Submissions by starz_n_peaches (Little Miss Maxwell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
The Beige Lyricist, Poet and Spoken Word Artist who tells it just how it is, without all the unnecessary florals
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Nov 2013 1:58pm
9th Nov 2013 1:58pm
Crying an ocean for Frank
Start.
I’ve been thinking ‘bout you
For oh so long now
The sweet life lapped by the sun glistening waves of Sierra Leone
My womb’s waters
Moist
In need of fertilisation so that we may continue
On our excursion to the pyramid
The lost treasures of my heart and yours
The solid base- our foundations
Held in place merely by our illusive thoughts of pink matter
Triangular sloping sides up to the point
The pinnacle
Of our being
Looking down on a world washed with bad religion, nocturnal habits
Lost
Misplaced feeling dividing and...
I’ve been thinking ‘bout you
For oh so long now
The sweet life lapped by the sun glistening waves of Sierra Leone
My womb’s waters
Moist
In need of fertilisation so that we may continue
On our excursion to the pyramid
The lost treasures of my heart and yours
The solid base- our foundations
Held in place merely by our illusive thoughts of pink matter
Triangular sloping sides up to the point
The pinnacle
Of our being
Looking down on a world washed with bad religion, nocturnal habits
Lost
Misplaced feeling dividing and...
750 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Oct 2012 8:19pm
23rd Oct 2012 8:19pm
Peppered Observations
Reading your words under sun glazed lights and counting the speckles on my window pane,
I am given a warm feeling that you just can’t label or modify.
The patter of water, the reflecting glint
On the jar, the black with all its
Blue highlights.
Today is the day for change,
For a change that’s pretty much a
Return with a little bit extra
A surge of self that almost seemed to be dead in the water
Trampled so many times by men and
Boys that were merely false soldiers
- yes, they had army boots, guns, parachutes, spears but there’s just
No passion...
I am given a warm feeling that you just can’t label or modify.
The patter of water, the reflecting glint
On the jar, the black with all its
Blue highlights.
Today is the day for change,
For a change that’s pretty much a
Return with a little bit extra
A surge of self that almost seemed to be dead in the water
Trampled so many times by men and
Boys that were merely false soldiers
- yes, they had army boots, guns, parachutes, spears but there’s just
No passion...
868 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th Aug 2012 5:07pm
12th Aug 2012 5:07pm
Cooked Up
A rose blind-baked in the back of her eye
Turns a porcelain window into a beaten black cavern
She may take a brick
Decorate and wrap it in brown paper
Then allow it to boil not simmer.
Place it in a box and pour in a jug of dissatisfaction,
Eye up the glitter laced around the brim
And create hopes of whisking away any reminisce of a telephone line.
No more wires trapped in words,
Just a broken pencil that is incapable of stirring up sensation on an unloved page.
Sitting on a chair and sieving her thoughts into a bowl of confusion
She ponders...
Turns a porcelain window into a beaten black cavern
She may take a brick
Decorate and wrap it in brown paper
Then allow it to boil not simmer.
Place it in a box and pour in a jug of dissatisfaction,
Eye up the glitter laced around the brim
And create hopes of whisking away any reminisce of a telephone line.
No more wires trapped in words,
Just a broken pencil that is incapable of stirring up sensation on an unloved page.
Sitting on a chair and sieving her thoughts into a bowl of confusion
She ponders...
806 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
14th Apr 2012 8:37pm
14th Apr 2012 8:37pm
Refracted
I’m speechless
And I’m found at the end of a rainbow
With rusted tin for a reflection.
I’m an illumination against the pavement
From a rickety indoor seat.
I was a triangle
Then I was halfed
Yet I still remained a triangle.
And so I chose to tie a bow and (k)not a knot.
Press against rum glazed stars under smoky light(s)
And think something of it
Blow it away
Through a wand, in a bubble
And continue as I please.
I’m cut off.
The carpet hasn’t moved.
The mirror hasn’t moved.
And I haven’t moved.
I...
And I’m found at the end of a rainbow
With rusted tin for a reflection.
I’m an illumination against the pavement
From a rickety indoor seat.
I was a triangle
Then I was halfed
Yet I still remained a triangle.
And so I chose to tie a bow and (k)not a knot.
Press against rum glazed stars under smoky light(s)
And think something of it
Blow it away
Through a wand, in a bubble
And continue as I please.
