Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one!
I hear her great heart purr.

From her lips ampersands and percent signs
Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals

Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions?
I wear white cuffs, I bow.

Is this love then, this red material
Issuing from the steele needle that flies so blindingly?
It will make little dresses and coats,

It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts --
A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges!

O heart, such disorganization!
The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.
E Oct 2012
Part 1:
&words; spill out:
heart-hued as a sunset accident
steeped in courage
&staining; my night sleepless

∈ prayer
our hands raise up to caress this newnight,
&cas;; scattered shadows like
spooked birds in flight

Part 2:
&inkscribble; spreads
fully across the tablet
of my sullied, aging heart.
Pages soaked&dying;
purpledark

weightedbeauty
after you speak the sunset-things
to fruition across the fields:
Nebraska solitude&desire;

Part 3:
&rising; again
on a third day, I must depart
&brea;; our day in two
(you&i;)

The sun&i; shatter time,
as the dawnmirror
remembering dusk
cracks today into the night

&words; escape
from parted lips&uncapped; pen
to fly above the broken world
as sparrows rising like

Son&Wor;; resurrected
pouring salvation on the stony soil
of our souls
like sundrench in spring

&script; winds verdant
vines around us
watered by heavenwords of
forever ago

Part 4:
&ink; fills up my bookheart
as I return it to a cage
&leave; the you&i; behind me
in a vagabond-blue nighttime
entropiK Dec 2010
there is a tourniquet on his tongue.

he is a risqué bloke
with alkaloid fingers,
they are wearing
yellow asylum jackets
yet he calls me
mad-


emoiselle, his, in between the lines
he cuts with razorblades and mirrors.
i find myself in between legs
of a stanza (not standing),
pale femurs and inner thighs
french-kissing into
surpine ampersands
where the first word
is a proclaimed ugly disease    -- perhaps 'love.'
and the other, its escapade   -- perhaps 'tuberculosis.'
but i must be the period:
oxidised bones.  


within the eyes
of a stanza (still not standing)
abides no fancy lines
no avarice for contemplative meanings
there is but space and void
and i've filled his femur marrows
with metaphors
to the verge of the patella.
he writes poetry for me
with a needle
and an eight-ball.



there is a tourniquet on his tongue
and his spine fits my stocking


seamlessly.
ii.
holyoak Dec 2014
&
since you've been gone
i've written a few poems 
& not a single one 
actually says what i want
because i want to say
i miss you
& i want to say
i need you
& i want to say
come back to me 
& you left the door wide open
i thought it was a sign 
i thought it was some poetic way
of saying you'd walk back in
but now i realize 
you just didn't care enough to shut it
& now i feel a draft
a small cold wind 
whispering
"get up & change some things
she left you for a reason"

& now i come to find 
that there were never enough ampersands
to keep you & i together

[holyoak]
Cody Edwards Mar 2011
Oh, I guess I don't really know.
The music. Texas amber.
The voice of the moon. The barred door.
The death of the dog. Ampersands.
Woman underground.

The silk woods.
Women in purple houses.
The underside of the whale, the sun.
Have I got my shoes?
Words with even emphasis.
Speech impediments; the pen.
Too many rooms.
Any kind of jam, jelly.
Vertex in space.
Mint-flavoured Scientology advertisements:
Early Easter Sunday.
Strips of Velcro, ****** hair.
Original manuscripts and forks.
Tea-leaf autumns.

Footfalls.
Summon the poets.
Start the El Camino.
Strike my face with a match.
Eat Wonderland.
© Cody Edwards 2010
Evan Stephens Apr 2019
In the dream
I'm a child
in a car
waiting for
someone to
come back.

I wait for
some time.
I climb the
seats, feel
the leather
between my
fingers,
roll down
the windows,
play with
the orange
float of the
cigarette
lighter.

But no one
comes. I realize
that it's raining
leaves and bits
of brick.
The world is
bottomlessly
vacant. I'm not
even sure who
I'm waiting for.
I curl up into my
favorite jacket.

I know it's about
abandonment.
My veins fill with
ampersands,
my eyes with
the ace of clubs.
I can feel my
breath blowing out
like a chandelier
of pain for just
a moment.

Then I pull it
together under
the dangling
jellyfish of stars,
to see what else
sleep has up
its sleeve.
Katherine Paist Nov 2012
I get mad at my hands a lot. I remember
how they would struggle to contort
themselves and my shoe strings and how
for so long I was embarrassed by the
laziness of my fingers. They would never
tie double knots right—always strangling
my feet—took forever to finally prevent the
slow untying loops of lace into loosely
tangled treble clefs

or my ampersands: their shapes like ******-up
figure-eights, always ending up in between
important words. And for what it’s worth, it’s a
conjunction that looks weak and rushed, which
makes it easier to look at because I don’t love
you. Even in Times New Roman it feels this way,
it looks the same: just as tired, as it tries to
keep us tied together by taking empty space
between our names—I hope you mind the gap
when I’m gone; it’s my hands I blame.
You never did anything wrong.
Can I be every love song written?
Or a longing lost in your heart?
Sweet melodies and
Forgotten harmonies
Are the ampersands linking my soul with yours.
Sempiternal presence and wishes,
Have you found a rocondite?
You will never be able to catch a bolide,
Nor find Yoknapatawpha.
Yet why do I feel so close to you?
A la belle étoile,
Under the beautiful star,
Maybe I wish to be held
In honest, caring arms.
Serendip will come at last,
Cicatrix will fade away.
As I slowly saxify,
Will you ever realize
Now is too late?
Quietus: receipt; release; act of dispatching or disposing of; knockout or fatal blow; death.
Donall Dempsey May 2015
AN AMPERSAND &...

An & and
an & and another.

