Submissions by Strangeways_Rob
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
It takes strength to be gentle and kind
The Sea Drifters
Transplanting my heart for a sailing boat
Harpoon the stitches to your harbour,
Anchored to the bows of our laced bones
We drink the honey from the sun
My hands roped to your mast, we stow love
In the spaces between frosting island dew,
The Shipping Forecast transmits colour frequencies,
Under our skins we are seventeen shades of red
In tempest waters
Dreams may fall overboard,
Divers trawl ocean floor for secrets;
No Miranda rights here, the
Only silence is the somnolent sea.
Full fathom five and seven decks...
Harpoon the stitches to your harbour,
Anchored to the bows of our laced bones
We drink the honey from the sun
My hands roped to your mast, we stow love
In the spaces between frosting island dew,
The Shipping Forecast transmits colour frequencies,
Under our skins we are seventeen shades of red
In tempest waters
Dreams may fall overboard,
Divers trawl ocean floor for secrets;
No Miranda rights here, the
Only silence is the somnolent sea.
Full fathom five and seven decks...
#romantic
#unicorns
#passion
257 reads
11 Comments
Sick of it all, on Streets of Sycamore (Autumn 2015)
I shall let nocturnal navigators decide my fate,
If the sycamore leaves her child at my door
Nesting in the rusted light of the pavement,
My suitcases will remain shelved, dust drifts
If there is absence on the cold slab, ties broken
Honour will be derailed on the 10.50 to anywhere,
Platforms falling as scarecrows uprooted
If the sycamore leaves her child at my door
Nesting in the rusted light of the pavement,
My suitcases will remain shelved, dust drifts
If there is absence on the cold slab, ties broken
Honour will be derailed on the 10.50 to anywhere,
Platforms falling as scarecrows uprooted
#LifeCycle
165 reads
15 Comments
Tightrope
Taut are the never ending cables,
Grind elevators through time shafts
Balance scrapers to the sky’s tilt,
Feather friendship to staircase
Of red double-decker buses.
Nothing more.....
Than a metaphor whore,
Door-to-door salesman
For GrimReaper.com,
Building suburban cemeteries
To the pedal of London after midnight.
Show me the bones and I may
Write you a double-breasted suit
Angles of Angel Pub
Take wings on camera obscura
Lager lenses just become smaller.
Only thing civil about our...
Grind elevators through time shafts
Balance scrapers to the sky’s tilt,
Feather friendship to staircase
Of red double-decker buses.
Nothing more.....
Than a metaphor whore,
Door-to-door salesman
For GrimReaper.com,
Building suburban cemeteries
To the pedal of London after midnight.
Show me the bones and I may
Write you a double-breasted suit
Angles of Angel Pub
Take wings on camera obscura
Lager lenses just become smaller.
Only thing civil about our...
#death
#memories
#LifeCycle
169 reads
14 Comments
Secrets, Posted
vizpostit
#lust
#LifeCycle
#passion
262 reads
7 Comments
You Just Haven't Earned it Yet, Baby
Behind the twilight scarred garden shed
Committed to everything I’d ever read,
Our cola breath tasted of yesterday’s bath water
Lips met as two forks tangling in the kitchen sink.
Rose petals falling from the skies
Never marked that very first kiss,
Dance of adolescence was never slow.
But hey, seaside-girl, shoals of your eyes
Were too beautiful for the town’s shore line.
Furrowing fingers found that wettest clay
Earthed against the smell of creosote and
The first quiffs of Autumn dreaming.
Let me count the ways she...
Committed to everything I’d ever read,
Our cola breath tasted of yesterday’s bath water
Lips met as two forks tangling in the kitchen sink.
Rose petals falling from the skies
Never marked that very first kiss,
Dance of adolescence was never slow.
But hey, seaside-girl, shoals of your eyes
Were too beautiful for the town’s shore line.
Furrowing fingers found that wettest clay
Earthed against the smell of creosote and
The first quiffs of Autumn dreaming.
Let me count the ways she...
#love
#LifeCycle
#nostalgia
356 reads
11 Comments
The Hypothermic Heart at 6 am
weary are the willows which
have been forgotten by trellis of ice
ambulances of snow-laked slate roof
bandage desires to guttering flames of a red dress
lonely is, suddenly, the surname bequeathed to
my world from a window closed to human touch
stained glass (he)art reflects mausoleum of unsent letters
memoirs are worth the snow of wordless paper sheets
luminescent air splinters iron and the icy sea
mist seduces the shore line, trawled snow-dust allows
virgin footprints to become the first blunt pen...
have been forgotten by trellis of ice
ambulances of snow-laked slate roof
bandage desires to guttering flames of a red dress
lonely is, suddenly, the surname bequeathed to
my world from a window closed to human touch
stained glass (he)art reflects mausoleum of unsent letters
memoirs are worth the snow of wordless paper sheets
luminescent air splinters iron and the icy sea
mist seduces the shore line, trawled snow-dust allows
virgin footprints to become the first blunt pen...
