Submissions by cynimon
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
This,my love affair: a tumultous dance,a suspended sigh, a fiery embrace of a language that enables me to write that which would otherwise remain unspoken.
SELF POEM
Published
31st Jul 2012 6:24pm
31st Jul 2012 6:24pm
He knows she is cinnamon
Two worlds
one
darkly thrust in the forbidden
secretly delirious
tearingly tortured.
the other
all picturesque goodness
rightfully joyous
stable, known comfort.
The tussle begins and ends in him
for her
She knows she cannot breathe the meadows
of his heart
although they dream the same,sometimes
of burnt-edged pages in ancient books
fingers tracing the archaic magic
on each other's open mouths
soft tongues
Words
rocking their unleashed bodies
thrumming in trembling hands of desperation
biting into their...
one
darkly thrust in the forbidden
secretly delirious
tearingly tortured.
the other
all picturesque goodness
rightfully joyous
stable, known comfort.
The tussle begins and ends in him
for her
She knows she cannot breathe the meadows
of his heart
although they dream the same,sometimes
of burnt-edged pages in ancient books
fingers tracing the archaic magic
on each other's open mouths
soft tongues
Words
rocking their unleashed bodies
thrumming in trembling hands of desperation
biting into their...
625 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Jul 2012 7:13pm
30th Jul 2012 7:13pm
Most loved
The air outside is crypt-grey and still
I am wrapped
in my butter-yellow gown
recalling Lecter's words
that the mind is a palace
of many rooms.
Daily I add to its hidden treasures
More and more its secrets tantalise
and immerse me in gossamer day-dreams...
Here is where I roam its Meditteranean-blue halls
trail my fingers along its studded doors
Sink into slanted rays of dusky sunlight
splayed across treacle floors
but my most-loved
is the room
frangranced with the embrace of many old books
rows and rows, scented labyrinths...
I am wrapped
in my butter-yellow gown
recalling Lecter's words
that the mind is a palace
of many rooms.
Daily I add to its hidden treasures
More and more its secrets tantalise
and immerse me in gossamer day-dreams...
Here is where I roam its Meditteranean-blue halls
trail my fingers along its studded doors
Sink into slanted rays of dusky sunlight
splayed across treacle floors
but my most-loved
is the room
frangranced with the embrace of many old books
rows and rows, scented labyrinths...
582 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Jul 2012 6:12pm
30th Jul 2012 6:12pm
Inflamed
Thoughts of you
Beat the prison of my mind
Like throngs of woodpeckers
with steel-dipped beaks
Have to slam you out
Only for you to smile at me knowingly
taunting my frantic grasp for peace.
This decision to leave without ever
feeling the scorch of your tongue
slide
like a fevered whisper on the inside
haunts me
For I know I will yearn
despite my wretched resistance
to slake the desert of my mouth
on the charge of you
Beat the prison of my mind
Like throngs of woodpeckers
with steel-dipped beaks
Have to slam you out
Only for you to smile at me knowingly
taunting my frantic grasp for peace.
This decision to leave without ever
feeling the scorch of your tongue
slide
like a fevered whisper on the inside
haunts me
For I know I will yearn
despite my wretched resistance
to slake the desert of my mouth
on the charge of you
685 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
29th Jul 2012 1:51pm
29th Jul 2012 1:51pm
Last Night Again
Last night again
Visited by the fear for my children
This time, I woke
A scream of "mommy" tearing from my mind
My hard-beating heart.
Madness, an ever-rising tide
A tsunami headed straight for the shore
of my reason.
There are times when I no longer
recognise the colour of my spirit
This shorn head must signal something
Instead of taking a razor to my wrists
I put it to my hair instead
A bid for freedom, a new me
Fear must not overcome me
So I walk in the dark
To see their curved sleeping warmth
Carefree limbs...
Visited by the fear for my children
This time, I woke
A scream of "mommy" tearing from my mind
My hard-beating heart.
Madness, an ever-rising tide
A tsunami headed straight for the shore
of my reason.
There are times when I no longer
recognise the colour of my spirit
This shorn head must signal something
Instead of taking a razor to my wrists
I put it to my hair instead
A bid for freedom, a new me
Fear must not overcome me
So I walk in the dark
To see their curved sleeping warmth
Carefree limbs...
559 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th Jul 2012 1:31pm
29th Jul 2012 1:31pm
You
From passion
To this
A weeping mass
Of barely held-back screams
Another year in torment
Attempting to claw my way back
To the real of life
Fighting for what is beautiful
From my heart to my fingertips
Here, on this page
Is where I bleed from gutted flesh
Calling your name
Dreaming you here
Walking this house called sanctuary
Smiling at the bird-laden trees
And cupping the sweet joy of your grandchildren's faces.
Am I just weeping for pity
Because this pain is shutting my breath
What has been wrong with me for nearly two...
To this
A weeping mass
Of barely held-back screams
Another year in torment
Attempting to claw my way back
To the real of life
Fighting for what is beautiful
From my heart to my fingertips
Here, on this page
Is where I bleed from gutted flesh
Calling your name
Dreaming you here
Walking this house called sanctuary
Smiling at the bird-laden trees
And cupping the sweet joy of your grandchildren's faces.
Am I just weeping for pity
Because this pain is shutting my breath
What has been wrong with me for nearly two...
651 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by cynimon
