Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Lying on my back in the sand
Dead fish flop desperately underneath my spine
Cold
Whispering
Corners of my vision
Taxidermied owl
Taxidermied swallow
Pinned Cicada
Etched with defeat.

Roar of the ocean
Flopping fish
You wave its fins in my face and
Run away when I wave back.
It is rooted to my teeth
                         my stomach
                         my nostrils
                         my nasal cavities

It rustles when I breathe in
It begs for more when I bite
It screams when I swallow

I cannot be your choir boy
And I will not kiss you
                   not today
                   not tomorrow
                   not tonight
I've now made it through my second semester of university only to find myself wolfing down an explosive, uninhabitable vindictiveness to quell the equally overwhelming emptiness that eats right back away at me.
I have 16 or so unfinished poems strewn around my notebooks. I'm hoping to track them all down and complete them here, and I am also hoping to be dead and gone sometime within the next 315 days.
 Jan 19 Khoisan
K J McCarthy
Warm bourbon bottle company
I won't need you anymore
Once the last drop is emptied
Ill sing myself a song of sadness
And fall asleep right where you left me
FEEL THE VIBE,
feeling ALIVE,
as I Slip and slide,
and go on and glide!!
Be SMOOTH with it,
Go on and STRUT,
Keep on Stepping
You can't get enough
Feel the GROOVE!!
Feel the SENSATION,
get up and move,
Musical sounds of CREATION!!
the SOUNDS OF MUSIC
That helps to soothe
They say Music
soothe the
SAVAGE BEAST,
So, Jam along with us,
GET WITH THE BEAT
You don't have
NO RHYTHM
You can't find
your GROOVE
Just let the music
flow through you....
NOW, get up and MOVE!!!


B.R.
Date: 03/3/2023
 Jan 18 Khoisan
Gerry Sykes
Three kings,
    (camels, brocaded silk, jewelled rings)
give myrrh, frankincense and gold,
  to the star stinking stable born, offerings
    for the keeper of the fold,
    the toddling Lord of all.
This infant will be offered gall
    seers foretold;
the hammer's singing
  strike shall drive iron nails, cold
  steel piercing skin like stings
    that spike him for my sins.
I wrote this for a poetry course but I can't remember what form this poem is (perhaps it was the create my own form lesson). The rhyme is a ab abc cab ba a. Let rhyme is imperfect but seems to work.
Next page