Submissions by oskar
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
LOVE POEM
Published
26th Apr 2013 11:17am
26th Apr 2013 11:17am
the great lovers
The Great Lovers
On a tiny island in the blue sea a villa built
by a tycoon to entertain his famous mistress.
He had the money she had the voice and
journalists had much to write about, fame is
attractive makes even the boring interesting.
Time passes few talks about them anymore
the villa is neglected, shuttered windows,
leaking roof, petrified roses in a vase and
dust that slowly dances when the house sighs.
The once perfect garden is a jungle, wild cats,
snakes and scorpion lurking in the grass.
Not much news emit from the...
On a tiny island in the blue sea a villa built
by a tycoon to entertain his famous mistress.
He had the money she had the voice and
journalists had much to write about, fame is
attractive makes even the boring interesting.
Time passes few talks about them anymore
the villa is neglected, shuttered windows,
leaking roof, petrified roses in a vase and
dust that slowly dances when the house sighs.
The once perfect garden is a jungle, wild cats,
snakes and scorpion lurking in the grass.
Not much news emit from the...
496 reads
STORY POEM
Published
25th Apr 2013 10:59am
25th Apr 2013 10:59am
through the keyhole of time
Through The Keyhole of Time
The houses were made of old timber, like a Russian village
on the endless steppe - maybe I had Dr Zhivago on my mind.
But where was Lara? I was in Russia once thought it sinister,
roads without light and black limousines gliding slowly by.
Lived in a house that had rough planks for floors and no
indoor loo, luckily it was summer that year.
At a café, the woman who ran it looked as a woman I loved,
and never lost my longing for. I visited the place, there were
accordion music and much gayety, but the woman I loved ...
The houses were made of old timber, like a Russian village
on the endless steppe - maybe I had Dr Zhivago on my mind.
But where was Lara? I was in Russia once thought it sinister,
roads without light and black limousines gliding slowly by.
Lived in a house that had rough planks for floors and no
indoor loo, luckily it was summer that year.
At a café, the woman who ran it looked as a woman I loved,
and never lost my longing for. I visited the place, there were
accordion music and much gayety, but the woman I loved ...
560 reads
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Apr 2013 10:15am
24th Apr 2013 10:15am
privatization of terror
The Privatization of Terror
In Afghanistan, Pakistan and Iraq bombs explodes,
drones fall killing the innocent. People who live
under this tyranny of terror, bury their dead and go
on living, as they must… terror will not bow them.
And now violence came to Boston (USA) that got
a worldwide coverage a market town in Pakistan
never gets. Privatized terror never pays, it kills and
wounds, but people will not submit to horror and
the endeavour of the criminals is in vain and deserve
nothing but utter contempt; whoever they are and
whatever...
In Afghanistan, Pakistan and Iraq bombs explodes,
drones fall killing the innocent. People who live
under this tyranny of terror, bury their dead and go
on living, as they must… terror will not bow them.
And now violence came to Boston (USA) that got
a worldwide coverage a market town in Pakistan
never gets. Privatized terror never pays, it kills and
wounds, but people will not submit to horror and
the endeavour of the criminals is in vain and deserve
nothing but utter contempt; whoever they are and
whatever...
578 reads
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2013 10:11am
23rd Apr 2013 10:11am
misinformation
The Misunderstanding
The doctor at the hospital told him grim news,
he hadn´t long to live. Outside the day looked
brighter than before what he had noticed
he now saw and deeply regretted his blindness.
Bought a packet of cigarettes, and since he was
dying anyway health didn´t matter anymore.
In a shop he bought a silk rope, long and strong,
he always liked silk it was so soft on the touch.
Home he made a noose, put it around his neck
climbed up on a table and fastened the rope to
a roof beam. The mobile phone rang, it was
the...
The doctor at the hospital told him grim news,
he hadn´t long to live. Outside the day looked
brighter than before what he had noticed
he now saw and deeply regretted his blindness.
Bought a packet of cigarettes, and since he was
dying anyway health didn´t matter anymore.
