Submissions by goldenmyst
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction Goldenmyst, 52 years old, lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The poet and author believes, “Love blossoms even within the walls of a madhouse in hearts yearning to be free.”
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
Yesterday 3:19am
Yesterday 3:19am
Town Square Denver 1984
Town Square Denver 1984
Hari Krishna Festival
Means free vegan food
My wandering shoes create a wake
Of athletic atheism
For starry-eyed God mongers
Reciting mind-numbing munchies
For floating zombies of Narnia
But the moon-faced Haitians smile
Hari Krishna Festival
Means free vegan food
My wandering shoes create a wake
Of athletic atheism
For starry-eyed God mongers
Reciting mind-numbing munchies
For floating zombies of Narnia
But the moon-faced Haitians smile
#city
#religion
11 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Jan 2019 3:05am
18th Jan 2019 3:05am
Beauty Lives On
Beauty Lives On
Crimson moon lipstick
Sign of oracular melody
Whose tarot smile beams luster
With lingerie latitudes as savior
Woven in webs of miracle
By the natural fauna that is woman
Who flips man’s railroad switch
To hustle his corpuscles down south
On a soul train to grand central station
Whose conductor steers through the necromancy
Of a girl Friday on an LP track to R&B heaven
Crimson moon lipstick
Sign of oracular melody
Whose tarot smile beams luster
With lingerie latitudes as savior
Woven in webs of miracle
By the natural fauna that is woman
Who flips man’s railroad switch
To hustle his corpuscles down south
On a soul train to grand central station
Whose conductor steers through the necromancy
Of a girl Friday on an LP track to R&B heaven
#love
#women
#men
#romantic
#healing
32 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
13th Jan 2019 1:18am
13th Jan 2019 1:18am
Vagrant in the House of Women
Vagrant in the House of Women
He sleeps in sodium light shadows. There, whiskey weary souls expire like angels in the fetid night air. Their cardiac cauldrons pump like lovers in a final tryst.
On Christmas Eve the Soup Kitchen runs out of meals. The last cup of milk is served. The bewildered hobo roams the storefronts in search of Yuletide generosity from restaurant owners. When he rounds a corner, an angel holds his hand and opens her van door.
His heavenly companion gives him a derriere boost and he feels the warmth of her hand through his...
He sleeps in sodium light shadows. There, whiskey weary souls expire like angels in the fetid night air. Their cardiac cauldrons pump like lovers in a final tryst.
On Christmas Eve the Soup Kitchen runs out of meals. The last cup of milk is served. The bewildered hobo roams the storefronts in search of Yuletide generosity from restaurant owners. When he rounds a corner, an angel holds his hand and opens her van door.
His heavenly companion gives him a derriere boost and he feels the warmth of her hand through his...
#women
#romantic
#angels
#homelessness
#sensual
22 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
31st Dec 2018 4:33am
31st Dec 2018 4:33am
Echo of Summer
Echo of Summer
While walking down Decatur Street, I see a woman lying in the grass in Jackson Square. She fascinates me. The freedom of youth sweeps me away and so I watch her.
It is a bright sunny September day. There are cool breezes off the river as she lays in her summer dress, with her thighs and back bare, and sunbathing in the grass. My view is of her lying on her side while looking across the fresh green grass at the bright orange marigolds which fill her little corner of Jackson Square.
She looks up at the black iron fence which borders the...
While walking down Decatur Street, I see a woman lying in the grass in Jackson Square. She fascinates me. The freedom of youth sweeps me away and so I watch her.
It is a bright sunny September day. There are cool breezes off the river as she lays in her summer dress, with her thighs and back bare, and sunbathing in the grass. My view is of her lying on her side while looking across the fresh green grass at the bright orange marigolds which fill her little corner of Jackson Square.
She looks up at the black iron fence which borders the...
#women
#beauty
#city #nature
#city #nature
55 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
29th Dec 2018 11:47pm
29th Dec 2018 11:47pm
Ghetto Lions
Ghetto Lions
Paul’s friends gather into a sepia photograph like ghosts from a Fitzgerald novel wearing suspenders and dressed for the night. His partner from another life Ted meets him in a room full of tears where memories stalk his lonely hours. Their feet glide across the carpet while he carries a book to spark conversation with the spaces between them growing.
