Submissions by SweetOblivion
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I love quirky imagery painted in sleek words. Subtle, witty, descriptive verses are my favourite. Poetic discipline and control have parts to play; as do regular visits to the gorgeous ink shop .
October Opalescence
The wind scatters red leaves against the blue,
October opalescence of the air;
This animate surround may well imbue
Them both with an intensity; he’d dare
To imagine the forest in her smile:
It seems to capture every twitching leaf,
Yearning to take the plunge into exile
With other fallen heroes who lived brief,
But happy lives all summer; and now lurch
Towards their end in heaps that may well tempt
A pair of lovers, flirting by a birch;
In sylvan landscapes tell me who's exempt
From falling down together; does it matter
When beds are piled...
October opalescence of the air;
This animate surround may well imbue
Them both with an intensity; he’d dare
To imagine the forest in her smile:
It seems to capture every twitching leaf,
Yearning to take the plunge into exile
With other fallen heroes who lived brief,
But happy lives all summer; and now lurch
Towards their end in heaps that may well tempt
A pair of lovers, flirting by a birch;
In sylvan landscapes tell me who's exempt
From falling down together; does it matter
When beds are piled...
669 reads
0 Comments
Revenge and Buttered Scones
She loves revenge and buttered scones for tea,
So works her way through novels “of a kind”;
She’s not excitable, but makes quite free
With all those naughty frissons in her mind;
The ones that cake cannot content at all;
No matter how it’s flavoured or displayed;
But scones are something else – she can recall
The richness of each mouthful; she has made
Her way through the sultanas in the mix
Washed down by tea and currants, so her buns
Are digested and the fruit never sticks;
Unlike the printed word that often stuns
Our heroine in tea rooms,...
So works her way through novels “of a kind”;
She’s not excitable, but makes quite free
With all those naughty frissons in her mind;
The ones that cake cannot content at all;
No matter how it’s flavoured or displayed;
But scones are something else – she can recall
The richness of each mouthful; she has made
Her way through the sultanas in the mix
Washed down by tea and currants, so her buns
Are digested and the fruit never sticks;
Unlike the printed word that often stuns
Our heroine in tea rooms,...
592 reads
0 Comments
Despite The Pain
943 reads
0 Comments
That Fateful Churn
797 reads
0 Comments
Just as she planned
She stands there with her eyes closed; as she waits
She hears those restive calls: each nesting bird
Appears to understand she hesitates
Because she cannot realise she’s heard
The sweetest serenade that you might think
Would make her want to look up at your face
And feel your arms around her; let her drink
This moment in, before the change of pace
Ensures the blood goes flowing to her ears;
Her heart is beating harder, so the rush
Of blood is comprehensive, as her fears
Are dissipated in that shameless blush;
And now the time has come; the...
She hears those restive calls: each nesting bird
Appears to understand she hesitates
Because she cannot realise she’s heard
The sweetest serenade that you might think
Would make her want to look up at your face
And feel your arms around her; let her drink
This moment in, before the change of pace
Ensures the blood goes flowing to her ears;
Her heart is beating harder, so the rush
Of blood is comprehensive, as her fears
Are dissipated in that shameless blush;
And now the time has come; the...
660 reads
0 Comments
Bubbling Under
Her brain bubbles with champagne; her resolve
Is new and, yet, supposes she’d explain
The hope eroticism can now solve
Her pile of problems - this means she can’t gain
The upper hand, despite imploring looks
And being quite distraught; to find that drink
Disables her and halts the way she cooks
Up schemes to make a man adored; just think
Of possibilities that she presents:
She’d be his love, his life, his dream, his need;
Wrapped up in make-believe, which just contents
Her for the briefest while; but she concedes
This will do for...
Is new and, yet, supposes she’d explain
The hope eroticism can now solve
Her pile of problems - this means she can’t gain
The upper hand, despite imploring looks
And being quite distraught; to find that drink
Disables her and halts the way she cooks
Up schemes to make a man adored; just think
Of possibilities that she presents:
She’d be his love, his life, his dream, his need;
Wrapped up in make-believe, which just contents
Her for the briefest while; but she concedes
This will do for...
700 reads
4 Comments
Empty of Regret
972 reads
0 Comments
His Wilderness
1145 reads
2 Comments
Quite by Chance
1020 reads
0 Comments
Motivation
1152 reads
2 Comments
Your Eager Eyes
929 reads
0 Comments
Force Yourself
1005 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by SweetOblivion