I’m cut off.
The carpet hasn’t moved.
The mirror hasn’t moved.
And I haven’t moved.
I...
941 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
9th Mar 2012 9:37am
9th Mar 2012 9:37am
Earth
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
If this be so, then was such stitched with pleasured threads into the back of thyne eye
To form a divine utopian perfection.
Was creation just a blip in one’s imagination
Or was it the key to truly seeing one’s observations.
They say life’s too short.
But can we even measure an expanse lacking in finite design.
Pondering length, width and height
Has no benefit to battered hearts and shattered tear drops.
The mending is a slow, enlightening process.
They say a chain is only as strong as its...
If this be so, then was such stitched with pleasured threads into the back of thyne eye
To form a divine utopian perfection.
Was creation just a blip in one’s imagination
Or was it the key to truly seeing one’s observations.
They say life’s too short.
But can we even measure an expanse lacking in finite design.
Pondering length, width and height
Has no benefit to battered hearts and shattered tear drops.
The mending is a slow, enlightening process.
They say a chain is only as strong as its...
979 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
6th Mar 2012 9:19am
6th Mar 2012 9:19am
And so, we are drowning.
And so we’re drowning.
In the beginning, we were drowned in hope and potential
Our lungs soaked in fluid
Protected from deep, dark waters
But then we emerged, broke the inevitable seal,
Made an attempt to swim and was successful for some short time.
But, the epic fail was ahead
Looming
In deep, dark waters
Polluted by mind poisoning piranhas and not so genuine jelly fish.
Strokes were soon useless; we were without a paddle
And a boat with internalised holes isn’t much of a vessel.
But we’ll still make helpless attempts at floating ...
In the beginning, we were drowned in hope and potential
Our lungs soaked in fluid
Protected from deep, dark waters
But then we emerged, broke the inevitable seal,
Made an attempt to swim and was successful for some short time.
But, the epic fail was ahead
Looming
In deep, dark waters
Polluted by mind poisoning piranhas and not so genuine jelly fish.
Strokes were soon useless; we were without a paddle
And a boat with internalised holes isn’t much of a vessel.
But we’ll still make helpless attempts at floating ...
1077 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Mar 2012 9:27pm
4th Mar 2012 9:27pm
Between Two Lungs
I unveil my whitened breast
Consider my own loss
My loss that opposes my yearning to be found
On this
I realise that the only way out of the woods
Is for me to immerse myself in the trees
It’s in the shredding and tearing of a coat
Coloured by love, war and all other passion provocateurs
No bleeding hearts, just bloody noses
Broken bruises and blackened bones.
A sprinting tempo between two lungs
Dancing with a lost cause and a passion for people...
But observations never really amount to their illustrations
In the same way...
Consider my own loss
My loss that opposes my yearning to be found
On this
I realise that the only way out of the woods
Is for me to immerse myself in the trees
It’s in the shredding and tearing of a coat
Coloured by love, war and all other passion provocateurs
No bleeding hearts, just bloody noses
Broken bruises and blackened bones.
A sprinting tempo between two lungs
Dancing with a lost cause and a passion for people...
But observations never really amount to their illustrations
In the same way...
928 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Mar 2012 9:23pm
4th Mar 2012 9:23pm
Mwanamke
It’s reached a point where I have so much to say but nowhere to start
I wanna tell u something epic
It’s a pity I can’t capture life in a fairy jar
Wit purple lights
Flying stones and forgotten rains in Africa
Mwanamke
My title
Just not my name
Amongst junglist riddims of the congo
Running with the zebras
But never quite escaping the beast that’s so much faster
I’m so lost
I want yesterday, today and tomorrow all in an instant
And then I think of you
And I don’t know what I want
I think I want a story that ain’t just a...
I wanna tell u something epic
It’s a pity I can’t capture life in a fairy jar
Wit purple lights
Flying stones and forgotten rains in Africa
Mwanamke
My title
Just not my name
Amongst junglist riddims of the congo
Running with the zebras
But never quite escaping the beast that’s so much faster
I’m so lost
I want yesterday, today and tomorrow all in an instant
And then I think of you
And I don’t know what I want
I think I want a story that ain’t just a...
