Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Robert C Howard Dec 2013
What sort of lean-to
is habitat to your humanity?

Is it an apartment, bungalow, flat ,
or a cozy cape cod
or perhaps a suburban ranch?

What sort of lean-to
provides those inches and flames
that shield you from
hypothermia and death?

Is it a Georgian Mansion by the sea
or cardboard boxes stacked
beneath the interchange
on the far side of town?
(How many lack even that)?

What sort of lean-to's
will suffice
to shelter the family of man?

*December, 2013
L B Aug 2018
Bent
Near to breaking
by her burden
of fruit, swollen with seed
In that thrashing by wind
Bearing down on the sun
in her labor—
of  Need
to bear
the pain
to bring
her yield
to his hands—
her harvest
of warm juicy softness


Gone—
the upright
reach of untouchable spring
When stems, stern and smooth
wore a lace-beaded bodice of bloom
of coral chiffon
First leaves
a scarf
with a fringe of lime green
wrapping her gifted and lean
to the buzzing

She was lighter than dew
to the amateur insects
smeared with her

Her only accessory--
a robin
They had left
as evidence
they had ravaged
its song


Now broken and leaking
more damage endured  
Ripe fruit in rough hands
He leans against limbs
by his weight sternly pressed  
so suffused in the fragrance
of peach intoxicants
which he will have--

He is lost to his lust
He is forcing his need
into another year's beauty

asserting his claim over and over again
of that lost and ancient bounty
Many edits 8-16-18.
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Pieces of me
thrown away
like trash
Never consulted
Never asked
The direct result
of another’s conviction
or more commonly seen
consequences
from blind ambition

Paranoid
The fix is in
But no invitation
for me,
former me
or forever me
and all of my imitations
beset by my
limitations

Forwardly I lean
step in between
lines upon lines
hidden;
can’t be seen
Falling ill
Now trapped
by its machine
And from my vein;
My blood I spill

A still surface
with sticky sheen
amber tones
from which
I glean
a reason
Thrilled
What it might mean
A hunger
that
can not be filled

Nothing but lies
giving me chills
A shell
with values
not instilled
Instead
it’s dread
Their words
I’m fed
"Nutrients"
to fill my head

My outer skin
Its layer
thin
Not to attacks
No single act
or prayer
could patch
and fill it in
A hole
that’s black
is my first sin

A game
in which
no way to win
and no ending
once it
begins
With opened eyes
commence to see
The dorsal fins
surrounding me

Head starts
to spin
What could have been?
It doesn't matter
in the end
because
there's nothing
here for me
A demon-like reality

Where what you seek
Placed at your feet
The icing; sweet
Choices; not three
Have cake or eat
One choice not two
But want to eat
and have it too

All efforts
to retrieve the treat;
An outcome that
ends in defeat
A princess swept
off of her feat
But this feature
princess;
a creature
Spirit of
a soulless seeker

Deceitful speaker
Flames;
he’ll eat ya
Offers pain
Can’t heal;
life drained
Then reaching out
to use
life-line
but with each ring
hope further wanes

An answered call
done just in time
The chills
running all down my spine
Stand tall
just like Douglas-fir pine
With racing thoughts
filling my mind
I will be saved
Free from it all
God must exist
No time to stall
In battle
warriors
may fall
but no man's ever left behind

Only to find
With said spent dime
A dynamite kind of answer
-
A type
that might
cause strife
Can't plan for
Needed answer
Plight
like cancer
New chance to live
Worldly romancer
On planet Earth
A tiny dancer

A romantic thought
to think
fight fought
Instead a sinking ship
just dropped
This life?
If could
an ‘OUT’
would opt
No more
can take
Just make
it stop
Written: April 17, 2018

All rights reserved.
ELK Jun 15
I'll crumble to dust
if you lean on me
any longer
I am but an sapling
that was forced to grow
before its time
a flower that bloomed
out of season
and withered before it
could blossom.
Esther L. Krenzin
Roguesong
Cindra Carr Jul 2011
Sweet Salacious Sally was a special girl.
Long and lean, Sal wore pearls and kept a blackjack in her purse.
Shiny and bright, Sally was doing all right.

Sweet Sally rode up to my house on her jet black hog.
When Sally came by, attention was paid and the game was on.
It was time to play so I slid up behind her.
Last looks left the neighbors gawking.
Sweet Salacious Sally was a special girl.

cc063011
Novella Arrdea May 2018
"Back off, leave me alone,"

"I won't leave,"

"I swear to god, just leave now,"

"I won't leave,"

"GET OUT, I WANT YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"I WON'T LEAVE!"

"WHY?! WHY DON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!"

"Cause I know how it feels like, I know how that feels. That moment when you told people to get out, to leave, while deep inside you don't want them to. That moment when you said you want to be alone, while the truth you want someone to realize that you need a hug and a shoulder to lean on.