Ted’s sibling Sonny opens the door to brotherhood with Paul who teeters on the brink of monasticism. His buzz carries him through the threshold into the birth of a Jazz night in old New Orleans. But the chair...
Paul’s friends gather into a sepia photograph like ghosts from a Fitzgerald novel wearing suspenders and dressed for the night. His partner from another life Ted meets him in a room full of tears where memories stalk his lonely hours. Their feet glide across the carpet while he carries a book to spark conversation with the spaces between them growing.
Ted’s sibling Sonny opens the door to brotherhood with Paul who teeters on the brink of monasticism. His buzz carries him through the threshold into the birth of a Jazz night in old New Orleans. But the chair...
#women
#romantic
#city
#night
#surreal
52 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Dec 2018 2:37am
28th Dec 2018 2:37am
Swarmed by Swamis
Swarmed by Swamis
My friends gathered into a sepia photograph
Like ghosts from a Fitzgerald novel
Wearing suspenders and dressed for the night
My partner from another life Ted
Met me in a room full of tears
Where memories stalked my lonely hours
Our feet glided across the carpet
While I carried a book to spark conversation
With the spaces between us growing
His sibling Sonny opened the door to brotherhood
With me teetering on the brink of monasticism
My buzz carried me through the threshold
Into the birth of a...
My friends gathered into a sepia photograph
Like ghosts from a Fitzgerald novel
Wearing suspenders and dressed for the night
My partner from another life Ted
Met me in a room full of tears
Where memories stalked my lonely hours
Our feet glided across the carpet
While I carried a book to spark conversation
With the spaces between us growing
His sibling Sonny opened the door to brotherhood
With me teetering on the brink of monasticism
My buzz carried me through the threshold
Into the birth of a...
#women
#men
#music
#memories
#nostalgia
36 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Dec 2018 5:05am
27th Dec 2018 5:05am
Spirit Lake
Spirit Lake
Far in the North Country, in a land of jagged mountains, ice, and perpetual winds lies Spirit Lake.
Navajo Indian lore spoke of an iridescent jewel of a lake high in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It was said to be as deep as the ocean. Its location was lost in the foggy memory of the ancient medicine man, Bear Paw.
Running Deer ran like a mountain lion across the barren gravelly brown land of northern New Mexico. Above him was a massive escarpment glowing scarlet in the dying embers of sunset. As he ran, his mind raced too. He could smell...
Far in the North Country, in a land of jagged mountains, ice, and perpetual winds lies Spirit Lake.
Navajo Indian lore spoke of an iridescent jewel of a lake high in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It was said to be as deep as the ocean. Its location was lost in the foggy memory of the ancient medicine man, Bear Paw.
Running Deer ran like a mountain lion across the barren gravelly brown land of northern New Mexico. Above him was a massive escarpment glowing scarlet in the dying embers of sunset. As he ran, his mind raced too. He could smell...
#nature
#mountains
#aging #desert
#aging #desert
53 reads
5 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
23rd Dec 2018 3:17am
23rd Dec 2018 3:17am
The Takla Makan Mystic (a story from the infancy of my prose writing)
The Takla Makan Mystic
(a story from the infancy of my prose writing)
The warm dry air and burning yellow sands stretched out to the horizon. The sand dunes had exquisite forms and ripples and dust devils swirled about this harsh brutal land.
The train pushed ahead and Gesar thought about home. Back home, far away from the desolate Takla Makan desert, was a land of rolling green mountains and mists with the Yangtze cutting deep gorges. There, panda bears lived high up in the forest of bamboo and eucalyptus. There it was peaceful in some...
(a story from the infancy of my prose writing)
The warm dry air and burning yellow sands stretched out to the horizon. The sand dunes had exquisite forms and ripples and dust devils swirled about this harsh brutal land.
The train pushed ahead and Gesar thought about home. Back home, far away from the desolate Takla Makan desert, was a land of rolling green mountains and mists with the Yangtze cutting deep gorges. There, panda bears lived high up in the forest of bamboo and eucalyptus. There it was peaceful in some...
