Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
SelinaSharday Feb 11
Ur in the hallway..at this point in our day.  
You were just in my doorway just late da other day.
Smiles tempted to fade away.
My words are failing to say..
What they should on today.
I'd like my faith to erase away any doubts pushing in my doorway. (You) what should you do..I want your desire.
I even want your pull away. I want you to walk away..
I even want ya to stay.
I want us continuing on this Sunday..
Invite you into my living room..
Is it too soon?
I feel I've known ya such a long time..
Turn around and convince myself it hasn't been enough time.
To act as if your a life long love of mine...
Oh twisted space in myself I find..
Still here chilling hanging with time..
By sharday!
Opened the front door stood in my front hallway.. had some hearty long conversation. each time you stand in the hallway. you peek into my doorway. Let me invite you into the living room
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned,
accidentally angled just so, lol,
her image transported from living room to dining alcove
all the way to the kitchen’s bleacher seats

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m swelling and
sinning

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***,
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.

Logan Robertson

7/25/2018
Jenay Jarvis Feb 2013
I sat shirtless
in a familiar setting,
with familiar hands
tracing along the ridges-

that wrapped across the shorelines
of my backbones-

creating melodies of
ecstasy ribbing thoroughly under translucent
films of erected skin,

All the while-
what I heard in the doorway
in that afternoon sun
was clearer
and more divine
than the immaculate prayers
of selfless Saints;

When you said
**"I can see where they cut the wings".
Rob Rutledge May 2013
The Aces check their sleeves,
Hearts rippling across the breeze.
The Queen arises
Slowly,
Torn dress ripped at the knees.

The Jack saw his fill
And quickly took his leave.
Stood trembling in a doorway,
Mind struggling to believe...

The King was an alcoholic,
It was widely known to be so,
Each eve he would sit solemn,
Wine in hand and sword on show,
Clapping to the Jokers' japes
As he danced and sang
About love and fate.
But how was the King to know?
Not two rooms away
His wife had lain,
With a smile and a *****.
Creating a cuckold and a fool...

The Jack had had enough
And promptly marched
To the throne room.
Armed with only knowledge,
Unleashes inevitable typhoon.

The winds will rise,
This house shall succumb,
Imploding inwards
Till the house is done.
And all that remains
Among ash and decay,
Broken hearts and broken spades,
Is the Jokers last laugh.
A mockingbirds call as daylight fades.
L B Mar 2017
Freezing a glance
Wind cuffs down-white heliums
Sweeps contrails
Separates cirrus across the moon

Cresting wave tormented
wind against steel
movement in movement
sprays of hair

Blizzard of petals from the apple
Furious snow
drifts off—  garage roof  
Fog that haunts the river on the coldest nights
___

The walk across the alley
took—
so long—
A lifetime from the doorway
of someone else’s impatience
Prints of motion
record the loss
a single set in snow

But there!
on the icy, shoveled surface of night
lies the snowflake of a bird
impossibly molted
Song of a feather
caught—
Flailing! Helpless!

More than lovely for its lying there!
Lying there!
Repost for the cold nights
ryn Aug 2014
Street lamps play
As they have before
Dim walkway
Leading to a door

Careful steps
Strewn leaves
Breathe between gaps
Skulking like thieves

Rustling trees
Otherwise nothing
Mind at ease
Heart rapidly beating

Usually stops here
Usually I'd stir
But still in slumber
I drew closer

Eyes on door
Familiar scene
Stood here before
This dream I've been

Up the patio
Door was ajar
Accompanied by my shadow
Stretched far

Tunnel vision
Dripping eave
Door handle beckons
Hand raised to receive

Usually stops here
Usually I'd rouse
Allowed to enter
This time... This house

Handle I seize
Door seemed light
It did not freeze
Hinges did not fight

Revealed the insides
Scanned surroundings
Unlit lights
Stairs climbing

Footsteps I heard
Coming my way
Sounds absurd
But yet I stay

Usually stops here
Usually dream is done
But still was clear
It only had begun

Darkened figure
Descending on bare feet
Beauty light as feather
Ever did I meet

She did not see me
Planted at the doorway
Impossible it may be
Nothing did she say

