Submissions by shanegros4
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
young american poet who writes with both brutal honesty and slight precision-- one who seems to prefer the darker side of poetry ---common themes include my heartbreak and life trials---- soaked with flowery language and pretentious metaphor
DARK POEM
Published
16th Dec 2016 5:47pm
16th Dec 2016 5:47pm
the most peculiar of dreams
the most peculiar of dreams
one balanceless step into the nearby cemetery
with its dead winter leaves
and its yellow x’d over exhumations
followed by the strangest of packs
the howling wind bites and digs its dirty nails
into the ground root, into my pores
the weirdest of people like tourists surround me
like a king of hearts to behead his wife
for his maze of roses had not been left white
why do they follow me so?
suddenly they go, disappearing without a trace
and i’m left with the friends that i had come to know
before me exists a...
one balanceless step into the nearby cemetery
with its dead winter leaves
and its yellow x’d over exhumations
followed by the strangest of packs
the howling wind bites and digs its dirty nails
into the ground root, into my pores
the weirdest of people like tourists surround me
like a king of hearts to behead his wife
for his maze of roses had not been left white
why do they follow me so?
suddenly they go, disappearing without a trace
and i’m left with the friends that i had come to know
before me exists a...
574 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
13th Dec 2016 2:15am
13th Dec 2016 2:15am
execution of a beggar
great and powerful hand
the one that swings down the axe
and uncovers the silver sword from its gaudy sheath
he takes a single step onto the scaffold
run slick with crimson rivers
and to his weak knees he falls
begging the mercy of the tight-lipped, closely-knit
pale face of the king
witfully and skillfully
with a quiver in his tone
the man who knows quite clearly
he has stepped valiantly up to die
causes a ruckus, a grand rumble
in no less than his words:
“sir, for i bear myself not guilty for the high...
the one that swings down the axe
and uncovers the silver sword from its gaudy sheath
he takes a single step onto the scaffold
run slick with crimson rivers
and to his weak knees he falls
begging the mercy of the tight-lipped, closely-knit
pale face of the king
witfully and skillfully
with a quiver in his tone
the man who knows quite clearly
he has stepped valiantly up to die
causes a ruckus, a grand rumble
in no less than his words:
“sir, for i bear myself not guilty for the high...
542 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
12th Dec 2016 4:02am
12th Dec 2016 4:02am
from the night of december 5
the pitch and rock of the bus reverberate through my veins
and if all i want is to sit beside you while the rain outside comes down in sheets
then so be it
would you like me to untie the ribbon around my heart
so that you may crawl in and zip yourself up there?
should you like to make a pot of tea from the pantry of my arteries?
if all i didn’t want was to taste your lingering kiss that you refused my forehead on the last dregs of your drink that i took with your blue pill
if the bizarre taste of your saliva mixes with my metal-ridden teeth
if all i want is to...
and if all i want is to sit beside you while the rain outside comes down in sheets
then so be it
would you like me to untie the ribbon around my heart
so that you may crawl in and zip yourself up there?
should you like to make a pot of tea from the pantry of my arteries?
if all i didn’t want was to taste your lingering kiss that you refused my forehead on the last dregs of your drink that i took with your blue pill
if the bizarre taste of your saliva mixes with my metal-ridden teeth
if all i want is to...
608 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
12th Dec 2016 3:50am
12th Dec 2016 3:50am
waistcoat
the corset fastened around her waist suffocates her and her
ailing heart more than you can ever imagine, love
but it is by your icy blade
that you slit my throat
and allow my pure blood to pour to
the virgin snow
and dearest how you do not recognize
that it is with a single swift movement of your
sickle that you behead me
so as you cut the length of my brown hair with a pair
of rusty scissors aged finely and much too long
and with the instrument that you use to
gouge out my eyes
like a tea spoon used to stir so gently
the cup melted in...
ailing heart more than you can ever imagine, love
but it is by your icy blade
that you slit my throat
and allow my pure blood to pour to
the virgin snow
and dearest how you do not recognize
that it is with a single swift movement of your
sickle that you behead me
so as you cut the length of my brown hair with a pair
of rusty scissors aged finely and much too long
and with the instrument that you use to
gouge out my eyes
like a tea spoon used to stir so gently
the cup melted in...
829 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by shanegros4
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