Submissions by jadielue (Jade.)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
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SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2014 8:08am
23rd Jan 2014 8:08am
too slowly, it comes
I couldn't write down who I am.
if I had a gun pressed to your head
and you had to write it yourself
you'd do okay.
I'm different than that though,
you're different too,
I think that's why we're locked in this room
with a gun, a pen, a paper, you and I.
if I had a gun pressed to your head
and you had to write it yourself
you'd do okay.
I'm different than that though,
you're different too,
I think that's why we're locked in this room
with a gun, a pen, a paper, you and I.
584 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2014 8:04am
23rd Jan 2014 8:04am
As Useless As Metal Lights
Your eyes are bronze cathedrals
of blue
why must I have you when you're so
used
no,
I shouldn't think that way,
you shouldn't make me think that way
I shouldn't have you.
of blue
why must I have you when you're so
used
no,
I shouldn't think that way,
you shouldn't make me think that way
I shouldn't have you.
502 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Jan 2014 7:06am
21st Jan 2014 7:06am
I Forgot You
When I touched my lips to your glass I forgot you,
I stole a kiss from your picture, the paper lips of yours
not quite the same, but better than the cold, dry desert air I see and breath and feel when I open my eyes.
There is a candle in this house, and there is nothing else. When the candle is lit and burns and burns it swallows the house slowly, the only end to this is to open the door.
I hate it when you're not here, and before I remember what you do with your hands and the expression that you wear when you walk out of our home.
Stop me, in this memory,...
I stole a kiss from your picture, the paper lips of yours
not quite the same, but better than the cold, dry desert air I see and breath and feel when I open my eyes.
There is a candle in this house, and there is nothing else. When the candle is lit and burns and burns it swallows the house slowly, the only end to this is to open the door.
I hate it when you're not here, and before I remember what you do with your hands and the expression that you wear when you walk out of our home.
Stop me, in this memory,...
631 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Sep 2013 2:29am
27th Sep 2013 2:29am
Bent
Foreign bodies in the turbulent air adhere
to the light fixtures, and to the ends of your
lashes on your closed eyes.. The cloudy
blue of your irises, which are momentarily hidden
strike me as original, though
I've seen that color thousands of times.
You're new to me, made up of old, known things,
and you own them well, with care, and I am frozen
for lack of a better gesture.
You are funny sometimes, in your actions, and your
naïveté, but it doesn't matter.
Because I accept them as you must no doubt accept me.
to the light fixtures, and to the ends of your
lashes on your closed eyes.. The cloudy
blue of your irises, which are momentarily hidden
strike me as original, though
I've seen that color thousands of times.
You're new to me, made up of old, known things,
and you own them well, with care, and I am frozen
for lack of a better gesture.
You are funny sometimes, in your actions, and your
naïveté, but it doesn't matter.
Because I accept them as you must no doubt accept me.
923 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Sep 2013 2:24am
27th Sep 2013 2:24am
.
Some look to others and see their faces, lips veiling white teeth, bringing desire,
and they only want a kiss or two.
When I look at you, where I stand, you being you, tall, blonde, with your voice as deep as thunder, I just want to hold your hand.
and they only want a kiss or two.
When I look at you, where I stand, you being you, tall, blonde, with your voice as deep as thunder, I just want to hold your hand.
685 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Feb 2013 8:55am
4th Feb 2013 8:55am
Naive
It isn't fair but I keep pouring
a broken glass
for you.
a broken glass
for you.
810 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
4th Feb 2013 5:37am
4th Feb 2013 5:37am
Robby
There was hope in their mouths that felt like
feathers between their teeth.
The death of a friend, never a lover, they joke
that he would liked to have been though.
She was beautiful and through the translation
of light, mirrors and smoke from the surrounding
cigarettes, everything was weakening around her
and his head and heart certainly couldn't take it.
They called him "chicken" in high school, a nickname
that constantly, and ironically pecked at his brain,
his every step, his world.
He passed on like a chicken too,...
feathers between their teeth.
The death of a friend, never a lover, they joke
that he would liked to have been though.
