Submissions by rowantree
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
they/them/theirs. Polyamorous, proud, patient power. Love and joy and journals and the journey! Which IS the destination.
SELF POEM
Published
27th Oct 2015 11:08pm
27th Oct 2015 11:08pm
Hollow
Everything I do is hollow -
empty to the eyes -
I can't find food to give my words;
they glow for none but mine.
Pretty as the lines may be,
they move me close to dead:
I watch my heart lose blood and steam;
they think the ink looks red.
I try to claw the message out,
and hollower I get -
pathetic sieve, my soul may be;
it's catching less and less.
I doubt I'll tire of bleeding, though -
I'll never leave my skin
to peace or nails away from it;
I'll always dig them in -
and someday soon, I'll find the vein
that makes the...
empty to the eyes -
I can't find food to give my words;
they glow for none but mine.
Pretty as the lines may be,
they move me close to dead:
I watch my heart lose blood and steam;
they think the ink looks red.
I try to claw the message out,
and hollower I get -
pathetic sieve, my soul may be;
it's catching less and less.
I doubt I'll tire of bleeding, though -
I'll never leave my skin
to peace or nails away from it;
I'll always dig them in -
and someday soon, I'll find the vein
that makes the...
707 reads
2 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
25th Oct 2015 7:39pm
25th Oct 2015 7:39pm
Anything But Breathe (song)
Will I touch, will I believe?
All I am is river reeds.
I pick up pieces of the sky
when the stars go out and everything
is morning kissing midnight.
You've got to know that nothing's real
but the rocks and stones and river-mud you feel -
not who you are or what you think -
those things will fall apart and sink.
So I'll thank my cells and plead the fifth;
I don't know what nothing is.
We're ephemeral and young
with watercolors on our tongues:
we fight each other and survive;
we fight ourselves...
All I am is river reeds.
I pick up pieces of the sky
when the stars go out and everything
is morning kissing midnight.
You've got to know that nothing's real
but the rocks and stones and river-mud you feel -
not who you are or what you think -
those things will fall apart and sink.
So I'll thank my cells and plead the fifth;
I don't know what nothing is.
We're ephemeral and young
with watercolors on our tongues:
we fight each other and survive;
we fight ourselves...
742 reads
4 Comments
SONG LYRICS
Published
19th Oct 2015 00:47am
19th Oct 2015 00:47am
Wish I Was High (song)
1103 reads
8 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
18th Oct 2015 3:48am
18th Oct 2015 3:48am
Water Cycle
Long have I felt the allure of storm
in all my earthen veins;
longer, thrilled, I've wanted the still
and silent clouds to stay -
to brush the skin of world below
as rainy fingers press
on all the streets and sounds of sleep
in one unmatched caress.
I ache for rain to wet my skin
or beat me with the breeze
that blows all life and love around
and makes me think these things -
As tired as I am of fear,
I seek it out again;
the body burns unless it yearns:
such is the way of rain.
~
...
in all my earthen veins;
longer, thrilled, I've wanted the still
and silent clouds to stay -
to brush the skin of world below
as rainy fingers press
on all the streets and sounds of sleep
in one unmatched caress.
I ache for rain to wet my skin
or beat me with the breeze
that blows all life and love around
and makes me think these things -
As tired as I am of fear,
I seek it out again;
the body burns unless it yearns:
such is the way of rain.
~
...
723 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Oct 2015 6:13pm
4th Oct 2015 6:13pm
Message 16
I have your shirt.
For some reason
I can't stop letting myself
put it to my face
to breathe in your smell.
I feel like I've known you for years,
not weeks;
my dumb fucking eyes are in tears;
I'm so weak.
I don't know why I feel sick
at the thought of not knowing you,
but I do.
It's a churning, uncomfortable mix
in my heart -
the thought hits my face like a brick -
no more art
in the way our bodies fit one another;
in watching the needle trace black;
in talking to you about anything; ...
For some reason
I can't stop letting myself
put it to my face
to breathe in your smell.
I feel like I've known you for years,
not weeks;
my dumb fucking eyes are in tears;
I'm so weak.
I don't know why I feel sick
at the thought of not knowing you,
but I do.
It's a churning, uncomfortable mix
in my heart -
the thought hits my face like a brick -
no more art
in the way our bodies fit one another;
in watching the needle trace black;
in talking to you about anything; ...
775 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Oct 2015 7:06pm
3rd Oct 2015 7:06pm
Seriously
People take
themselves too
seriously.
I prefer to think of myself
as a joke.
My anxiety? -
dysphoria? stress?-
really
nothing at all;
certainly nothing serious
compared to the shit I've heard -
kids whose parents watch them fall
or strangle them with words...
Some of you will see this;
maybe feel compelled to say
that a problem is a problem -
that I shouldn't look sideways -
You're wrong. How fucking arrogant -
entitled - would I be
to see the bruises on their cheeks
and take me seriously?
Life is...
themselves too
seriously.
I prefer to think of myself
as a joke.
My anxiety? -
dysphoria? stress?-
really
nothing at all;
certainly nothing serious
compared to the shit I've heard -
kids whose parents watch them fall
or strangle them with words...
Some of you will see this;
maybe feel compelled to say
that a problem is a problem -
that I shouldn't look sideways -
You're wrong. How fucking arrogant -
entitled - would I be
to see the bruises on their cheeks
and take me seriously?
Life is...
777 reads
1 Comment
SONG LYRICS
Published
2nd Oct 2015 11:37pm
2nd Oct 2015 11:37pm
Who You Sleep With (song)
Note - these lyrics are far more effective when set to the intended melody and rhythm, but they convey a message I feel strongly about, so I decided to post them anyway. One day I'll record it and add the audio. Hopefully you'll still get something from just the words.*
~
So many people been on top of her -
hands underneath her shirt -
the way she likes.
