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Squall
by Michael R. Burch

There, in that sunny arbor,
in the aureate light
filtering through the waxy leaves
of a stunted banana tree,

I felt the sudden monsoon of your wrath,
the clattery implosions
and copper-bright bursts
of the bottoms of pots and pans.

I saw your swollen goddess’s belly
wobble and heave
in pregnant indignation,
turned tail, and ran.

Published by Chrysanthemum, Poetry Super Highway, Barbitos and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: pregnancy, pregnant, goddess, belly, wrath, anger, storm, monsoon, hormones, pots, pans
kristine w Dec 2019
i seek,
this echo of resplendent joy.
You.
how weak,
am i to fall?

this sound among all,
is one i'd deck the halls with.
Yours.
perhaps this fall,
i shall embrace.

the sight,
the sound,
You.

it rings,
oh,
does it ring.
one expression: haha
oh the woes of puberty! anyway, had a conversation with a friend about her crush and here we are i just felt inspired
Oliver Henderson Dec 2019
perfect life I dreamt of:
a shot of hormones
a boy who loves me
a place to call my own
and freedom to live

I have it all
yet why is it not enough?

four years it’s all I thought of
the fix to all my problems
all but one
became the start of all of them
Johannah Jeanty Nov 2019
Consume me,
I'm left feeling so empty.
The chemicals,
They make me feel worse.

Undo me,
It's only my reality.
The chemicals,
Daddy was the first.

I feel it,
But it is only me
The chemicals,
Can't act "normal" for you.

Ignore it,
Very well if you don't see
The chemicals,
Reality goes askew.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, **** you schizophrenia!
Keiri Jul 2019
Faking beliefs to believe in the fake.
For the real is way to real.
I still don't want to awake.
I'll imagine I've got a tastier meal.

Be strong, I say, don't give in.
For it will be for the wrong reason.
Spaghetti, potatoes, peas, please don't sin.
Steak or stew or mussles with season.

Scones, soup, browney with a liquid core.
Or rather think of a good baked fish.
Don't, just don't think of him anymore.
Try to replace him with your favorite dish.

I can' give in, I can't give up.
It won't be good if I drink the same cup.
Again and again it's a cup with a crack.
And all my sweet cocoa will flee right back.

I keep thinking, is this right?
I can't tell right from wrong in my blurred sight.
It's bad to go back, so just go on forth.
But my eyes slip back, like a compass needle north.

I need to hold myself, faults won't do me good.
I'll just have to stop my thinking with even more food.
It's a similar hormone triggered, I will feel the same.
What am I? Will I rather be fat again to spare me of the pain?

Why am I weak, it's such a one way to think.
But what else to do when my heart's about to sink.
Pop in my head, there he is again.
Chocolate, chicken breast, bread full of grain.

Don't think, just don't think at all.
Will he be hurt, does he think of me at all.
Is he alright, what is he up to right now.
Does he miss me, and I just wonder how.

Stop it, weakling, you can do better than this.
Orange sauce, porto dressing, ribs as soft as a kiss.
Mac and cheese, ceasar salad, do you think he is alright.
Was I wrong, after all he still wanted to fight.

No, be strong, honeydressing, porkchop, carrot stew.
How many chances did I give him a new?
Stop it, steamed beef, apple cake, am I really mad?
Why did walking away from him feel so bad.

Faking beliefs to believe in the fake.
For the real is way to hard.
I still don't want to believe my mistake.
For I too was wrong at my part.
Hot devil - The name of this poem is named after a yummy casserole dish called 'Hot devil' (it's Dutch) it's with veggies in white sauce, mashed potatoes and roasted meat baked in layers within the casserole in the oven... you should try it, it's really tasty

Here's the recipe for 4 persons
- 12 normal sized potatoes
- 1kg of minced meat
- 1/2 l milk
- 2 tbsp plain flour
- 2 tbsp baking butter
- 1/2 porridge (the white side, small chopped)
- 4 sticks of sellery (small chopped)
- 4 normal sized carrots (small chopped)
- Salt, nutmeg and pepper
- 1 egg yolk
- breadcrumbs

