Submissions by fishead
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
15th Jun 2011 10:27pm
15th Jun 2011 10:27pm
Hope
Please stop the world, I'm trying to get off.
I've tried so hard to live a normal life.
But every turn leads on to sharper strife
And every tear erodes a deeper trough.
The way of life has caused me long to scoff
The righteousness so shallow yet so rife
Which cuts the harried person like a knife
And causes him his self esteem to doff.
I've found a little hope, a few new friends
Whose quiet presence helps to make amends,
To turn around this sense of emptiness
And break away the bar of loneliness.
Please, let the world go...
I've tried so hard to live a normal life.
But every turn leads on to sharper strife
And every tear erodes a deeper trough.
The way of life has caused me long to scoff
The righteousness so shallow yet so rife
Which cuts the harried person like a knife
And causes him his self esteem to doff.
I've found a little hope, a few new friends
Whose quiet presence helps to make amends,
To turn around this sense of emptiness
And break away the bar of loneliness.
Please, let the world go...
822 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jun 2011 10:07pm
15th Jun 2011 10:07pm
Ivanhoe's England
When men were men and
women were appendages
of their man's importance.
When Jew was second
to the Christian England.
When the masses were illiterate
bow carrying poor.
When horse came before rider;
When the mace and ax were not considered
cruel and unusual punishment.
When anything done in the name of God
was just.
When the end justified the means.
Was it so different then than now?
women were appendages
of their man's importance.
When Jew was second
to the Christian England.
When the masses were illiterate
bow carrying poor.
When horse came before rider;
When the mace and ax were not considered
cruel and unusual punishment.
When anything done in the name of God
was just.
When the end justified the means.
Was it so different then than now?
617 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jun 2011 4:12pm
14th Jun 2011 4:12pm
Man-Woman
Woman knows She has the power.
In her - life forms and grows -
Is nurtured - loved -
Blossoms in her energy
To its own power.
Man believes He has the power.
He plants his seed in her
Just as farmer plants
The seed in earth.
The seed grows in the earth
And becomes great.
The earth is still the earth.
Man is Ego -
Strong - Possessive.
Woman is Gentleness-
Compassion - Love .
In her - life forms and grows -
Is nurtured - loved -
Blossoms in her energy
To its own power.
Man believes He has the power.
He plants his seed in her
Just as farmer plants
The seed in earth.
The seed grows in the earth
And becomes great.
The earth is still the earth.
Man is Ego -
Strong - Possessive.
Woman is Gentleness-
Compassion - Love .
726 reads
0 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
14th Jun 2011 3:30pm
14th Jun 2011 3:30pm
Not Guilty
For thirty years the shit of guilt piled high
And a bitter wife was adding more each day.
My workplace brimmed with wrenching bitterness
That added even more than I can say.
The children did unwittingly their part.
They could not understand the searing need
To fly away to safe and sane abode,
To wash away the smelly, filthy load.
And now, again, I face the same offensive state,
The need to prove myself…Worthy…
Of trust, of love and respect.
Why must I work, every time we meet,
To prove that I can be trusted?
You say...
And a bitter wife was adding more each day.
My workplace brimmed with wrenching bitterness
That added even more than I can say.
The children did unwittingly their part.
They could not understand the searing need
To fly away to safe and sane abode,
To wash away the smelly, filthy load.
And now, again, I face the same offensive state,
The need to prove myself…Worthy…
Of trust, of love and respect.
Why must I work, every time we meet,
To prove that I can be trusted?
You say...
734 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
23rd May 2011 4:36pm
23rd May 2011 4:36pm
The Peace Of China
It's an odd shaped piece of China,
So non-descript it defies - no -
Inspires imagination.
Its almost- white plainness is broken
Only by a nicely scripted
Buffalo China 1923
Fired on the bottom in
Soft green lettering.
Its long narrowness designed for - - -
Maybe carrots and celery???
But I see something else -
The young boy - fishing -
Home with the catch-
Fish cleaned and ready,
In the China dish displayed for all to see.
The boy has pride.
His fish is beautiful.
It is the only dish I have
...
So non-descript it defies - no -
Inspires imagination.
Its almost- white plainness is broken
Only by a nicely scripted
Buffalo China 1923
Fired on the bottom in
Soft green lettering.
Its long narrowness designed for - - -
Maybe carrots and celery???
But I see something else -
The young boy - fishing -
Home with the catch-
Fish cleaned and ready,
In the China dish displayed for all to see.
The boy has pride.
His fish is beautiful.
It is the only dish I have
...
625 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
8th May 2011 6:14pm
8th May 2011 6:14pm
Peaceful Spirit Lost
I dreamed of another life,
a former life, long ago.
I danced with the dogs,
Waltzed with the winds,
Trotted with foxes,
Roamed with the deer,
Slept with the antelope.
The bears around me smiled.
Fish jumped to my table.
My plate was full.
But, as we danced,
The music changed.
Faster, then faster, we whirled,
Bumping as we turned.
The dance floor became crowded.
Irritation grew.
The staccato rhythm of life
Replaced the soft pulsations.
The dream life was replaced
By violent turns.
Bear turned...
a former life, long ago.
I danced with the dogs,
Waltzed with the winds,
Trotted with foxes,
Roamed with the deer,
Slept with the antelope.
The bears around me smiled.
Fish jumped to my table.
My plate was full.
But, as we danced,
The music changed.
Faster, then faster, we whirled,
Bumping as we turned.
The dance floor became crowded.
Irritation grew.
The staccato rhythm of life
Replaced the soft pulsations.
The dream life was replaced
By violent turns.
Bear turned...
787 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
8th May 2011 5:32pm
8th May 2011 5:32pm
Shots In The Night
The shots were fired two thousand miles away.
