Submissions by Vee (Rina)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
30th Jan 2023 10:35pm
30th Jan 2023 10:35pm
Scenes From A Laundromat
3:02 pm.
Sunless winter
Crawled in the womb of afternoon
Gathering clouds by the yoke to devil's tune.
Brooding slurs and humdrum of whimpers rolled in irony
Rolling thespian tragedy of a change coming.
3:17pm.
The washers twitched
In methodical righteousness
Right, left, right streaking the pane
Reflecting the missing "T"
In green sign, Cus omer's Only
Spinning sins of mortality
Fools of immortality
Helical helix, entwined
Spiraling the beaten slippery-
Slops of consciousness.
3:48pm. ...
Sunless winter
Crawled in the womb of afternoon
Gathering clouds by the yoke to devil's tune.
Brooding slurs and humdrum of whimpers rolled in irony
Rolling thespian tragedy of a change coming.
3:17pm.
The washers twitched
In methodical righteousness
Right, left, right streaking the pane
Reflecting the missing "T"
In green sign, Cus omer's Only
Spinning sins of mortality
Fools of immortality
Helical helix, entwined
Spiraling the beaten slippery-
Slops of consciousness.
3:48pm. ...
#LifeCycle
63 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jan 2023 7:18pm
15th Jan 2023 7:18pm
At The Funeral
You stayed too long
in your town of
narrow streets, broken dreams
when all the great left before their time
searching for meaning
in rain and desert wind
crossing the crisscross
scars of the heart.
The morning aged, perfunctorily
snowing unexpectedly
seven years of oblivious divinity
sweeping the earth with silence
past remembrance and burnt flowers
reading your obituary:
Death
by
Overindulgence of Passion
The painted women
came to your funeral
dressed in dusk and perfume
weeping at...
in your town of
narrow streets, broken dreams
when all the great left before their time
searching for meaning
in rain and desert wind
crossing the crisscross
scars of the heart.
The morning aged, perfunctorily
snowing unexpectedly
seven years of oblivious divinity
sweeping the earth with silence
past remembrance and burnt flowers
reading your obituary:
Death
by
Overindulgence of Passion
The painted women
came to your funeral
dressed in dusk and perfume
weeping at...
#death
109 reads
6 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Jan 2023 11:49pm
12th Jan 2023 11:49pm
50 Shades of Pallor
A gatekeeper
ectodermal of layers
nonchalantly soft, tender and smooth
Shades of light
infuse the sublime glow
masking shadows in concocted diffusion
Once adored and revered
a sub-particle of a mass macrocosm
sloughed in expansion of overindulgence
Now on the floor, spewed
in pallor mortis of a fine cocktail
dry and shriveled in dismal putrefaction
Detached from rest
an odorless unrecognizable decay
remaining organs recoil and shudder
A justifiable indignation
rotating...
ectodermal of layers
nonchalantly soft, tender and smooth
Shades of light
infuse the sublime glow
masking shadows in concocted diffusion
Once adored and revered
a sub-particle of a mass macrocosm
sloughed in expansion of overindulgence
Now on the floor, spewed
in pallor mortis of a fine cocktail
dry and shriveled in dismal putrefaction
Detached from rest
an odorless unrecognizable decay
remaining organs recoil and shudder
A justifiable indignation
rotating...
#mystery
89 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
11th Jan 2023 9:12pm
11th Jan 2023 9:12pm
Origami Memories
(Prologue)
I’m not sure which came first:
pang of familiar finality, or
numb moments of calamity.
Knotted pull and tug, beneath
offerings of benign serenity.
Although, the path was clear
he was gone before I got there.
I still remember the vacant eyes
piece of my heart clenched in his fist.
*
*
*
There was no room in this house
crowded by Indians, Spanish and Jews
crawling the corridors, displaced, lost.
If it’s not your mother holding a silver spoon
then another woman, gnawing at roots
who lost...
I’m not sure which came first:
pang of familiar finality, or
numb moments of calamity.
Knotted pull and tug, beneath
offerings of benign serenity.
