Submissions by goldenmyst
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction Goldenmyst, 53 years old, lives in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The poet and author believe, “Love blossoms even within the walls of a madhouse in hearts yearning to be free.”
EROTIC POEM
Published
Today 1:18am
Today 1:18am
Preservation of Petrifiable Wood
Preservation of Petrifiable Wood
We are a society ruled by women. Men have no economic or political power in our society. Only women can participate in our assemblies or hold office. Men are mainly breeding animals, much as cattle. We do breed with men. However, love, between men and women, is forbidden. Marriage is reserved solely as a union between women.
But my passion for men falls like the ruins of sanity in cascades of teardrops wept on rainy nights under the stars where unholy mantras of wolf howls dance on eardrums. The space-time fabric of celestial...
We are a society ruled by women. Men have no economic or political power in our society. Only women can participate in our assemblies or hold office. Men are mainly breeding animals, much as cattle. We do breed with men. However, love, between men and women, is forbidden. Marriage is reserved solely as a union between women.
But my passion for men falls like the ruins of sanity in cascades of teardrops wept on rainy nights under the stars where unholy mantras of wolf howls dance on eardrums. The space-time fabric of celestial...
#dark
#women
#lesbian
#erotic
#feminism
21 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
Yesterday 12:26pm
Yesterday 12:26pm
Dream 3-17-19
Dream 3-17-19
Our professor keeps the classroom
deliberately dark
So that with its Cathedral high ceiling
It will provide a church-like feeling
For us young poets to show respect for the craft
With the sacred silence
There is a projector machine to put work
That we especially want to share with the class
But each time a young woman takes advantage
By placing her poetry directly into the machine
Without waiting for the professor to do the honors
And her poems are invariably about sex
So after one class, I...
Our professor keeps the classroom
deliberately dark
So that with its Cathedral high ceiling
It will provide a church-like feeling
For us young poets to show respect for the craft
With the sacred silence
There is a projector machine to put work
That we especially want to share with the class
But each time a young woman takes advantage
By placing her poetry directly into the machine
Without waiting for the professor to do the honors
And her poems are invariably about sex
So after one class, I...
#romantic
#school
#LifeAsAWriter
18 reads
4 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
16th Mar 2019 3:08am
16th Mar 2019 3:08am
Au Naturel
Au Naturel
Rosa expresses her desire to feel the sun on her bare skin. I watch her stroll naked into her family’s rice field until she vanishes. After the second-hand makes three rotations, I follow her. On either side of me, the rice tassels wave in the wind as though acknowledging my passage.
Rosa’s family cannot understand her need to be nude outside. I tell her that her body, which to me represents the perfection of beauty in the female form, need not be hidden in pre-exhibition drapery. Her form reminds me of one of the statues of Aphrodite I saw in an art book...
Rosa expresses her desire to feel the sun on her bare skin. I watch her stroll naked into her family’s rice field until she vanishes. After the second-hand makes three rotations, I follow her. On either side of me, the rice tassels wave in the wind as though acknowledging my passage.
Rosa’s family cannot understand her need to be nude outside. I tell her that her body, which to me represents the perfection of beauty in the female form, need not be hidden in pre-exhibition drapery. Her form reminds me of one of the statues of Aphrodite I saw in an art book...
#erotic
#water
#nature #sensual
#nature #sensual
40 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Mar 2019 4:20pm
14th Mar 2019 4:20pm
Druidess Crashes Rites of Spring
Druidess Crashes Rites of Spring
My tattered dress hung from my shoulders across my breasts and down my dirt-stained thighs. I thought of my failed marriage to a man who couldn’t give but only knew his own needs. I thought of the children I gave birth to and how they probably wondered what happened to mama that she would disappear leaving them not even a letter to remember her by. I had been off my lithium for two weeks now. Long enough to feel the strange tides of raging emotions coursing through my mind and body leaving me lost in a torrent of confusion and despair.
...
My tattered dress hung from my shoulders across my breasts and down my dirt-stained thighs. I thought of my failed marriage to a man who couldn’t give but only knew his own needs. I thought of the children I gave birth to and how they probably wondered what happened to mama that she would disappear leaving them not even a letter to remember her by. I had been off my lithium for two weeks now. Long enough to feel the strange tides of raging emotions coursing through my mind and body leaving me lost in a torrent of confusion and despair.
