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.
Miss Representation
When she was seven
we played a game,
matching heads to bodies and legs,
a little girls face, strong arms
with anchor tattoos
footballers legs
and army boots.
And so she made the image match
stronger faster quicker,
hard to catch,
brighter braver better
than the best.
She became herself.
At seventeen they dropped the veil
of the beauty queen, eating only apples
to fall fast asleep.
When she woke I cried,
thinner weaker slower
something died inside.
Quiet dull compliant,
tethered to...
we played a game,
matching heads to bodies and legs,
a little girls face, strong arms
with anchor tattoos
footballers legs
and army boots.
And so she made the image match
stronger faster quicker,
hard to catch,
brighter braver better
than the best.
She became herself.
At seventeen they dropped the veil
of the beauty queen, eating only apples
to fall fast asleep.
When she woke I cried,
thinner weaker slower
something died inside.
Quiet dull compliant,
tethered to...
#teens
#childhood
#dating #fatherhood
#dating #fatherhood
583 reads
6 Comments
Everything is falling brown
Prickled and sour sapped
I found you by the roadside,
your fall, split white
on chestnut brown.
The ground drowns
in a crinkled collapse
as feet shuffle sound
through wind-cornered clusters.
Rain needles,
sharp as sketch book pencils,
scurry shoppers along
run for cover high streets.
Blotted damp under a railway arch.
I pull my hood up and shudder,
bone deep,
on this top button day.
I found you by the roadside,
your fall, split white
on chestnut brown.
The ground drowns
in a crinkled collapse
as feet shuffle sound
through wind-cornered clusters.
Rain needles,
sharp as sketch book pencils,
scurry shoppers along
run for cover high streets.
Blotted damp under a railway arch.
I pull my hood up and shudder,
bone deep,
on this top button day.
#nature
533 reads
4 Comments
Knit club
It started in Betty’s basement letting,
by bulkhead light you could hear them clicking,
increased in number they practiced their knitting.
Once a week she would round up the gang,
every stitch they plotted and planned,
each ball of yarn was wound by hand.
Underground rebels that nobody knows,
seedy markets and tacky craft shows,
sharing needles and quilted throws.
A guerrilla army in camouflage knitwear,
plotted their assault on Trafalgar Square,
cashmere carpet bags to carry their gear.
They used a Code name,...
by bulkhead light you could hear them clicking,
increased in number they practiced their knitting.
Once a week she would round up the gang,
every stitch they plotted and planned,
each ball of yarn was wound by hand.
Underground rebels that nobody knows,
seedy markets and tacky craft shows,
sharing needles and quilted throws.
A guerrilla army in camouflage knitwear,
plotted their assault on Trafalgar Square,
cashmere carpet bags to carry their gear.
They used a Code name,...
#funny
532 reads
6 Comments
Golden Pockets
Standing alone in my old house, residents carried away by cancer, yet still their presence remains in each coat of paint and flowerbed, all now partly concealed by my much needed indifference. The home is bare, stripped back to its shell, except for the ghosts of old furniture that appear, just for a second, as I enter each room.
I’m supposed to feel sad, it's just me and my brother now. We’ll split the money and never speak again but that doesn’t bring sadness. I stare out over aged gardens and contemplate my loss. Many times I have wept with my own forced memories, the...
I’m supposed to feel sad, it's just me and my brother now. We’ll split the money and never speak again but that doesn’t bring sadness. I stare out over aged gardens and contemplate my loss. Many times I have wept with my own forced memories, the...
#grief
#family
#home #memories
#home #memories
750 reads
5 Comments
Do as I say and nobody gets hurt
#WritingPoetry
921 reads
11 Comments
Corn flower and dust
The car park is pay and display now
and I know I'll say to someone
"it used to be free"
just to hear my voice
and watch my words dissipate
in pretend smoke plumes.
I chose the old bench,
it seems to fit the curve of my back
and I like the rough crackle of green paint
splintering into that front door blue.
It reminds me of your paint palette hands.
The foundations have spread beneath
the rivers bend, the fallen millstone
flashes silver ghosts of breached wellingtons
and spun dry socks, the bark...
and I know I'll say to someone
"it used to be free"
just to hear my voice
and watch my words dissipate
in pretend smoke plumes.
I chose the old bench,
it seems to fit the curve of my back
and I like the rough crackle of green paint
splintering into that front door blue.
It reminds me of your paint palette hands.
The foundations have spread beneath
the rivers bend, the fallen millstone
flashes silver ghosts of breached wellingtons
and spun dry socks, the bark...
