Submissions by nomoth
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
.
Don’t say it, do not haunt me
Follow a pence, a pole or garden path,
a shimmering lane soaked in a moonlit bath.
You own the starry stream, the current and the staff
They steady my waltz and the thrum of my laugh
But I am no mirror afore you
so do not haunt me please just send this note
with ash or fuse drawn from the churches pew
to be sewn within the linings of my sister’s coat
Drag me under, someone,
below nude celluloid, in all blemish,
before some fresh thought becomes meaningful once more.
It was all laden, ‘fore you spoke,...
a shimmering lane soaked in a moonlit bath.
You own the starry stream, the current and the staff
They steady my waltz and the thrum of my laugh
But I am no mirror afore you
so do not haunt me please just send this note
with ash or fuse drawn from the churches pew
to be sewn within the linings of my sister’s coat
Drag me under, someone,
below nude celluloid, in all blemish,
before some fresh thought becomes meaningful once more.
It was all laden, ‘fore you spoke,...
#meditation
#LordByron
452 reads
12 Comments
A ship rope knotted with cotton thread
I am maroon-cropped, sunken
and shipped out – The harbor wall,
I let my guard down with both dead legs
hanging. The numb floozy...a heretical
constant angel. Clung-to and taught with a line,
wearing to the shore all the wingless nike
and heavy shells of the love...the love that will have to be left behind.
These wet shoes hanging, dripping,
drying against the radiator.
The thymine aroma of black market rubber
and slave-labor lace...
there, where your deep eye shadow
with all...
and shipped out – The harbor wall,
I let my guard down with both dead legs
hanging. The numb floozy...a heretical
constant angel. Clung-to and taught with a line,
wearing to the shore all the wingless nike
and heavy shells of the love...the love that will have to be left behind.
These wet shoes hanging, dripping,
drying against the radiator.
The thymine aroma of black market rubber
and slave-labor lace...
there, where your deep eye shadow
with all...
#sea
#peace
#SelfReflection
465 reads
Méséglise-la-Vineuse – giving up the ghost
I whisper'd up to drown it out,
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
the lisping cuss of a dragonfly
and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli
was gathering before the hawthorn,
reaching through for their hips
and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought
as scrawny red as the dawn
I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists
my understudy, my young reserve
who was once so clear
in intention
and consequences ...
#childhood
#ghosts
#confessional
467 reads
11 Comments
O know where I are
visual for O know
#confessional
472 reads
11 Comments
Ivanhoe
visual for ivanhoe
#grief
#denial
#StreamOfConsciousness #graveyard
#StreamOfConsciousness #graveyard
535 reads
12 Comments
whistlejacket
viz for Eerie's Painting Words comp.
#childhood
#dreams
#admiration
798 reads
8 Comments
The view of a deserted island
I awoke with a start—
a dozen or so people were peering down
at me in a very curious way.
The last thing I recalled
was talking into my dictaphone,
repeating my conversation with a shopkeeper.
As I lie there, slowly looking up
at an old man, I tried to ask
what happened ; but only a weeping,
stumbling cry escaped his mouth.
I wanted to recall the last words
I had spoken into the dicataphone;
but, all I remembered were words
spoken by the shopkeeper:
"...unadulterated by anything but silence and its directions"....
a dozen or so people were peering down
at me in a very curious way.
The last thing I recalled
was talking into my dictaphone,
repeating my conversation with a shopkeeper.
As I lie there, slowly looking up
at an old man, I tried to ask
what happened ; but only a weeping,
stumbling cry escaped his mouth.
I wanted to recall the last words
I had spoken into the dicataphone;
but, all I remembered were words
spoken by the shopkeeper:
"...unadulterated by anything but silence and its directions"....
#strength
#violence
#war #AiOgwaga
#war #AiOgwaga
467 reads
8 Comments
Jayne and James
With the hand of my anger,
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
a fist of dolomite to the moonlight,
I forced this prescient night to bruise the floor
and turn up the corners of its sheet.
Where a life lay unbeholden to the laws of my eyes,
my radio and scent. A ley of dark beehives with black honey
dripping. Glistening under the thunder, the birthday parties
in which I didn't cry; for when I pulled back my hand,
would I, could I ever not give away their secret.
So I had them make for the morning
a mirror from the skin of a snake,
from which it...
#grief
#dark
#heaven
#emptiness
#RabindranathTagore
583 reads
3 Comments
these butchers' sketches
viz for butchers
#murder
#animals
#nature #holiday
#nature #holiday
531 reads
8 Comments
rother
visual for rother
#confessional
#historical
#childhood
#dreams
#city
707 reads
14 Comments
lambchop
viz lambchop
#anxiety
#confessional
609 reads
9 Comments
mason bees decorating the lids
visual: mason bees decorating the lids
#confessional
#nostalgia
652 reads
16 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by nomoth