Cook and mash the potatoes. Add the eggyolk in the mashed potatoes, altogether with a little bit of milk and a little bit of butter, mash it all untill it's a moistured paste.  Roast the meat, chop it in small bits while roasting it in the pan. Slice the porridge, sellery and carrot in small pieces. Melt the butter in a *** and add the plain flour, now stir bit by bit the milk in the mixture. Season the white sauce with salt and pepper and nutmeg. Add the veggies in the sauce and boil further for a minute or two. Take a casserole that can stand the heat of the oven. Rub half of the mashed potato in on the bottom. Put the meat on top of it, now put the veggies on top of that layer, fill the last layer with the remaining mashed potatoes and sprinkle the upper layer full with breadcrumbs until you can't see any mashed potatoes underneath the crumbs. Put in the oven (180°C for about 20 minutes).
Araoluwa Jacob May 2019
All that sweet talk, For a second, it felt really good. The love and the pleasure that you preserved for me. When I stepped into your house and we touched each other with our bare skin, it felt really good, really honest, really true. For a second, I actually fell in love. I opened my eyes and traced my hands on your jawline as we kissed.
God took his time making you
you are so handsome. smooth skin and all.
d a m n
my hormones started to act up when I had something like that in my possession. It's not like we actually liked each other, we just  wanted the pleasure. After the pleasure, I did not feel the same.
the moment was like a song on repeat
I could not get it out of my head. I text you to know your perspective. Then you act like nothing happened. You've gotten what you want and now I'm nothing but trash. Ignoring me like I was bothering you. I mean we weren't meant to be together.
I guess it was just me.
I wanted something more.
Someone to have more than one night or two days or a week with. I wanted months, years.
I wanted forever.
To:  A Flaming Heart
            Of the Hedonistic School

From:  A Slow-Burn Refugee
                Of the Broken-Back-Pack-Mule

                        ¤¤¤

I've had dreams by day?  
That brought the nightmares back.
?In the daylights exposure it was dark?  
When the negative light was bright.
?
In the sea of people
I was the floating remains?
Of a Great White's meal.?  
On the lonely roads of thought?

My mind was in gridlock.
Comforting memories were suspended
Over a psychic black hole
By jagged and rusted

Medieval-type surgical tools.
My remaining senses
Were nailed to a cross-section
Of psychically atrophied grey matter

Along neural pathways
Guarded by gladiator-type tormentors
Left with nothing
But the stinging desire to be freed

From a curse that had to be cured
And the hell of searching for a cure
When I was convinced there wasn’t one.?
The powers that be come with force

To quell primal lusts & desires
Forbidding you of them
As they seductively
Dangle them before your eyes
  
Until you are so frustrated and unfulfilled
That you no longer
Care for your world.?  
This cracked glass remains empty
?
Even though it is constantly being filled
Then spilled or leaked on the floor
Until you learn to lap it up
Like the lapdog that you have become

For their amusement.
You remain with a love for freedom  
But your cage is so large?  
That you think you are free

Lost in societal fantasy.
You think for a while
That these fantasies are real ?  
Until you come to your senses that aren’t

As you join other fools?  
In comfort that you're not the only
Broken-back pack-mule.?  
But in spite of it all?

And in the face of them all
Don't let these birds of prey                                                          
An­d powers that be
Deprive you of what they can't see

In that hidden corner
Of what is still untouched
The real you
Uninfected by the world.?  

Take care of your spiritual affairs.
Don't let the global beast
And your primal hissing forces
Make you be your own pallbearer.

--Daniel Irwin Tucker
Azurel Oct 2018
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo
Moonlight dances on my pretty scales
And icy bubbles whirl under my vest
Through my slippery hair
And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam
Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises
Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises.

Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals
Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface
We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures
Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals
Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces
Pressure rises as each wave surges
Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills
But the sidelines are shallow
And stragglers float motionless

Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck
Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping
Her hollow eyes glow green
Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights
She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins
Searching for the parts that are edible
Tender, Scale-less, Slippery
Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day
Right?

Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown
Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions
A handsome boy has been smiling all the while
He’s caught in a fisherman’s net
Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man
But fisherman don't care for little mermaids
With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal

Sweaty fins splash and cheer
The fishbowl shatters
Sea glass spills out onto sand
We squirm and flop onto land
Gasping without air to breathe
As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun
Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed.

Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales
Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom
Gasping and moaning into tile
With the face of a handsome stranger
Because this meat shouldn't go to waste
And I'm drunken with desperation
For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks
But I'm just another fish in the sea
Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
A school dance
Robin Carretti May 2018
He yells!!
1-2-3-4
Oh! Hell 
 5-6-7-8

Who do we appreciate
Hormones Ah Vey!
Pray

So pick up the
Italian horn phone*
Leave me alone!!!
Harmony and hormones
Are like song

Losing beat
whiskers
I am the Queen and your
the Dutch masters
Fit 2-B Flustered
Like rabbit hares
Jumps *****

Hey Bills
Tramping
Playbill

Ridiculous -Pompous
Jumping- Delicious

Playgirl
No sweat
Her vocals
are a threat

The trampolines
the trend he's Jaws
Did you see
her nasty
50 shades of flaws
green pupils

Meter lady and the *****
Wonka tickets
Humbug grouchy
Hands off but way
to touche-y
picking pockets

Barista coffee jitters
*****
The birds and the
Bees like ***
with Monkey's

All dried up
Nothing to sting
Madhatter of honey
lover ding ****
((Hong Kong))

******* hormones
fishy mermaid tails
sardines
ladies eating pork
and beans
At the mezzanine

Fish eggs "Zar" of caviar
By far is the best love
I ever had
Tangerine your
the one for me
If you ever have
half a brain

I will find you
It will take a whole
*****-like City
My speed of Sin city
Someone out there to
feed me
Those up and downs

Hormones crown me
Town $$
country
Central Park jogging
and stomach wiggling

Highs and lows of work
hustling
Even when I am
desperately
Housewife NJ
enthusiastic

I rather knock on wood
You better be home
Smiling guilty good
This world changed
to plastic
Divine from killer drastic
Those hormones
Disney ****** dunes
Wed me I dare you ((June))
Insane asylum ward
When my hormones
are working

My moods sweet candy
hard demanding
I am the one holding the
Award trophy *God

Having
hormones
are tricky
Jumping jelly beans
handy
Trampolines and
Hormones
Mrs. Jones
She has a thing
going on

New monopoly_

Holy Molly
Oversexed Jolly
Mr and Mrs
Robinson
She's older
and wiser
Took her Lover's ransom

Her ****** I phones ring
hormones
Something has to give
Chinese Din sum
He's jumping off the wall
trampolines whats up
with his *****?
Scratchy felines
Egyptian Nile nine lives
Cats  Meow smile

Love affair Prudence
come
out to play
The Beatles
Love the Abby lane
And she
walked
out insane__
The comedy will get you all the Rising star time this one is quite different I hope it blows your mind
Lora Lee Jan 2018
There is a storm
gathering in
            my womb
soon to explode
into a thousand
crimson stars
lighting up
my veins with fire
and unraveling
deep-set,
          knotted scars
and the gentle rage
outside my window
presses on, inside my head
as I lie here,
my thoughts twisted
in a cozy, yet empty bed
my thoughts unfurl
in misty haze
           curl into
                      smoky
                 rouge
as nightsky thunder rolls
into creamed saxophone
                          deluge
the snare drum beats
in firelight
ripple sheets
in silky flutter
as my fingers strum
my womanly instruments
into loamy, primal butter
my voice in quiet utterance
as the heavens open
           to heavy rains
                    that liquefy
                           my desert
                 hydrate my
           bare-soul caves
so I electrify my echoes
into fruited, crystal drips
frothing up my
cherry wine
upon these moistened,
hungry lips
All these emotions move in waves
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6TP-M3dKcY
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