Submissions by goldenmyst
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Goldenmyst, 58 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.”
Ship Island
Ship Island
My beach quest lands me with a redhead whose eyes speak of loneliness. “Is this your first time to the island? It’s Mississippi’s paradise. The water is crystal clear. Just look at all the happy people on the beach.”
She squints as though having found a strange sea creature. “Do you make conversation with all the girls in string bikinis? Or is it my eyes that attract you? I’m probably not your type. I’m a shy girl. You, on the other hand, are bold. But really I’m quite a boring person. There are plenty of other beauties to court. Hey, look at that one in...
My beach quest lands me with a redhead whose eyes speak of loneliness. “Is this your first time to the island? It’s Mississippi’s paradise. The water is crystal clear. Just look at all the happy people on the beach.”
She squints as though having found a strange sea creature. “Do you make conversation with all the girls in string bikinis? Or is it my eyes that attract you? I’m probably not your type. I’m a shy girl. You, on the other hand, are bold. But really I’m quite a boring person. There are plenty of other beauties to court. Hey, look at that one in...
#romantic
#sea
#beach
#sensual
#crush
359 reads
4 Comments
Orange Grove
Orange Grove
My lover woman, Rowena is upgrading her R.N. license to a Nurse Practitioner. I am studying for my B.S. in hotel, restaurant, and tourism. We enrolled to wait until the job market improves.
Rowena and I take a job harvesting oranges in Plaquemines Parish down the river from New Orleans. We need extra cash between semesters. We bask in an Indian Summer day. I breathe in the fragrance of oranges on this December afternoon. Our sun-kissed bodies pass ghostlike through the grove. We giggle with delight under bright blue skies. Birds sail overhead, their...
My lover woman, Rowena is upgrading her R.N. license to a Nurse Practitioner. I am studying for my B.S. in hotel, restaurant, and tourism. We enrolled to wait until the job market improves.
Rowena and I take a job harvesting oranges in Plaquemines Parish down the river from New Orleans. We need extra cash between semesters. We bask in an Indian Summer day. I breathe in the fragrance of oranges on this December afternoon. Our sun-kissed bodies pass ghostlike through the grove. We giggle with delight under bright blue skies. Birds sail overhead, their...
#dreams
#morning
#night
#spiritual
#sensual
384 reads
2 Comments
We’ll Always Have Spanish Harlem
We’ll Always Have Spanish Harlem
“What would you like today, Mr. John?”
“What I want isn’t on the menu.”
“You mean me?”
“Give me a shot of mezcal with the worm, dead or alive.”
She hovers. “For your information, there are no live worms in our mezcal. Don’t believe what you see in the movies. And we haven’t gotten our liquor license yet. Mr. John, what do you do for fun other than impersonating a bad hombre?”
“I write.”
My unexpected answer is translated upon traveling from her ear to her brain as “I read.”
“We all read,” she...
“What would you like today, Mr. John?”
“What I want isn’t on the menu.”
“You mean me?”
“Give me a shot of mezcal with the worm, dead or alive.”
She hovers. “For your information, there are no live worms in our mezcal. Don’t believe what you see in the movies. And we haven’t gotten our liquor license yet. Mr. John, what do you do for fun other than impersonating a bad hombre?”
“I write.”
My unexpected answer is translated upon traveling from her ear to her brain as “I read.”
“We all read,” she...
#love
#romantic
#funny
#sensual
#crush
447 reads
4 Comments
Nuevo Laredo - Rewrite
Nuevo Laredo
Wife’s bodhisattva halo embraces the nativity
of a Mesoamerican Madonna holding her baby
in a circle of love.
Beatified in luminescence
Ascetic body lost to hunger
Golden daughter of creation whose son shines
Like the gold-leafed pages
In her book of divine love
His nursery rhyme eyes
Are a shanty-town of tears
Mother’s milk-less breasts grieve
In prophetic yearning for son’s rebirth
My beloved’s heartbeats are a pulsar
As her soul synchronizes
With the celestial harmony
Of maternal love...
Wife’s bodhisattva halo embraces the nativity
of a Mesoamerican Madonna holding her baby
in a circle of love.
Beatified in luminescence
Ascetic body lost to hunger
Golden daughter of creation whose son shines
Like the gold-leafed pages
In her book of divine love
His nursery rhyme eyes
Are a shanty-town of tears
Mother’s milk-less breasts grieve
In prophetic yearning for son’s rebirth
My beloved’s heartbeats are a pulsar
As her soul synchronizes
With the celestial harmony
Of maternal love...
#love
#mother
#children
#food
#homelessness
483 reads
4 Comments
Holly the Uber Driver – Dream Story
Holly the Uber Driver
Holly my hairstylist becomes an uber driver to make extra cash while her studio is closed due to the virus.
One day she is driving me around town. I ask her, “Can you drive me without a destination just to get out of the house?”
She grins and giggles, “No, because I’m so gorgeous and sexy you might read the special favor as flirting and get a crush...
Holly my hairstylist becomes an uber driver to make extra cash while her studio is closed due to the virus.
One day she is driving me around town. I ask her, “Can you drive me without a destination just to get out of the house?”
She grins and giggles, “No, because I’m so gorgeous and sexy you might read the special favor as flirting and get a crush...
#beauty
#city
#crush #sexy
#crush #sexy
516 reads
6 Comments
Ring of Centuries Inn
Ring of Centuries Inn
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...
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...
#marriage
#romantic
#dreams
#rebirth
#sensual
469 reads
3 Comments
A Scribner’s Tale
A Scribner’s Tale
Brooke says, “John when you told me about those bitches from the previous agency who took the belt to you I cried for you. Just thinking of what that tough leather on your soft bottom must have felt like made me wince. John, know that I will never try to force you into a career mold by brute force.”
