Submissions by SunshineRedirected (anita marie)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2010 5:30am
2nd Feb 2010 5:30am
there is so much more.
The water soaked through her shoes, past her socks,
tearing into her skin to eat away at her bones.
There she stood, complacent, in a shallow pool of stagnant water.
After taking some of her blood,
the female mosquitos laid their eggs at her feet.
Someplace inside, she knew that she could leave at any time.
But staying there was so much easier.
She'd need new shoes.
New socks.
New skin.
New bones by now.
She'd need to get checked for malaria or something.
It was so much easier to stay, right?
So...
tearing into her skin to eat away at her bones.
There she stood, complacent, in a shallow pool of stagnant water.
After taking some of her blood,
the female mosquitos laid their eggs at her feet.
Someplace inside, she knew that she could leave at any time.
But staying there was so much easier.
She'd need new shoes.
New socks.
New skin.
New bones by now.
She'd need to get checked for malaria or something.
It was so much easier to stay, right?
So...
673 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2010 5:28am
2nd Feb 2010 5:28am
asking too much.
her head is full of silly thoughts
her heart cannot contain.
her mouth just wants to shout them out;
her head whispers, "refrain."
so the thoughts build up in secret,
teeth clenched, holding them in
she cannot trust him fully,
but she's fallen too far in.
she's fallen into love with him
in no uncertain terms.
but the love creates suspicion,
one which she confirms.
her heavy heart, now overburdened,
slows its steady pace.
"I love you," he assures her,
wiping salt-tears from her face....
her heart cannot contain.
her mouth just wants to shout them out;
her head whispers, "refrain."
so the thoughts build up in secret,
teeth clenched, holding them in
she cannot trust him fully,
but she's fallen too far in.
she's fallen into love with him
in no uncertain terms.
but the love creates suspicion,
one which she confirms.
her heavy heart, now overburdened,
slows its steady pace.
"I love you," he assures her,
wiping salt-tears from her face....
984 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
24th Jan 2010 8:27pm
24th Jan 2010 8:27pm
0h, anxious me.
all oxygen is getting away from me--
jumping out of my trachea before
I can get it far enough into my lungs
to make brain funtion feasible.
the pressure is already too high in there;
maximum capacity met this morning when I
woke up in a cold sweat,
clinging to my dreams
because I told myself they were real.
In the night someone
snuck in my home.
they saw into my mind,
collecting the clouds of smoke that have shrouded
my judgements for the past few weeks.
they measured them, weighed them,
placing them on a scale,...
jumping out of my trachea before
I can get it far enough into my lungs
to make brain funtion feasible.
the pressure is already too high in there;
maximum capacity met this morning when I
woke up in a cold sweat,
clinging to my dreams
because I told myself they were real.
In the night someone
snuck in my home.
they saw into my mind,
collecting the clouds of smoke that have shrouded
my judgements for the past few weeks.
they measured them, weighed them,
placing them on a scale,...
929 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Jan 2010 00:23am
19th Jan 2010 00:23am
caffeine content: 45mg/12oz
it's gotten harder to cry, I've found.
it used to come so easily.
but now it's like admitting to something
I can't bear owning up to.
admitting sadness through
tear-soaked shirt sleeves
saturated with salty,
unnatural shame.
the lump in my throat makes
my words shake and swell
until they just can't come out
anymore.
And they're building up behind
that lump because it's metastasized
into more than just
a thought
or a feeling.
or a way to protect myself.
my eyes well up with tears that
my pride...
it used to come so easily.
but now it's like admitting to something
I can't bear owning up to.
admitting sadness through
tear-soaked shirt sleeves
saturated with salty,
unnatural shame.
the lump in my throat makes
my words shake and swell
until they just can't come out
anymore.
And they're building up behind
that lump because it's metastasized
into more than just
a thought
or a feeling.
or a way to protect myself.
my eyes well up with tears that
my pride...
