a brown leather inlay,
the edges are dented and curl in the...
#LifeAsAWriter
392 reads
2 Comments
A brave new world
The village had been built jigsaw pretty,
cottages were white washed and thatched,
they lined the lazy lanes and quiet roads,
centered by a pagan cross
daubed with yellow roses
and vibrant climbers.
I caught the cold air, the last
to leave the pub, it bolted shut
behind me. The light didn't bleed
onto the night, stars crowded
like snow flakes over my hands
between my fingers, wrapped
all around me, only me.
Such stumbling quiet can only be heard
by the drunk, I was inside its vacuum ...
cottages were white washed and thatched,
they lined the lazy lanes and quiet roads,
centered by a pagan cross
daubed with yellow roses
and vibrant climbers.
I caught the cold air, the last
to leave the pub, it bolted shut
behind me. The light didn't bleed
onto the night, stars crowded
like snow flakes over my hands
between my fingers, wrapped
all around me, only me.
Such stumbling quiet can only be heard
by the drunk, I was inside its vacuum ...
#earth
#environment
#nature
509 reads
6 Comments
Standing on platform shoes
Metal Guru was deafening the neighbors from my brothers bedroom as I splashed on some of dads Old Spice and wriggled a skinny bum in front of my box-room mirror, I say box-room because there was a pecking order and I sat at the bottom of the food chain. The music suddenly sounded off kilter as mum added to the drum beat by banging on the down stairs wall, “Your tea’s out” both me and my brother always waited for the “I wont tell you again” before we made a dash for the stairs.
I wasn’t old enough to be penitent but the fashion of the day was a woolen v-neck jumper, green with...
I wasn’t old enough to be penitent but the fashion of the day was a woolen v-neck jumper, green with...
#memories
#nostalgia
464 reads
4 Comments
Lessons in life (Part 4 Trees need protecting)
Strange that it had grown
on the side of a sandstone slab.
A huge knarred hand reaching out
to touch another world,
held by an underground prison.
I thought of it as old,
generations had played at its wrist,
swung from its finger tips.
The rope had been robbed
from a coal mine,
It gave out black blisters
and was hung by a rumour.
The pendulum effect was magnificent,
motion sickness spun from its canopy
to the creak of a rolling Galleon.
Exposed roots collected skin and blood
from thin boned boys on...
on the side of a sandstone slab.
A huge knarred hand reaching out
to touch another world,
held by an underground prison.
I thought of it as old,
generations had played at its wrist,
swung from its finger tips.
The rope had been robbed
from a coal mine,
It gave out black blisters
and was hung by a rumour.
The pendulum effect was magnificent,
motion sickness spun from its canopy
to the creak of a rolling Galleon.
Exposed roots collected skin and blood
from thin boned boys on...
#nature
496 reads
10 Comments
Lessons in life (Part 3 Talking is good)
He placed the dinosaurs on the front line,
the flanks and rear were covered by a box
of plastic US Marines, moulded in pale green.
The all seeing eye of a make shift Mordor
released the rolling death of a steel ball
that decimated the soldiers and rendered
dinosaurs extinct. The day was saved
by a red Power Ranger who dispatched
destruction without speaking.
As he grew, the soldiers turned mercs
and fought campaigns on the Broken Shore
serving the Legionfall in a world of warcraft
without question.
The room seemed smaller,...
the flanks and rear were covered by a box
of plastic US Marines, moulded in pale green.
The all seeing eye of a make shift Mordor
released the rolling death of a steel ball
that decimated the soldiers and rendered
dinosaurs extinct. The day was saved
by a red Power Ranger who dispatched
destruction without speaking.
As he grew, the soldiers turned mercs
and fought campaigns on the Broken Shore
serving the Legionfall in a world of warcraft
without question.
The room seemed smaller,...
#relationships
#MentalHealth
413 reads
6 Comments
Lessons in life (Part 2 Smoking kills)
I cut the cricket bat from a plywood sheet,
wrapped tape around its rough handle,
used an old beer crate as a wicket.
The summer had delivered a perfect evening
poised over a memory that set the scene
and started to roll the cameras.
The cliche version would have been
on location in an American suburb,
father and son playing catch on the front lawn
mother filming from the wooden porch
all fit, white teeth and healthy,
sunlight would glisten on the lens.
But this was a concrete back yard with high walls
and a gate...
wrapped tape around its rough handle,
used an old beer crate as a wicket.
The summer had delivered a perfect evening
poised over a memory that set the scene
and started to roll the cameras.
The cliche version would have been
on location in an American suburb,
father and son playing catch on the front lawn
mother filming from the wooden porch
all fit, white teeth and healthy,
sunlight would glisten on the lens.
But this was a concrete back yard with high walls
and a gate...
#LifeStruggles
#tobacco
487 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Razzerleaf