Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Aug 18
Agnes de Lods
A cuddle cat thinks she’s soft and kind.
But eating alone in quiet loss, not drinking tender bliss
immersed in sharp sounds, her fur is raised.

The time is not flowing, the time is slowly drowning.
Big eyes disoriented, needing mutation
in epileptic convulsions, knowing
that the weak animals might be consumed.

Dressed in costumes, movements of grace,
gestures she studied with caution, acting out the play.

Now she seems to be a Black Panther
the secret is kept, nobody sees her.
Every role comes at a cost.

Like a pit spit out, the flesh devoured,
no sweetness remains, only the hardened shells.
Welcome invisibility! She’s not prey anymore.

The last totem is her salvation.
The deep-sea-clam, she feels so safe  
bathed by the shape of cold water.
 Aug 18
Agnes de Lods
We’re getting on this streetcar
without our permission.
Deciding every single day,
not to get out, just to survive,
until the next stop, the next breath.

Let’s pretend to be naive,
when the absurdity of norms
pushes us to follow the one-way track.

Please, look around,
see through rose-colored glasses,
how beautiful it could be!
Everything would seem easier
and more tolerable.

In this magical place,
we once called wishful thinking,
all the stars spark at night,
the rainbow shines all day!

Why must we be so practical,
when stray pieces intertwine,
forming a cohesive and unique whole?

Passing silently, unnoticed,
in the city of unseen lines,
in the depth of our hearts,
we dream that this tale
could end happily.

We, all Passengers,
craving more space
spreading our wings,
we are trapped in small cages.

In the streetcar called
Bare Existence
until the last trip,
until the last call,
we wish only
to be unconditionally accepted.
 Aug 18
Phenomenological
Has your soul ever been displayed,
Framed by thick wooden-glazed borders,
and set up in the gallery of another's life?

Can you say the painting of you
Beams with joy through heavy clouds,
Sliced by sharp shards of glass-like light?

If not, may you then brush-up yourself,
Quick blots of pink on sunken cheeks,
Lighten the shade under each eye?

Or will you draw the curtain,
Blind me to me, and you to you,
Pinch out the last flicker of fight?
 Aug 18
guy scutellaro
the river has no voice.
blue sky no heart.
the swan trumpeting
in the black of night. my soul

longs to be far out
lost in the vastness of ocean.
nothing but rolling waves, grey dark sea.

(no mercy
from the swan's sad song.)

I want to vanish in a cabin in the woods
away from people

and caught on the dock at the lake
in the pouring rain,
i beg the rain,

she's crying
to me
to come to her.

heart of rain,
black phantom born of sorrow, wings whirr,
vanishing into the hush of night,
wings grow distant in flight.

the black swan a ghost light flickering.
she is the echo of every sad goodbye.
 Aug 18
Joy Ann Jones
At night the little scorpions come down
to watch us playing at our poison kisses
to study from the dustbath where we drown

the sting that sinks the deepest when it misses.
I found flowers once where you had touched me;
black poppies sown in moon-distempered hisses.

Now the sun is crawling through the ivy,
its dawn a flickered fire burning wishes.
You're a green ghost spitting from a tree;

promises float away like silver fishes
and Love's a child who suddenly confesses.






  ©joyannjones April 2022
do a checklist before beginning:
helmet
harness
shoes
carabiners
webbing
cords
oxygen canisters
fuel
food
etc.
check weather reports.
set up a base camp.

in the helicopter
the blades reminded you
of the ceiling fan
in the hostel
in Bangkok
last year.

all right
up you go
(as your father once said
handing small you
onto the monkey bars)
this is it.
the world now boils down
to snow
ice
crevasses
ridges
storms
wind
whiteness.

at the summit,
you're as winded as you were
when she left you.
you needed a challenge
and here it is, so
pose
for a picture
plant
a flag.
be Sir Edmund for a minute

but
Tenzig Norgay knew
that everything
worth having
was
back in Lukla
Kathmandu
Casablanca
or Hometown, USA.
even the cat
knew that.
why didn't you?
Sir Edmund Hillary was famed as the first (white) man to climb Mount Everest. Tenzig Norgay was his sherpa.
 Aug 18
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
There will come a time
when time doesn't matter,
when all minutes and
millennia are but moments
when I look into your eyes.
There will come a time
when clinging things
will fall like desiccated
leaves, leaving us with
but one another. There
will come a time when
the external becomes eternal,
when holding you is to
embrace the universe.
There will come a time
when to be will no longer
be infinitive, but infinity,
and you and I are one

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 Aug 18
guy scutellaro
A#1. things I ll probably go to hell for:

I went to the movie theater
sat in the balcony

I had a huge rubber spider
on 40 feet of clear fishing line

I tossed it out
and slowly dragged the spider
across and over the rows of seats...

it was a wave of people rising
jumping up
row after row
men pretended bravery,
the women screamed.. every one ran
out the exit doors.

soon I was the only one in the theater
smoked a joint
(great movie, too)

( ****, I still enjoy the hell out of it!**)

PART 2.

what are you
probably going to...for
 Aug 17
Sunamin Tamang
I was young & free
when the clouds were young
as well
but I aged sooner.
They still float
while I fall
thruu time
Women,
Family,
Bills,
&
Lastly
Jobs?
(Maybe tomorrow…)

Day
by
day…

I barely remember
what it felt like
to fly.

Oh clouds & I
 Aug 17
Bekah Halle
Sandcastles
On the seashore,
Exquisite view
Promising more —

But the waves always return,
Smashing dreams, I swore
I’d protect,
No chore —

How do I build a moat
around my hopes and dreams
Galore!
Next page