Submissions by gonezalo
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Jan 2018 7:38am
14th Jan 2018 7:38am
Ode to Rain
Rain falls upon the streets in January,
its footsteps pattering upon the sidewalks
as it goes for an early walk,
passed by rain
completing its morning exercise,
running along crevices and storm drains.
In the afternoon, it seats itself for lunch
in concave chairs beneath outstretched umbrellas
and doesn't wait for service;
it serves itself a glass of water
and nurses a light soup,
later washing its own dishes.
Its mind wanders, watching the sparrows
bathing in standing rain,
as the...
its footsteps pattering upon the sidewalks
as it goes for an early walk,
passed by rain
completing its morning exercise,
running along crevices and storm drains.
In the afternoon, it seats itself for lunch
in concave chairs beneath outstretched umbrellas
and doesn't wait for service;
it serves itself a glass of water
and nurses a light soup,
later washing its own dishes.
Its mind wanders, watching the sparrows
bathing in standing rain,
as the...
#rain
#water
747 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
13th Jan 2018 10:27pm
13th Jan 2018 10:27pm
Last Supper
She lay on the bed,
mouth agape, tongue protruded;
like a clepsydra,
she measured time with water,
popcorn crackling in her lungs.
Vanilla scoop eyes
in deep bowls blankly staring,
the unearthed teeth roots
and ringing oven alarm
declared the food uneaten.
mouth agape, tongue protruded;
like a clepsydra,
she measured time with water,
popcorn crackling in her lungs.
Vanilla scoop eyes
in deep bowls blankly staring,
the unearthed teeth roots
and ringing oven alarm
declared the food uneaten.
504 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Jan 2018 10:10am
6th Jan 2018 10:10am
Layovers
I migrate a lot from state to state,
you know?” she said, thumbing tape
to a wall affixing a calendar
of stock photos
of tulips and Mount Rainier
and sunny landscapes in January.
eyes fixed to her work, her nape
smelled of cigarettes and
Garnier Fructis, with glued-on
fingernails coated cerise—
the kind, i wondered, would
preclude wiping one’s own ass—
when the memory intruded
through the door;
sister wearing fake nails came crying
into my room; an...
you know?” she said, thumbing tape
to a wall affixing a calendar
of stock photos
of tulips and Mount Rainier
and sunny landscapes in January.
eyes fixed to her work, her nape
smelled of cigarettes and
Garnier Fructis, with glued-on
fingernails coated cerise—
the kind, i wondered, would
preclude wiping one’s own ass—
when the memory intruded
through the door;
sister wearing fake nails came crying
into my room; an...
548 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Jan 2018 3:14am
4th Jan 2018 3:14am
Meeting in Passau
3 rivers meet in passing;
they sit, drink black coffee,
converse in low voices, watch
the people in the beer garden,
smile at each other's jokes.
They stay the night,
wash laundry in the sink;
they kiss blessings onto
each other's cheeks, note
what's to come,
how they'll change on arrival
– really,
they are already there –
and continue course.
The people in the beer garden
still sit, watched by 3 rivers
who currently meet in passing.
they sit, drink black coffee,
converse in low voices, watch
the people in the beer garden,
smile at each other's jokes.
They stay the night,
wash laundry in the sink;
they kiss blessings onto
each other's cheeks, note
what's to come,
how they'll change on arrival
– really,
they are already there –
and continue course.
The people in the beer garden
still sit, watched by 3 rivers
who currently meet in passing.
#river
488 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
2nd Jan 2018 7:41am
2nd Jan 2018 7:41am
soft skeleton, short palindrome
soft skeleton, short palindrome,
pronounce your name;
polished and smooth,
press your fingertips into the loam
and find the remainder of your frame
beneath the ochre silt,
identify yourself;
dredge and raise
the chiffon of lantanas and maize
to prove that you're gestalt.
or embower yourself in salt deep,
where neither root nor ray calls home;
weave your head a blind komuso
and rehearse the stage, the feat,
than ever learn to stand on your own.
shallow grave, reprobate ruminant,
whisper. ...
pronounce your name;
polished and smooth,
press your fingertips into the loam
and find the remainder of your frame
beneath the ochre silt,
identify yourself;
dredge and raise
the chiffon of lantanas and maize
to prove that you're gestalt.
or embower yourself in salt deep,
where neither root nor ray calls home;
weave your head a blind komuso
and rehearse the stage, the feat,
than ever learn to stand on your own.
shallow grave, reprobate ruminant,
whisper. ...
528 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Dec 2017 6:57am
28th Dec 2017 6:57am
Awake, Awake
sometimes i wake with the
sheets like snakes wound around
my ankles
stare at the dried paint
pointing down from above
in tiny, judgmental stalactites
out of the murk, relieved,
emerge wide awake, sighing,
"it's morning."
but, moored there,
i let myself sink a league,
or two,
to feel again—
the campfire's coals,
too hot to touch
and cold to warm,
and the people
with transparent skin waving,
the scribbled paper and
the whites of its i...
sheets like snakes wound around
my ankles
stare at the dried paint
pointing down from above
in tiny, judgmental stalactites
out of the murk, relieved,
emerge wide awake, sighing,
"it's morning."
but, moored there,
i let myself sink a league,
or two,
to feel again—
the campfire's coals,
too hot to touch
and cold to warm,
and the people
with transparent skin waving,
the scribbled paper and
the whites of its i...