#religion
#Buddhist
#Taoism #freedom
#Taoism #freedom
38 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Dec 2018 6:12am
18th Dec 2018 6:12am
Garden of Unearthly Delights
Garden of Unearthly Delights
1
Nova
The star, Riga, was a brilliant glowing orb filling the monitor at the moon base. Phillip had news that would soon cast darkness over the future. He approached Gudonov. “I’ve got the results of the solar probe, Helios. We have 100 years at the most. Then life-giving Riga will become like the Hindu god Shiva, death, the destroyer of worlds.”
“You mean nova?”
“It’s a certainty.”
The child sat before the luminous computer monitor. She punched - enter - file -...
1
Nova
The star, Riga, was a brilliant glowing orb filling the monitor at the moon base. Phillip had news that would soon cast darkness over the future. He approached Gudonov. “I’ve got the results of the solar probe, Helios. We have 100 years at the most. Then life-giving Riga will become like the Hindu god Shiva, death, the destroyer of worlds.”
“You mean nova?”
“It’s a certainty.”
The child sat before the luminous computer monitor. She punched - enter - file -...
#wife
#husband
#romantic
#universe
#stars
39 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Dec 2018 00:42am
18th Dec 2018 00:42am
Tijuana Blues
Tijuana Blues
The light waned on the tumbleweed desert. Tijuana lay ahead. Its lights cast a pale yellow glow on the countryside. Arty opened the window of his Austin and breathed the warm sweet air. The last glow of sun swelled in the west.
Arty drove past the bars and broken down buildings with balconies. Finally, he arrived at the hotel. He carried his bags up the rickety stairs and to his room. Etched on the door were the words, “Yankee go home.”
The room was a dingy closet-sized space. It had a wash basin with brown stains and a mirror with a crack down...
The light waned on the tumbleweed desert. Tijuana lay ahead. Its lights cast a pale yellow glow on the countryside. Arty opened the window of his Austin and breathed the warm sweet air. The last glow of sun swelled in the west.
Arty drove past the bars and broken down buildings with balconies. Finally, he arrived at the hotel. He carried his bags up the rickety stairs and to his room. Etched on the door were the words, “Yankee go home.”
The room was a dingy closet-sized space. It had a wash basin with brown stains and a mirror with a crack down...
#wife
#husband
#marriage #city
#marriage #city
34 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
15th Dec 2018 3:34am
15th Dec 2018 3:34am
An Amber Moment
An Amber Moment
Her neon lipstick smile
Puts me in a purple haze
With her wink a goodbye wave
Along with her headphone obsession
Whose music she dances to in riddles
With eyes closed like a book
On the final chapter of our escapade
Whose butterfly eyelashes flutter her farewell
In the luxury of a moment preserved in amber
Her neon lipstick smile
Puts me in a purple haze
With her wink a goodbye wave
Along with her headphone obsession
Whose music she dances to in riddles
With eyes closed like a book
On the final chapter of our escapade
Whose butterfly eyelashes flutter her farewell
In the luxury of a moment preserved in amber
#relationships
#breakup
#MovingOn
#sexy
#surreal
37 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Dec 2018 2:02am
15th Dec 2018 2:02am
When Dinosaurs Ruled the Bronx
When Dinosaurs Ruled the Bronx
A sliver of moon atop the wizard’s hat sky
Is enough to conjure the salamander in him
Who is an heir of a mob family in decline
From when dinosaurs ruled the Bronx
He is a cowardly chameleon who changes colors
Into a law-abiding citizen who delivers papers
When door to door racketeering is out of fashion
But he still runs bingo parlors in Jersey
To rake in some peanuts so he can post bail
And skip town to Ecuador
For a dry nose...
A sliver of moon atop the wizard’s hat sky
Is enough to conjure the salamander in him
Who is an heir of a mob family in decline
From when dinosaurs ruled the Bronx
He is a cowardly chameleon who changes colors
Into a law-abiding citizen who delivers papers
When door to door racketeering is out of fashion
But he still runs bingo parlors in Jersey
To rake in some peanuts so he can post bail
And skip town to Ecuador
For a dry nose...
#surreal
35 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by goldenmyst
