Submissions by muffinpoodle
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Drawing is my first and true love - I don't write much, so you know that when I do it's because I'm really feeling it. I love words. I try to use them well.
EROTIC POEM
Published
26th Mar 2016 00:50am
26th Mar 2016 00:50am
yielding
after our conclaves come the fever dreams;
ragged breaths in deep night's arrhythmia.
say that i'm yours, tell me keep my temper,
eclipse me, bewitch me, your little umbra.
nightshade berry lips and flowers in your mouth,
i've imagined you thus; the eye, the very storm.
kiss me all in negative, positively, poisonously catatonic,
invade my skin as you have my sigh; softly unfurl,
tumbling us down through liquid cascade
to land hard and soft and safe, reeling with adrenalin and vertigo.
yielding to you, i am captured; i am opened; wounded; wanted; found.
ragged breaths in deep night's arrhythmia.
say that i'm yours, tell me keep my temper,
eclipse me, bewitch me, your little umbra.
nightshade berry lips and flowers in your mouth,
i've imagined you thus; the eye, the very storm.
kiss me all in negative, positively, poisonously catatonic,
invade my skin as you have my sigh; softly unfurl,
tumbling us down through liquid cascade
to land hard and soft and safe, reeling with adrenalin and vertigo.
yielding to you, i am captured; i am opened; wounded; wanted; found.
600 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Mar 2016 00:41am
26th Mar 2016 00:41am
time is sordid
I recall a storm
how wind and rain ripped red through the sky
I could not see
summer moaned bitterly in the garden
the black ugly smell of its death
like licking raw blood
like a rusted moon
you said:
let my shadow lie
but I was delirious
wanting you still
to rock beneath me
and whisper what you dreamed
how wind and rain ripped red through the sky
I could not see
summer moaned bitterly in the garden
the black ugly smell of its death
like licking raw blood
like a rusted moon
you said:
let my shadow lie
but I was delirious
wanting you still
to rock beneath me
and whisper what you dreamed
514 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
20th Aug 2013 9:33am
20th Aug 2013 9:33am
The Portrait
A painter with a practised brush
A sitter who cannot sit still
A cynical philosopher
A letter on the windowsill
Beauty, innocence and faith
corrupted by intelligence
Feelings unrequited and
forbidden in a social sense
A portrait hidden deep away
in a dark and dusty room
What sins and horrors there may wait
behind a curtain in the gloom?
A wish made by a careless mind
can ruin souls, and murder bring
A pretty face and hair belie
A wretched, tortured, beastly thing.
A sitter who cannot sit still
A cynical philosopher
A letter on the windowsill
Beauty, innocence and faith
corrupted by intelligence
Feelings unrequited and
forbidden in a social sense
A portrait hidden deep away
in a dark and dusty room
What sins and horrors there may wait
behind a curtain in the gloom?
A wish made by a careless mind
can ruin souls, and murder bring
A pretty face and hair belie
A wretched, tortured, beastly thing.
646 reads
2 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
19th Aug 2013 4:58pm
19th Aug 2013 4:58pm
Poker Night
Mother Goose's children grown
met for a game of luck;
Busty Bo Peep sold body and sheep
in order to bet a buck.
Little Boy Blue had a horn of blow,
which lent him a nervous eye
When heavy-handed Peter Pumpkin
told him to fold or die.
The Queen of Hearts filled up on tarts,
chocolates, and fine wine as well,
While rude Jack Horner, plum drunk in the corner,
found it all funny as hell.
met for a game of luck;
Busty Bo Peep sold body and sheep
in order to bet a buck.
Little Boy Blue had a horn of blow,
which lent him a nervous eye
When heavy-handed Peter Pumpkin
told him to fold or die.
The Queen of Hearts filled up on tarts,
chocolates, and fine wine as well,
While rude Jack Horner, plum drunk in the corner,
found it all funny as hell.
724 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
29th Jul 2012 3:31pm
29th Jul 2012 3:31pm
Midnight Blue
These things are strange
These things, things we can’t see,
these things we only feel
And how do we know they’re real?
And yet they’re so much more
than anything else we’ve known.
You’re so much more
than anyone else
I’ve known.
I wanted to say to you
that I loved the way your face sets when you concentrate and only your lips move,
saying silent secret messages only you can hear
and because your favourite colour is midnight blue
just because
is why I bought that sweater and why I wore it on Christmas every year
for you....
These things, things we can’t see,
these things we only feel
And how do we know they’re real?
And yet they’re so much more
than anything else we’ve known.
You’re so much more
than anyone else
I’ve known.
I wanted to say to you
that I loved the way your face sets when you concentrate and only your lips move,
saying silent secret messages only you can hear
and because your favourite colour is midnight blue
just because
is why I bought that sweater and why I wore it on Christmas every year
for you....
