Submissions by absinthe (Fats)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I breed pigs, ducks and chickens on a small forest home farm on Bohol Island.
Effigy
To those who must roam in peril.
She learned her art amongst her sisters. The Sea Gypsies.
Whose romance with the waters ended with state-sponsored wars. Down south.
It was the flares of strafing bullets that took away their men. In the night.
The dancing lines of fire across the waters. Sparks on their fishing spears.
They took apart the boats that spared from bombing. Turned them into caravans.
They fell the colourful sails that adorned the sea horizon. Turned them into tents.
They conjured fires with sticks and stones. Danced the flames on their...
She learned her art amongst her sisters. The Sea Gypsies.
Whose romance with the waters ended with state-sponsored wars. Down south.
It was the flares of strafing bullets that took away their men. In the night.
The dancing lines of fire across the waters. Sparks on their fishing spears.
They took apart the boats that spared from bombing. Turned them into caravans.
They fell the colourful sails that adorned the sea horizon. Turned them into tents.
They conjured fires with sticks and stones. Danced the flames on their...
686 reads
10 Comments
A Garden Maze
She prepared the cloth in the evening. Then she got up early.
She was making a Hapsburg lace maze. It had 16 flower gardens.
She will sit instead of walk. She will sew instead of talk.
The hours will pass with her silence. Some morning rain will make her smile.
It will be white thread with some silver. Beads instead of French knots.
Her hair is white with age. Too many quiet years.
She feels someone touching her hair. A light caress against her ear.
The sound of birds pass her by. Oh she was just growing deaf.
She traced the pattern to the...
She was making a Hapsburg lace maze. It had 16 flower gardens.
She will sit instead of walk. She will sew instead of talk.
The hours will pass with her silence. Some morning rain will make her smile.
It will be white thread with some silver. Beads instead of French knots.
Her hair is white with age. Too many quiet years.
She feels someone touching her hair. A light caress against her ear.
The sound of birds pass her by. Oh she was just growing deaf.
She traced the pattern to the...
620 reads
3 Comments
The Other Man
I got myself some make-up, lipstick and kohl, because I thought that I could make me pretty again, and feel pretty again, and some lovely dresses, like when I was younger, over a decade ago when I was free, when I met a man who seduced my mind and body, but I settled down too soon, and put myself in this coop, this theatre of dry wit and humour, and I still think of that man, that other man, with the golden hair and impish smile, and when I think of him I want to be pretty again, but he is not here, my make-up and dress mean nothing, I am a sad old woman, trapped in a reasonably good life...
771 reads
17 Comments
Terror
Her life was a series of interrupted journeys
From the middle region to the south
It started when her mother shamed their name
By bearing a child without proper ritual
The woman with child fled here
To there
From here
Where there was shame
To there
Where there was war
It started when her mother shamed their name
The terror in her life has left her
With an abundance of both ecstasy and misery
The thrill of a day without disgrace
Or an evening without agony
In the twilight when her children are asleep
She mulls the...
From the middle region to the south
It started when her mother shamed their name
By bearing a child without proper ritual
The woman with child fled here
To there
From here
Where there was shame
To there
Where there was war
It started when her mother shamed their name
The terror in her life has left her
With an abundance of both ecstasy and misery
The thrill of a day without disgrace
Or an evening without agony
In the twilight when her children are asleep
She mulls the...
702 reads
8 Comments
Dance
Now I remember. His fancy began when I stepped on the stage.
While I talked about booty capitalists. His eyes fixated on my feet.
I wore a pair of flat sandals. My choice of comfort when travelling.
But it was the ankle bracelet that got him. He asked to see it.
To interrupt our conversation. I think it was about commodified knowledge.
He wanted to see my ankle bracelet. Barefoot, I sat on the chair.
I lifted the hem of my longyi to show him. It was beautiful silver.
Red cloisonnes dotted a wide strip of tiny silver droplets. It came from India.
...
While I talked about booty capitalists. His eyes fixated on my feet.
I wore a pair of flat sandals. My choice of comfort when travelling.
But it was the ankle bracelet that got him. He asked to see it.
To interrupt our conversation. I think it was about commodified knowledge.
He wanted to see my ankle bracelet. Barefoot, I sat on the chair.
I lifted the hem of my longyi to show him. It was beautiful silver.
Red cloisonnes dotted a wide strip of tiny silver droplets. It came from India.
...
1103 reads
15 Comments
Betel Nut Beauty
I saw movement inside the house. About an hour after sunrise.
That is when he awakes. When I wipe my hands and face.
Every morning I anticipate him. I act like a little girl.
He comes on the balcony. He has coffee and looks around.
He surveys the garden. This is where I work.
Two men mind the wooded areas. I tend the flowers.
I was a betel nut beauty. I lived in a glass box.
The culturati debated. They said I was exploited.
I gave men cancer and palpitations. They gave me money.
He bought cigarettes a few times. But he does not smoke.
He...
That is when he awakes. When I wipe my hands and face.
Every morning I anticipate him. I act like a little girl.
He comes on the balcony. He has coffee and looks around.
He surveys the garden. This is where I work.
Two men mind the wooded areas. I tend the flowers.
I was a betel nut beauty. I lived in a glass box.
The culturati debated. They said I was exploited.
I gave men cancer and palpitations. They gave me money.
He bought cigarettes a few times. But he does not smoke.
He...
703 reads
7 Comments
The Sexing of the Angels
She walked briskly. The distance between the hut and the hillside.
It was about a dozen of the the lord's prayer. She tried to remember it in Latin.