545 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Nov 2017 4:07am
15th Nov 2017 4:07am
Dancing Crabs and Deep Seas
a much older one; revisited and redone a bit
You poured your hopes into the sea
the time you visited the shore,
crossing over dancing crabs –
pulsing back and forth like
a heart monitor – burrowing
into sand potholes like skin pores.
The crabs clung to you like neglected
children, selfishly stealing the attention
you couldn't provide for them,
as you kicked sand the size of corpses
spelling a name and making hand-made hollow hearts
they didn't deserve anymore.
You formed castles, civilisations, ...
You poured your hopes into the sea
the time you visited the shore,
crossing over dancing crabs –
pulsing back and forth like
a heart monitor – burrowing
into sand potholes like skin pores.
The crabs clung to you like neglected
children, selfishly stealing the attention
you couldn't provide for them,
as you kicked sand the size of corpses
spelling a name and making hand-made hollow hearts
they didn't deserve anymore.
You formed castles, civilisations, ...
590 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
24th Oct 2017 10:26am
24th Oct 2017 10:26am
fossil park
the sunset hit an angle outside
a two-story window, painting
cream-colored apartments
ochre, the shumard oak swayed goodbye
to a chapter closed
and i live again
the mile loop that girds the lake
next to the junior baseball field
at fossil park
beyond the parking lot—
always empty,
except for that fire truck
(why was it parked behind the station
again?)—
past the public library david
called us to,
between
its
bookshelves
and through
the...
a two-story window, painting
cream-colored apartments
ochre, the shumard oak swayed goodbye
to a chapter closed
and i live again
the mile loop that girds the lake
next to the junior baseball field
at fossil park
beyond the parking lot—
always empty,
except for that fire truck
(why was it parked behind the station
again?)—
past the public library david
called us to,
between
its
bookshelves
and through
the...
588 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Oct 2017 2:30am
19th Oct 2017 2:30am
ghosts
unanswered phone calls;
"Hey, I'm in town tomorrow"—
Seen at 8:40
"Hey, I'm in town tomorrow"—
Seen at 8:40
487 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Oct 2017 6:29am
15th Oct 2017 6:29am
7:35
son stirs in bedroom;
squirrels scurry, the birds chirp,
steel beasts wheeze engines
awake; mother shushes pet,
voicing more noise than she stills
squirrels scurry, the birds chirp,
steel beasts wheeze engines
awake; mother shushes pet,
voicing more noise than she stills
612 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Oct 2017 3:31am
14th Oct 2017 3:31am
the day a father falls
the day a father falls is calm and warm outside;
humidity pandiculates along its asphalt bed
of dappled paisley shadows—
a sunshower
washes green suspendum leaves
and cars return—doors open, close, beset the street with noise of feet
percussing ground to hurry home. A routine rhythm making mum
the gentle thump
the hour in
the day a father falls.
quiet minutes pass in line like stepping round a sleeping
bum before you find him—dour, glum—
(mistrals of a season’s change:
the peppered scalp,
arms’...
humidity pandiculates along its asphalt bed
of dappled paisley shadows—
a sunshower
washes green suspendum leaves
and cars return—doors open, close, beset the street with noise of feet
percussing ground to hurry home. A routine rhythm making mum
the gentle thump
the hour in
the day a father falls.
quiet minutes pass in line like stepping round a sleeping
bum before you find him—dour, glum—
(mistrals of a season’s change:
the peppered scalp,
arms’...
489 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Oct 2017 3:21am
13th Oct 2017 3:21am
a quiet expedition
Years and years ago—a memory
veiled beneath a bedsheet
wakes up.
Midnight—
it should be asleep;
yet it peels the webbing from its feet
and steps from its cocoon,
digs those toes, hewn
from cot,
deep in
the seedy, brown rug,
grows trunks, and stretches.
In steady, rhythmic, tidal breaths
it swells across the darkened nest,
resting just before it steps
toward the doorway—"Is it really twelve?"
It frets the hour—the noise—itself,
the beat of soles, its heart, its chest ...
veiled beneath a bedsheet
wakes up.
Midnight—
it should be asleep;
yet it peels the webbing from its feet
and steps from its cocoon,
digs those toes, hewn
from cot,
deep in
the seedy, brown rug,
grows trunks, and stretches.
In steady, rhythmic, tidal breaths
it swells across the darkened nest,
resting just before it steps
toward the doorway—"Is it really twelve?"
It frets the hour—the noise—itself,
the beat of soles, its heart, its chest ...
496 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by gonezalo
