Submissions by prestonGibson (NomadsPath)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write about what my heart breaks and beats for. My work is rough, raw, flawed and imperfect; a work of self embodiment. I can't promise perfection, but I can promise authentic.
LOVE POEM
Published
29th Dec 2015 1:46am
29th Dec 2015 1:46am
Stranger Things
A force
unbeknownst to me
has a hold
It's pulling me
from the arms of my lover
to an other
The strangest thing is...
my lover's arms
are stranger to me
than the stranger's seem to be
unbeknownst to me
has a hold
It's pulling me
from the arms of my lover
to an other
The strangest thing is...
my lover's arms
are stranger to me
than the stranger's seem to be
894 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Dec 2015 7:07pm
27th Dec 2015 7:07pm
Quenched
The icy cold rain runs down worn skin...
I let it sink in...
Perhaps it'll awaken and refresh the quenching thirst of what's locked inside;
this barred life could lead to my demise,
but not so long as there is icey raindrops.
I'll take them by the gallon.
For the quaking earth of my soul will one day surrender itself to the universe, and the stars will once again make sense.
Should these droplets awaken what has been taken, the bars will be broken and my spirit redeemed.
Let the clouds roll in with hellacious thunder-rolls;
usher out what's behind...
I let it sink in...
Perhaps it'll awaken and refresh the quenching thirst of what's locked inside;
this barred life could lead to my demise,
but not so long as there is icey raindrops.
I'll take them by the gallon.
For the quaking earth of my soul will one day surrender itself to the universe, and the stars will once again make sense.
Should these droplets awaken what has been taken, the bars will be broken and my spirit redeemed.
Let the clouds roll in with hellacious thunder-rolls;
usher out what's behind...
676 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Dec 2015 6:34am
16th Dec 2015 6:34am
Route 80
I watch as the sun dives into the earth;
watercolors blending reds and blues entice illuminating light of the moon.
I drive slow.
Though the road home may appear to never change,
its never quite twice the same.
For tomorrow the sky could fill with rain, or the canvas could be stripped clean.
I drive slow.
watercolors blending reds and blues entice illuminating light of the moon.
I drive slow.
Though the road home may appear to never change,
its never quite twice the same.
For tomorrow the sky could fill with rain, or the canvas could be stripped clean.
I drive slow.
573 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
11th Dec 2015 6:50am
11th Dec 2015 6:50am
Goodnight
I have walked amongst the shadows
I have stumbled upon the light
It's because of that
I'm certain
I find solace in the night
I have stumbled upon the light
It's because of that
I'm certain
I find solace in the night
577 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
10th Dec 2015 9:39pm
10th Dec 2015 9:39pm
Baby Hands
She took my finger
and uknowingly touched my heart.
Weathered,
worn,
and torn to pieces
she formed it into art.
Every crack
and every crevice
has a fingerprint placed light.
Every wall
and every boundary
she broke with gentle might.
I stare into vast galaxies
tucked inside curious eyes.
I thank the stars that formed her.
For they [she] have brought me life.
and uknowingly touched my heart.
Weathered,
worn,
and torn to pieces
she formed it into art.
Every crack
and every crevice
has a fingerprint placed light.
Every wall
and every boundary
she broke with gentle might.
I stare into vast galaxies
tucked inside curious eyes.
I thank the stars that formed her.
For they [she] have brought me life.
763 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
6th Dec 2015 4:11am
6th Dec 2015 4:11am
Misplaced Polaroid Memories
I see it most in the fragments of little things.
Though most of it is lost to me;
misplaced polaroid memories.
It lives in the man
I strive desperately to be.
It's preserved in a reflection
staring back at me.
It's in my fingertips,
leaving prints whilst I climb.
It's in the déjà vu,
familiar moments of lost time.
I wanted to take it all with me,
but luggage of the living
weighs down heavily
Lost in boxes?
Dusted under rugs?
Buried with the loved ones ...
Though most of it is lost to me;
misplaced polaroid memories.
It lives in the man
I strive desperately to be.
It's preserved in a reflection
staring back at me.
It's in my fingertips,
leaving prints whilst I climb.
It's in the déjà vu,
familiar moments of lost time.
I wanted to take it all with me,
but luggage of the living
weighs down heavily
Lost in boxes?
Dusted under rugs?
Buried with the loved ones ...