830 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Nov 2011 00:09am
9th Nov 2011 00:09am
Stars
Dead distances
molested by forgotten highlights
a loss of directional freedom, taken over by luminous heights
foreign beauty in search of adornment and appreciation
an insatiable urge to be seen and not just observed
A thirst for the destination and a lack of fulfilment from the journey
because life has ceased
and only a partial essence remains
losing anything meaningful
in a personal desperation phase
Dead distances
luminous heights
the loss of natural beauty
the emergence of the concave
and somewhat artificial.
molested by forgotten highlights
a loss of directional freedom, taken over by luminous heights
foreign beauty in search of adornment and appreciation
an insatiable urge to be seen and not just observed
A thirst for the destination and a lack of fulfilment from the journey
because life has ceased
and only a partial essence remains
losing anything meaningful
in a personal desperation phase
Dead distances
luminous heights
the loss of natural beauty
the emergence of the concave
and somewhat artificial.
935 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
15th Oct 2011 12:15pm
15th Oct 2011 12:15pm
Black Sick
I’m so black sick.
After every venture out, I’m left lying in a pool of white sick
White mucus on my stationary and my books
White eyes giving beige undertones funny looks
I’m here
Breathing out shadows that could be acceptable on a coconut sky
If only my face weren’t coated in these pecan coloured tears that I cry.
Lying amongst the brickwork, thinking of the Uhuru
White in search of black
- Not wanting pianist layers
Just grey concentrations
Of yesterday’s and tomorrow’s ongoing frustrations.
I’m so black sick. ...
After every venture out, I’m left lying in a pool of white sick
White mucus on my stationary and my books
White eyes giving beige undertones funny looks
I’m here
Breathing out shadows that could be acceptable on a coconut sky
If only my face weren’t coated in these pecan coloured tears that I cry.
Lying amongst the brickwork, thinking of the Uhuru
White in search of black
- Not wanting pianist layers
Just grey concentrations
Of yesterday’s and tomorrow’s ongoing frustrations.
I’m so black sick. ...
1015 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
6th Sep 2011 2:11pm
6th Sep 2011 2:11pm
I'll Never Succumb To His Charm...
(my one and only villanelle)
I’ll never succumb to his charm,
Though filled with a feeling of dread.
He will not crush me in his palm.
A sense of serenity. Calm,
Once engulfed my innocent head.
I’ll never succumb to his charm.
His heart is of muscular balm,
Sculpted from a barrel of lead.
He will not crush me in his palm.
Dead, is his heart, “should I embalm?”
I am a bird tied to his thread.
I’ll never succumb to his charm.
“Would he ever do me grave harm?”,
I wonder as I lie in bed.
He will not crush me in...
I’ll never succumb to his charm,
Though filled with a feeling of dread.
He will not crush me in his palm.
A sense of serenity. Calm,
Once engulfed my innocent head.
I’ll never succumb to his charm.
His heart is of muscular balm,
Sculpted from a barrel of lead.
He will not crush me in his palm.
Dead, is his heart, “should I embalm?”
I am a bird tied to his thread.
I’ll never succumb to his charm.
“Would he ever do me grave harm?”,
I wonder as I lie in bed.
He will not crush me in...
1089 reads
3 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
5th Sep 2011 8:47pm
5th Sep 2011 8:47pm
Starz & Elephants
(for Fallon)
One drag is all it takes.
To take a stone and throw it at a wreckage
But all that comes after,
Long after
Long after that release
That intoxicating thrill of the ultimate juice,
A beautiful distortion
Mind and body uncoiled in a beautiful reverie
Then the weightlessness
Some bounce, some crack, some skunk
Followed by a helping of glass and glue
Then you can lay beneath the sky’s night
Amongst the magic mushrooms
The bliss that takes us to great heights
Before the fall
Spaced out.
Air punches the...
One drag is all it takes.
To take a stone and throw it at a wreckage
But all that comes after,
Long after
Long after that release
That intoxicating thrill of the ultimate juice,
A beautiful distortion
Mind and body uncoiled in a beautiful reverie
Then the weightlessness
Some bounce, some crack, some skunk
Followed by a helping of glass and glue
Then you can lay beneath the sky’s night
Amongst the magic mushrooms
The bliss that takes us to great heights
Before the fall
Spaced out.
Air punches the...
1019 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by starz_n_peaches (Little Miss Maxwell)
