Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
All is revealed.

Look at my photo.
You see the solitary Adirondack.
So oft writ, it is almost yours,
From which I ply my craft.

Sentinel, overlooking the bay,
Looking for poem invaders,
Need prisoners to do the hard labor,
For I am on duty, elsewhere, peripatetically,
A new tour of duty to family.

See the coffee mug,
The contents, a warm hug,
For though it sumer still,
The sky and breeze beg to differ.

I think time is nigh,
To close this chapter,
A few itinerant thots yet rumbling,
But the rush is gone, like my contented season.

Wise men do not deny perception,
Grown cold, my warm invitation,
Perhaps, I injusticed you with repetition,
But I left you a motet for comfort.


And hints of an address,
In case some enchanted evening....
Photo removed, if u wish I will send to you.

Some enchanted evening
You may see a stranger,
you may see a stranger
Across a crowded room
And somehow you know,
You know even then
That somewhere you'll see her
Again and again.

Some enchanted evening
Someone may be laughing,
You may hear her laughing
Across a crowded room
And night after night,
As strange as it seems
The sound of her laughter
Will sing in your dreams.

Who can explain it?
Who can tell you why?
Fools give you reasons,
Wise men never try.

Some enchanted evening
When you find your true love,
When you feel her call you
Across a crowded room,
Then fly to her side,
And make her your own
Or all through your life you
May dream all alone.

Once you have found her,
Never let her go.
Once you have found her,
Never let her go!
How much do I love you?

When you are asleep in our bed,
Takes ten minutes for me to
Slide inside, you to undisturb, you would,
Laugh at my pantomime, my Charlie Chaplin ballet,
If you were to accidentally awake.

When your dreams disturbing,
Groans and shrieks, moans and mumbles,
I greet you when your eyes final-fix upon me,
With no questions, only kisses for both,
And a new poem for you on top of our coverlet.

I love you resting me, when you, beside me do rest,
Then, together, we are always at our best.
I, your soldier, woodpeckers, deer, sent on their way,
Today, five geese invaders, ahonking, dispatched,
Lest my woman's dreams become enmeshed.

How many compositions have I written,
Rhythm and rhymed to your contented breathing?

Amazing grace that every day when we are on
Our island redoubt, there is no doubt.

There is us, always us, and for each restful breath,
Encased is a new and different way,
To answer this question that I pose to myself.

Tho first of many interrogatories that will pass from my heart,
Yet, when mine eyes open to see the sun of your blonde hair.
I have only answers, no questions, no doubts.

September 1st, 2013
 Aug 2013 Rachael Stainthorpe
JM
Have you ever existed
anywhere but in the *****
whirl of my mind?

Are you alive?

Your brain has yet to
process the stimuli I have
in store for your
pale and
willing flesh.

Embrace your dark nothing

This time we have,
this Now;
We are destroying
boundaries and expanding
horizons.
We cross oceans of time
with ink and paper
blood and pain.

We expose our wounds
hoping for
some kind soul
to lick us clean.

We are all one

These hands of mine
on your soft cheek,
I can not die
until I feel you.
 Aug 2013 Rachael Stainthorpe
JM
An electric blue hand
reaches out to him
from across an ocean
of thick water as Luna
undresses for all to see.

He doesn't hesitate
to embrace this stranger
from a strange land.

This dark and violent ocean
between their mouths,
with it's terrible secrets and
crushing indifference,
is no match for the
smell of her ink
on her paper
in his hands.
There once was
A coward
Who lived in
Hiding from
Others but
Not because
He wanted
To but that
He was scared
To open
Up the doors
Of outside
And be a
Part of the
World that slept
But how he
Wept longing
For outside
And contact
And for friends
But he couldn't
Do it and
Every
Time he was
Sure convinced
That he would
Do it and
Go outside
The fear crept
Near him forced
Him to stay
Inside closed
Doors shaded
Windows dark
And he cried
And he cried
Because he
Couldn't do it
And it was
So very
Cold inside
Warmth remained
Out of his
Arm stretched reach
He was but
A coward
I found this while looking through my old notebook. I'm not sure when it's from. I thought I'd share it even if it isn't very good. It's sorta personal to me. I don't know. Enjoy.
 Aug 2013 Rachael Stainthorpe
JM
Bent over cold granite, my left hand gripping your hair while simultaneously holding your neck down; my right hand hovers above your quivering, beautiful ***.