That moment when you said you're fine, while you're dying inside. That moment when you closed your eyes and hope everything's gonna be fine, but you have a war between your heart and brain. That moment when you act like you're brave, but you felt so scared and you're shaking.

These are reasons why I won't leave, reasons why I stay. Don't tell me you're fine, cause I know you're not. Don't tell me you're brave cause I know you're scared. Don't tell me 'you don't know me' cause I know you. Don't talk to me like I don't know what you feel.

So please, let me stay, let me be a shoulder for you to lean on, let me wipe your tears, let me tell you good things, let me be with you,

Forever and always,"
English isn't my first language, sorry if there's something wrong.
Aj Jan 2018
you are words.

you are crashing syllables that drip off of wilting rose petals and each letter is a star. you make up constellations while foreign galaxies drip from your lips. nebulae dance across your angel-shedded skin and particles of the sun hide under the freckles resting on your shoulders.

you are life.

the wonders of the cosmos that swirl in the pit of your lean and golden tummy, finding solace in the way you breathe in and exhale the energy of the universe that you created in the beating passage of my worn-out soul.

you are the universe's child.

and the stars that accumulate under your skin will explode. i'll inhale the stardust and debris, letting the particles of life that you emit pollute my bloodstream.
constellations dedicated to a lover who lost his way.
One gorgeous Spring day
we gathered on my deck,
a few friends and I,
to sing and play
some beautiful music
loved by us all.

My home, on a remote ridge top
of the Sierra mountains,
offered a panoramic view.
Not a single house
could be seen--
only the vast forest
surrounded us.

We accompanied our voices
with two guitars,
a flute, and a
small harp.

As we sang,
the air grew still,
and the tall, fragrant pines
encircling the house
seemed to lean in,
listening.

After awhile we paused,
to savor in silence
the sublime feeling
created by the music.
The harpist stood her harp
on the table.

Just then,
a gentle breeze came up
and the harp began to sing
as the wind's fingers
caressed the strings,
enchanting us all
with a heavenly music
unlike anything
we had ever heard.

Would that my heart
were as that harp,
responsive to
Your lightest touch--
singing endlessly
of love.
Copyright 2010, by Michael S. Simpson.  All rights reserved.
Carter Ginter Oct 2012
Life is lonely when you learn to deal on your own.
A simple task becomes a challenge and a minute turns into an eternity.
When the world turns its nose, when there isn’t a friend to lean on;
When it becomes impossible to even pick up the phone.
Everything loses its potential in a fog of pain
The concept of trust holds no existence
Life becomes nothing and determination ceases.
Then control is lost over all the emotions contained.
zebra Aug 2017
i am much younger than i am
my hair is dark and thick
instead of pruned bald
i am lean and meek
feeling hollow
as if weightless

we are at an airport
with no memory of getting there
i had left my hotel room urgently
in a jacket that is not mine
i can't find my Swedish wife
whom i miss like a panicked child
and my Asian wife whom i've never never met before
and know all to well
is angry
and could care less if i got lost forever

i am going home to my parents house
i remember that they are dead
but we had just spoken
there will be soup and Hors d'oeuvre's
they wait for me
on my way
the streets and boulevards are unfamiliar
yet old hat
and no matter how long i walk
i can never find their house
it's located somewhere in Brooklyn
on Haze street in San Francisco
bright is the sun

i have a business
and retain no idea of what i do
i left my cloths somewhere
and i don't know why
in a locality i cant remember
for a reason that doesn't exist

a beautiful woman smiles offers me ***
she is friends with a girlfriend whom i'm committed too
but do not know and never met
i want to cheat with her
but guilty kisses will ruin everything
so i turn away
murdering desire
in an already anchor-less miasma

i remember a past
my life a continuum
of disjointed vagaries
tears well up

i fear myself a figment
a bodiless revenant
stranded in a fog
sparkles and smoke
incandescence and shrouds
a dis-junctured soul
that clutches memories
like braids of dust
living in the eye of nothing
a labyrinth of shades
lighted by the sun of cognizance
a wretched phantom
transparent husk
living a dark fiction
my grave a womb

i am the dead living
Irish Ditty.. One fine day, middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other.
King Panda Sep 2017
I kiss secrets to your fate

a forest tree of lights amongst

velvet curtains

I don’t think about

your consciousness

when you are kissing me

but imagine your

tattersall expression

resting on my flannel

you

perfect love chameleon

you

queen of extremely small kisses

I catch you looking with

a sideways eye

always twisted in my memory

a corkscrew willow

a head of tangled roots

pulled from the moist soil

I lean in to blend

kiss?

why not.
King Panda Aug 2017
the morning sky
performs a hot dance of rain.
ever-growing lime washes away,
white and sour mistaken
by some noses as
aromatics.
a season
of ever-ending frost
absent from windows
and misty
misty
journey
through the rain
without an umbrella.

rain jilts
its luscious sun-lover
behind clouds.
it beheads drops into
the thin morning air
only to be crushed
by the sidewalk.

this excites the worms
who unearth themselves
like fishing-bait zombies.
the worms are then eaten
by the birds who brave
the rain and the slick
sidewalk, once baptized,
now eats their ****.

