Submissions by Vermilion_Apples
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am here. please reach out and maybe we can help each other on our journey.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Dec 2020 2:28am
2nd Dec 2020 2:28am
Home
dim but not black
cool but not cold
a bitter night
a quiet one
babies vomit
sunset orange
luminescent
homophobic
homecooked meals
selfdestructive
lowincome streets
bankless artists
smallgame shooting
gallery
aviary
prison sentence
ugly skyline
ugly always
but always mine
Vicennial chai latte,
Just like dad would always make.
Feel every inch of its trip
Into my hollow stomach.
A lonely car rambles past,
Five minutes to lying down.
Clouds so...
cool but not cold
a bitter night
a quiet one
babies vomit
sunset orange
luminescent
homophobic
homecooked meals
selfdestructive
lowincome streets
bankless artists
smallgame shooting
gallery
aviary
prison sentence
ugly skyline
ugly always
but always mine
Vicennial chai latte,
Just like dad would always make.
Feel every inch of its trip
Into my hollow stomach.
A lonely car rambles past,
Five minutes to lying down.
Clouds so...
#sadness
#MovingOn
345 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Dec 2020 5:12am
1st Dec 2020 5:12am
Poet
She is a poet
With a soul built to bring you to your knees.
Worship her words and fear their meaning.
Hands at her feet repent a life unenlightened.
Beg forgiveness from her cosmic iris
And pray she can hear you.
Weep at the majesty of her wisdom
And her absolute lack of it.
Watch her give birth through song
And cradle her newborn like it’s your own.
Write down every word it tells you,
Line by line, stanza by stanza.
She might just do the same
But only if she can hear you.
With a soul built to bring you to your knees.
Worship her words and fear their meaning.
Hands at her feet repent a life unenlightened.
Beg forgiveness from her cosmic iris
And pray she can hear you.
Weep at the majesty of her wisdom
And her absolute lack of it.
Watch her give birth through song
And cradle her newborn like it’s your own.
Write down every word it tells you,
Line by line, stanza by stanza.
She might just do the same
But only if she can hear you.
#love
#passion
843 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Nov 2020 1:34am
30th Nov 2020 1:34am
A Song For You
With your permission, I’d
Like to sing you a song
The pitch of ocean waves
Or crows waxing nostalgic,
Nestled on the breast of
A lost beatnik's headstone.
One whom I speak through now,
Or, whom I speak from.
One who wonders about
Forever, or the evening,
A cigarette with you.
With your permission, if
I may, might I be wrong?
The brush of blonde against
My map and through nervous hands.
Hopeful a memory
Like that is molasses.
And should it be just that,
Even just the smoke, ...
Like to sing you a song
The pitch of ocean waves
Or crows waxing nostalgic,
Nestled on the breast of
A lost beatnik's headstone.
One whom I speak through now,
Or, whom I speak from.
One who wonders about
Forever, or the evening,
A cigarette with you.
With your permission, if
I may, might I be wrong?
The brush of blonde against
My map and through nervous hands.
Hopeful a memory
Like that is molasses.
And should it be just that,
Even just the smoke, ...
#love
#music
#crush
470 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
28th Nov 2020 1:11am
28th Nov 2020 1:11am
The Souls Of Giants
I am hovering. Overhead a reservoirs’
Skin collects the ripples of bugs and a mute swan.
How I long to be him. Wordless beak encircled,
Who loves the simple release of tequila shots,
Who effortlessly weaves tapestries for re-sale.
Capital gains on pseudo-eroticism.
A cadet blue and magenta planet is free
If you were born with a popping cork in your mouth.
Bellow, structures made motels for a lone white perch
Where the light only just reaches enough to see.
How I long to be her. Imposter of language
Who annihilated...
Skin collects the ripples of bugs and a mute swan.
How I long to be him. Wordless beak encircled,
Who loves the simple release of tequila shots,
Who effortlessly weaves tapestries for re-sale.
Capital gains on pseudo-eroticism.
A cadet blue and magenta planet is free
If you were born with a popping cork in your mouth.
Bellow, structures made motels for a lone white perch
Where the light only just reaches enough to see.