567 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
4th Dec 2015 4:53am
4th Dec 2015 4:53am
Silent Violence
A heart can break
Quietly
And
Violently silent
There invokes no need
For the solo violinist
Stringing tunes
Of stinging
Whispered whoas
Like a needle falling
From a pricked finger
To the floor
Or a knife
Slicing through a fresh loaf
You might hear it
If you listen close
But
The silent violence
Only the broken know
Quietly
And
Violently silent
There invokes no need
For the solo violinist
Stringing tunes
Of stinging
Whispered whoas
Like a needle falling
From a pricked finger
To the floor
Or a knife
Slicing through a fresh loaf
You might hear it
If you listen close
But
The silent violence
Only the broken know
700 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
30th Nov 2015 7:38am
30th Nov 2015 7:38am
It's Clockwork
I wish you'd touch me
without need of inquiry or warrant.
I wish you'd wrap my body around yours in a sea of sheets and sexual debris.
I wish you'd fill my mouth and breathe me your breath, so sweet.
But you don't,
and you won't.
Your body doesn't ache for mine the way I thirst for you, like water come midnight. It's clockwork.
The late hours of the night meet the early hours of the morning in a timeframe that feels like a lifetime.
Your body lies next to mine, but you're miles away at that very same time. I want to stay next to...
without need of inquiry or warrant.
I wish you'd wrap my body around yours in a sea of sheets and sexual debris.
I wish you'd fill my mouth and breathe me your breath, so sweet.
But you don't,
and you won't.
Your body doesn't ache for mine the way I thirst for you, like water come midnight. It's clockwork.
The late hours of the night meet the early hours of the morning in a timeframe that feels like a lifetime.
Your body lies next to mine, but you're miles away at that very same time. I want to stay next to...
650 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
29th Nov 2015 7:58am
29th Nov 2015 7:58am
Sometimes I wonder
Sometimes I wonder.
I peer through bricks building strong houses, and ponder how they sit so still.
Sometimes I wonder.
I peer through windows lit with candlesticks, and ponder how they keep their burn.
Sometimes I wonder.
I walk along white piket fences,
and ponder how they remain unstained.
In time brick wears.
In time candles burn out.
In time white fences dull.
Perhaps it's all in the upkeep;
to work against or with the weather,
and time.
I wonder...
I peer through bricks building strong houses, and ponder how they sit so still.
Sometimes I wonder.
I peer through windows lit with candlesticks, and ponder how they keep their burn.
Sometimes I wonder.
I walk along white piket fences,
and ponder how they remain unstained.
In time brick wears.
In time candles burn out.
In time white fences dull.
Perhaps it's all in the upkeep;
to work against or with the weather,
and time.
I wonder...
565 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Nov 2015 9:29pm
22nd Nov 2015 9:29pm
Tales of Old
Between the nook and cranny lies a story the stars know.
Tales of old retold in nursary rhymes with hidden meanings yet to be lost in time.
It's the thread that knits us all together. A quilted masterpiece that withstands the weather.
The universe's needle creates the best tapestries to behold.
Between the nook and cranny, a story's being told.
The tales of old.
Tales of old retold in nursary rhymes with hidden meanings yet to be lost in time.
It's the thread that knits us all together. A quilted masterpiece that withstands the weather.
The universe's needle creates the best tapestries to behold.
Between the nook and cranny, a story's being told.
The tales of old.
573 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Oct 2015 4:24pm
30th Oct 2015 4:24pm
We are the things that go bump in the night.
There are things that go bump in the night,
cleverly hidden in the shadows to avoid being seen in the light,
but the moon does reach the dark and narrowed crevices of the world that clocks past midnight.
Bump back.
Embrace the fear and rise my dear,
the darkness is always closer than it appears.
It's in your veins,
and in the pumping instrument that sounds life's alarm.
We are light, but we are also the night.
Bump back.
Though your view may be subdued the light of the moon will envelope you, bringing hope and shedding light on all of...
cleverly hidden in the shadows to avoid being seen in the light,
but the moon does reach the dark and narrowed crevices of the world that clocks past midnight.
Bump back.
Embrace the fear and rise my dear,
the darkness is always closer than it appears.
It's in your veins,
and in the pumping instrument that sounds life's alarm.
We are light, but we are also the night.
Bump back.
Though your view may be subdued the light of the moon will envelope you, bringing hope and shedding light on all of...
613 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by prestonGibson (NomadsPath)
