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stopdoopy Oct 2018
A woman once
                                        Wished on star
                                        From lands afar

                              "Please oh please
                              Bright twinkling light
                              Give me a child tonight"

                    And the woman prayed
                    Every night for years
                    Her plea fell on deaf ears

          Until a goddess
          Who made me swoon
          Heard her tune;
          The Moon

Begging she had heard
The mother of Earth
The call answered
With a "birth"

          Transcending her planet
          Coming to ours
          In a pomegranate

                    Inside the botanic
                    Did she travel
                    Until cloth unravel

                              Child Delivered
                              To dainty hands
                              Such divine plans

                                        Celestial now infant
                                        Baby and parent
                                        Woman loves ancient
For Houkyou, the title is what my friend calls their daughter and the whole poem is based off of it.
Cingyeng Vang Sep 2018
The pomegranate was broken in half by His hands
It bled
And the seeds of the pomegranate was handed out by Him
So all that He chose to give, had a piece of the pomegranate.

Isaiah 53:4‭-‬5
He The Father, The pomegranate The Son, The seed The Holy Spirit, they all work as one.
Dominique Jul 2018
I pop a pomegranate seed.
It bleeds,
Delicate fuchsia delight,
Citrus scented, warm, bright,
Full of nectar and promise
(now wasted)

I pop another one,
In a soft cove on my arm-
A slight dip between two veins -
And watch the blushing drop
Edge closer to my elbow. Stop.

A third time,
With the fury of fear
Tiptoeing listlessly in my mind,
Like raindrops on a rooftop.  
It is sweet, and ******,
A waste of time but an act of god

I crave the sound and texture of it,
So a fourth time comes around.
By now, the citrus is overpowering
But I keep going,
For the sake of purity,
For the sake of the shock of vibrance
On deathly pale skin.
When my arm is covered in juice,
I give up.
There's no sense in envying the wasted.

Scarlet sticks.
amber May 2018
I am a pomegranate.
cut me open.
break my outer skin.

inside of me is my fruit.
the meat of me.

dig your fingers into me,
pulling me apart.
ripping me to pieces.

I do not want to be
in your mouth.
feel the heat of your breath.

chew me up.
spit me out.
and leave me empty.
Azrapse Nov 2017
Seven years ago today
An immature teen
Clocked by reality
Life had been so good
I had a roof
plenty of food
so many dreams
I thought would come true
In the months leading up
To that fateful day
I lost hope in the world
Cut my ties with religion
Pushed the whole world away
Because I was in pain
Emotionally distraught
“This can’t be real” was my only thought
pinch pinch pinch till I bruised
But I wouldn’t wake up
In those days
I felt like each was eternal
Daily visits to the hospital
To see the strongest person I knew
Slowly losing his strength
Drugged up so much
He forgot who I was
I couldn’t understand
Why he couldn’t remember
One day I sat by him
To keep him company
He was so fed up
He just wanted to die
To leave that forsaken room
Of which he was a prisoner
He yanked his iv
With so little strength
As I held him down
With tears pouring out my eyes
He looked into my soul
And with such a piercing rage yelled at me
“You’re worthless let me go
you are not my son”
Those words cut deep
And broke me inside.
My last memory with him
Kills me to this day
It was the last chance I had to visit
And I went into his room
I tried to have a conversation
But he was delirious
He had 5 blankets
But he shivered and said
“Nieve, nieve”
I hugged him tight
A million thoughts running
Through my mind
In my head I ran away with him
Took him on a journey to cross off
Everything from his bucket list
In reality I sat with him and wept
He wiped away a tear and murmured under his breath
Words I couldn’t make out
So I tried my best to figure it out
“Fruta” i managed to hear
So I started naming fruits
He nodded no
His head again shook
Till I guessed what he wanted
I promised him
I would bring him one back
The very next morning
On my way to school
I passed by a tree
And the fruit my dad wanted
Hanging within reach
And as I walked closer
I thought to myself
I’ll pick it later
And headed to class
I still remember clearly the moment I found out
I was in 3rd period algebra
When I got called to the office
Which wasn’t something new
Since I was a rebel
But I felt my gut drop
And somehow I knew
“I don’t know how to say this, your sister is on the phone”
Said the lady in the office
She handed me the phone
I didnt even let my sister speak
“Ok, bye”
The office lady asked me if I wanted to go home
But the last thing I wanted was to see
Was the bigger picture
I had lost peices of the puzzle
All that was left was rubble
Seven years to this day
I’m still constantly depressed
And filled with regret
ally maková Dec 2017
I strain to return to myself—
a peony dewy-eyed, unbeknownst to
the bittersweet taste of your chocolate eyes,
yet biting into it
while you watch.

I dared to do that.
I became your dream
with my pure red mouth,
arched back,
eyes singing.

You wanted to listen some more, didn’t you?
But then, that is all you ever did:
You wanted,
nothing more, nothing less,
and look what you’ve done;

My heart crumbled into pomegranate seeds—
I pick them up on my knees,
smear my mouth with them,
staining it red
as I eat them.

I pretend they are remnants of
the good girl I used to be,
white peony petals.
I don’t want you any longer;
I want her back.
sweet ridicule Dec 2017
you are splitting me open like
a ripe pomegranate
my back arching beneath you
I am nothing but you
(and come and go and here and upside down)
you say your chest feels like it is exploding
and smile at me half ***** in a sweatshirt
sinking into nothingness (everything)
you are garganta do diabo
(my eight year old self feeling a breath of
endlessness for the first time)
and Utah Beach and Mumbai at night
where I am breathless (breathless)
(I am raw here)
twisting my throat splitting
me open like I have never closed up.
mrc Dec 2017
i think you liked the way
my coronet of flowers was
tilted when i reached the
bottom of your black stone stairs
i think you liked the way i
placed the pomegranate seeds
onto my tongue and whispered
"don't tell my mother"
and i think you liked the way
i walked right up to you
as though you weren't a demon
but a fallen angels wanting to be loved
i smiled
and when you said my name...
that was the beginning and end
of everything
this is an interpretation of the greek myth of hades and persephone
sweet ridicule Nov 2017
Drops of red drip down my hand it
(looks like blood)
sweet red juice
the cold water is numbing my tingling
hands as I separate arils from peel
one popping bright red jewel at a time
I am learning to be patient with
(traffic and fruit peeling and anger)
this sink room smells like burnt
ramen and popcorn and my socks
stick to the ***** floor
sitting on the ground
against the wall
If this is all there is I swear
I will be happy
Andie Oct 2017
Deep perfume seeps still from the fallen rose Down down endlessly  
filling the air with all that is pure, and soon all that is not    
diamonds glisten upon its skin Sparkling in the summer heat, he  
knows this won't be the end

moisture condenses around his roots, the tree growing up into  
heaven, life surging around him, springing, growing, ripping  
through the thick and crusted earth. Pun i ca gra na tum is such a complex word for what here has come to pass. the roots shooting     down and spreading, their mirrors filling the sky, soaking up our  
shining beams of phantasmal brilliance.

Only those loved have names wouldn't you Agree some are special 
to the producing world, and Others are left to rot, take the fruit of a morning lily, no one loves her, yet she bears all the same

something stirs within his being, some new body grows out from  
inside, some new some new some new something new. The sky fills
with blood espousal carillon, their pods filling rich and new,  
chiming out for all to hear the dawn rising, the birds flying, yes,
hear them fly above as you watch their song paint the sky in cool
purples and blues.

Color is so trite and love is so outdated and there are those who
wish for the end of the world as well Creation falling to the Ground
as the rosebud does in winter

united in final ecstasy, the bells descend as dying mistrals unveil
our sinking crown, sound-bow dripping away
For him
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