#loneliness
#winter
#passion
216 reads
10 Comments
The Compass Point (collaboration)
Suddenly you find yourself
Wide open to your absence,
As the empty barrels in a half-loaded revolver
They dressed you in a hippie shawl
(Jesus fuck) even flowers in your hair,
Turned on, tuned in, dropped out
Into dream of desolate streets Millennium
Whored myself to your eulogy
‘memories will remain in the grass and rain,'
Just wanted to shake you awake and slap you
Sing you the latest Morrissey song
Was the rope your final joke
As you just hated hanging around
Cavernous low
Come speak to me in the...
Wide open to your absence,
As the empty barrels in a half-loaded revolver
They dressed you in a hippie shawl
(Jesus fuck) even flowers in your hair,
Turned on, tuned in, dropped out
Into dream of desolate streets Millennium
Whored myself to your eulogy
‘memories will remain in the grass and rain,'
Just wanted to shake you awake and slap you
Sing you the latest Morrissey song
Was the rope your final joke
As you just hated hanging around
Cavernous low
Come speak to me in the...
#love
#grief
#LifeCycle
181 reads
5 Comments
Rite of the Totem (collab with Rianne & Daniel Christensen)
Sunlight mottled sheen on a borrowed car,
I drove to fetch your mouth to mine,
No longer exists, having fired back
From beds of earthen berm and out
Into the cosmos of colors and ice
Tails trailing a torpedo of rock, your
Eyes burning with lust premeditation,
Affixed to me with newness of
Adoration, no longer exist,
They have pressed out ten thousand
Layers of film, as years of sand and wind
Scoured away their gilding, into a face of
Untold seasons we have not
Shared, your arms have shed
Skin after skin into someone...
I drove to fetch your mouth to mine,
No longer exists, having fired back
From beds of earthen berm and out
Into the cosmos of colors and ice
Tails trailing a torpedo of rock, your
Eyes burning with lust premeditation,
Affixed to me with newness of
Adoration, no longer exist,
They have pressed out ten thousand
Layers of film, as years of sand and wind
Scoured away their gilding, into a face of
Untold seasons we have not
Shared, your arms have shed
Skin after skin into someone...
#love
#universe
#LifeCycle
196 reads
7 Comments
An Aesthetic Riddle?
vizriddle
#philosophical
206 reads
13 Comments
Poetess, Undressed
#erotic
#unicorns
224 reads
22 Comments
Walking the Plank on Knees
The Ship of Theseus is a thought experiment first posited by Plutarch in Life of Theseus. A ship goes out in a storm and is damaged. Upon returning to shore, the ship is repaired, with parts of it being replaced in the process. Again and again the ship goes out, and again it is repaired, until eventually every single component of the ship, every plank of wood, has been replaced. Is the repaired ship still the same ship that first went out into the storm?
If you choose to go sailing with dead friends
Be sure the life raft is made from reflective glass
The compass is...
If you choose to go sailing with dead friends
Be sure the life raft is made from reflective glass
The compass is...
#identity
216 reads
7 Comments
The Heavy Lightness of Water
Each swig of solitude
A breath less from death,
Drinking to absent friends
One day the bottle will rise to me.
Summer is now a tourist:
A buckled deck chair rehearses its return
Crumpled against shadows of the palest sun.
Cathedrals of veiled water fall as weeping brides.
On other side of the village
The Luftwaffe unloaded lonely bomb,
Crater housed Gods of still small voices –
Until they built a car park.
Touring a Monastic and Mauna museum
Vowed to hang silence on souvenir walls,
Further...
A breath less from death,
Drinking to absent friends
One day the bottle will rise to me.
Summer is now a tourist:
A buckled deck chair rehearses its return
Crumpled against shadows of the palest sun.
Cathedrals of veiled water fall as weeping brides.
On other side of the village
The Luftwaffe unloaded lonely bomb,
Crater housed Gods of still small voices –
Until they built a car park.
Touring a Monastic and Mauna museum
Vowed to hang silence on souvenir walls,
Further...
#silence
#LifeCycle
282 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Strangeways_Rob