I step in a puddle
with my rain boots.
there are holes in their
heels, and I feel
my skin start to crinkle.
I think of you
for the first time in sky water
unsubmerged
docked
landed
and lean in
to the liquid veil.
Skaidrum Jun 2015
●Sunken to my basalisk heart
○the drums of nebula bursting
•Saturn sliding down my shoulder•
°-Lupus circling the lunar fire-°
◇A flask of ivory,◇
¤in the diamond flesh.¤
•This mirror glinting•,
○Steel jaws meet my neck.
~Casting amethyst over
my hair.~
| Reflections scratching at the mist. |
______
"You look lovely covered in
words."

A luminous face, pale and lean.
Spirited as foxes, a shadowman in
gunpowder chain.
Ghost.
"I think you mean sleeves of
poetry."

.
In memory of Jack Addison.
Your grave looks lovely in stale moonlight.
I'm sorry.

© Copywrite
laura Oct 2017
Try too hard,
adjectives aren't my thing
you might be as old as you say you are
but it's not very worth it
cigarettes and love aren't either
the way i look at you?
like a 165 pound
slab of meat
i would love to cut up and eat
or maybe- have you cut me up
and eat me instead

i'm lean i swear
s y k Sep 2018
Now I know how it feels: serendipity;
I sensed it on that 26th of June.
At first glance ecstasy,
by the drapery,
where I first met you.

Rosy cheeks and warm summer air,
Walking side by side,
beneath the daylight's glare.
Pulsing hearts and feeling shy,
passing smiles with our eyes.

Armours fall as stories unfold,
I linger on every word you say.
Laughing with you as time ticks by,
All I want is to ask you to stay.

Cigarettes at sunset,
the music blaring high,
dancing in starlight,
bewitched by your eyes.
You lean in to kiss me,
it's surreal as a daydream,
sweet, and laced with mint and nicotine.

It seems like fate was at play here.
We were meant to be, dear.
Easy marks of Cupid's arrow,
left a feeling I can't outgrow.
Can it be too good to be true?
Take my hand,
let's see it through and through.

Serendipity was a sign,
You're worth the try.
I'll love you, until I die.
To Jordan.
Kevin J Taylor Oct 2015
see-sawn summers
mother's broom
autumn figures
sylvan moon
winter settles
lean and dusky
spring rains
fiddleheads
come busking
.
Fiddleheads are the young curled fronds of some ferns.
.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle and in paperback. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)
kelly solanum Oct 2016
im surrounded by so much light
yet i pray for some to seep into me.
a father looks into his daughter's eyes
on the screen of my tv.
i lean forward
yet i feel nothing
Christian Ek Aug 2014
She arrived mysteriously when the clock struck midnight on my dark rooftop. I turned and only her eyes glowed, they were inviting. I felt a seductive curiosity that compelled me to move towards her. The moonlight exposed her beautiful curse. She had black long hair like a black cats fur, red lips like they had been soaked in blood, and pale skin like that of a person who had seen a ghost. She said, "My name is Callidora, I will grant you immortality in exchange for your soul.” I shook in fear but her eyes said she could show me the world, what I desired the most. So I let her kiss me and lean toward my neck and bite me. We were flying in the cold dead air, taken from the living into something rare. My flaming soul in her heart now, my body reborn by her ****** saving kiss. She granted me the true gift of eternal life, a second chance that came at a price. I let her **** me for love because I wanted eternity with her.
zebra Mar 2018
I'm a black dog
with a torn heart

you
are carved out of light
heavier then rocks

my bowels
a crumbling fortress
dire

in my emptiness
you
make my blood run down dark gutters
to the city of your legs
pooling at your soft pink feet

i strain in prayer
for your love
a black dog in panic

i run seven miles a day
to **** you
my body lean and wire muscle wet
women look on dreaming
as i search for you in their faces

i run killing myself
till your dead
all curving sadness
and broken creel

a hallowed
crypt of desolation

you
a sword through me

farewell
ryn Oct 2014
Yesterday saw us through in a stroll
Unaware of the marathon we've begun.
By day's end we found ourselves bearing future's toll
Realised we were in it to secure today's sun.

Today saw us slightly worn thin
Indulgent naïveté in this marathon we've begun.
Into each other's strengths we lean
Hoping to see the end in tomorrow's sun.

Tomorrow may see us out in the cold
We may not be done with this marathon we've begun.
At opposite poles save for the binds that hold
But still planting hope in future's sun.

The future might see each breath to be drawn
In this marathon we've begun.
Only to be swallowed by each new dawn
Inadvertently still chasing the sun.
Inspired by Sara Bareilles' "Chasing the Sun".
One can only hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Next page