She sang it sometimes. She stopped when she reached the swidden farm.
And began to dig for the yams. He looked at her from a distance.
The sun was kind to her. It warmed her when she sweated.
And the cool wind dried the skin under her dress. She wore a scarf.
Around her head it suck up the sweat on her cheeks. Sunburnt.
She swung the machete. The vines fell to her feet.
She did not hear him walk...
It was about a dozen of the the lord's prayer. She tried to remember it in Latin.
She sang it sometimes. She stopped when she reached the swidden farm.
And began to dig for the yams. He looked at her from a distance.
The sun was kind to her. It warmed her when she sweated.
And the cool wind dried the skin under her dress. She wore a scarf.
Around her head it suck up the sweat on her cheeks. Sunburnt.
She swung the machete. The vines fell to her feet.
She did not hear him walk...
936 reads
18 Comments
Slut
It must be my imagination. Or is it a curse.
There is a man who keeps following me. In the day.
It's like he had seen me for the first time. At night.
He is a hungry animal. He prowls me.
I cannot cast him aside. I walk to work in the morning.
He sees the skin behind my knees. He walks with me.
There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me.
I get on the train and leave him. His eyes on my legs.
I sit at the desk. He stands behind me.
He sees the skin on my thighs. He breathes heavy.
There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me....
There is a man who keeps following me. In the day.
It's like he had seen me for the first time. At night.
He is a hungry animal. He prowls me.
I cannot cast him aside. I walk to work in the morning.
He sees the skin behind my knees. He walks with me.
There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me.
I get on the train and leave him. His eyes on my legs.
I sit at the desk. He stands behind me.
He sees the skin on my thighs. He breathes heavy.
There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me....
1019 reads
19 Comments
The Invisible Woman
He lifted the dress from the drawer. It was a long black polyester garment decorated with laser cut-outs across the shoulders and all around the skirt. The skirt lining glistened underneath and drew out the curly patterns of the matted cut-out fabric.
Lyla looked on as her father pressed the dress to his body, smoothing the soft fabric with the palm of his right hand. It gathered at the waist and reached to his knees. It felt nice. He laid the dress on the chair behind him. He stood silently, naked, gazing at the dress and then at the bra that lay in the drawer.
It was a...
Lyla looked on as her father pressed the dress to his body, smoothing the soft fabric with the palm of his right hand. It gathered at the waist and reached to his knees. It felt nice. He laid the dress on the chair behind him. He stood silently, naked, gazing at the dress and then at the bra that lay in the drawer.
It was a...
853 reads
10 Comments
The Circus
He thought that he would do her a favour. The delicacy of the night.
Her hairless pudding gaped. Confectionery of the gods.
His mouth spread the entree. She did not like that at all.
His hands seized her buttocks. To steady the target.
The great articulator. The agile serpent wagged.
Between the crust and the icing. Her brown sugar melted.
Saccharifying his tongue. She did not like that at all.
Thus fudged another rapture. To end this circus act.
Finished his mouth was glazed. He looked pleased but incomplete.
She thought to return the...
Her hairless pudding gaped. Confectionery of the gods.
His mouth spread the entree. She did not like that at all.
His hands seized her buttocks. To steady the target.
The great articulator. The agile serpent wagged.
Between the crust and the icing. Her brown sugar melted.
Saccharifying his tongue. She did not like that at all.
Thus fudged another rapture. To end this circus act.
Finished his mouth was glazed. He looked pleased but incomplete.
She thought to return the...
948 reads
22 Comments
Threshold
There is simply no delectation greater. For your consideration.
The swither and perspiration of a gratified man, sr. Your servant, jr.
Without the profit of a cut-rate whore. A stripling for your coitus emeritus.
I am your servant, your consideration, flat-rate. Today only.
For tomorrow I may be as the Summer. In heat, prickly, high.
Thereafter, I would be as the Fall. Spent over that famished broad.
Subsequently, I rather not say. For today, I am your fauna, only.
Today and not thereafter. Colonise me once.
Let me suggest we commence with a...
The swither and perspiration of a gratified man, sr. Your servant, jr.
Without the profit of a cut-rate whore. A stripling for your coitus emeritus.
I am your servant, your consideration, flat-rate. Today only.
For tomorrow I may be as the Summer. In heat, prickly, high.
Thereafter, I would be as the Fall. Spent over that famished broad.
Subsequently, I rather not say. For today, I am your fauna, only.
Today and not thereafter. Colonise me once.
Let me suggest we commence with a...
710 reads
4 Comments
First Kiss from Compostela
He is as the rocks of Compostela. Broken by the drills of construction.
Workers heaving under the sun. Sweating their thighs like cattle.
In a salt cure ala mechado.
They gazed at him with desire. The men of the valley of rocks.
He was smooth and undiscovered. Proper in his gabardine.
He is quarry and fair game.
He is as the bells of Tamil Nadu. Hung, prized and paraded.
Rung to a hollow prayer. Heard intermittently in the night.
The women listened, gasped.
The men of the congregation. They craved for his slender body. ...
Workers heaving under the sun. Sweating their thighs like cattle.
In a salt cure ala mechado.
They gazed at him with desire. The men of the valley of rocks.
He was smooth and undiscovered. Proper in his gabardine.
He is quarry and fair game.
He is as the bells of Tamil Nadu. Hung, prized and paraded.
Rung to a hollow prayer. Heard intermittently in the night.
The women listened, gasped.
The men of the congregation. They craved for his slender body. ...
684 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by absinthe (Fats)