#sadness
#anger
#grief #loneliness
#grief #loneliness
614 reads
3 Comments
The Cherry trees
In heavy rain
beneath dripping branches
we dispersed you,
watched you watered down
swirling into eddies,
sinking into the ground.
You'd burst bright into life
all pink and white,
our summer still waiting
for your first smile.
I'd like to think it was sunlight
through the white blossom,
that found the corner of your mouth
and snatched away your breath,
but they never really told us.
In the quiet of our home
lemon walls were waiting,
the farm yard mobile above your cot
clicked on,
a...
beneath dripping branches
we dispersed you,
watched you watered down
swirling into eddies,
sinking into the ground.
You'd burst bright into life
all pink and white,
our summer still waiting
for your first smile.
I'd like to think it was sunlight
through the white blossom,
that found the corner of your mouth
and snatched away your breath,
but they never really told us.
In the quiet of our home
lemon walls were waiting,
the farm yard mobile above your cot
clicked on,
a...
#sadness
#emptiness
561 reads
4 Comments
Innocence returning
There's a cold breeze
coming through the back door
causing it to creak on its hinges,
Grandad's gone across the backs
to feed his pigeons.
I find him inside the empty loft
closing derelict cages,
gently I place an arm
around the confusion.
Using soft words we stumble outside
towards real moments.
The overgrown allotment glistens
through droplets, strung out
across gossamer connections
that tremble in the cold morning light.
We hear the rush of racing pigeons
and watch them disappear...
coming through the back door
causing it to creak on its hinges,
Grandad's gone across the backs
to feed his pigeons.
I find him inside the empty loft
closing derelict cages,
gently I place an arm
around the confusion.
Using soft words we stumble outside
towards real moments.
The overgrown allotment glistens
through droplets, strung out
across gossamer connections
that tremble in the cold morning light.
We hear the rush of racing pigeons
and watch them disappear...
#aging
796 reads
11 Comments
Becoming Death
Mother was too pale to cough black,
Father became the house,
a face of weathered granite
melded with the stones,
kept crooked by the constant wind
raging off the moors.
When I look to the fields
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns
his snakes hiss across the crops,
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.
I watch the walls at night,
my back to the flames,
creatures come to dance behind me.
He told me not to turn
so I watch a...
Father became the house,
a face of weathered granite
melded with the stones,
kept crooked by the constant wind
raging off the moors.
When I look to the fields
the scarecrow sees me,
he's been whispering.
When the weathervane turns
his snakes hiss across the crops,
I don’t want to listen anymore
but the ground connects us.
I watch the walls at night,
my back to the flames,
creatures come to dance behind me.
He told me not to turn
so I watch a...
#death
590 reads
5 Comments
The God Placebo
I'll be him, you want a sign?
it's fine I do it all the time,
the rich ones get cured
the sick ones ignored.
I just need the long number, a cross your card
dont worry were dot com and prayin is hard
You'll see me when you look up in church
or look me up, just do a search,
I can spit you a sermon, drop in some rhymes
dishing out morals with my breath of red wine.
I'll piss biblical rivers to fill every font
hand me your children I'm at the front.
I've registered my trade mark 'G'
to take 10%, hell more if you believe,...
it's fine I do it all the time,
the rich ones get cured
the sick ones ignored.
I just need the long number, a cross your card
dont worry were dot com and prayin is hard
You'll see me when you look up in church
or look me up, just do a search,
I can spit you a sermon, drop in some rhymes
dishing out morals with my breath of red wine.
I'll piss biblical rivers to fill every font
hand me your children I'm at the front.
I've registered my trade mark 'G'
to take 10%, hell more if you believe,...
#religion
530 reads
4 Comments
861 reads
10 Comments
Without music
sound would travel in straight lines,
the 70's would have no religion,
people would believe the crap
they put in poems.
Ska, metal, punk and mod
would be stylised
underground slam shows.
Gibson would make cherry red pens
and poets would be rock stars,
writing whole stanza's
behind their heads or
setting fire to their pencils.
Hell yeh,
fetch me my Kiss makeup.
I....wonna write n rhyme all niiight
and party eve-ry day.
the 70's would have no religion,
people would believe the crap
they put in poems.
Ska, metal, punk and mod
would be stylised
underground slam shows.
Gibson would make cherry red pens
and poets would be rock stars,
writing whole stanza's
behind their heads or
setting fire to their pencils.
Hell yeh,
fetch me my Kiss makeup.
I....wonna write n rhyme all niiight
and party eve-ry day.
#music
#WritingPoetry
557 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Razzerleaf