Submissions by dfwtinman
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
65 yo and I have taken up the pen (key pad) after a long hiatus. My focus in writing now is on having a clear intention and then realizing that intention.
DARK POEM
Published
12th Nov 2013 4:11am
12th Nov 2013 4:11am
Be Mindful Whom You Save
A drowning man is fished from the sea
far from any shore.
Questioning eyes regard him --
a stare his sole reply.
"A bloody lucky stiff" says one.
"There but for God's grace" chimes another.
His soul returns one shiver at a time,
placid eyes now warmed by pain.
His face screams he is remembering,
as he casts his sight on the inviting sea.
far from any shore.
Questioning eyes regard him --
a stare his sole reply.
"A bloody lucky stiff" says one.
"There but for God's grace" chimes another.
His soul returns one shiver at a time,
placid eyes now warmed by pain.
His face screams he is remembering,
as he casts his sight on the inviting sea.
532 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
14th Jul 2013 4:26am
14th Jul 2013 4:26am
Event Horizon Newest Version
this sadness
that singularity
from which no light escapes
dark force of nature
with an awful gravity
every part
now attracted
to this place
before time began
no memory
nor form,
therefore not to worry
what dreams may come
I do not resist
this shrinking orbit
as if I could
...
that singularity
from which no light escapes
dark force of nature
with an awful gravity
every part
now attracted
to this place
before time began
no memory
nor form,
therefore not to worry
what dreams may come
I do not resist
this shrinking orbit
as if I could
...
659 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Jun 2013 8:56pm
19th Jun 2013 8:56pm
Digging for Hoffa
Corruption complete
buried brittle bones
are all that remains
of a once hard man
An old canary
chirps its secrets, while
winged conscience cracks
the code of silence
Wronged bones awaken
from their troubled sleep,
curse the darkness, and
sing to passersby
buried brittle bones
are all that remains
of a once hard man
An old canary
chirps its secrets, while
winged conscience cracks
the code of silence
Wronged bones awaken
from their troubled sleep,
curse the darkness, and
sing to passersby
821 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
15th May 2013 11:27pm
15th May 2013 11:27pm
The Undiscovered Country
Months since that stillborn morning
when they pulled me, ashen, from your arms.
I did not ask to be delivered
from the endless evening to the dawn.
If a list is made to place upon a scale,
will you refrain from fixing the result?
Upon the weighing, will you honor the result,
whether it be rainbows or rust?
If I close this chapter, and
lie my head in the Undiscovered Country,
will I then know peace?
Or has all this heartache been for nothing?
...
when they pulled me, ashen, from your arms.
I did not ask to be delivered
from the endless evening to the dawn.
If a list is made to place upon a scale,
will you refrain from fixing the result?
Upon the weighing, will you honor the result,
whether it be rainbows or rust?
If I close this chapter, and
lie my head in the Undiscovered Country,
will I then know peace?
Or has all this heartache been for nothing?
...
736 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th Apr 2013 9:33am
10th Apr 2013 9:33am
Annette's Sonnet
945 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Apr 2013 6:26am
4th Apr 2013 6:26am
LVI
56 years commemorated with cake.
Candles blown, a wish formed
unbidden in the dark.
I am dying to know
whether some plan predates my path
Or is my next, my last, my every step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above the simmering roadway.
"D'où Venons Nous / Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous"
hangs on a wall in Boston. The artist sought answers,
but settled for arsenic.
56? Are there any living truths buried in numbers?
56 Holes of Aubrey, 56 Minor...
Candles blown, a wish formed
unbidden in the dark.
I am dying to know
whether some plan predates my path
Or is my next, my last, my every step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above the simmering roadway.
"D'où Venons Nous / Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous"
hangs on a wall in Boston. The artist sought answers,
but settled for arsenic.
56? Are there any living truths buried in numbers?
56 Holes of Aubrey, 56 Minor...
689 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
4th Apr 2013 6:21am
4th Apr 2013 6:21am
little poem before the storm
Tough as a boot
from a coal-camp
she is no longer here
in the day or in the dark
from grandmother to ghost
to gone
I've written down
little pieces from her life
thrown them about
bones from a witch's bag
trying to make sense
or peace
'till a moment ago
no words would come
now they tumble downhill
heavy and hard
as stones
from a coal-camp
she is no longer here
in the day or in the dark
from grandmother to ghost
to gone
I've written down
little pieces from her life
thrown them about
bones from a witch's bag
trying to make sense
or peace
'till a moment ago
no words would come
now they tumble downhill
heavy and hard
as stones
706 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Mar 2013 5:07pm
18th Mar 2013 5:07pm
Turning 56- cancel
So many years commemorated with cake.