1071 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Apr 2011 2:03am
15th Apr 2011 2:03am
gnome eyes
and that is so dumb that you could only sit in silence
like some kind of indoor garden gnome
condemned only to watch forever but never to partake in the joys of social interaction
just watching the people all go by in their lives of work and play
never knowing the happiness of true companionship
only ever watching
always watching
with those eyes...
those eyes...those gnome eyes...forever staring
staring into the heart of this world
seeing the collective soul of humankind
knowing its purpose
seeing all of time
the approach of the end of days...
like some kind of indoor garden gnome
condemned only to watch forever but never to partake in the joys of social interaction
just watching the people all go by in their lives of work and play
never knowing the happiness of true companionship
only ever watching
always watching
with those eyes...
those eyes...those gnome eyes...forever staring
staring into the heart of this world
seeing the collective soul of humankind
knowing its purpose
seeing all of time
the approach of the end of days...
874 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
25th Mar 2011 1:30am
25th Mar 2011 1:30am
The Silly Wish Poem
I wish for zebra print skinny-leg jeans
I wish for a t-shirt that says “I eat dreams”
I wish for a hairdo like the Goblin King
I wish for a peacock that knows how to sing
I wish for a green sequinned velvety cloak
I wish for someone to get my obscure jokes
I wish for moon boots, I wish for guitars
I wish for a zillion more wishes on stars
I wish for luxurious plentiful riches
I wish for my swagg to attract all the bitches
I wish that was all, but I’ve got plenty more
My mind is one big superficial wish store.
I wish for a t-shirt that says “I eat dreams”
I wish for a hairdo like the Goblin King
I wish for a peacock that knows how to sing
I wish for a green sequinned velvety cloak
I wish for someone to get my obscure jokes
I wish for moon boots, I wish for guitars
I wish for a zillion more wishes on stars
I wish for luxurious plentiful riches
I wish for my swagg to attract all the bitches
I wish that was all, but I’ve got plenty more
My mind is one big superficial wish store.
763 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Mar 2011 3:29pm
24th Mar 2011 3:29pm
Sketches
This page is your body;
This pencil, my kiss,
and love trails after
These graphite-lined lips.
I offer you passion,
through sketches unnamed;
I’ve doodled love notes ’til
These fingers grew stained.
This pencil, my kiss,
and love trails after
These graphite-lined lips.
I offer you passion,
through sketches unnamed;
I’ve doodled love notes ’til
These fingers grew stained.
824 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Mar 2011 9:45am
24th Mar 2011 9:45am
A Fantasy
I can feel your heartbeat.
I can feel the softness and the
curve of its encasement.
Fingers lace like threads,
gazes fix onto one another.
Yours is sweet red wine upon the grass.
The colours of your being
SING.
You’re RINGING out,
there’s a hardness in my throat,
my hands tingle.
You shake me to my core.
Your skin is soft and tastes of
apples dappled in dew.
I wish I consumed you completely.
I can feel the softness and the
curve of its encasement.
Fingers lace like threads,
gazes fix onto one another.
Yours is sweet red wine upon the grass.
The colours of your being
SING.
You’re RINGING out,
there’s a hardness in my throat,
my hands tingle.
You shake me to my core.
Your skin is soft and tastes of
apples dappled in dew.
I wish I consumed you completely.
738 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2011 8:28pm
23rd Mar 2011 8:28pm
On the Face of it
Behind the curtains of affectation
beneath the mask of stolen skin
between the sheets of spurious adulation
there is a man whose ashen grin
splits wide the veil upon his front
to something like a soul alight
while still his pretence bears the brunt
of reverence and odium both alike.
The fire of his élan electrifies.
The sparkle in his eye invites.
The image of himself he paints belies
the man concealed in all plain sight.
A kiss, a fuck, a valentine
from every aching-hearted fan
Aren't worthy of this ivory shine
this...
beneath the mask of stolen skin
between the sheets of spurious adulation
there is a man whose ashen grin
splits wide the veil upon his front
to something like a soul alight
while still his pretence bears the brunt
of reverence and odium both alike.
The fire of his élan electrifies.
The sparkle in his eye invites.
The image of himself he paints belies
the man concealed in all plain sight.
A kiss, a fuck, a valentine
from every aching-hearted fan
Aren't worthy of this ivory shine
this...
1171 reads
8 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2011 7:08pm
23rd Mar 2011 7:08pm
Jack
Would you take the pain back, Jack?
And paint my heart black, Jack?
You don't know jack, Jack.
About my feelings.
JACK.
And paint my heart black, Jack?
You don't know jack, Jack.
About my feelings.
JACK.
955 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by muffinpoodle
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