Submissions by poetryaccident (Poetry Accident)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
A late-life transfemme with many poems to share about death, dance, joy, survival, and the discovery of the self.
Velocities
Velocities
One step into the next
chapter closed with the blow
percussion not fully heard
mass more important than speed
velocity enough to do the deed
when A meets B to create C.
fault lines too weak to hold
the damage that broke the back
by voice or fist, the two the same
stresses concealed beneath the grade
vibrations hinted in waking times
not enough to cause concern
one in motion, the other not
forces move to compensate
momentum becomes the enemy
from zero to forty five
just a nudge to find the way
as...
One step into the next
chapter closed with the blow
percussion not fully heard
mass more important than speed
velocity enough to do the deed
when A meets B to create C.
fault lines too weak to hold
the damage that broke the back
by voice or fist, the two the same
stresses concealed beneath the grade
vibrations hinted in waking times
not enough to cause concern
one in motion, the other not
forces move to compensate
momentum becomes the enemy
from zero to forty five
just a nudge to find the way
as...
589 reads
2 Comments
Cardboard Tableau
My cardboard tableau
lend sight to the sounds
image fixed in my mind
why are you still the same?
I found you in the past
when my years were few
the music drew me there
ordained with cover’s view
records found behind your face
tapes concealed beyond the flare
doorway to life’s harmony
beyond the heroes fixed in ink
before MTV killed the star
the music rose from your throats
imagination lent your voice
to the tunes found within
the alter in bold colors drawn
photos of youth’s saviors
beyond mundane I worshiped...
lend sight to the sounds
image fixed in my mind
why are you still the same?
I found you in the past
when my years were few
the music drew me there
ordained with cover’s view
records found behind your face
tapes concealed beyond the flare
doorway to life’s harmony
beyond the heroes fixed in ink
before MTV killed the star
the music rose from your throats
imagination lent your voice
to the tunes found within
the alter in bold colors drawn
photos of youth’s saviors
beyond mundane I worshiped...
578 reads
3 Comments
Chapters
Chapters passed years ago, important while they were lived.
They center of my life, now hazy memories of time past.
There are hints of where I've been, the pictures of both people and place.
In the end they are left behind, the book of life ever written on.
Hidden words are out of reach, pages known but then not seen.
The years have passed, this is true, but what did happen is unclear.
Was it written in a secret ink, or in a code no longer known?
The reasons for the void are unclear, where are the chapters I could read?
Bookmarks through photos old,...
They center of my life, now hazy memories of time past.
There are hints of where I've been, the pictures of both people and place.
In the end they are left behind, the book of life ever written on.
Hidden words are out of reach, pages known but then not seen.
The years have passed, this is true, but what did happen is unclear.
Was it written in a secret ink, or in a code no longer known?
The reasons for the void are unclear, where are the chapters I could read?
Bookmarks through photos old,...
553 reads
1 Comment
Consent Respected
Knees are bruised by life’s delights
when bent to serve rapture’s bliss
the key to knowing when it’s so
falls to a word of joint restraint.
Judge not when two speak as one
life is too short for decrees to damn
when assent has found its mark
none are tarnished in reward.
The pure of heart will ask license
to move beyond their own space
not because assent will come
instead because denial is choice.
Consent colors all pursuits
be they naughty or be they nice
or even neutral to the eye
it matters only that sanction rules.
...
when bent to serve rapture’s bliss
the key to knowing when it’s so
falls to a word of joint restraint.
Judge not when two speak as one
life is too short for decrees to damn
when assent has found its mark
none are tarnished in reward.
The pure of heart will ask license
to move beyond their own space
not because assent will come
instead because denial is choice.
Consent colors all pursuits
be they naughty or be they nice
or even neutral to the eye
it matters only that sanction rules.
...
608 reads
1 Comment
Create the Spark
Create the spark
to find a soul
burn the candle
to fill a world
consume the tinder
to free the phoenix
from the ashes
is found the light.
Create the spark
to reveal the world
the torch is brighter
when both ends burn
the shadows shrink
from the dual flare
the middle found
for all to see.
Create the spark
to chase the dark
the past is gone
the now bestowed
at passion’s feet
revelation’s game
burning ring
candle’s gate.
Create the spark
to find a soul
to reveal the world
to...
to find a soul
burn the candle
to fill a world
consume the tinder
to free the phoenix
from the ashes
is found the light.
Create the spark
to reveal the world
the torch is brighter
when both ends burn
the shadows shrink
from the dual flare
the middle found
for all to see.
Create the spark
to chase the dark
the past is gone
the now bestowed
at passion’s feet
revelation’s game
burning ring
candle’s gate.
Create the spark
to find a soul
to reveal the world
to...
642 reads
1 Comment
Color Me
Color me the hero,
one of the twelve saints.
Mark as the villain,
Satan's right hand man.
I can be either one
while doing the same thing.
Turn the coin around,
faces on each side.
Flip it in the air,
does the fall matter?
The edge is not an option
when end is near at hand.
The hero has arrived
this is what they hope.
The end is near at hand,
pray it is not the foe.
Look to falling coin,
your fate is in its hands.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160122.
The poem “Color Me” is about heroes...
one of the twelve saints.
Mark as the villain,
Satan's right hand man.
I can be either one
while doing the same thing.
Turn the coin around,
faces on each side.
Flip it in the air,
does the fall matter?
The edge is not an option
when end is near at hand.
The hero has arrived
this is what they hope.
The end is near at hand,
pray it is not the foe.
Look to falling coin,
your fate is in its hands.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160122.