She was beautiful and through the translation
of light, mirrors and smoke from the surrounding
cigarettes, everything was weakening around her
and his head and heart certainly couldn't take it.
They called him "chicken" in high school, a nickname
that constantly, and ironically pecked at his brain,
his every step, his world.
He passed on like a chicken too,...
978 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
22nd Jan 2013 4:15am
22nd Jan 2013 4:15am
Room 1408
Alone with the silent revelry of the youth that was once swollen in the wall paper
and the paste behind.
The knowledge that at any moment, it can all be screwed up, and broken when the room, and it's vents will spit up something you've never met before. Something that was someone, and is now a something that you see only in a fast, sick cloud of darkness going behind the wall to the next room, and only after a much too long reaction time.
To have sympathy is to know they killed themselves, and it only twists your thoughts to blame the room, the room you yourself have...
and the paste behind.
The knowledge that at any moment, it can all be screwed up, and broken when the room, and it's vents will spit up something you've never met before. Something that was someone, and is now a something that you see only in a fast, sick cloud of darkness going behind the wall to the next room, and only after a much too long reaction time.
To have sympathy is to know they killed themselves, and it only twists your thoughts to blame the room, the room you yourself have...
679 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Dec 2012 7:04am
6th Dec 2012 7:04am
Printcess
She fell
like a cloud
becoming fog
again.
like a cloud
becoming fog
again.
629 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Dec 2012 7:18am
5th Dec 2012 7:18am
Denying Jupiter
In beds, sprawled after misunderstood days
Partaking the night with tears mingling with hairspray in colored hair
Posters line the walls shouting detachment
Thinking deeply about every possibility, feeling guilty, afraid, lonely again
Their rooms filled with noise: music notes, drama, comedy, and documentation
Even whispers to pets, and stuffed, lifelong friends don't go unheard
Some have blankets, others just covers
In beds, some shared, some alone, there's no acceptance of something else
Jupiter spins undaunted by it's status of not being, and not existing,...
Partaking the night with tears mingling with hairspray in colored hair
Posters line the walls shouting detachment
Thinking deeply about every possibility, feeling guilty, afraid, lonely again
Their rooms filled with noise: music notes, drama, comedy, and documentation
Even whispers to pets, and stuffed, lifelong friends don't go unheard
Some have blankets, others just covers
In beds, some shared, some alone, there's no acceptance of something else
Jupiter spins undaunted by it's status of not being, and not existing,...
885 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
3rd Dec 2012 7:38am
3rd Dec 2012 7:38am
facing the edge
the church's doors slammed tightly
and the subsequent vibrations jarred a mystery loose.
the roads had shaken, and the buildings had rose and then
fallen, imbedding that phobic, and empty, pained response in
their limbs again, as their prayers had.
a calico cat had looked into the eyes of her owner and forgotten
every wrongdoing ever done,
and the subsequent vibrations jarred a mystery loose.
the roads had shaken, and the buildings had rose and then
fallen, imbedding that phobic, and empty, pained response in
their limbs again, as their prayers had.
a calico cat had looked into the eyes of her owner and forgotten
every wrongdoing ever done,
659 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Nov 2012 4:33am
20th Nov 2012 4:33am
Things and Thoughts About Ladders
A former ladder bid farewell to it's
home of the last thirty-six years, it's
cap was tipped to the side, guarding
non-existent eyes from the burst of
meteorites. It's rusted stands were
legs walking away from garbage-strewn
concrete and streets.
A final night alone. Don't stand
by me to hold me up safely with
your slowly worn hands, I always did my job.
But no, I can't walk farther than this,
so I'll collapse in on my frame, this
barrier that wont allow me farther,
my very own self, so when you come again
to open up shop...
home of the last thirty-six years, it's
cap was tipped to the side, guarding
non-existent eyes from the burst of
meteorites. It's rusted stands were
legs walking away from garbage-strewn
concrete and streets.
A final night alone. Don't stand
by me to hold me up safely with
your slowly worn hands, I always did my job.
But no, I can't walk farther than this,
so I'll collapse in on my frame, this
barrier that wont allow me farther,
my very own self, so when you come again
to open up shop...
520 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by jadielue (Jade.)