How I long to be her. Imposter of language
Who annihilated...
#confessional
#SelfReflection
#FeelingLost
437 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Nov 2020 8:31pm
27th Nov 2020 8:31pm
Hallelujah
Dreary eyed leopard print and rings of silver.
Parade around my feet in time
To a forlorn child’s Taps recital.
Thin white line. Spinning records on the front steps.
Annies’ teeth sink into mine.
It’s sensual in that way,
Like turpentine.
Pocket change against knees then frail and sallow
Kicked the freight into the lane.
I took my first breath today.
Parcel nave deliver unto him a sermon.
Hold the preacher in her haze
And prick my tongue with her prayer,
Hallelujah.
Cherry...
Parade around my feet in time
To a forlorn child’s Taps recital.
Thin white line. Spinning records on the front steps.
Annies’ teeth sink into mine.
It’s sensual in that way,
Like turpentine.
Pocket change against knees then frail and sallow
Kicked the freight into the lane.
I took my first breath today.
Parcel nave deliver unto him a sermon.
Hold the preacher in her haze
And prick my tongue with her prayer,
Hallelujah.
Cherry...
#depression
#music
#learning #art
#learning #art
438 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
2nd Nov 2020 5:33am
2nd Nov 2020 5:33am
one and a half gallons
one and a half gallons
could fit in the kitchen sink
could paint my tiny bedroom
could keep a man alive for around five days
or destroy them in one
could get you back on the road
could write a love song
could end a war
or start one
could throw a party
could be a great dad someday
could make a jaw-dropping mural
a self-portrait
not that I could or should
but sometimes in my dreams
I can’t help but imagine
could fit in the kitchen sink
could paint my tiny bedroom
could keep a man alive for around five days
or destroy them in one
could get you back on the road
could write a love song
could end a war
or start one
could throw a party
could be a great dad someday
could make a jaw-dropping mural
a self-portrait
not that I could or should
but sometimes in my dreams
I can’t help but imagine
#depression
460 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
1st Nov 2020 2:45pm
1st Nov 2020 2:45pm
Hear It Breathing
Follow me to the east side,
If you would.
A metal trellis leans on
the window
leading into the kitchen,
but sadly
both’ve been overtaken
by dirt and vines.
Slowly creeping up the walls,
like they are
pulling this man-made horror
into the earth.
Maybe that’s where it belongs,
though that’s not
for anyone but nature
to decide.
If you will, stop and listen
a moment.
You can hear the house breathing.
Now it’s tense.
Quiet and curt. Not like it
used to be.
At least the history books...
If you would.
A metal trellis leans on
the window
leading into the kitchen,
but sadly
both’ve been overtaken
by dirt and vines.
Slowly creeping up the walls,
like they are
pulling this man-made horror
into the earth.
Maybe that’s where it belongs,
though that’s not
for anyone but nature
to decide.
If you will, stop and listen
a moment.
You can hear the house breathing.
Now it’s tense.
Quiet and curt. Not like it
used to be.
At least the history books...
#sadness
#grief
#childhood
#home
#ghosts
497 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Nov 2020 12:04pm
1st Nov 2020 12:04pm
I dreamt we were in New York City
I dreamt we were in New York City
with the steel carts and high rises
all shivering in the cold.
Alone in tandem
with the dim, satin sky, and the leftover snow.
Maybe a hand in mine,
it can be hard to see
without the stars.
What does it matter though?
I dreamt we were in the Amazon
with the birds and the wildcats.
They sang and roamed
and fucked and died.
With the fires and the bulldozers
making paper mache emotions,
advertisements on billboards
and TV and my doorstep
but still, I believe in it.
...
with the steel carts and high rises
all shivering in the cold.
Alone in tandem
with the dim, satin sky, and the leftover snow.
Maybe a hand in mine,
it can be hard to see
without the stars.
What does it matter though?
I dreamt we were in the Amazon
with the birds and the wildcats.
They sang and roamed
and fucked and died.
With the fires and the bulldozers
making paper mache emotions,
advertisements on billboards
and TV and my doorstep
but still, I believe in it.
...
#love
#dreams
461 reads
16 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Vermilion_Apples
