Submissions by ivanagasparic
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm a poet only on foggy Saturday mornings.
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Feb 2014 3:01pm
27th Feb 2014 3:01pm
Devotion
It took me three months to learn to hate you.
I had to translate your textmessages
three times
because "I don’t know how to live without you"
definitely didn’t mean "I love you",
probably didn’t mean "I miss you",
and almost didn’t mean "I’m going to kill myself".
It took three months to realize
that I was not responsible for your happiness,
that the word "break-up" was not ether,
was not a cloud,
could not be blown away by a strong gust of devotion.
I kept tasting that word...
I had to translate your textmessages
three times
because "I don’t know how to live without you"
definitely didn’t mean "I love you",
probably didn’t mean "I miss you",
and almost didn’t mean "I’m going to kill myself".
It took three months to realize
that I was not responsible for your happiness,
that the word "break-up" was not ether,
was not a cloud,
could not be blown away by a strong gust of devotion.
I kept tasting that word...
1206 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Feb 2014 2:40pm
27th Feb 2014 2:40pm
Headlights
I'm autumn, you're spring.
Yet different, very different and so far away,
no matter what, one loved another unconditionally.
And my heart says what my heart wants —
as you once said love never changes, that only people do.
And sometimes I feel like so little has changed for you
and even less has changed for me,
and I can't think of anything else we could possibly do.
Do you remember the dream?
I remember the dream.
I painted your body pastels of red and blue and gray.
And I kissed you untill the morning,
untill there was a a...
Yet different, very different and so far away,
no matter what, one loved another unconditionally.
And my heart says what my heart wants —
as you once said love never changes, that only people do.
And sometimes I feel like so little has changed for you
and even less has changed for me,
and I can't think of anything else we could possibly do.
Do you remember the dream?
I remember the dream.
I painted your body pastels of red and blue and gray.
And I kissed you untill the morning,
untill there was a a...
690 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Feb 2014 10:02pm
26th Feb 2014 10:02pm
Inside my veins
I know someone who called his lover's body
a "crime scene".
But dear, it's my body that is a crime scene.
My body is lint and gasoline and matchstick.
My body is a brush fire.
It’s ticking, a slow alarm.
I have rain boots. Lots of them.
It isn’t raining anymore.
The words are coming back, honey.
The way they fit and jump in the mouth.
I want ice cream and long letters.
I want to read long love letters but
I don’t think you love me anymore.
I think I’m used up.
I think I’m the grit under your...
a "crime scene".
But dear, it's my body that is a crime scene.
My body is lint and gasoline and matchstick.
My body is a brush fire.
It’s ticking, a slow alarm.
I have rain boots. Lots of them.
It isn’t raining anymore.
The words are coming back, honey.
The way they fit and jump in the mouth.
I want ice cream and long letters.
I want to read long love letters but
I don’t think you love me anymore.
I think I’m used up.
I think I’m the grit under your...
691 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Feb 2014 8:57pm
26th Feb 2014 8:57pm
Hands like wolves
Hands were created for building things, right?
I've learned sometimes before you build something,
you must first destroy something else.
But these wildfires were the ones never supposed to be put out.
Let me burn.
Because their sole purpose is to burn forests to the ground,
transform living things to fertilizer,
making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It's almost paradoxical, that there must be death before birth.
My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection,
inside the pool of my best friends' blood.
An old teacher...
I've learned sometimes before you build something,
you must first destroy something else.
But these wildfires were the ones never supposed to be put out.
Let me burn.
Because their sole purpose is to burn forests to the ground,
transform living things to fertilizer,
making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It's almost paradoxical, that there must be death before birth.
My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection,
inside the pool of my best friends' blood.
An old teacher...
648 reads
0 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
25th Feb 2014 4:27pm
25th Feb 2014 4:27pm
Coffee covered linen
When I first met you, you waited
behind a pile of linen in the room next to mine,
and when you thought you were alone,
I saw you lay down on top of it.
You breathed in the scents of clean and fresh,
pressing the bile of desolation into your pores.
And from that day on
everything under the sun and moon
made me sad
even the blue water beads
that slid and spun along with the dulness of rain
against the windows.
You taught me to exist without gratitude.
You ruined my manners toward God:
"We're here simply to wait for death;...
behind a pile of linen in the room next to mine,
and when you thought you were alone,
I saw you lay down on top of it.
You breathed in the scents of clean and fresh,
pressing the bile of desolation into your pores.
And from that day on
everything under the sun and moon
made me sad
even the blue water beads
that slid and spun along with the dulness of rain
against the windows.
You taught me to exist without gratitude.
You ruined my manners toward God:
"We're here simply to wait for death;...
878 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
25th Feb 2014 4:18pm
25th Feb 2014 4:18pm
Dancing on eggshells
I was in love with the way you walked,
with how you carried yourself
and how your feet danced upon the ground.
I was in love with the silence
that wrapped all of the ends of your sentences
and how your voice hitched everytime
you were upset.
You used to call me princess
and I would melt.
And you used to have that glow in your eyes
when you would watch me from the audience.
It's never been easy, you know.
How sometimes I would wake up
and you wouldn't be there,
there would only be a note.
I fell in love...
with how you carried yourself
and how your feet danced upon the ground.
I was in love with the silence
that wrapped all of the ends of your sentences
and how your voice hitched everytime
you were upset.
You used to call me princess
and I would melt.
And you used to have that glow in your eyes
when you would watch me from the audience.
It's never been easy, you know.
How sometimes I would wake up
and you wouldn't be there,
there would only be a note.
I fell in love...
726 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by ivanagasparic
Page:
