Submissions by Redream
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
2nd Aug 2012 3:50pm
2nd Aug 2012 3:50pm
Poetry Club
I didn't go for Molly
I went for Katy
Five years ago, Katy
I went to bury the hatchet,
Finally, among other things
To finally penetrate
That wall in our lives
Or maybe just mine.
I went for my mother
Poor mother
Who believes who has dreams
Has hope that her son will
Be something more
Is some poet has some life
And world has dreams more
Delicate and touchable
Than those of lovers.
I did it for Karen who
Told me once "I could see
You sitting alone all day,
Writing poems." And that was
The last thing...
I went for Katy
Five years ago, Katy
I went to bury the hatchet,
Finally, among other things
To finally penetrate
That wall in our lives
Or maybe just mine.
I went for my mother
Poor mother
Who believes who has dreams
Has hope that her son will
Be something more
Is some poet has some life
And world has dreams more
Delicate and touchable
Than those of lovers.
I did it for Karen who
Told me once "I could see
You sitting alone all day,
Writing poems." And that was
The last thing...
738 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Jul 2012 4:44pm
5th Jul 2012 4:44pm
Warm up
Practice / warm up using Charles Simic first line from "Frightening Toys"]
History practicing its scissor-clips,
You see it all the time
In the paintings and sculptures
You witness in dark rooms.
Haven't been out in a while,
Not seen the sun in days.
Just me and my sculptures.
I see the David looking triumphant,
Me and my paintings of snow.
62612
---
You have not heard the full story,
Said little girl
On light feet
And gold crusted hair.
You do not know the magic
That I've seen.
Held the...
History practicing its scissor-clips,
You see it all the time
In the paintings and sculptures
You witness in dark rooms.
Haven't been out in a while,
Not seen the sun in days.
Just me and my sculptures.
I see the David looking triumphant,
Me and my paintings of snow.
62612
---
You have not heard the full story,
Said little girl
On light feet
And gold crusted hair.
You do not know the magic
That I've seen.
Held the...
660 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Jun 2012 11:35pm
28th Jun 2012 11:35pm
Mr. Wurster
What could I say? I hadn't
Thought of him that much,
But at the head of the table
He was an ornament
Or an imposing gothic gray
Winged gargoyle.
A real dark knight poet
Surrounded by panhandlers
And betrayers. Judases
And jackals, and where
Did I fit? The Jester?
A sacrament of flesh around
The table from ear to ear.
It was dusty, the room that is,
His eyes were too,
Or maybe it is only the memory,
But either way he was a beast
Among lambs, a real Lucifer,
So kind. You know the type,
Charming,...
Thought of him that much,
But at the head of the table
He was an ornament
Or an imposing gothic gray
Winged gargoyle.
A real dark knight poet
Surrounded by panhandlers
And betrayers. Judases
And jackals, and where
Did I fit? The Jester?
A sacrament of flesh around
The table from ear to ear.
It was dusty, the room that is,
His eyes were too,
Or maybe it is only the memory,
But either way he was a beast
Among lambs, a real Lucifer,
So kind. You know the type,
Charming,...
697 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
28th Jun 2012 11:11pm
28th Jun 2012 11:11pm
Stuck
There are a million
bad things
that could happen
if I got
Off out of this bed
pjcjr628
bad things
that could happen
if I got
Off out of this bed
pjcjr628
633 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Jun 2012 3:45pm
26th Jun 2012 3:45pm
Family Reunion: Seventeen Syllables
Thats my father: he is a powerful genius
My uncle grins with twisted yellow devil teeth
My sister and her next fiancee are all here
I apologize for not having my first love
Ginsberg was twelve when he married a virgin nun
Tapping the brick walls of the neon satellite
Held in the vacuum of my own solitude head
My grandfather's eyes are heavy tired sleepy
On the patio, we gathered for his story
Nonsensical books on becoming poetry
Child, you dont want to know my soul's poverty
A line isn't worth anything unless...
My uncle grins with twisted yellow devil teeth
My sister and her next fiancee are all here
I apologize for not having my first love
Ginsberg was twelve when he married a virgin nun
Tapping the brick walls of the neon satellite
Held in the vacuum of my own solitude head
My grandfather's eyes are heavy tired sleepy
On the patio, we gathered for his story
Nonsensical books on becoming poetry
Child, you dont want to know my soul's poverty
A line isn't worth anything unless...
707 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
26th Jun 2012 3:40pm
26th Jun 2012 3:40pm
Dull Razor
The dog laughs. The mirror laughs.
The girl, pretty in your favorite flick,
Isn't smiling at you. She is more content
In herself than you are. Shaky hands.
Down to your last breath, you sense it
Like anticipating rain two months in advance,
Happiness is a block away wearing
Your blazer, with a clean shave, holding
Hands with a girl. Immaculate tits.
When you're thirsty, it rains. While you age
Time stops to look at you. You. The only man
Without a watch or umbrella. Dull razor.
All the while your father is behind
You...
The girl, pretty in your favorite flick,
Isn't smiling at you. She is more content
In herself than you are. Shaky hands.
