Submissions by jadielue (Jade.)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
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NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
18th Jan 2015 10:44am
18th Jan 2015 10:44am
Viscount Aires
It's from 1959.
Made in Japan,
before things were
made in Mexico,
Taiwan, or China.
Doesn't matter.
It doesn't have film yet.
It shutters.
Even without film it shutters.
How does that feel, I wonder?
To take such a fleeting picture
of something and have nothing to
show for it.
And perhaps it never had film so it
can't miss it.
Cameras don't have feelings.
A simple, and curious part of me
doesn't believe that.
Made in Japan,
before things were
made in Mexico,
Taiwan, or China.
Doesn't matter.
It doesn't have film yet.
It shutters.
Even without film it shutters.
How does that feel, I wonder?
To take such a fleeting picture
of something and have nothing to
show for it.
And perhaps it never had film so it
can't miss it.
Cameras don't have feelings.
A simple, and curious part of me
doesn't believe that.
916 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
7th Dec 2014 3:35am
7th Dec 2014 3:35am
My Writing
I don't write as much because I don't feel as much.
828 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
7th Dec 2014 3:28am
7th Dec 2014 3:28am
Liebe. Love. Amour. Love.
I get glimpses of it in my chest
it feels like a warm pulse of sickness,
a change starting,
like a wound that isn't raw, but
content.
It's how I imagine the transition back to
breathing amniotic fluid would be.
Oh.
Learning, in the safety of someone else's
closed eyes.
it feels like a warm pulse of sickness,
a change starting,
like a wound that isn't raw, but
content.
It's how I imagine the transition back to
breathing amniotic fluid would be.
Oh.
Learning, in the safety of someone else's
closed eyes.
767 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Sep 2014 2:05am
4th Sep 2014 2:05am
Bark and Bite
The bark doesn't seem to be falling off
but rather peeling away,
taking with it
a membrane of mucus
perhaps it is sick
with a cold
it is Winter now
but the sick doesn't show
it only moves.
bubbles, and slithers,
cause their mothers taught
them that it is impolite
to show
when you are hurting
and it is only
to be seen
when you
want something.
I wondered then
why the bark was showing
me it's ill
and I found out not much later
that it was
hungry.
but rather peeling away,
taking with it
a membrane of mucus
perhaps it is sick
with a cold
it is Winter now
but the sick doesn't show
it only moves.
bubbles, and slithers,
cause their mothers taught
them that it is impolite
to show
when you are hurting
and it is only
to be seen
when you
want something.
I wondered then
why the bark was showing
me it's ill
and I found out not much later
that it was
hungry.
857 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
4th Sep 2014 1:50am
4th Sep 2014 1:50am
Water
In the ocean
I feel like the option
to float
doesn't exist.
There is only
being pulled under.
I feel like the option
to float
doesn't exist.
There is only
being pulled under.
914 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
15th Feb 2014 9:39pm
15th Feb 2014 9:39pm
Frozen
I had gotten
so fresh
with the body.
so fresh
with the body.
808 reads
1 Comment
STORY POEM
Published
29th Jan 2014 11:32am
29th Jan 2014 11:32am
Shipwreck Beach
Hungry tempestuous men clawing feral at
the sand.
Their clothes are a poor man's and it suits
their peasant names shone on their scowls,
and the beggars they are with hair unkempt.
Is it strategic to light fires for warmth? they ask
with their dumbed eyes, and in truth they just need
a friend.
Because horrifically splintered and calloused
hands from holding on for dear life,
all of their life,
makes them tire and hunger for a woman's
touch.
No, not in the way they'd say or readily admit.
From their mothers they...
the sand.
Their clothes are a poor man's and it suits
their peasant names shone on their scowls,
and the beggars they are with hair unkempt.
Is it strategic to light fires for warmth? they ask
with their dumbed eyes, and in truth they just need
a friend.
Because horrifically splintered and calloused
hands from holding on for dear life,
all of their life,
makes them tire and hunger for a woman's
touch.
No, not in the way they'd say or readily admit.
From their mothers they...
922 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
29th Jan 2014 11:13am
29th Jan 2014 11:13am
Even Bees
Trading dignity for flowers.
All yellow, some green because they are unripened,
all at the same time.
Does no one think the bees are hurting?
No, not because of global warming or pesticides
but because they think they're ugly.
Their thoughts buzz around their heads too,
defacing their purpose and divination, depressing
them to the point that they stare back down at their
stingers again and think about pulling the plug.
Or will I take someone with me?
The flowers don't care, they wouldn't notice me.
When...
All yellow, some green because they are unripened,
all at the same time.
Does no one think the bees are hurting?
No, not because of global warming or pesticides
but because they think they're ugly.
Their thoughts buzz around their heads too,
defacing their purpose and divination, depressing
them to the point that they stare back down at their
stingers again and think about pulling the plug.
Or will I take someone with me?
The flowers don't care, they wouldn't notice me.
When...
930 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Jan 2014 10:55pm
28th Jan 2014 10:55pm
End Haiku
The sun is frozen
and my eyes are pointed ice.
Someone has to know.
Weather falls in heaps,
blanketing the ground I walk.
I don't think it's fine.
The siren is slow,
it is broken and injured too.
I loved music so.
and my eyes are pointed ice.
Someone has to know.
Weather falls in heaps,
blanketing the ground I walk.
I don't think it's fine.
The siren is slow,
it is broken and injured too.
I loved music so.
764 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Jan 2014 5:48am
24th Jan 2014 5:48am
Crash
The superfluous accident
of ex's and wives
combined in your heart
like garbage
or traffic.
with jeans
and white dresses
muddy
from the water
to accumulate and fester
until you acknowledge one or
all
sometimes simultaneously
to make you sad
because sorrow is too big a word
when you have none left
to say.
of ex's and wives
combined in your heart
like garbage
or traffic.
with jeans
and white dresses
muddy
from the water
to accumulate and fester
until you acknowledge one or
all
sometimes simultaneously
to make you sad
because sorrow is too big a word
when you have none left
to say.
944 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by jadielue (Jade.)