Walked right by
My eyes followed
Seconds fly
In eternity they burrowed

Usually stops here
Usually I'd wake
Yet still I'm here
Chance I'd take

Stood at the fridge
Back towards me
Under siege
My mind set a flurry

Fridge was opened
Light casted her silhouette
Her back darkened
Curiosity grew fat

Illuminating beams
Accentuated her hair
Like golden streams
Flowing with flair

Usually stops here
Usually I'd startle
Connection did not sever
Continue I was able

Spellbound I gawked
Rooted like a tree
Wide-eyed I stalked
This siren before me

She drank
Not knowing I was there
Stiff as a plank
I was locked in a stare

Finally broke free
Shifted my weight
She turned to me
And then said...

Then it ceased
Then I awaken
Surprisingly pleased
Slice of heaven

Who was she?
Silhouetted face
Perpetually...
Mysterious grace

Foreign albeit familiar
Strange but true
Now rings clear...


It is you...
Based on a dream I had.
multi sumus Aug 2018
Hollow shoes in hallowed halls
This sunswept maze where shadows fall
upon the stones which lie beneath my feet

Through the doorway thresh is held
By bated breath
and faith dispelled
My faculties restrained i do entreat

For many a moon has passed since last ive cast mine eye upon that has such beauty uncompared to any other

Chaos thought
A thousand dream
With hastened heart
Although it seems
i seek not her a Love
but yet a Lover

          They began to whisper...

   Which shall speak that her gaze may fall upon Us?
   And to what voice heard will her hand reach forth?

   Be it by pillowed tone her heart be swooned?

   Nay, But with intellect and eloquence shall she be found appeased

   And what of charm found south with a hint of gentleman drawl?

   Or does she desire a tumble and rough to take hold and charge her?

   Perhaps raw and silent with mystery air, allowing her curiosity to draw her near Hahaha!

Ahh humor, Yes a quick travel in, entertain her that she may be...Tickled

Cease this banter
Silence
Still
Strength within
Bend
Break i will not
follow in Your footsteps any longer!

Now bold am i
Through time and times
With patience prayer
and then i find
That that which destroys not    
just makes me stronger

So with humble speech and subtle grin
Repore is built
Then questioning
"Opportunity may i have to call upon you?"

Refuse me not
My dear i pray thee
Words amassed
Forgive and let be
known they're spoken only unto few


And within the shadow They murmured
Each by Their turn...

   Bound by silken thread and silent tongue?

   Nay, By soft and sweetened lips shall We speak unto her flesh
Be not word nor sound that echoes in those ears but merely whispers to her soul

   Mmm, inch by inch shall she be ravished, Savoring every delicate morsel, And feasting upon her succulence shall We find solace

   Oh! That We be granted leave to bestow upon her such pleasures

   Pleasures yes! And through pain she will know them!

   Release Us That We may consume!

Deny Us not for We hunger!

NAY! the scream
though not aloud
Consent withheld
within a shroud of
mystery to why the unacception

So unto the lock
the bars do hold
These demons kept  
since times of old
speech silent to avoid any detection.
Laura Haze Mar 2015
I swallow 20mg a day
I stay quiet next to you
I don't tell you you're the most beautiful thing I've seen in months
I know you're hungry
You don't eat your mother’s dinner
You eat me instead
I'm trying to find a way to tell you that your a heaven sent angel with a fat halo
But you grab at me and I can't speak clearly
My life with you have been episodes of this:

Departure, love, destruction and departure again
I scream you want it
you asked for it
you stood in my doorway wanting me
drawn to me like moth to a flame
Just come here again
Let me turn you over and hurt you again
Anya Apr 22
He got used to it

Keeping his heart
in the fridge

Sometimes he opens
the door to look at it

He stands there
in the doorway
and watches it

Beating

In a calm
and steady rhythm

He feels tempted
to take it out

Warm it up

But he never does

He leaves it there
on a special shelve

Safe

In the emergency
he knows what to do

He simply turns the
temperature down

When it gets too warm


Clarity has claws
Within her pouncing, padding paws
Laps up goat's milk raw
Grapples a teddy bear to songs
Tied to a robe's string
Well, she plays with literally everything-
Her eyes say exactly what she means.