Although, the path was clear
he was gone before I got there.
I still remember the vacant eyes
piece of my heart clenched in his fist.
*
*
*
There was no room in this house
crowded by Indians, Spanish and Jews
crawling the corridors, displaced, lost.
If it’s not your mother holding a silver spoon
then another woman, gnawing at roots
who lost...
#memories
85 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
5th Jan 2023 9:02pm
5th Jan 2023 9:02pm
Parallel Universe
Madness is the bridge to cross
to enter the parallel world
stupefied by calmness of serenity
I look back and see
the molecules of nerve endings
in blue and red pulling me back
like snakes of Medusa
hypnotizing me as a cold stone
into oblivion of realm.
There I am;
a speck of light in blackest black
dancing with my broken doll
with no arm
weightless and soundless
twirling in a white nightgown
with one torn shoulder strap
whipping against the raw skin
reminding me of
the pain on the other side. ...
to enter the parallel world
stupefied by calmness of serenity
I look back and see
the molecules of nerve endings
in blue and red pulling me back
like snakes of Medusa
hypnotizing me as a cold stone
into oblivion of realm.
There I am;
a speck of light in blackest black
dancing with my broken doll
with no arm
weightless and soundless
twirling in a white nightgown
with one torn shoulder strap
whipping against the raw skin
reminding me of
the pain on the other side. ...
#dark
#nightmares
157 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
25th Dec 2022 7:06am
25th Dec 2022 7:06am
Sodom & Gomorrah 2022
The world halted on its axis turning clockwise
Non-wiser than the moon, the sun, the stars
Underbelly of fools’ gold in clouds of stardust.
Angels sang off key humming broken melodies
Children watched demons dancing on streets
Art of indifference embedded beneath the skin.
We fell on knees, praying to God’s deaf ears
Faith to faithless snaking between jagged teeth
Cries of a newborn cleansing mortal sins.
O’ Star of Bethlehem,
Guide shepherds and sheep, jesters and kings
The road to salvation is long, narrow and ...
Non-wiser than the moon, the sun, the stars
Underbelly of fools’ gold in clouds of stardust.
Angels sang off key humming broken melodies
Children watched demons dancing on streets
Art of indifference embedded beneath the skin.
We fell on knees, praying to God’s deaf ears
Faith to faithless snaking between jagged teeth
Cries of a newborn cleansing mortal sins.
O’ Star of Bethlehem,
Guide shepherds and sheep, jesters and kings
The road to salvation is long, narrow and ...
#LifeStruggles
#Christmas
#religion
#God
#faith
160 reads
6 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
10th Jul 2022 5:59am
10th Jul 2022 5:59am
The Source Of Light
Wisdom is taught by experience.
Experience is the teacher, experienced. Alone.
I stood by the stove, scraping the pan de-glazed with splash of Barbera wine we had shared earlier. The drippings sizzled like two unexpected elements, mutually exclusive clashing together in a malevolent storm.
"Why do people hate Trump," he asked. Scrolling his phone, reading political memes, blurting phone-to-text comments, replying like bird droppings ... which made me think of a poster I had seen in Jimmy John’s sub shop, “Sometimes you’re the bird and sometimes you’re...
Experience is the teacher, experienced. Alone.
I stood by the stove, scraping the pan de-glazed with splash of Barbera wine we had shared earlier. The drippings sizzled like two unexpected elements, mutually exclusive clashing together in a malevolent storm.
"Why do people hate Trump," he asked. Scrolling his phone, reading political memes, blurting phone-to-text comments, replying like bird droppings ... which made me think of a poster I had seen in Jimmy John’s sub shop, “Sometimes you’re the bird and sometimes you’re...