...
#sex
#erotic
#pagan #witches
#pagan #witches
31 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
5th Mar 2019 4:19pm
5th Mar 2019 4:19pm
Diva Interview
Diva Interview
The Diva and reporter stand in the singer’s bedroom. “Why did you get into a relationship with your producer? Contract bait?”
“There may have been some of that element”
“Your music appeals to bisexual women. Is that a deliberate intention on your part? Or did it reflect your own sexuality?”
“Well, it was marketable. I won’t say whether I am attracted to women or not.”
“If you are capitalizing on lesbianism is that ethical if you are not oriented that way?”
“I think most lesbians are into straight women who pander to...
The Diva and reporter stand in the singer’s bedroom. “Why did you get into a relationship with your producer? Contract bait?”
“There may have been some of that element”
“Your music appeals to bisexual women. Is that a deliberate intention on your part? Or did it reflect your own sexuality?”
“Well, it was marketable. I won’t say whether I am attracted to women or not.”
“If you are capitalizing on lesbianism is that ethical if you are not oriented that way?”
“I think most lesbians are into straight women who pander to...
#lesbian
#bisexual
48 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
23rd Feb 2019 7:06pm
23rd Feb 2019 7:06pm
In the Eye of a Raven
In the Eye of a Raven
I float high above a sparkling red quartz canyon. A rushing river gushes over rocks below me with white foam. The river forms a silver thread tying the land together. With my raven black feathers outstretched, I catch the thermals and rise into the deep blue sky. As I drift higher and higher the land stretches out below me, a maze of gaping brown and red canyons with jagged black obsidian mountains stretching towards the heavens on the horizon ahead. I dive, plunging deep into the canyon, feeling the rushing wind in my fluttering feathers and...
I float high above a sparkling red quartz canyon. A rushing river gushes over rocks below me with white foam. The river forms a silver thread tying the land together. With my raven black feathers outstretched, I catch the thermals and rise into the deep blue sky. As I drift higher and higher the land stretches out below me, a maze of gaping brown and red canyons with jagged black obsidian mountains stretching towards the heavens on the horizon ahead. I dive, plunging deep into the canyon, feeling the rushing wind in my fluttering feathers and...
#women
#nature
#mythology
#feminism
#healing
54 reads
2 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
18th Feb 2019 00:44am
18th Feb 2019 00:44am
An Oasis for a Blue Wisteria Soul
An Oasis for a Blue Wisteria Soul
Sand clouds flap like angels wings across the dunes as the desert turns crimson. The blood of the prophet paints the sky. The muezzin calls from so far away. My pain is buried deep in my heart. They exiled me here to die where even my bones would dissolve into dust.
I had blasphemed Allah. She had spoken to me a whisper in the night her voice carrying on the wind in my dreams. My name is woman she said. Hold no other God above me. Keep me close to your heart. Never ever deny me. I am your betrothed.
I spoke the words...
Sand clouds flap like angels wings across the dunes as the desert turns crimson. The blood of the prophet paints the sky. The muezzin calls from so far away. My pain is buried deep in my heart. They exiled me here to die where even my bones would dissolve into dust.
I had blasphemed Allah. She had spoken to me a whisper in the night her voice carrying on the wind in my dreams. My name is woman she said. Hold no other God above me. Keep me close to your heart. Never ever deny me. I am your betrothed.
I spoke the words...
#women
#men
#MeToo
#suffering
#desert
72 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
17th Feb 2019 1:52am
17th Feb 2019 1:52am
Indian Mound Woman
Indian Mound Woman
The turquoise sky shines above her like a crystal sphere of blown glass. The forest below is a dark ocean of green. Chlorophyll colors stream into her eyes.
She feels waves of exquisite bliss penetrate the core of her feminine essence. She gazes down from atop the secondary knoll of Emerald Mound. Her solitude is complete with her alone upon the nipple rising from the breast of mother earth.
Laura descends the stairs to stroll the grassy ceremonial plaza. Her body is bathed in June heat. Her thin summer dress clings to her moist...
The turquoise sky shines above her like a crystal sphere of blown glass. The forest below is a dark ocean of green. Chlorophyll colors stream into her eyes.
