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.
Midnight Drive
COMMERCIAL FREE, boasts the radio commercial
as I look over to your side of the car.
My hands are dancing a nervous dance on the steering wheel,
palms glistening,
fingers tapping an uncertain leather ballet.
I give you that look,
the one I know you secretly love.
You flash me a smirk.
We've talked about this.
I love driving, and I want to drive
you.
Not that I don't love singing
out the window while you speed
and the wind whips at my face -
I do.
But now it's my turn to show you
the way I...
as I look over to your side of the car.
My hands are dancing a nervous dance on the steering wheel,
palms glistening,
fingers tapping an uncertain leather ballet.
I give you that look,
the one I know you secretly love.
You flash me a smirk.
We've talked about this.
I love driving, and I want to drive
you.
Not that I don't love singing
out the window while you speed
and the wind whips at my face -
I do.
But now it's my turn to show you
the way I...
782 reads
1 Comment
One More Fever
The air is sweet with summer
and the summer close as death,
this death as red as of Macbeth
who calls the numb to number.
The grass itself is goading
as it brags of goodness green;
the severed sky, the subtle seen
lends patience to eroding.
The night is quite a number -
how it steals the breath away! -
but stumbles 'way the sign of day
which fruitless steps encumber.
Some mind recalled the vision
of the calendar (in fire!);
it does aspire to wick the wire,
it sings to no incision - ...
and the summer close as death,
this death as red as of Macbeth
who calls the numb to number.
The grass itself is goading
as it brags of goodness green;
the severed sky, the subtle seen
lends patience to eroding.
The night is quite a number -
how it steals the breath away! -
but stumbles 'way the sign of day
which fruitless steps encumber.
Some mind recalled the vision
of the calendar (in fire!);
it does aspire to wick the wire,
it sings to no incision - ...
716 reads
2 Comments
For You Again
My avalanche, the flame
that threatens from a fragile spark:
lights around it don't astound it;
neither does the dark.
My forest fire, the chill
that itches right inside the spine;
shudder, scratch, and kiss of match
but silent stars resigned.
My tidal wave, the breeze
who can do nothing but persist
to murder bones and knock at stones,
to prod the pacifist.
My love for you, the sea
that softly echoes up the shade
and screams the white, unending plight
that she herself has made.
~ ...
that threatens from a fragile spark:
lights around it don't astound it;
neither does the dark.
My forest fire, the chill
that itches right inside the spine;
shudder, scratch, and kiss of match
but silent stars resigned.
My tidal wave, the breeze
who can do nothing but persist
to murder bones and knock at stones,
to prod the pacifist.
My love for you, the sea
that softly echoes up the shade
and screams the white, unending plight
that she herself has made.
~ ...
703 reads
2 Comments
Turn
I feel it coming - rapture sweet -
like the calling that leads birds south
and wind about
and cloud up
and leaves down.
I feel it thrumming - on my tongue -
like the green and gray of the city I love
or kindling leaping into flames
(within my blood; between my veins)
or wind about
and cloud up
and leaves down.
I'd stain my hands with blackest soot -
a breath alone laid dark and free,
or rain on me -
all over me -
(and this is how your lips will be)
like mist in my mouth and rain on me,
I...
like the calling that leads birds south
and wind about
and cloud up
and leaves down.
I feel it thrumming - on my tongue -
like the green and gray of the city I love
or kindling leaping into flames
(within my blood; between my veins)
or wind about
and cloud up
and leaves down.
I'd stain my hands with blackest soot -
a breath alone laid dark and free,
or rain on me -
all over me -
(and this is how your lips will be)
like mist in my mouth and rain on me,
I...
688 reads
1 Comment
Step
(I took a step back)
And right about now
I'm stuck in the down
of that fetal heart attack -
that uncertain sickness and slack -
when you bring your foot down
and expecting the ground,
miss.
You're the jolt in the moment
that I thought was over -
the ladder turned out to be ground -
but you're somewhere so close
that this glowing desire
(all embers and fainting of prose on your fire)
has just got to hit you -
(no way it would miss you)
my energy's imminent...
And right about now
I'm stuck in the down
of that fetal heart attack -
that uncertain sickness and slack -
when you bring your foot down
and expecting the ground,
miss.
You're the jolt in the moment
that I thought was over -
the ladder turned out to be ground -
but you're somewhere so close
that this glowing desire
(all embers and fainting of prose on your fire)
has just got to hit you -
(no way it would miss you)
my energy's imminent...
710 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by rowantree