873 reads
6 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
18th Jan 2010 5:06am
18th Jan 2010 5:06am
to be a child again.
come with me to the edge of the land
to live in opulence.
we'll build our castle out of sand,
and a driftwood picket fence.
away from smoke and dust we'll flee
to breathe fresh air for a stay.
we'll toss out our uncertainty,
and get lost in salt and spray.
and at night we'll have our fire.
we'll drink wine and we'll break bread.
not til dawn will we retire
to our humble sea-foam bed.
in the sand I'll plant my garden,
which will flourish out of will,
while the tide says, "beg your pardon,"
...
to live in opulence.
we'll build our castle out of sand,
and a driftwood picket fence.
away from smoke and dust we'll flee
to breathe fresh air for a stay.
we'll toss out our uncertainty,
and get lost in salt and spray.
and at night we'll have our fire.
we'll drink wine and we'll break bread.
not til dawn will we retire
to our humble sea-foam bed.
in the sand I'll plant my garden,
which will flourish out of will,
while the tide says, "beg your pardon,"
...
810 reads
1 Comment
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
16th Jan 2010 5:43am
16th Jan 2010 5:43am
wear me thin.
bottle half empty--a harsh buzzing
in my lips.
ashes burn my fingertips
and I wonder when cigarettes became a fucking aphrodisiac.
my nerves have carved letters into the desk,
past the paint, to the paler wood that's softer--more corruptable.
If you had any idea how much I hate waiting for you...
You'd just think I was a completely selfish bitch.
Bottle...half full.
I laugh to myself, taking another drink.
I am a fucking riot.
I choke, not on the drink.
I choke on my stomach thats jumped up into my throat--you're...
in my lips.
ashes burn my fingertips
and I wonder when cigarettes became a fucking aphrodisiac.
my nerves have carved letters into the desk,
past the paint, to the paler wood that's softer--more corruptable.
If you had any idea how much I hate waiting for you...
You'd just think I was a completely selfish bitch.
Bottle...half full.
I laugh to myself, taking another drink.
I am a fucking riot.
I choke, not on the drink.
I choke on my stomach thats jumped up into my throat--you're...
1202 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jan 2010 6:15am
15th Jan 2010 6:15am
the thing about vikings is...
The thing about vikings is you never know what you're going to get.
One minute- total sweetheart.
Next- its all...pillage plunder and rape.
You never know if they are genuine...
One can only hope that they'll take you back to their castle and you'll
live together forever eating spit-roasted veal and drinking malt beer.
But at the same time...you dont know if thats the life you want.
At any moment he could be shipped out to sea, and you'd be alone.
Not only would you have no one to hold you-
but you could never be assured that he's not going...
One minute- total sweetheart.
Next- its all...pillage plunder and rape.
You never know if they are genuine...
One can only hope that they'll take you back to their castle and you'll
live together forever eating spit-roasted veal and drinking malt beer.
But at the same time...you dont know if thats the life you want.
At any moment he could be shipped out to sea, and you'd be alone.
Not only would you have no one to hold you-
but you could never be assured that he's not going...
805 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
15th Jan 2010 6:08am
15th Jan 2010 6:08am
in the end we all have daddy isssues.
Let me start this off by saying that I love my mom and dad. Don't take things out of context and don't judge me. You cannot assume what someone is feeling.
When I was little, my mom would stay up until all hours of the night, just waiting for my dad to get home. I didn't know what he was doing out so late, all I knew was that my mom was sad. I knew I could hear her crying. And I knew that in the morning she would act like everything was okay. Love is strange sometimes.
My mom waited for my dad for years, not always literally, but figuratively as well, because she cared...
When I was little, my mom would stay up until all hours of the night, just waiting for my dad to get home. I didn't know what he was doing out so late, all I knew was that my mom was sad. I knew I could hear her crying. And I knew that in the morning she would act like everything was okay. Love is strange sometimes.
My mom waited for my dad for years, not always literally, but figuratively as well, because she cared...