This is our forever

SMACK!

That was harder than you thought it would be,
your gasp and shrill "Oh"
makes me rise and swell.

37 huh?

Earlier, you had no idea why I asked you to pick a number between five and one hundred. Now, you feel the significance of your answer in your burning cheeks.


SMACK!!
SMACK SMACK SMACK

My arm becomes a windmill
of pain as I count off the numbers in my head.
Your gasps have turned to sobbing,
your honey is dripping
and my **** is granite.

*Welcome to subspace
'Atul, who do you keep in mind while writing romantic poems?'

I was about to say your name,
But then I stopped the voice from escaping.
Because this love is not a game,
I just said my name & felt I said your name.

I have been with you for a lifetime it seems,
But it has only been a small game.
Because this has been our exclusive fantasy,
I just want these poems to sustain.

Whenever I say, 'I love you,'
You complement, 'I love you too!'
My HP Poem #402
©Atul Kaushal
This is for the outspoken racists
The short-sighted chauvinists
The one-sided misogynists
And every avid supporter of any form of intolerance

I think it's time I give you a piece of my mind
Allow me to crack through my cranium and you can
Extract whichever lobe of my brain you find suitable to fix your mental feebleness

Take my frontal lobe, I beg you because
Your so called conscientious thoughts
Permanently belong in the dumpster
Your brain flies confederate flags at half mast
As a constant reminder that even if
The South doesn't rise again you can still rest
Knowing you wave ignorance blissfully in the air

Or maybe you should have my parietal lobe
Since your manipulation of information is highly suspect
I suspect you've placed bigotry and hostility under solid ground
Equipped with enough racial slurs and misogynistic remarks
To blow up this whole town
Homegrown nouns and verbs conducting your own personal weapon of mass destruction
Corrupting the ears that welcome your mushroom clouds

Then again, your occipital lobe is out of whack too
Considering whether gray clouds paint the sky or
Royal waves reflect golden rays
All you ever see is black or white, gay or straight
Wrong or right, hate and hate
And I hate to break it to you
But you are blind to the beauty before us all
Your eyes fail to focus in on how we all
Lose scarlet plasma to paper cuts
Gain white hair and hardened scars
And share copper casket homes six feet deep

I almost forgot about your temporal lobe
That needs an entirely new design
Because it seems as though through all of this outrage
You can't process the filth in your mind
Like the smell of your own rotten attitude
Escapes your nostrils and pollutes the openness around you
Preventing any genuine intention the air it needs to breathe

Your entire brain is a train wreck
You need professional intellectual injections
Red pen corrections that can transform your neural network
Into a well-oiled machine fueled by tolerance
Overflowing with premium petroleum enhanced with high grade sensitivity to diversity

I want your synapses to fire positive discussions
Rather than recreate cerebric tyranny
I want your gray matter to mind its manners
To render exceptional positions
So your point of view refuses to point fingers
I want your prejudices pressure washed so far down
Your head's highway that they resort to becoming full-time pedestrians
I want your ability to communicate eliminated unless
You annihilate the venom from your vocabulary

But the choice is yours
You're voice is yours
And I won't take it from you
This is not a debate nor a dispute over your vernacular
Hate speech is undeniably your native language
And unfortunately you own the right to be as wrong as your words allow you to be
Instead this is merely a message that I hear your hostility
A not so subtle reminder that your narrow-mindedness is nauseating
And this society has enough deadly diseases to deal with
To drill your acceptance defect straight through your skull
But please feel free to take any part of my mind
And find the time to perform your own lobotomy
So maybe then you'll understand
That intolerance has no place in anyone's anatomy
Next page