No ****, Clarity is a cat I call to come back
I find myself pleading for her return-
With the promise of a salmon snack,
In exchange for lessons learned,
But I only capture glimpses of her white and black
As she flashes by the doorway,
Always only doing things her own way.

Since her trust is hard-earned,
I coax her cleansing burn.
She climbs up my bare leg
With her razor sharp needles,
First thing in the morning without any warning

Clarity,
Why did I beg you to come near? ! don't tear !
I only wished for your soft vibrations in my ear !
It's so impossible to change your nature
I wasn't bleeding before you were here, but your message is pure

You only come running when you're hungry!

&Would you really eat me if I died?
The way you watch with such wild eyes,
(I'm sad to know I shouldn't be surprised)
Your tapping tail  compromises your position,
Your crystal clear intention
To play with your prey before you ****** and eat them

Clarity,
embodying the way her name hides and smiles, pounces for a scream
as if she were mean!
Sneaks off to surprise her  next unsuspecting victim
-
Tummy full,
Warm purr, a welcome buzz
She comes, she plays with, she eats my ego, she loves, she kneads, she purrs, she leaves, I plead

ah, Clarity

-Hayleo Liz
#hayleoliz
#hayleolizpoetry
SteamPhunk Feb 2018
Wednesday, 14th of February 2018, 7.00pm,
" breaking news, a mass-shooting happened today in Florida, American authorities are calling this the worst school shooting in U.S.A's history "
6 minutes and 20 seconds,
That's all it took,
17 confirmed dead,
15 injured,
Countless more lives ruined,
All in under 10 minutes,
No parent should ever have to hug their child,
So tight,
Just because it might be the last time they'll ever say goodbye,
No kid should ever have to be afraid of their school hallway,
Or be afraid of who's standing in the classroom doorway,
No kid should ever wonder if this day will be their last,
And no parent should ever have to bury their kid,
Six feet out of their reach,
So this is for Scott,
And for Alyssa,
For Martin,
And for Nicholas,
Not forgetting Aaron,
This goes to Chris,
And Luke,
For Cara,
And for Gina,
Joaquin and Alaina,
Meadow, Helena, and Alex,
Carmen and Peter,
You are all in our hearts,
Let's face it,
The Floridian community of Douglas,
Will never go back to " normal "
So, Washington? Trump?
Riddle us this?
When is this going to be added to your list of " proud American traditions "?
There are too many heavy hearts,
Too many dark days,
Too much chaos and confusion,
For this to be swept under the carpet again,
Just like the last time,
We weren't even a quarter of the way into 2018,
Yet there had already been over 30 mass-shootings since the beginning of January,
So here's to the people who aren't accepting the truth,
Who are too " confused " to realize what's going on,
For the people who haven't woken up to the fact,
That there were unidentified bodies,
Sitting cold in that school for over 24-hours,
And do not tell me I am too young to know what I'm talking to you about,
I stand alongside Emma Gonzalez and the hundreds of young people across the globe,
This isn't just for our lives,
This is for everyone's lives,
Since when did " don't shoot children " become such a controversial statement?
Since when did school safety become a debatable, two-sided matter?
So I will join my fellow marchers,
And yell loudly and unapologetically,
Until they hear our voices,
In the words of Emma Gonzalez,
Adults like it when we have strong test scores,
But not when we have strong opinions,
We are Marching For Our Lives,
And this is our legacy.
#enoughisenough #thisendsnow #Iwillmarch #marchforourlives
Mary Gay Kearns Oct 2018
Cascades of red in Hedgehog Houle
The beginning of Autumn falls over
And breaks the greenest in morning
We pass the church arched doorway
And the hawthorn berries brightest.

Walking the steady step in this day
Finding the bend the windy winds
Show me little Alfie in his nestling
For love carries everything trusting
This pathway of flowing memories.