#politics
#philosophical
379 reads
13 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
5th Sep 2017 5:37pm
5th Sep 2017 5:37pm
we are nothing but dreams
dusk spreads its wings for the weeping
and my fingers follow slow, quivering
gathering last of dew from leaves
there under the Eucalyptus tree
i see you waiting, golden sliver
in your eyes and metaphors
dripping from your tongue
i drink every word drunk
in yesterday's wine
listening to songs of
your heartbeat before dawn
the tormented ocean whines
at our feet
recedes
greeting with salty kiss
and
i fail to answer your questions
my gaze resting...
and my fingers follow slow, quivering
gathering last of dew from leaves
there under the Eucalyptus tree
i see you waiting, golden sliver
in your eyes and metaphors
dripping from your tongue
i drink every word drunk
in yesterday's wine
listening to songs of
your heartbeat before dawn
the tormented ocean whines
at our feet
recedes
greeting with salty kiss
and
i fail to answer your questions
my gaze resting...
#universe
#nature
#LifeAsAWriter
#LifeCycle
#metaphor
1489 reads
33 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
1st Sep 2017 5:34am
1st Sep 2017 5:34am
Abstractions
An eye blinks
more times than needed
15-20 times per minute lasting .4 seconds, 1200 times per hour, 28,800 times a day
10% of waking hours adding up to five years of our lives roaming with our eyes closed **
missing all things unseen, greater and small.
Look at me
tell me what you see
am I everything
you have ever dreamed, wanted and desired
do i give your musings wings to fly
blindly all hopes cast to winds:
figment of imagination
a shadow sliding beneath ...
more times than needed
15-20 times per minute lasting .4 seconds, 1200 times per hour, 28,800 times a day
10% of waking hours adding up to five years of our lives roaming with our eyes closed **
missing all things unseen, greater and small.
Look at me
tell me what you see
am I everything
you have ever dreamed, wanted and desired
do i give your musings wings to fly
blindly all hopes cast to winds:
figment of imagination
a shadow sliding beneath ...
909 reads
13 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
31st Aug 2017 3:28am
31st Aug 2017 3:28am
*** Senryu
i swim to the light
in deep end of the ocean
floating solitude
rhythmic shallow breaths
fold in useless bones and flesh
origam-a-skin
god of icy moon
feed me spoonful of dirt
city of angels
Entered in Loneliness comp.
in deep end of the ocean
floating solitude
rhythmic shallow breaths
fold in useless bones and flesh
origam-a-skin
god of icy moon
feed me spoonful of dirt
city of angels
Entered in Loneliness comp.
#moon
#water
#angels
#senryu
#sensual
886 reads
11 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Jul 2017 5:46am
18th Jul 2017 5:46am
Californication
The Valley heat was unbearable
eradicated sunshine
mercilessly manacled the moments slipping
into late afternoon
ghosting life from nature, cement and concrete.
The road curved by the hills offering some cool breeze
skyview of the city
on one side
on the way to Old Town Pasadena
We walked aimlessly absorbing old and new
crushing memories beneath our feet
to rustle of palm trees
there was nothing but stillness
floating
like a last lingering...
eradicated sunshine
mercilessly manacled the moments slipping
into late afternoon
ghosting life from nature, cement and concrete.
The road curved by the hills offering some cool breeze
skyview of the city
on one side
on the way to Old Town Pasadena
We walked aimlessly absorbing old and new
crushing memories beneath our feet
to rustle of palm trees
there was nothing but stillness
floating
like a last lingering...
1120 reads
43 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jul 2017 4:15am
15th Jul 2017 4:15am
The Art of Mante’ (The long lost cousin of Tortellini)
There are oodles of noodles in every culture with flavors and textures as unique as our skin and fingerprints with all shapes and sizes but the only one that warms my heart and soul is Mante’.
I remember sitting in my grandmother’s small kitchen surrounded by my aunts and my mother watching my Nana knead the dough for which seemed like hours ’til it was supple, soft and smooth. She would smack the dough on the floured board few times with her trembling hands and then place the sign of the cross murmuring something with her eyes closed, covering it with a cotton...
I remember sitting in my grandmother’s small kitchen surrounded by my aunts and my mother watching my Nana knead the dough for which seemed like hours ’til it was supple, soft and smooth. She would smack the dough on the floured board few times with her trembling hands and then place the sign of the cross murmuring something with her eyes closed, covering it with a cotton...
604 reads
30 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Vee (Rina)
