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.
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.
~
...
639 reads
2 Comments
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; ...
698 reads
1 Comment
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...
691 reads
1 Comment
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...
760 reads
3 Comments
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, ...
590 reads
1 Comment
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...
783 reads
9 Comments
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.
...
594 reads
2 Comments
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...
1042 reads
6 Comments
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 ...
653 reads
2 Comments
Serpent
Someone should
let a snake
through eternal life.
It would hiss
at a god, right under his knife,
whereas we
(gratefully)
would entreat to the steel -
no complaint
or restraint;
we could paint our own deal
in our favor, in blindness
to whether we gain -
whether what we're
receiving
is pleasure
or pain -
we can mask, hide, and wrap
things
in nine different ways;
we can shove them in bibles
or mute them with tape
over lips
in a silver
as quiet as rain.
But, when shown to the door
of the...
let a snake
through eternal life.
It would hiss
at a god, right under his knife,
whereas we
(gratefully)
would entreat to the steel -
no complaint
or restraint;
we could paint our own deal
in our favor, in blindness
to whether we gain -
whether what we're
receiving
is pleasure
or pain -
we can mask, hide, and wrap
things
in nine different ways;
we can shove them in bibles
or mute them with tape
over lips
in a silver
as quiet as rain.
But, when shown to the door
of the...
669 reads
2 Comments
Tower.
You can ride life
like a tower
that holds
you high
with the night in your hair.
You can drink in
every hour
and breathe
and sing
to the infinite air.
If ever you lean
on the railing,
remain
resolute -
lock a foot somewhere sound;
letting lights call you down
is an option,
but how
will you witness them all from the ground?
~
Age when written: 16
like a tower
that holds
you high
with the night in your hair.
You can drink in
every hour
and breathe
and sing
to the infinite air.
If ever you lean
on the railing,
remain
resolute -
lock a foot somewhere sound;
letting lights call you down
is an option,
but how
will you witness them all from the ground?
~
Age when written: 16
673 reads
5 Comments
How to Know It's Too Late
When you see yourself through her -
all that sweaty, nervous fumbling -
when you watch yourself drop words
that leave your lips in bouts of tumbling;
when you see your hands through hair
and hear you choking on the air
as if she's too much to bear
or a heaven, and you're stumbling
over rungs of Jacob's ladder
and your feet are kicking clouds
in the atmosphere she's shattered -
there's no chance of coming down.
~
Age when written: 16
all that sweaty, nervous fumbling -
when you watch yourself drop words
that leave your lips in bouts of tumbling;
when you see your hands through hair
and hear you choking on the air
as if she's too much to bear
or a heaven, and you're stumbling
over rungs of Jacob's ladder
and your feet are kicking clouds
in the atmosphere she's shattered -
there's no chance of coming down.
~
Age when written: 16
668 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by rowantree