Love Mary **
Brooke White Nov 2018
My father uprooted the linoleum tile
after purchasing the house and noticing carpenter ants.
The owners of the house before had laid down
their best pine colored flooring in the kitchen
back in 1959.
I would toddle in and out of the doorway
playing with the grout spacers,
and reaching for sourdough in the pantry.
All while stepping tiny pink sandals
around the dead ants.
I wanted to help my father, but was too afraid
to go near the oven.
The oven, whose
exhaust fan would snarl
like an animal of the night.
Incandescent, where they found Sylvia Plath.
Stained with oil
like a forgotten Jackson *******.

Foreboding
of it’s adjacent countertop
where eventually would lay
divorce papers.
Sara Kellie Mar 17
Can't sleep for thinkin'
Can't wake for drinkin'
this place that I live in
to expensive to be in.

I tried just a taste
but that wasn't enough.
If I don't stop it now
I'll be back livin' rough.

Over populated streets at night.
For a doorway to sleep in
I'll have to fight and
hide under a blanket
until it gets light.

and repeat verse 3

Kaydee.
Addiction
juneau Feb 11
it was not quite morning, yet, i woke in my bed
in the doorway there was darkness and a black figure i read
standing in the doorway in silence, not a word, nothing said
i could just make out its eyes: yellow, and black with a hue almost red
it was staring at me filling me full with dread
i saw it's hands rested on the doorframe with fingers spread
i tried not to scream but an airy hiss left my head
as all of my courage and sanity fled
then i swear this figure, back into the darkness it bled
until i could no longer tell it from the shadows at the foot of my bed
February 11 2019

fifty-eight

Couldn't sleep last night
Michael Solc Aug 2015
I ate from 
a rotting bowl
the writhing fruits
picked blindly 
by the crone,
who set her children 
free
into the
forest. 
They whisper
in the 
tangled brush,
snatching at 
the ankles 
of those who 
wander
from the path. 

Under grey 
skies
weeping their
first snow,
the crackling
branches
twist in their 
death throes,
as wretched beasts
burrow through
their brittle bodies
to hide 
from the cold. 
And from the
children,
who play
at being 
wolves. 

The crone
speaks
before the
hearth,
of little
but the 
cold,
stirring her
*** over
heartless
flame. 
She says
their names, 
never quite 
smiling,
but weeps
softly when 
she cannot 
remember
her own. 
I do not
tell her mine,
for fear 
she will 
one day
whisper it 
upon the 
fire. 

On my way,
she called
once from the
darkened doorway,
a plea to a girl
she once knew,
answered
by a mad
laughter, 
from the
cold and dark,
where no 
footsteps
fall.
Harsh Dec 2014
When every other thing in your life has shattered
and you are a shell of a person and all you do
is call me at an ungodly hour to be alone,
you don’t have to say hello. You don’t have to say
anything. Let your sadness speak its lengths
through the silence that permeates through our phones.
I’ll stay on until you fall asleep, or I’ll come to your place
and hold you until you find your breath again.
I’ll wipe away the tears for you, but I won’t tell you
not to cry. Sometimes crying is the only thing we can do.

When you’re tired, just look at me and
give me one of those exhausted smiles we share;
I’ll carry you home and undress you.
I’ll fold your clothes to the side, tuck you into the covers,
and read to you while caressing your hair.
Don’t worry about snoring or moving about
while you sleep; just get your rest.

When you’re furious and all the world has done is
disappoint you, I’ll hang from a doorway and be
your punching bag. Don’t be gentle with me.
Yell until your voice splinters and you punch your knuckles raw
and stomp until your knees give out from under you.
I’ll lay you down and ice your hands and give you tea
for your throat. I’ll hold you as the rage turns into
anguish and frustration and all you can do is tremble.

And even when my actions are futile and
all my words do is come crashing about your ears,
I promise that I will at least try for you.

All your wounds heal both inside and out.
I will always be here to soothe the burns.
I will always listen to your rants and ramblings.
I will always have a hand for you to hold.
I will always love you; everything that I have
and everything that I am, all that that I ever will be,
is yours.

Always.
My rendition of this piece: http://lntroductions.tumblr.com/post/75665068982/and-if-you-call-me-at-4-am-too-sad-to-even-say
Next page