She feels waves of exquisite bliss penetrate the core of her feminine essence. She gazes down from atop the secondary knoll of Emerald Mound. Her solitude is complete with her alone upon the nipple rising from the breast of mother earth.
Laura descends the stairs to stroll the grassy ceremonial plaza. Her body is bathed in June heat. Her thin summer dress clings to her moist...
#motherhood
#marriage
#sex #erotic
#sex #erotic
56 reads
4 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
16th Feb 2019 10:09pm
16th Feb 2019 10:09pm
Night of the Dead
Night of the Dead
The night of the dead seduces me as I walk past the fish market. The smell of cooking swordfish is sweet as I walk between the stalls gazing at a beefy man with a crimson scar running like a snake down his cheek. I stop and ask him how much his fish is. “Twenty pesos,” he says. I reach into my pocket and it is empty. I thank him and move on.
I walk through the gas lamp-lit streets past the rich patrones houses. I smell the acrid scent of smoking candles burning on street side altars. A young girl embraces a young man in a passionate kiss under a...
The night of the dead seduces me as I walk past the fish market. The smell of cooking swordfish is sweet as I walk between the stalls gazing at a beefy man with a crimson scar running like a snake down his cheek. I stop and ask him how much his fish is. “Twenty pesos,” he says. I reach into my pocket and it is empty. I thank him and move on.
I walk through the gas lamp-lit streets past the rich patrones houses. I smell the acrid scent of smoking candles burning on street side altars. A young girl embraces a young man in a passionate kiss under a...
#love
#women
#men
#romantic
#rebirth
49 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
10th Feb 2019 9:59pm
10th Feb 2019 9:59pm
Message in a Bottle
Message in a Bottle
I make my way to Canal Street where a warm and dry bus waits to whisk me to Lake Pontchartrain where sunbathing beauties are the wildflowers I seek.
I approach a ticket vending machine to buy my passage to a nature gallery of models whose artistry outdoes a painting on a wall. A songstress glides into my space with graceful ballerina steps. She is a petite elfin chanteuse who proceeds to feed the ticket machine her coins for me with her soprano singing reverberating.
Her cryptic message is...
I make my way to Canal Street where a warm and dry bus waits to whisk me to Lake Pontchartrain where sunbathing beauties are the wildflowers I seek.
I approach a ticket vending machine to buy my passage to a nature gallery of models whose artistry outdoes a painting on a wall. A songstress glides into my space with graceful ballerina steps. She is a petite elfin chanteuse who proceeds to feed the ticket machine her coins for me with her soprano singing reverberating.
Her cryptic message is...
#erotic
#nature
#magic #sensual
#magic #sensual
59 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
5th Feb 2019 1:32am
5th Feb 2019 1:32am
Tangiers Afternoon
Tangiers Afternoon
She breathes like the breeze in a tamarind grove upon his face. Her henna-dyed tresses drift by him like thunderclouds laced with lightning in the marketplace. They ignite memories of the Tangiers where once his rose glistened with pearls of dew born in desire.
She caressed his wrinkled body with fingers soft as rain and bathed him in her fountain of youth. With rose petal hands she washed him in sunlight and combed the snowy hair on the roof of his head in their May December love.
They met in the Casbah when he stepped down the...
She breathes like the breeze in a tamarind grove upon his face. Her henna-dyed tresses drift by him like thunderclouds laced with lightning in the marketplace. They ignite memories of the Tangiers where once his rose glistened with pearls of dew born in desire.
She caressed his wrinkled body with fingers soft as rain and bathed him in her fountain of youth. With rose petal hands she washed him in sunlight and combed the snowy hair on the roof of his head in their May December love.
They met in the Casbah when he stepped down the...
#grief
#marriage
#romantic
#death
#Africa
37 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Feb 2019 12:13pm
3rd Feb 2019 12:13pm
Crowd Control
Crowd Control
The crowd control
Needs someone to disturb the peace
As milady and her hobo knight
Survey the scene from the tent city
While sheltered from the sun
In our canvas home
To protect us from heat
With troops massing on the perimeter
On a day like any other day
The crowd control
Needs someone to disturb the peace
As milady and her hobo knight
Survey the scene from the tent city
While sheltered from the sun
In our canvas home
To protect us from heat
With troops massing on the perimeter
On a day like any other day
#homelessness
#poverty
#rebellion
34 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by goldenmyst