“Like their namesake flower, those belladonnas enticed me with beauty whose touch was poison.”
“What drove them to such cruel measures?”
“They felt like I discredited their program by turning down their job offers...
Brooke says, “John when you told me about those bitches from the previous agency who took the belt to you I cried for you. Just thinking of what that tough leather on your soft bottom must have felt like made me wince. John, know that I will never try to force you into a career mold by brute force.”
“Like their namesake flower, those belladonnas enticed me with beauty whose touch was poison.”
“What drove them to such cruel measures?”
“They felt like I discredited their program by turning down their job offers...
#sex
#erotic
#BDSM
#LifeAsAWriter
#sensual
484 reads
8 Comments
Bohemian Chic
Bohemian Chic Poem
They live on the sidelines
of the yuppiedom depicted in Hollywood blockbusters
where people dream big
but eat ramen noodle soup at night
while drinking the broth
to sustain them in their hungry hustle.
These barista babes choose chicory over arabica
like a priest putting cheap wine in the chalice
when tithes are poor and his vestments threadbare
like the jeans on a hipster
once a fashion statement but now baggy
from a diet of ramen noodle soup
whose odes to youth become a legacy
of ink...
They live on the sidelines
of the yuppiedom depicted in Hollywood blockbusters
where people dream big
but eat ramen noodle soup at night
while drinking the broth
to sustain them in their hungry hustle.
These barista babes choose chicory over arabica
like a priest putting cheap wine in the chalice
when tithes are poor and his vestments threadbare
like the jeans on a hipster
once a fashion statement but now baggy
from a diet of ramen noodle soup
whose odes to youth become a legacy
of ink...
#love
#romantic
#coffee
#WritingPoetry
#poverty
472 reads
8 Comments
Reining in the Wild Appaloosa - Rewrite
Reining in the Wild Appaloosa
John is an old soul who makes eighteen Sol circles only to become a vegan just like his Mom. He drinks her carrot juice by the gallon. He asks her, “Mom if I drink too much carrot juice will I turn orange? And if I mix it with beet juice will I get purple and orange stripes?”
She tells him, “No sweetie. But your eyes will work better, so you can see to wipe the last smudge of carob cookies off your mouth so you can tell Mom the cat ate them.”
“But Mom, if we are what we eat then that makes me a vegetable.”
“No...
John is an old soul who makes eighteen Sol circles only to become a vegan just like his Mom. He drinks her carrot juice by the gallon. He asks her, “Mom if I drink too much carrot juice will I turn orange? And if I mix it with beet juice will I get purple and orange stripes?”
She tells him, “No sweetie. But your eyes will work better, so you can see to wipe the last smudge of carob cookies off your mouth so you can tell Mom the cat ate them.”
“But Mom, if we are what we eat then that makes me a vegetable.”
“No...
#mother
#dialogue
#son
463 reads
4 Comments
Black Cross for a Penitent Angel
Black Cross for a Penitent Angel
With only a master’s degree in music, I am lucky to land an instructor job at my local junior college. I am an instructor for these acolytes of the baroque masters of melody. Young pianist, flutist, and organist birth notes on high with fingers on fire. This is a two-year college where young Olympians excel. During their practice sessions, I just melt in my soma zone while the students strum my heart with the...
With only a master’s degree in music, I am lucky to land an instructor job at my local junior college. I am an instructor for these acolytes of the baroque masters of melody. Young pianist, flutist, and organist birth notes on high with fingers on fire. This is a two-year college where young Olympians excel. During their practice sessions, I just melt in my soma zone while the students strum my heart with the...
#loneliness
#friendship
#school
#LifeGoals
#teens
478 reads
6 Comments
Dinner With a Stranger
Dinner With a Stranger
Mom and I are approached in a parking lot at night by an espresso complexioned young woman. Unlike most beggars she asks us if we need any help instead of requesting alms for the poor. I ask her for directions to the hardware store. She says, “Let me show you,” and hops in the back seat of our car to guide us through the night.
While the woman directs us Mom says she is hungry and needs to go home.
The woman says, “Oh let’s go to my place so I can cook for you. I make a sumptuous gluten-free casserole of polenta and...
Mom and I are approached in a parking lot at night by an espresso complexioned young woman. Unlike most beggars she asks us if we need any help instead of requesting alms for the poor. I ask her for directions to the hardware store. She says, “Let me show you,” and hops in the back seat of our car to guide us through the night.
While the woman directs us Mom says she is hungry and needs to go home.
The woman says, “Oh let’s go to my place so I can cook for you. I make a sumptuous gluten-free casserole of polenta and...
#love
#friendship
#food
#risk
#family
358 reads
6 Comments
Mayan Mystique II
Mayan Mystique II
She says, “When the lights went out, I planned to pursue a Ph.D. in Mayan linguistics.”
“What was your thesis statement?”
“There is a manuscript from the Yucatán known as ‘Ritual of the Bacabs’ that speaks poetically of lovemaking. The ancient author says, ‘I dip, my wick with the petals of she who gave birth to you and the stamen of he who planted your seed. Thou art the yearning of the offspring of the womb, the pining of the progeny of the seed planters. Amen.’ I extrapolated from this that for Mayans...
She says, “When the lights went out, I planned to pursue a Ph.D. in Mayan linguistics.”
“What was your thesis statement?”
“There is a manuscript from the Yucatán known as ‘Ritual of the Bacabs’ that speaks poetically of lovemaking. The ancient author says, ‘I dip, my wick with the petals of she who gave birth to you and the stamen of he who planted your seed. Thou art the yearning of the offspring of the womb, the pining of the progeny of the seed planters. Amen.’ I extrapolated from this that for Mayans...
#love
#romantic
#erotic
#apocalypse
#college
588 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by goldenmyst