Pull out the driveway, she make daddy's car
into a bed beneath the stars
most Friday nights.
She play it safe; she never hurt nobody -
did Michael, Jack and Robbie -
she kept her cool,
but...
~
So many people been on top of her -
hands underneath her shirt -
the way she likes.
Pull out the driveway, she make daddy's car
into a bed beneath the stars
most Friday nights.
She play it safe; she never hurt nobody -
did Michael, Jack and Robbie -
she kept her cool,
but...
847 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
2nd Oct 2015 11:02pm
2nd Oct 2015 11:02pm
Windchill
A chill has crept into my skin -
a cold that wears my armor thin.
Perhaps it has an outer source
of subtlety; perhaps its force
is in the wind that's whipping me,
that numbs my skin so wonderfully -
that, had I will to rub them heat,
would still my hands and fingers freeze.
My hair's on end - you are, it seems,
so icy that you chill my dreams;
and nothing warmer dare I seek,
for fire lives in icy cheeks.
As autumn moves the trees this year,
so red is drawn on wind-chilled ears -
and so my hands are made of cold, ...
a cold that wears my armor thin.
Perhaps it has an outer source
of subtlety; perhaps its force
is in the wind that's whipping me,
that numbs my skin so wonderfully -
that, had I will to rub them heat,
would still my hands and fingers freeze.
My hair's on end - you are, it seems,
so icy that you chill my dreams;
and nothing warmer dare I seek,
for fire lives in icy cheeks.
As autumn moves the trees this year,
so red is drawn on wind-chilled ears -
and so my hands are made of cold, ...
676 reads
1 Comment
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
16th Sep 2015 11:05pm
16th Sep 2015 11:05pm
Waterproof
I was baptized.
It didn't work.
Whatever they poured
over my innocent head,
I must have slept through.
That water moved right over me -
it met my skin,
came off in beads;
it met my skin
at infancy
and infancy declined.
The water didn't stain my sleep.
It must have been a pleasant dream -
so nice, the dress they put on me;
it must have missed my mind.
A quiet breath in water wades;
the substance in my skin will race
and rub the walls of every vein -
addict me to the truth -
for even as a little...
It didn't work.
Whatever they poured
over my innocent head,
I must have slept through.
That water moved right over me -
it met my skin,
came off in beads;
it met my skin
at infancy
and infancy declined.
The water didn't stain my sleep.
It must have been a pleasant dream -
so nice, the dress they put on me;
it must have missed my mind.
A quiet breath in water wades;
the substance in my skin will race
and rub the walls of every vein -
addict me to the truth -
for even as a little...
876 reads
9 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Sep 2015 11:21pm
15th Sep 2015 11:21pm
Certain
There are marks upon my door
I'm certain weren't there before -
a finger brushed a breath of dust
I'd placed there earnestly.
Late, I knew the patterns there
were lines I'd write but never share;
as metal must, I'll age and rust
and swing until I creak.
Hinge to edge me, how I claimed
to know each wooden piece by name -
though never rushed a sign of trust
so fleetingly away.
Stale the earth that's resting there
in fresh gray snow no knuckles wear -
but there are marks upon my door
I'm certain weren't there before.
...
I'm certain weren't there before -
a finger brushed a breath of dust
I'd placed there earnestly.
Late, I knew the patterns there
were lines I'd write but never share;
as metal must, I'll age and rust
and swing until I creak.
Hinge to edge me, how I claimed
to know each wooden piece by name -
though never rushed a sign of trust
so fleetingly away.
Stale the earth that's resting there
in fresh gray snow no knuckles wear -
but there are marks upon my door
I'm certain weren't there before.
...
689 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
14th Sep 2015 2:31am
14th Sep 2015 2:31am
First
Hear me out.
It doesn't matter
that you weren't my first.
You will be
(and have been)
the first of many:
The first to make me shake with need,
first I pounce on out of greed;
first to let me ride the wave
and first to make me lie awake -
first I roll onto at morning,
first I favored without warning,
first to use me through the night
in all the ways we dream you might;
first to get into my sleep,
behind my eyes - the first to reap
just what you want; take it from me -
I don't care, keep it; set it...
It doesn't matter
that you weren't my first.
You will be
(and have been)
the first of many:
The first to make me shake with need,
first I pounce on out of greed;
first to let me ride the wave
and first to make me lie awake -
first I roll onto at morning,
first I favored without warning,
first to use me through the night
in all the ways we dream you might;
first to get into my sleep,
behind my eyes - the first to reap
just what you want; take it from me -
I don't care, keep it; set it...
1143 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
13th Sep 2015 6:36pm
13th Sep 2015 6:36pm
Bound
I couldn't stay tied down
if it killed me.
Not by a person,
not by a feeling -
not with a favor
and not with skin peeling;
not underwater
and not on the ground,
never in music -
no, never in sound:
if something should bind me
from the life I adore,
if I can't know the flavors
I haven't explored;
if someone should blind me
to keep me from harm,
it's an inch I can't savor;
I'd claw at their arm:
I couldn't be bound
if I wanted or tried.
If I'm ever tied down ...
if it killed me.
Not by a person,
not by a feeling -
not with a favor
and not with skin peeling;
not underwater
and not on the ground,
never in music -
no, never in sound:
if something should bind me
from the life I adore,
if I can't know the flavors
I haven't explored;
if someone should blind me
to keep me from harm,
it's an inch I can't savor;
I'd claw at their arm:
I couldn't be bound
if I wanted or tried.
If I'm ever tied down ...
750 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by rowantree
