"shrilled" poems
~ Aurora Borealis
Under the arch of a starry sky
With a temperature well below zero
I touched your soul with my warm hands
Like an round aura, you reflected the universe
Of our love...
A labyrinth of roads that lead
In stardust, your thoughts whirl as
Small particles, and with pure reflection
My Aurora Borealis you're so beautiful, robust
And longing…
I take you into my warm cabin
Where we drink hot chocolate
The icicles are in your unshaven beard
I find you charming with your red hands
I'll warm you up…
The cold wind makes cracking our wooden hut
And along the windows shrilled the sound
In contrast with our warm fireplace
The crackling of the wood is divine
I look at you…
My Aurora Borealis, you are so handsome
With your thick winter coat still on,
As purple and green sparks reach our
Living room, where your dark hair glistens
I kiss you…
It will never be really dark
In days of love, where light shines
And see your reflection sparkle
Where I could rest by your presence
I am with you…
~ Elisa Laura
© 2012 E. L.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
BENEATH the flat and paper sky
The sun, a demon's eye,
Glowed through the air, that mask of glass;
All wand'ring sounds that pass
Seemed out of tune, as if the light
Were fiddle-strings pulled tight.
The market-square with spire and bell
Clanged out the hour in Hell;
The busy chatter of the heat
Shrilled like a parakeet;
And shuddering at the noonday light
The dust lay dead and white
As powder on a mummy's face,
Or fawned with simian grace
Round booths with many a hard bright toy
And wooden brittle joy:
The cap and bells of Time the Clown
That, jangling, whistled down
Young cherubs hidden in the guise
Of every bird that flies;
And star-bright masks for youth to wear,
Lest any dream that fare
--Bright pilgrim--past our ken, should see
Hints of Reality.
Upon the sharp-set grass, shrill-green,
Tall trees like rattles lean,
And jangle sharp and dissily;
But when night falls they sign
Till Pierrot moon steals slyly in,
His face more white than sin,
Black-masked, and with cool touch lays bare
Each cherry, plum, and pear.
Then underneath the veiled eyes
Of houses, darkness lies--
Tall houses; like a hopeless prayer
They cleave the sly dumb air.
Blind are those houses, paper-thin
Old shadows hid therein,
With sly and crazy movements creep
Like marionettes, and weep.
Tall windows show Infinity;
And, hard reality,
The candles weep and pry and dance
Like lives mocked at by Chance.
The rooms are vast as Sleep within;
When once I ventured in,
Chill Silence, like a surging sea,
Slowly enveloped me.
3.6k
A yellow jacket
Pulsed while scaling candied ham
Then braced, sawed a piece
Away it swayed amongst oaks
Cicadas shrilled loud and hot
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
Creased felines crossing lines,
Pressing claws into dust.
Western hemisphere,
Reviving the pilgrimage.
Bubbles and logs
Satiate their under garments.
Enhancing hair follicles
Resembling shards and spurs.
At a woodsy bar,
A tabby liberated the fangs
He rented last holiday.
The bartender shook with perplexity.
Reacting simultaneously-
A minor character, Little Leon.
The dusty town called him
Leon, for he was alone.
Little Leon got taller
In a basement full
Of water. The dusty town
Was an adjustment.
The tabby and Little Leon
Faced off for recognition.
Leon wretchedly charged
The floor boards with sopping ends.
Crayon versus colored pencil;
They chose their weapons
Anxiously. It was
Bring your son to work day.
The bent bartender
Spared his child’s eyes.
“I’m not your little boy,”
The child shrilled at him.
“I don’t want trains,
Or fake guns meant for play.
I miss my mom,
And dresses on Sunday.”
Cats on a pilgrimage,
Rarely stop from
Slurping a drink. Pity refilled
Cups, as tails twitched in trial.
The tabby and Leon
Came to a halt, seeing as
Punishment was engraved atop
The bartender’s grungy mitts.
The clowder gathered,
As the Tabby scolded the man
Behind the bar. “Remember where
you leave your beverage.”
And that was that.
Leon’s internal complexity,
Being left with only himself,
Dissipated. There are others
Who feel more alone.
Tabby picked up his crayon.
His spurs clanked
And spun, as his guided
His feline friends out the front.
Tumbleweed skidded
Outside the bar.
The bartender finally saw
That his son was not a son.