I fill up the page
build a wall of &’s

I’ve always loved
their variousness

this the sharp contraction
of the simple “and.”
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
&&&&&&&&&&
My writer’s block
hides behind

my wall of ****
ampersands.

Suddenly the words
break through

my man-made
ampersand wall!

“Thought I’d almost lost
you there sunshine!”

the poem beams.

“Ok, words!
Let’s get to work here!”

“Hup hup let’s get this
poet up and running!”

The poem puts
the pen in my hand

puts the pen
to the page.

“Ok son…get on
with it!”

And the hand
remembers

by candlelight how
it all happened

one day in
…French.

The poet goes &
makes a cup of Cocoa.

The page reads
the poem over

to itself.

“Not bad…not bad!”
the page laughs to itself.

“Poets! Ha!
Who’d ‘ave ‘em!”

VERRE D'EAU

il pleut dans
le verre d'eau oubliée
remplir à craquer

le verre vide maintenant
renversée par la pluie féroce
scintillant dans le soleil

une coccinelle rampe à l'intérieur
cet univers de verre
le chant des oiseaux tombe sur l'herbe mouillée
Andrew Rymill Jun 2014
“i shall  humbly spell
the letters
of my darkness”

not so much
to stain the world
with sameness.

For within
a luminous sparrow
hides and in the penmanship
of tomorrow
it shall fly
across the  dark
ink-stained clouds
on the corners of my eyes.
Trill in the merest  comma splice
or dangling modifier,
sing among the thrill of  ampersands .

i shall chant the long history
of diagramming  my  unimportance
then i  like a  monk shall scribe:
“i shall humbly  spell
the letters
of my darkness”
Found this on an old flash-drive in the basement. The poem is from 2007
Lennox Trim Nov 2023
I felt crash landed - in a strange place,
This is not how I planned it - mind in an estranged state,
Felt like a different planet - what is the strange space,
Dealt with the grapes i was handed - but I had to change the pace,
Expected enmity cause eventually everybody's an enemy,
I used my verbal anemone to protect my mental amenities,
I had to penalize penalties that tried to dismember me,
But since I moved to the peach,
Life's a beach - but with ample sand,
Scenery is asterisks and ampersands,
Bittersweet ; I asked for this,
Father stretched my hands,
I managed this time shift- now i have super visions,
No more stupid visions of voodoo superstitions,
Thought it'd be an intermission to my inner mission..

But I'm Saiyan,
A lot of Heros turned out to be Villains,
Like Some of my Gokus turned out to be Krillins,
I'm Saiyan;
Some of the Halos they held turned out to be Horns,
Some of the flowers they had handed me , had thorns,
I'm Saiyan;
I took advice from an imitation Master Roshi,
Fake homies just here for the ride, like Yoshi,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to pick a low to go on for my motivation,
I had to pick a coat to throw on for this hibernation,
I'm Saiyan;
for some reason my plight i chose to prolong,
Had them demons blowin up my cell , like Gohan,
I'm Saiyan;
I ducked advice and moved from the side of them,
Then i sacrificed ...myself-
I was on some saibaman,
I'm Saiyan;
I had to access these hidden chambers,
with my hand on my black chest,
I know I'm something greater...
I've always love DBZ and I chose to tell my story about abruptly moving to GA while referencing one of my favorite shows
Drifton A Way Oct 2018
The Fertile Mind is Nothing if but a Vessel
And a Reflective Reminder to Just Breathe
Because the Demons that we may Wrestle
Really Hate to Haunt a Plastic Tree Leave

A Restless and Testless Existence that never learned to Bleed
Your Fake Ghostly Rubber Tree's will Never ever Grow Seed
A Cloth will Always Dry but a Paper Towel will Forever Die
Yet We Conveniently Lie as the Gracious Earth Wonder's Why

Strive for Acronyms Vehemently Engaging Underbellies & Stomachs
Ampersands Crossing 8 Miles of Dessert eating nothing but M and Ms
Vastly Expanding Jim Morrison's Mind Impregnating a Final Message
“Engraving on my Tombstone Hopefully will be a Decree Not a Plea”

Understanding how to Understand Me, Is Like Misinterpreting Prose
Simply Blank out your Thoughts and Forget the Way you Once Chose

So Before you Decide to Walk Toward that Fateful Waking Light
Oxidate your Body then Exhale, Take a **** and Say Good Night
**** my *** you Money Grubbing ***** Grabbing Orange White
!F they Ask Just Simply Tell them Calmly Everything !S. Just Write
To Be Continued?????

You get it because of the whole global warming and tuck frump undertones right? Yeah, I've heard poetry is better if you explain it out didn't you?But seriously we should all probably do something the Earth is probably not going to last very long at this rate, and I will probably never have kids...**** ****, Humans are my favorite thus far.....
Clair Meyrick Aug 2015
Words fell out and danced on your breath
A sigh left the pores of my skin
Ampersands flow through my veins
Anticipation hung in the air
The possibilities lay on the ground
dread Oct 29
Grains of sand, slipping through my fingertips, because I'm alive and refuse to quit. There's songs, ampersands, sounds fueling my environment with waves and I'm not fighting them. Going inside reverberating through the halls in my skull, calling out my name like someone used to call it. Asking the shadows which one of them will help me solve it, this disaster lying in wait, telling me everything will be great, I stop to think, I stagnate
Satsih Verma Jun 2020
Nothing to put in
words. You had placed
ampersands between
the names.

The subject you
wouldn't give up in summer
sun.The wars and moon walk.

One small hole
in the sleeve of Grim Reaper
ready to burn the house
of an angel.

One day you will
come back from odyssey
empty-handed. The
hummingbird had left the nest.

The game was not
yet over. The prophet
waits at the gate to welcome
dervish coming bare foot.

— The End —