730 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th Jan 2010 8:56pm
14th Jan 2010 8:56pm
batten down the hatches.
why is January here content with being so dreadful?
soggy socks and dry skin almost sway my gray-brown indifference.
I am waiting.
Hiding out in armchairs in pale, empty computer light. (if only it could supply vitamin D...)
Hiding out in bleach-cleaned gym showers counting hours until sleep.
And then,
I'm hiding out in ships sailing my subconscious,
tattered sails steering me around rogue waves of past occurrences.
dreams of alcohol and warm skin touching warm skin, despite ocean spray...
and then,
I wake up
hung-over from my...
soggy socks and dry skin almost sway my gray-brown indifference.
I am waiting.
Hiding out in armchairs in pale, empty computer light. (if only it could supply vitamin D...)
Hiding out in bleach-cleaned gym showers counting hours until sleep.
And then,
I'm hiding out in ships sailing my subconscious,
tattered sails steering me around rogue waves of past occurrences.
dreams of alcohol and warm skin touching warm skin, despite ocean spray...
and then,
I wake up
hung-over from my...
853 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
13th Jan 2010 6:31pm
13th Jan 2010 6:31pm
you were passion and clean laundry and fancy lingo.
you...
were the long afternoons of wandering,
wondering about lust and prevention..
the daisies picked with good intentions,
dried now between pages of lost feelings.
you were that one summer day at the carnival in the valley
making me feel like a stupid kid in love.
we warped our bodies and rode in fake cars,
playing our little game and taking too much pride in it.
you were late night movie theaters, back row, middle seats
cursing whoever sat in front of us, because we couldn't put our feet up.
you were the...
were the long afternoons of wandering,
wondering about lust and prevention..
the daisies picked with good intentions,
dried now between pages of lost feelings.
you were that one summer day at the carnival in the valley
making me feel like a stupid kid in love.
we warped our bodies and rode in fake cars,
playing our little game and taking too much pride in it.
you were late night movie theaters, back row, middle seats
cursing whoever sat in front of us, because we couldn't put our feet up.
you were the...
822 reads
2 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
13th Jan 2010 6:28pm
13th Jan 2010 6:28pm
gathering acorns by moonlight
Intoxication taunts me
as I pull it quickly in.
Innocence is fading fast,
it's shrouded by our sins.
Visions of a life lived
far better than our own,
are coveted by glowing worms
that dwell within our bones.
"Reason" is a raven,
perched upon our future,
picking at our stitched up wounds,
and tearing out the sutures.
Digging for bone-dwelling worms
that feed upon our past,
the raven can't go quick enough;
time's moving far too fast.
as I pull it quickly in.
Innocence is fading fast,
it's shrouded by our sins.
Visions of a life lived
far better than our own,
are coveted by glowing worms
that dwell within our bones.
"Reason" is a raven,
perched upon our future,
picking at our stitched up wounds,
and tearing out the sutures.
Digging for bone-dwelling worms
that feed upon our past,
the raven can't go quick enough;
time's moving far too fast.
885 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Jan 2010 2:45am
12th Jan 2010 2:45am
rib-cage cracked.
Rib-cage cracked,
laying still and silent like you were told to do,
you let them analyze your insides.
"This won't do," one said in discust.
You didn't know why you had done it.
You had let someone else in there.
Let him poke around, not bothering to
stitch up the wounds he left.
You just wanted him to know you.
....A weak justification at best.
But then he was gone
and you were left lying there,
exposed and vulnerable.
You realized you were much happier
without him in there, ...
laying still and silent like you were told to do,
you let them analyze your insides.
"This won't do," one said in discust.
You didn't know why you had done it.
You had let someone else in there.
Let him poke around, not bothering to
stitch up the wounds he left.
You just wanted him to know you.
....A weak justification at best.
But then he was gone
and you were left lying there,
exposed and vulnerable.
You realized you were much happier
without him in there, ...
735 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by SunshineRedirected (anita marie)