Candles like a wish formed, reforming,
unbidden in the dark before this much light.
I am dying to know whether some plan
predates my path to this celebration.
Or is my next, and every, step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above a March-in-Texas wet roadway.
I’m reminded that "D'où Venons Nous /
Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous" hangs
on a museum wall in Boston. The artist ...
Candles like a wish formed, reforming,
unbidden in the dark before this much light.
I am dying to know whether some plan
predates my path to this celebration.
Or is my next, and every, step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above a March-in-Texas wet roadway.
I’m reminded that "D'où Venons Nous /
Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous" hangs
on a museum wall in Boston. The artist ...
752 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Mar 2013 2:29am
18th Mar 2013 2:29am
LVI
56 years commemorated with cake.
Candles blown, a wish formed
unbidden in the dark.
I am dying to know
whether some plan predates my path
Or is my next, my last, my every step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above the simmering roadway.
"D'où Venons Nous / Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous"
hangs on a wall in Boston. The artist sought answers,
but settled for arsenic.
56? Are there any living truths buried in numbers?
56 Holes of Aubrey, 56 Minor...
Candles blown, a wish formed
unbidden in the dark.
I am dying to know
whether some plan predates my path
Or is my next, my last, my every step uncharted?
Cruising along, the air is still and stifling.
Signposts and landmarks liquefy
above the simmering roadway.
"D'où Venons Nous / Que Sommes Nous / Où Allons Nous"
hangs on a wall in Boston. The artist sought answers,
but settled for arsenic.
56? Are there any living truths buried in numbers?
56 Holes of Aubrey, 56 Minor...
633 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Mar 2013 4:12am
12th Mar 2013 4:12am
Little Big Song
"Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator"
----.William Shakespeare
Doing battle all day with Petrarch's ghost
left us face down in a dark pool
of coagulating ink—
Pyrrhic victory at best
Outmatched from the start
eight times the Order of the Octave called out to us
(as we shook behind our individual blocks)
eight times our volleys fell clumsily from the sky
Then, there came a chance to turn the tale
and yet, so complete was the disarticulation of our bones
even the Volta escaped us.
We fared no better...
----.William Shakespeare
Doing battle all day with Petrarch's ghost
left us face down in a dark pool
of coagulating ink—
Pyrrhic victory at best
Outmatched from the start
eight times the Order of the Octave called out to us
(as we shook behind our individual blocks)
eight times our volleys fell clumsily from the sky
Then, there came a chance to turn the tale
and yet, so complete was the disarticulation of our bones
even the Volta escaped us.
We fared no better...
634 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
17th Feb 2013 10:56pm
17th Feb 2013 10:56pm
Lost in Translation
blueberry dactyls and anapests
haunt my dreams
spoil my days, on this
quatrain to nowhere
so spare me
the allegory details
'cause no rhyme nor reason
sits with me in this plenum
between form and nothingness
haunt my dreams
spoil my days, on this
quatrain to nowhere
so spare me
the allegory details
'cause no rhyme nor reason
sits with me in this plenum
between form and nothingness
#WritingPoetry
#LifeAsAWriter
592 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
13th Feb 2013 3:26am
13th Feb 2013 3:26am
Hiding in the closet
I cannot see
through this door,
through this fear,
through this door I fear
will open.
Land mines go off,
go off underfoot,
shattering hidden hope,
shattering hope of staying hid.
Asymmetrical recriminations.
I was blamed.
I blamed myself,
for cowardice and tears.
The boy haunts the man,
the man conceals his knife,
life favored neither,
now neither favors life.
through this door,
through this fear,
through this door I fear
will open.
Land mines go off,
go off underfoot,
shattering hidden hope,
shattering hope of staying hid.
Asymmetrical recriminations.
I was blamed.
I blamed myself,
for cowardice and tears.
The boy haunts the man,
the man conceals his knife,
life favored neither,
now neither favors life.
710 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by dfwtinman