I didn't even hear them - but she did.
As we talked, the phone lines conveyed the fear and
concern which suddenly exploded into immediate reality.
Her concern was for her neighbors - a woman screaming,
dogs barking their excitment, fear. Could she help -
Should she? --- more shots - a telephone call
to the police. I lost contact.
She called me back. The woman was still screaming - dogs still barking.
My concerned friend wanted to go outside - out back -
within the fenced in sanctuary...
I didn't even hear them - but she did.
As we talked, the phone lines conveyed the fear and
concern which suddenly exploded into immediate reality.
Her concern was for her neighbors - a woman screaming,
dogs barking their excitment, fear. Could she help -
Should she? --- more shots - a telephone call
to the police. I lost contact.
She called me back. The woman was still screaming - dogs still barking.
My concerned friend wanted to go outside - out back -
within the fenced in sanctuary...
704 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Apr 2011 10:54pm
1st Apr 2011 10:54pm
My Daughters
Her slender relaxed body shines in the sun;
soft brown hair flows like an avalanche to the ground.
A bit of green cloth does not attempt to conceal her sensory appeal,
her breasts perceptibly rising and falling as she dreams.
I stand watching her through my bedroom window.
I wonder how many others are watching, thinking.
What do they think, what does she dream?
Why do I care -
why should anyone care?
I wonder if she knows that I am watching.
Is she aware of the thoughts grinding harshly through my mind?
She is so open to the...
soft brown hair flows like an avalanche to the ground.
A bit of green cloth does not attempt to conceal her sensory appeal,
her breasts perceptibly rising and falling as she dreams.
I stand watching her through my bedroom window.
I wonder how many others are watching, thinking.
What do they think, what does she dream?
Why do I care -
why should anyone care?
I wonder if she knows that I am watching.
Is she aware of the thoughts grinding harshly through my mind?
She is so open to the...
712 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Apr 2011 10:52pm
1st Apr 2011 10:52pm
Reading Minnie Bruce Pratt
I was reading her book: "We Say We love Each Other."
I wanted to stop. But as surely as the drive to work
down the boulevard frightened her, I could not stop.
I wanted to sleep, to run away from the fear
which dripped from every venemous word which burned my mind,
the image of castrated men screaming rage at the one who would avenge
the lovers who had been raped.
I could not stop.
I read of the road from Mobile to Jackson, from
Montgomery to Birmingham to Washington DC
to.. .wherever. About love of woman for woman. ...
I wanted to stop. But as surely as the drive to work
down the boulevard frightened her, I could not stop.
I wanted to sleep, to run away from the fear
which dripped from every venemous word which burned my mind,
the image of castrated men screaming rage at the one who would avenge
the lovers who had been raped.
I could not stop.
I read of the road from Mobile to Jackson, from
Montgomery to Birmingham to Washington DC
to.. .wherever. About love of woman for woman. ...
651 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Mar 2011 4:07pm
30th Mar 2011 4:07pm
Excoriation
My head is a cavernous wasteland
Filled with the guano of the past.
Reverberations of her venomous words
Thunder from side to side.
Her stalactitic spears penetrate
My emotional defenses
More effectively than the flitting bat's radar
Penetrates the darkness -
Avoiding the stalagmites
Formed by the melting away
Of my calcerious life -
The bones of my reality -
The ashes of my sanity -
The aragonitic me.
Filled with the guano of the past.
Reverberations of her venomous words
Thunder from side to side.
Her stalactitic spears penetrate
My emotional defenses
More effectively than the flitting bat's radar
Penetrates the darkness -
Avoiding the stalagmites
Formed by the melting away
Of my calcerious life -
The bones of my reality -
The ashes of my sanity -
The aragonitic me.
788 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Mar 2011 3:06pm
30th Mar 2011 3:06pm
The Table Lamp
Its light flows sharply downward -
angling over my feet - its white hat
shades the rest of the room,
protecting my eyes -
resisting the temptation
to light the bowels of my room,
expose my meager existence
to the devilish world that
would devour this hapless morsel
with no more than a gluttonous burp
to acknowledge the passing of such
an inconspicuous and worthless bump.
Why are such animals as we spawned on
this earth - when only here to pollute
and destroy whatever could be beautiful?
This...
angling over my feet - its white hat
shades the rest of the room,
protecting my eyes -
resisting the temptation
to light the bowels of my room,
expose my meager existence
to the devilish world that
would devour this hapless morsel
with no more than a gluttonous burp
to acknowledge the passing of such
an inconspicuous and worthless bump.
Why are such animals as we spawned on
this earth - when only here to pollute
and destroy whatever could be beautiful?
This...
731 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
29th Mar 2011 10:04pm
29th Mar 2011 10:04pm
The Ward - 1 West
My head is so full of nothing real - it hurts.
I open my eyes and see nothing real - to me.
I see the faces of no expression
on a head that barely moves.
Another body quivers, convulses and then
a tear in its loneliness
drops upon a week-old newspaper,
coffee stained,
tear stained.
My head needs to separate from my body
- for a while.
Sometimes I close my eyes to help
- but, no, it hurts more.
Then blackness whirls around me.
Snowflakes of coal dust flurry
In sulphurous patterns - clogging -
Clogging the senses...
I open my eyes and see nothing real - to me.
I see the faces of no expression
on a head that barely moves.
Another body quivers, convulses and then
a tear in its loneliness
drops upon a week-old newspaper,
coffee stained,
tear stained.
My head needs to separate from my body
- for a while.
Sometimes I close my eyes to help
- but, no, it hurts more.
Then blackness whirls around me.
Snowflakes of coal dust flurry
In sulphurous patterns - clogging -
Clogging the senses...
840 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by fishead