The poem “Color Me” is about heroes...
621 reads
2 Comments
Clouds Above
In the eyes I lost myself
unexpected twist of fate
perhaps blue or maybe brown
this depth of soul not yet revealed.
I know there is another self
inside the windows reflecting back
the gulf I wonder if I can breach
depths to plumb in our good time.
I soar as only birds may dare
when basking in the sun's delights
your eyes are my anchor point
in the clouds above the earth.
From these heights I wonder if
sight is true or illusion's gift
this narrative your gaze imparts
chapters written on my heart.
© 2016, Sean...
unexpected twist of fate
perhaps blue or maybe brown
this depth of soul not yet revealed.
I know there is another self
inside the windows reflecting back
the gulf I wonder if I can breach
depths to plumb in our good time.
I soar as only birds may dare
when basking in the sun's delights
your eyes are my anchor point
in the clouds above the earth.
From these heights I wonder if
sight is true or illusion's gift
this narrative your gaze imparts
chapters written on my heart.
© 2016, Sean...
706 reads
0 Comments
Child of Mine
Child of mine, not by birth
witnessed over many years.
You are family once removed,
yet still favored in my heart.
You were the sparkle in the eye
of mere mortals struggling.
They did their best, heaven knows,
when we were young, more than now.
The miles stretched far apart,
mocking those who would be close.
To hurry to another side
was not likely in the divide.
The adults did not help
with survival held foremost.
We are all flawed in God's sight
when asked to be our best.
Years marched by as you grew,...
witnessed over many years.
You are family once removed,
yet still favored in my heart.
You were the sparkle in the eye
of mere mortals struggling.
They did their best, heaven knows,
when we were young, more than now.
The miles stretched far apart,
mocking those who would be close.
To hurry to another side
was not likely in the divide.
The adults did not help
with survival held foremost.
We are all flawed in God's sight
when asked to be our best.
Years marched by as you grew,...
616 reads
2 Comments
In the Words
Who will I be when I read
the fated words left for me?
In rapt response so many ways
the inner ones come out to play
with burning rage or happy glee
perhaps to cry to shed a tear
each has its day in poetry
when words evoke my heart to act
celebrant of joy's refrain
I know the heights that gladness rings
with peeling bells rushed to hit
to find the tones that angels sing
purity cast to heaven's gates
turned around with happiness
ecstatic songs to far exclaim
the pleasure found in the words
mystic of the high tower...
the fated words left for me?
In rapt response so many ways
the inner ones come out to play
with burning rage or happy glee
perhaps to cry to shed a tear
each has its day in poetry
when words evoke my heart to act
celebrant of joy's refrain
I know the heights that gladness rings
with peeling bells rushed to hit
to find the tones that angels sing
purity cast to heaven's gates
turned around with happiness
ecstatic songs to far exclaim
the pleasure found in the words
mystic of the high tower...
614 reads
0 Comments
LIfe's Album
I – Life's Album
Turning pages in the life's album,
my mind drifts to times now long past,
Images snatched of other souls,
companions of a space once shared.
Most are wisps of morning fog,
scattering in the days of latter life.
Remembered in fragile fragments,
imperfect recollection of long ago.
Not all are sequestered to this fate,
excused by a mind fading by the day.
There is one that haunts my memories,
lovely spirit of a past still seen.
II – Fay Beauty
She was fay beauty personified,
nature's pinnacle of...
Turning pages in the life's album,
my mind drifts to times now long past,
Images snatched of other souls,
companions of a space once shared.
Most are wisps of morning fog,
scattering in the days of latter life.
Remembered in fragile fragments,
imperfect recollection of long ago.
Not all are sequestered to this fate,
excused by a mind fading by the day.
There is one that haunts my memories,
lovely spirit of a past still seen.
II – Fay Beauty
She was fay beauty personified,
nature's pinnacle of...
554 reads
2 Comments
In Front of Me
The trails had turned me around
lost in the maze of life
when the exit was revealed.
The world had gone dark
in the shadows where I walked
there I finally saw the light.
The leaves have fallen down
covering the distant fields
when the greenery bud anew.
I wasn’t looking but I found
the one in front of me
when the search was given up.
Flower in the driven snow
beauty found in the blight
I welcome you into my life.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160707.
People come into our lives with...
lost in the maze of life
when the exit was revealed.
The world had gone dark
in the shadows where I walked
there I finally saw the light.
The leaves have fallen down
covering the distant fields
when the greenery bud anew.
I wasn’t looking but I found
the one in front of me
when the search was given up.
Flower in the driven snow
beauty found in the blight
I welcome you into my life.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160707.
People come into our lives with...
578 reads
1 Comment
City in the Sky
City in the sky
where I did reside
seen at a distant
only imagined
in my memories
faded reflections
of what could have been.
Visit for a time,
take in the bright sights,
fay phantom walking
I am the tourist
vicarious life
the interloper
the base intruder
a fleeting squatter
here in the city.
Those who walk the streets
wear the age old masks
handed down through time
by the ones before.
There I see my own face
mask on a stranger
passed by the turning
of eternity.
Why didn't I
fully...
where I did reside
seen at a distant
only imagined
in my memories
faded reflections
of what could have been.
Visit for a time,
take in the bright sights,
fay phantom walking
I am the tourist
vicarious life
the interloper
the base intruder
a fleeting squatter
here in the city.
Those who walk the streets
wear the age old masks
handed down through time
by the ones before.
There I see my own face
mask on a stranger
passed by the turning
of eternity.
Why didn't I
fully...
619 reads
5 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by poetryaccident (Poetry Accident)