Down to your last breath, you sense it
Like anticipating rain two months in advance,
Happiness is a block away wearing
Your blazer, with a clean shave, holding
Hands with a girl. Immaculate tits.
When you're thirsty, it rains. While you age
Time stops to look at you. You. The only man
Without a watch or umbrella. Dull razor.
All the while your father is behind
You...
607 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
25th Jun 2012 7:27pm
25th Jun 2012 7:27pm
haiku
I know a few things
Ignorant of a few more
Have forgotten most
Ignorant of a few more
Have forgotten most
787 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
15th Jun 2012 11:14pm
15th Jun 2012 11:14pm
Dying Hour
I want to use these great lungs of mine
To hold my breath for an hour.
I practice meditation for hours,
Warming up for the final act.
The final pause at the end of Life’s stanza.
The Taoists say holding your breath
Is yang, it strengthens every muscle
And every bone in your body.
The Taoists say that exhaling is
Yin, it relaxes and prepares
The body for some final rest;
And so, to breathe out, even to sigh
Is to die. When you read poetry
Out loud, you die. Not metaphorically,
But literally. It is the...
To hold my breath for an hour.
I practice meditation for hours,
Warming up for the final act.
The final pause at the end of Life’s stanza.
The Taoists say holding your breath
Is yang, it strengthens every muscle
And every bone in your body.
The Taoists say that exhaling is
Yin, it relaxes and prepares
The body for some final rest;
And so, to breathe out, even to sigh
Is to die. When you read poetry
Out loud, you die. Not metaphorically,
But literally. It is the...
727 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jun 2012 1:16am
15th Jun 2012 1:16am
Tourists at the Uffizi
I followed a group of Japanese
school children through the fish market
In the middle of Florence
While watching the writhing eels squirm
and the countless jellyfish give
slimy kisses to their neighbor's gray skin.
At the Uffizi I still smelled
the fish perfume on my skin
and felt the lips of the jelly
fish on my cheek. I was behind two groups
of Japanese students in navy
blue jackets ironed kahkis and plaid skirts.
Red Sketchers with untied shoelaces traced
down the floors like eels piled up in
long lines into narrow bottomless...
school children through the fish market
In the middle of Florence
While watching the writhing eels squirm
and the countless jellyfish give
slimy kisses to their neighbor's gray skin.
At the Uffizi I still smelled
the fish perfume on my skin
and felt the lips of the jelly
fish on my cheek. I was behind two groups
of Japanese students in navy
blue jackets ironed kahkis and plaid skirts.
Red Sketchers with untied shoelaces traced
down the floors like eels piled up in
long lines into narrow bottomless...
768 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Jun 2012 4:18pm
14th Jun 2012 4:18pm
Games of Chess
They don’t trust us with shoelaces here
They may be used to strangle ourselves
The sheets and blankets are so thin that
They tear if you should try to hang yourself
The mirror is polished metal
No glass shards to split your own throat
Hospital gowns and doped up patients
Hungry from weeks of hospital food and sleep deprived
Only the truly ignorant claim to understand themselves
Assignment today: Come up with
Five things you are thankful for
The lady next to me will...
They may be used to strangle ourselves
The sheets and blankets are so thin that
They tear if you should try to hang yourself
The mirror is polished metal
No glass shards to split your own throat
Hospital gowns and doped up patients
Hungry from weeks of hospital food and sleep deprived
Only the truly ignorant claim to understand themselves
Assignment today: Come up with
Five things you are thankful for
The lady next to me will...
837 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Jun 2012 4:14pm
14th Jun 2012 4:14pm
Here's your gun Alan
When you cried of loss did you whimper
ghost names to the mess of sheets on your floor
While crafting your new art did you
use the colors of your own eyes, hair, skin
Here’s your gun Alan
You know as well as any that
you’ve never seen a gun before
one’s been put to your head
Through the barrel screaming to the dead the angel
shatters the bullet and what should have been your last breath
Is a shutter that breaks your spine
...
ghost names to the mess of sheets on your floor
While crafting your new art did you
use the colors of your own eyes, hair, skin
Here’s your gun Alan
You know as well as any that
you’ve never seen a gun before
one’s been put to your head
Through the barrel screaming to the dead the angel
shatters the bullet and what should have been your last breath
Is a shutter that breaks your spine
...
871 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jun 2012 00:23am
14th Jun 2012 00:23am
Shit Handbag
What you have to Remember,
He said,
Is that the whole world
Isn't like that.
In the gutter, in a shit
handbag, skipping
Out on bills. Driving
You up the wrong
Lane at five
in the morning. I
Said, I know.
But just watching
The cool winged
carrion circle
With long lunging
eyes makes you
Consider skipping
out yourself,
He finished.
He said,
Is that the whole world
Isn't like that.
In the gutter, in a shit
handbag, skipping
Out on bills. Driving
You up the wrong
Lane at five
in the morning. I
Said, I know.
But just watching
The cool winged
carrion circle
With long lunging
eyes makes you
Consider skipping
out yourself,
He finished.
795 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Redream