In a shop he bought a silk rope, long and strong,
he always liked silk it was so soft on the touch.
Home he made a noose, put it around his neck
climbed up on a table and fastened the rope to
a roof beam. The mobile phone rang, it was
the...
562 reads
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Apr 2013 7:15pm
22nd Apr 2013 7:15pm
once upon a time
Once Upon a Time
The small river and the tiny lake we used to swim
had muddy looking water, ugly fish and a crocodile
which ate a goat with a bell that continued to toll?
In the beasts stomach, and warned us when it was
time to get out of the water.
Gypsy children bathed here while their mothers
washed and watched by the shore.
Then the small river and the tiny lake was bought
by a consortium, a tall fence erected and work
began to make the place into a rural, nature park.
Where the river ends, a cascade falls in to the lake
and the...
The small river and the tiny lake we used to swim
had muddy looking water, ugly fish and a crocodile
which ate a goat with a bell that continued to toll?
In the beasts stomach, and warned us when it was
time to get out of the water.
Gypsy children bathed here while their mothers
washed and watched by the shore.
Then the small river and the tiny lake was bought
by a consortium, a tall fence erected and work
began to make the place into a rural, nature park.
Where the river ends, a cascade falls in to the lake
and the...
507 reads
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Apr 2013 11:27am
19th Apr 2013 11:27am
a friend in need
A Friend in Need.
The bar was a dark place more like a cave, a terminus for the hopeless,
where men, sat looking blindly at a TV screen on a nicotine yellow wall.
Out, side near empty beer crate, a dove leaning against a damp wall,
yes it was on its last legs. I fed it some grapes, red ones full of goodness.
The bird soon perked up tripped into the bar jumped on the counter and
terrorized the barman. Two drinkers came running out wanted to join
The AA; as for the rest it was too late they were past seeing anything.
Further down the road a cake...
The bar was a dark place more like a cave, a terminus for the hopeless,
where men, sat looking blindly at a TV screen on a nicotine yellow wall.
Out, side near empty beer crate, a dove leaning against a damp wall,
yes it was on its last legs. I fed it some grapes, red ones full of goodness.
The bird soon perked up tripped into the bar jumped on the counter and
terrorized the barman. Two drinkers came running out wanted to join
The AA; as for the rest it was too late they were past seeing anything.
Further down the road a cake...
589 reads
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
18th Apr 2013 9:57am
18th Apr 2013 9:57am
sweet inheritance
Sweet Inheritance
He was going to live
Forever,
Had honey with
His coffee
Every morning
But his allotted time
Was up
In the basement
30 litres of
Honey
Sadly his only son
Has diabetes.
He was going to live
Forever,
Had honey with
His coffee
Every morning
But his allotted time
Was up
In the basement
30 litres of
Honey
Sadly his only son
Has diabetes.
564 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
17th Apr 2013 6:32pm
17th Apr 2013 6:32pm
attic living
Attic living
The echo of wine is sadness, jokes told are
not funny and laughter is a bronchial cough.
Mirth gone when Sunday is despondent,
an autumnal leaf that drags itself along
a clammy asphalt road.
Wrinkled faces framed by nylon shawls,
hesitate by church steps as wanting to hear
more words of everlasting love;
before going home to empty rooms and
dripping kitchen taps.
October drizzle on Sunday´s best, bat wings
open up and the murmur of the future less
is a dying repeat; as the padre smokes
a cigar in the...
The echo of wine is sadness, jokes told are
not funny and laughter is a bronchial cough.
Mirth gone when Sunday is despondent,
an autumnal leaf that drags itself along
a clammy asphalt road.
Wrinkled faces framed by nylon shawls,
hesitate by church steps as wanting to hear
more words of everlasting love;
before going home to empty rooms and
dripping kitchen taps.
October drizzle on Sunday´s best, bat wings
open up and the murmur of the future less
is a dying repeat; as the padre smokes
a cigar in the...
550 reads
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Apr 2013 11:39am
17th Apr 2013 11:39am
toy gun
Toy Gun
First proper spring day time to dust
the old scooter and visit places
on roads few travel… Once I bought
a toy gun- well, I was a child-
it was shiny just like the one
Hoppalong Cassidy wore, he wasn´t
smoking but chewing gum instead.
After two days I got bored and gave it
to a boy in the neighbourhood.
His mother brought it back, they were
pacifists and any gun were bad.
Parents do no always get their way,
the boy became a general,
and his mother addressed him as “sir.”
My mother took the gun to the fish factory...
First proper spring day time to dust
the old scooter and visit places
on roads few travel… Once I bought
a toy gun- well, I was a child-
it was shiny just like the one
Hoppalong Cassidy wore, he wasn´t
smoking but chewing gum instead.
After two days I got bored and gave it
to a boy in the neighbourhood.
His mother brought it back, they were
pacifists and any gun were bad.
Parents do no always get their way,
the boy became a general,
and his mother addressed him as “sir.”
My mother took the gun to the fish factory...
598 reads
LOVE POEM
Published
15th Apr 2013 5:06pm
15th Apr 2013 5:06pm
her tears
Her Tears
Her green eyeshade is moisture of tears shed
long ago when she was young and in love,
now she sat in the foyer of her hotel like a fat
spider, unmoving but seeing and hearing all.
Dressed in black and in half-light diamonds
glittered her eyes and in the engagement
I gave her thirty years ago, she was beautiful
but spurned me for her father´s hotel.
Didn’t want to be here where love had died
and only pot plants thrived; I needed a room,
wrote my name in a ledger paid in advance,
went for a drink. The woman...
Her green eyeshade is moisture of tears shed
long ago when she was young and in love,
now she sat in the foyer of her hotel like a fat
spider, unmoving but seeing and hearing all.
Dressed in black and in half-light diamonds
glittered her eyes and in the engagement
I gave her thirty years ago, she was beautiful
but spurned me for her father´s hotel.
Didn’t want to be here where love had died
and only pot plants thrived; I needed a room,
wrote my name in a ledger paid in advance,
went for a drink. The woman...
636 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Apr 2013 11:28am
15th Apr 2013 11:28am
end of dreams
The End of Dreams.
It was going to be so good for you and me,
the future, less work, more leisure, more
equality and end of wars.
Now we have ended up vilifying the poor
bombing children in Afghanistan, and we
blame it on the pesky Taliban.
The poor kill their children because they
have too much time on their lazy hands
according to the politicians.
Hard working families is the new mantra
and if you haven´t got a job it is your fault
for not trying hard enough.
The future didn´t turn out the way we had...
It was going to be so good for you and me,
the future, less work, more leisure, more
equality and end of wars.
Now we have ended up vilifying the poor
bombing children in Afghanistan, and we
blame it on the pesky Taliban.
The poor kill their children because they
have too much time on their lazy hands
according to the politicians.
Hard working families is the new mantra
and if you haven´t got a job it is your fault
for not trying hard enough.
The future didn´t turn out the way we had...
611 reads
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
13th Apr 2013 10:28am
13th Apr 2013 10:28am
music lesson
Music Lesson
My uncle died, was on holiday in Piraeus,
a pig fell off a balcony.
He left a piano and since his wife didn’t
want it in her house, mother took it,
only because it would lend an impression
of high culture,
no one else in our neighbourhood had one.
I played on it day and night,
picked up tunes on radio and played
them on the piano;
people where impressed, mother too,
but she needed her rest worked long hours
at a fish canning factory.
One day, coming home from school,
a big empty space,
I cried...
My uncle died, was on holiday in Piraeus,
a pig fell off a balcony.
He left a piano and since his wife didn’t
want it in her house, mother took it,
only because it would lend an impression
of high culture,
no one else in our neighbourhood had one.
I played on it day and night,
picked up tunes on radio and played
them on the piano;
people where impressed, mother too,
but she needed her rest worked long hours
at a fish canning factory.
One day, coming home from school,
a big empty space,
I cried...
641 reads
DU Poetry : Submissions by oskar