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
princess blood cult
throne of tethers
rumor's of frazzle drip murders
and blood spatters
on a bed of grinning hooks
X
marks the *******
she bled they fed
in love in bed
torn dress and flutter ******
form her squandered torso
as bare feet dangled
while skies shrieked knotted eyes
watching her get it hard
wet **** drunk
she tumbled
in this little black house of madness
****** her in a sack of sins
while **** buckarooed
in a wood shed paradise
welcoming death by sexicide
she backstroked head over heels
exposed
flirting in the graveyard hacked and black
beckoning orchards that
caressed her by squirming *****
she adored the mole that snuggled her
while thighs shuddered with anticipation
hurricane tongued
she licked grinning *****
for pudenda's pillow
shimmed black light disco daggers
down her lips
to ****
to thighs
to drooling
raw lips
her ****
like a shucked oyster
whimpering disciple
of enticing wounds
bloom in gloom
she tasted like taffy panicked *******
erotomaniac
from head
to lips
to feet
chanting squeals
of infernal opera
in the throws of blood *******
and weeping barbarous
stammer
beezel blaba blaba
Beelzebub
her body stained labyrinth floors
in soiled cathedrals of desire
while growing phantasm babies
he whispered death music
in grottos of legs over head
that made her hotter than
boiled fish eyes
chopped her in two
she squirmed
shivering inkblots of madness
cu cu cu cu cu cu
*******
swing the scythe
and
get the knife
she shrilled
pump the ****
split the bone
smudge the lips
spit and blood
moon eyes turn blood gauze
and heads swivels hula
the **** yields
a spooled mouth contortion
her *** crack
a smile of accomplishment
and tormented ballet feet
stretched tickle toes
for heavens edge
she panted rolling away dark air
in an uneasy creeping
and widened thighs
she lost her head
like a chopped carrot
for the miracle of oblivion
you could hear the last thump
falling as silence falls
she spread like bat a wing umbrella
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
When I was 6,
For Christmas
I wanted a nail polish set
That is for GIRLS
My mother shrilled
When I was 7
My parents found me in
A glittering princess dress
I had felt beautiful
You are a boy
Boys don’t wear dresses
Oh and when I cried
Boys don’t cry
Boys don’t cry
*Boys do not cry*
Because crying is
For the weak and only
Girls cry
Showing emotion is
A flaw but I’m
Designed for flaws
From the beginning
Buffy the Vampire Slayer was
My idol and Fran Dresher
Was my mom
Women are treated as
A lesser being and
As an insult
And I’m sorry
I’m so sorry that I have
Enough respect for women that
I want to be in tune with
Myself and that
I looked up to women during
My childhood
Was surrounded by
Athena’s and Medusa’s making
Men kneel before them because
Women have a key
To unlock their souls
Women are warriors
And I want to be
A warrior
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
It rained again last night
The flooded trenches alive with rats
Behind us pigs from destroyed farms
Feast on the bodies of French long dead
Shell fire ceaseless
Machine guns sing, men die
Yes men die
Just a mile away, a gentle slope
Leads to Pachendale ridge
Just a gentle walk in peacetime
With slow meandering streams
I am long since dead, destroyed by
Shot and shell
I gave my life for you my love
For you, for you not for my country that I fell
Out lads out and the whistles shrilled
Out lad out 'this your time to be killed
Robots of old, numbed, scrambled minds
We left the safety of this place
Into the holocaust of ****** hell
To be mangled and destroyed by burning
Shot and shell
Keep going boys, keep going
There's just a mile to cross
But a mile of mud and devils hell
And for every yard a man was lost
Cleanly killed by the bullets bite!!!!
If he was lucky yes
But more likely to drown in mud and blood
As the gory shell hole ****** him down
Ypres 1915
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
I saw not the moon
She loved me never
Lumpen rock
I saw not.
The moon and how
High out of song
She shrilled-
The lying moon
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
Some say the Earth is where the demons lay.
Some say beneath the ground is where you'll hear the cries.
And I doubt it still.
Just out of hope that she might rise.
Even upon our highest hill is below what we can surmise.
Some say the skies is where we'll sigh after we die.
Forgive my baptized mind, but I read your book.
It denies lies.
So wise, and still
my will, bearing this skill, is shrilled
behind
this jive disguise.
Standing on what we could fulfill, we'll see the others improvise.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:52 PM UTC
In the dark of night wind shrilled
he had to let go of the terror of which he was filled
soon came sun, ready to steal the spotlight
she danced and beamed, she was a delight
and wind accepted this defeat, he let his fear be stilled
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC