"shrivelling" poems
I hung the sunflower
from a piece of twine
in my wardrobe,
some months ago now.
Something once beautiful,
a gift from you to me,
a symbol of us,
together
and the happiness we found
in eachother
as we grew and bloomed
together.
So I hung it in the wardrobe
to preserve it.
To keep it. To admire it.
To cherish it for as long as we could.
And yet despite my attempts,
this sunflower’s petals
fell to the wardrobe floor,
it’s head shrivelling, wilting.
What could I do?
but leave it there
for days and weeks,
suspended amongst the clothes.
But the longer I left it,
unable to face
what I knew I had to do,
the worse this sunflower became.
We cannot restore
life into something
dead
and decayed.
I sharpened my shears and cut both
the thin twine of the sunflower,
and the thin twine holding us
together.
The dead sunflower hanging in my wardrobe
becomes the dead sunflower
lying amongst its own petals
on the wardrobe floor.
I am left to pick up the pieces
of what once was.
It was useless to try to preserve
when all flowers live, then die.
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 6:37 PM UTC
sat in your lap
jealousy builds
like pressure
once a fissure
it now inches
its way across
my soiled soul
lather it on my body
like blood -
thick and treacly
dark, sticky
ever so sickly
tell me your lies
tell me your truths
trace them into my flesh
mark me
cast the runes
now they have spoken
clatter on the rocks
like my pride has
broken
my rage glowing
all I can see
forever growing
I embody entropy
A rule of disorder
hatred rises
through the flames
let it burn me
to ashes
like your touch
sizzles my skins frame
it's a crime scene
of blood swirling like ink
pills scattered
around me
like a ritual
I wonder what
my mother would think
you're a dream thief
knife in my
heavy heart
you've stripped me bare
and I stand
as you depart
with nothing but
at your mercy
I'm you're experiment V
the looking glass shows me
what's left
a withered mess
existing
for you to thrive
tired pile of crumbly bones and
shrivelling rotting insides
tossed aside
burn me to
oblivion
I want the skin
to stop sticking to my bones
melt it off
let the blood pool onto stone
let the fat droop and distend
mocking me, me mocking
never ever stopping
wretch and stretch
till I break
rip my organs out
serenade my limp body
with the liquid lava that drips
as you extract
my black heart
take a sip of my sublimity
I am all you will never be
because I don't think I ever was
do what you will to my material
never to extinguish my fire
that does
never
cease
limitlessly
increase
the
entropy
KG
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
In place of memories — embers.
Inextinguishable, yet untrue
to the fidelity of what was.
The smoky curlicues, too,
have been denied. That whiff
of the past. Smouldering,
it warms the prudent hand.
Sears the lingering one.
In place of you — embers.
Charcoal flake anklets at your feet.
Wrinkling, shrivelling.
Your impassive verse-marked
way of staying. But when asked
to disappear, become so
unwilling.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:59 AM UTC
Sadie was a doubtful one
Her mind was tightly shut
When faced with the fantastical
She’d fold her arms and tut
She pranced around her garden
With an playful evil aura
And dealt a merry flattening
To all that passed before her
Their bodies lay around her
And an imp of mischief found her
She loved to trap and poison
And wished she’d been a spider
When a fizzing overtook her
When a rumble grew inside her
When a shrinking and a shrivelling
Across her form did tickle
And soon did Sadie realise
That wishes can be fickle
Her legs and arms divided
Her eyeballs multiply did
So sorry Sadie scuttled
Alternating creep and crawl
She tippy-toe’d across the grass
And past her victims all
And sadness was upon her
And with mourning in her eyes
Her grief compounded hunger
And an appetite for flies
Her lengthy limbs belied her
Sorry Sadie was a spider
She loped along a lily
And her sorrow turned to guilt
Her carapace was aching
For the blood which she had spilt
She wept a web of anguish
With her sticky little tears
She wound a downward spiral
Like the falling of the years
Her malice had been stunted
Her fangs were dull and blunted
Sadie gained existence
On a web of worldly woes
She fed her tiny tummy
Where the buzz and flutter goes
And she learned the price of living
So she killed just what she ate
And she knew why killing needlessly
Was such an ugly trait
And with a human soul inside her
She chose to be a spider
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
why do i have to be a dog for my cats?
the male one is teasing my
neighbour's dog...
the dog starts barking,
doesn't stop...
so i start barking...
a dismembered word
rough with a range of
neared onomatopoeias...
i hate barking, it never sounds
like a dog... more like a
dinosaur... Ra! (a name for a roar),
a tongue's trill at the bookie's in-between...
i hate barking...
or like at the chemists, an old man and me,
i had the seat, asked if he wanted it,
he said no,
we were both waiting for a prescription...
'well, if you're not taking it
i'll stand with you in show of solidarity'
my arms folded like a pigeon or a crow
strutting... well, if he ain't going to sit
i'm not going to sit either....
there you go, solidarity, **** Wałensa...
mushy mushy overgrown moustache nozzle...
brr brr... do the motorboat of oral ***
like you're expressing shrivelling watching
the northern lights! yep, got you...
selfie taken... now make a pose for
Lactose Falls of the waterfalls from your
eyeing ******* yep... that's a happy couple...
take two! no, you ******* go off and wait
in the tourists' queue
like the other 100 ******* did politely.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
The realisation dawned with the gentle swathe of a cool summer morning
Fond thoughts of you and those warm images no longer fills my mind
Memories of yester years and the yearnings of tender lingering swooning
That once rode on every beat of my pacing heart now seem hard to find
Whilst in the depth of me a silence carries a lament chilling with mourning
The years have their stories to tell but stilted performances is not living
Neither are the smiles that hide behind deceits so cold and unkind
We walked the jagged path but your voice sought kinship with axes striking
And when you offered water your eyes showed you had gone blind
Unable to see a soul holding for you nothing but a brimful of loving
Someday somewhere the brightness dims and chimes will be ringing
The late harvest will arrive floating in a wake of unforgiving wind
In your palm the rosy red apple of the past is now bitter and shrivelling
Its a tale told a million times so lets know the scribe not be fined
While the sages ask, what price is truth and harmony for a state of being
Copyright LaurenceA. 4th June 2018. All right reserved
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
It all disappears
replaced by a phantom,
the flickering light of a coal miners lantern casts its shadow along the black halls and it all disappears.
Bevan would spin in his grave knowing his lads could not save what remained of his dream,
and in the lean light of lamplight the nightwatch calls midnight,
and it all disappears.
We were born into a world that exploded with light emitting diodes,and nuclear power,turbines that whine in constant revolution,
a green world, a clean world, a world fit for tomorrow where the future is born from the ashes of sorrow and these tears we would borrow from the seeds that we sow ,
and it all disappears in the fears of the many,of those, who if they had any hope,have it no more,where the door is locked and the bolt is drawn against this brave new dawn,and sometimes it feels like I never was born ,
but created from eggshells and no one tells me that I'm wrong.
Cracked open my breath breaks away, and the inside exposed,peeled like the petals that rose on some bloom,the shrivelling doom, a vast mushrooming cloud,
and it makes me feel proud,
as it all disappears and we all fade away.
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 12:51 AM UTC
The fall will unwind
the shrivelling day,
the works of my mind
the fall will unwind,
the key left behind
and longing for May:
the fall will unwind
the shrivelling day.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 6:23 PM UTC
When Shrivelling Hands be too Far to Beg,
Those very Guardians point to Gauge your Fame
Stars as Frozen Mentors rely on Peg
That once Removed will never be the Same
Yet by Faith both Sires press your Engage
Merely your Gifts that for Greatness promote
Not by Profits; But the Lord's Hand arrange
Admit Recreation your Time devote
Though not all, bid some Temptation advise
On his Solicitor we Understand
Whose Faces will Sell; Or Rumours incite
To plomb most Well-Wishes on their Demand.
Be this Fourth Commandment: Well we take Heed
Such Wind we Ride on a Dangerous Steed.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:16 AM UTC
you cracked stars
lavished me in gloaming dust
beneath freckled lashes
through glimmering tips
I adored you
uncontrollably
pledged skies could not hide in your midnight eyes
still your somber head slowly shook
between powder keg’d echoes and dwindling flickers of twilight
I slashed clumsy neon scars
intoxicated
stabbed stars spat
stuttering sparks
searing gift-wrap skin
and shrivelling ribboned lust
so shamefully I cling
to your petrol soaked promises
with tinder ribs
awaiting combustion
but you always knew
I was too dewy
to ignite
and my lungs starve flames
as I gasp
knowing
only you can crack
my star shelled wish
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
Crossing those boundaries of yesterday, step into unknown.
As today is your birthright, burn with fervour; consume and rise.
Repetition is forbidden, etch out your story; time flies.
Past is shrivelling rose, let go, so it may nourish its own.
Enraptured, relish each moment like a French delicacy.
Desire is destiny, fickle as change is constant. There's just
Indecency of death, after which comes the stygian dearth.
Embrace that permanence, and drain every day of all its worth.
Man wasn't meant to be a slave of tomorrow, break free; you must!
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
O lioness,
your head swung low, stooped
on muscled haunches and still,
so still on arid reed -
is your mind swept clean, all sins
forgiven? That ravenous beast -
kingly and untouchable, like a god -
is joined by another,
and bearded like wizened lords,
both parade and bare pride
and teeth. As Jealousy and Lust devour
your scrubbed young, you resign -
fur blending and heart shrivelling
in heat - and perhaps
what frightens you most
is later giving love and life
to someone that has stolen it.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
A sagging Gladius wallows inside me, limply,
It's rotting in its own wretched flaccidity,
I see others around me nurturing bounds of fruitful irises,
Some even mother sycamore, burgeoning with vigour, effortless as chaste kisses,
Tender fertilizer blots my chin in a bloodied marling,
I ingest the stolen soil, even when I feel the white sting of my innards' snarling,
So I'll inject myself with litres upon litres of putrid compost,
Only for my gladius to continuing shrivelling within my innermost,
It's stem-deep in nutrients, and is none the less decayed,
Atop the valley, even in the passing June, it stays, wilted withered and frayed,
Now, all I'm left with is the curdle of wetland moss festering in my blood,
Weighted with this fetidity, I let my gladius go, dead, in peace and clotted mud.
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 2:51 PM UTC
*and Cinderella danced to the music box seduction & pursuit song from the Hellraiser soundtrack.*
no one really speaks about the aesthetic element
of darwinism, this strange godforsaken
we-ain't-got-no-fur-but-Chernobyl-happened
conundrum d'uh... people never care for
aesthetic darwinism, as long as you appear
able bodied: you might as well be a romanian
donkey on a building site with the anglos
trying to save money on crane hire...
oh yes, the respectable english dudes
that got me reading hazlitt - i'm backing
Britex! and you know why? i'd love to see
Brits on a building site! i really would!
i'd love to see them sweat like cow dung
on a donkey's head... rear those ******* in!
modern Britain was built on the sweat of
eastern Europe... exit! send the Romanians home!
bring in the Salvation State Civilians to sweat
it out! oh... but they won't! they won't!
hardly a crown among a 1000 men and they're
all second class colonising ******** colonising
their home turf! romanians are donkeys!
that's what they say, takes two to shift a tonne or
two of stones while saving on using a crane!
where's an Impaler when you need one?
the richest country in Europe making cutbacks,
what a paradoxical crescendo! you'd think
they'd be better at athletic sports having saved up
on construction work muscle... but no... oh no...
they're ******* anaemic in both departments!
shrivelling muscle athletes.
VOTE BRITEX! VOTE BRITEX! SEND BRITS
TO CONSTRUCTION SITES LIKE
****** SENDING JEWS TO THE GAS CHAMBERS!
VOTE BRITEX! VOTE BRITEX! I WANT TO SEE
THESE ******* SWEAT.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
How would it be to walk amongst the soft summer grass
tickling at our bare feet playfully?
To weave around the sprouting trees and hear the crunch of leaves
as the sun beams down its heat?
Your eyes would be lanterns,
guiding me when the dark cloak of night
envelopes us in a warm embrace;
your laugh echoed melodies of ringing bells
as we started our race across golden fields, under the sky,
to wink back at the specks of shiny pearl,
to lay underneath the windmill and hear the rush,
the blow of air through our dancing hair,
even the ticking clock not handing us a care.
But. . .would you stay in time to see the leaves change,
waltzing with melancholy droning across the front porch
where memories lay splattered in drops of rain
or in black-painted tears of pain
as the trees would give us one final wave
before shrivelling back into their flooded graves?
Why would it be so, or do I really want to know
why you would leave me frostbite in the snow,
waiting for the hail to overtake me,
for the sharp slap of reality to stake me.
the clouds hang low, sagging on their tears, as it all settles;
we are broke from the seasons, parted by this cold wall
that I want to take down brick by brick,
but my hands are numb, fog too thick.
It clouds the pathway in my mind where I recall
those beloved summer days I achingly long to return to,
for the sunshine and sparkling smiles of you;
but you broke the rules of the game, ran too far
to disappear in the dark out of sights from my heart,
and all that time I sat in solitude, in bitter waiting,
when I should’ve known our days were fading.
So, I really must ask, how it would it be to walk
once again with you upon soft summer grass?
If only we could make it last,
but I’m not longer stuck in the past.
How would it be, I am forever pondering,
if you didn’t run away so far, so fast?
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 10:06 AM UTC
to err is human, but it feels divine.
i am human
so human that i can taste it
feel the bitter jealousy in my throat
taste the deliciously toe-curling want that seeps from my pores.
i make mistakes, they fall from my lips and my eyes and my heart like the jarring notes of an untuned guitar
etching themselves permanently upon the eardrums and minds of errant souls.
it does not feel divine.
it burns, shrivelling up my insides bit by bit, step by step.
my soul smoulders like a cigarette, scattering ash on my mind.
mistakes.
we all make them
some are worse than others, some eventually turn out to be for the best.
some people are smart, they learn from their mistakes
then there are people like me, whose mistakes define their very lives.
you are my personal mistake.
the reason my lungs have shrivelled into smoke
the idea behind the erratic thumping of my graceless heart
the reason jealousy burns like bile in my throat when I see you look at someone else.
you're the punk in my rock
the salt in my tears
the tar in my lungs.
mistakes.
sometimes they just happen, and you have to get up and go
scattering ashes in your wake
leaving your tears to flow like a river in your memories.
go.
grow.
you are strong.
you are beautiful.
you are not a mistake
and never will be again.
i will not let you define me.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Bewitch me, Ayesha, in volcanic realms
to bathe in the flames of your pillar of light
Sorceress of beauty, your power overwhelms
your enchanted incarnate, returned from the night
Ageless and timeless, in Kor once revered
Lost in your eyes, in your spellbinding gaze
Two millennia existed, now cruel and feared
by the people you’ve ruled in formidable ways
Step into the blue flames, to melt and to burn?
To give reassurance you step in the blue
caressing your body, erotically turn
Eternal life beckons in harmony with you
We bathe in the light so forever exist
Ayesha, Kallikrates ever entwined
Then time to step out, but a terrible twist
Ayesha you whither likes grapes on a vine
Your body is shrivelling, you’re turning to dust
Before me my lover gone back to the earth
Now I reincarnate forever to lust
for you to come back to me, for your rebirth
I pine for you, grieve for you, calling your name
What you failed to know of the blue fire’s curse
is that once you may enter the magical flame
but the second time all of its powers reverse.
30.12.18 JG
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 7:31 PM UTC
Red tongues lap at the black expanse above
With such a solemn viciousness the embers dance skyward
Tiny blazing bodies fleeing to the Heavens
From molten veins through charred crusts crumbling
Dark smoke glows before the sky stumbling plumes and intricate ballet spirals
Engulfing more and more the flames and smoke
Choking the blackened skeleton dancing through the beams like bones
The body of the house
The innards reduced to dust
The scene is captured in unblinking eyes, two great fire filled suns
A sombre popping sound emits past the roaring heat static
Expensive couch, cheap cushions, hours wasted choosing
Burning and shrivelling items that they had afforded so much time
Destroyed and gone forever
Singed leaves drift from their life giver’s arms and crackle into the inferno -
High above the scorched earth
A grassless ash pile growing slowly
The blaze radiates an orange glow over the surrounding domiciles
Visible from a far, the smoke more absolute than the night sky.
Without bricks, wood, plaster, concrete
Out alone – self ejected into the world
Heavy feet dragging across the street with light steps
Creaking beams collapsing behind the way wolves bay from the trees
And from the end of the street the flames appear blood red
As if terra firma had been lashed open
Arteries of molten fire
Festering scabs of ash
Torched from under the flesh of air casting coal colour veins
Further and further the slowly diminishing frame fades
And the streets open up to dark distant sentinels
Flanking the road and watching densely and unflinching
There are flames in the night air
History burning with a bonfire smell
Sirens wailing a crescendo of blaring blue light to meet the hellish glow
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:39 AM UTC
Participate,
Don't stay in a slump!
Initiate,
Don't be down in the dumps!
The feelings won't stay if you won't let them!
It is not that you are being cruel or that you are shutting out your feelings!
So stop your shrivelling,
don't keep punishing yourself!
Fester in them too long,
you'll be
finished!
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 9:15 AM UTC
I am once again silenced at the precipice of speech
On the verge of verbal expression I falter
Stutter, mutter, fumble, and tumble over words
As if they were more than just words
And really something physical
Something I could touch
Eyes converge on my lips like a lens
Focusing the rays of indignation so it burns
Charring and shrivelling, those black paper butterflies
Flutter in my chest and tear up my insides
Moving towards my head, stop my lungs
I can't breathe
My heart is a flooded
Watergate, a dam rushing
A machine out of control
I think
I think
I think
I think
I'm on the brink
My mind is a man
In danger
His out of breath lungs breathing acid
Pursued by a hooded knife
In the lonely dark he runs
But reaches a dead end
No way out
No where to run
He spots the shape, the only escape
A silhouette in his eye
He wishes he would collapse, so he could just
Relax
Retire with a sigh
The burden off his mind
Everything gone
He would finally die
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
I abandon all tears;
My conscience seeks peace.
My wholeness has gone;
Gone like my faith, alone.
The youth and serendipity
The blood that breathed in me
Now turning into wrath;
My coined life is virile and mad.
What is around me;
All lost in promiscuity;
Here, there shall be no heaven
Here, love has no words—nor passion.
Who speaks about me,
To understand or see me;
All are sinking into shrapnels,
And the lonesome heat feels like hell.
All is part of dark tunnels,
Channeling out into brown seas,
Living by unseen funnels
Unfelt by the breeze.
All is not blind, but sad
Shrivelling in bold air,
Their youths, I cannot wed
But lonely nights are fair.
I withdraw all affairs;
That they shall subside
And blend into those lights,
Those I have never cheered.
I hold my breath anew
I have been here to the core,
The lenient feelings that knew;
I should not stay once more.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:02 PM UTC
Lay me down gently
Put me down to sleep
When the night-time draws near
Allow my conscious to slumber deep
You cared for me so gently
Your love so very steep
Hands cradling my body
Knew that I could trust you while I was weak
And that hand became firmer
Clutching my cheek
Your figure looming larger
Rib cage trembling, letting out a creak
My heart laid bare
My chest ripped open in a heap
Your voice like daggers
Into my blood, your words seep
And slowly, as you lay me down
Force me down to sleep
The shadows of my cot grows
And silence slowly reigns over the night bleak
Not a meek voice heard from the baby
As you stand over me in a silent vicious weep
Knife in hand, prepared to take the leap
Gaze flicking over to the baby's eyes that begin to peep
Staring, as the baby begins to smile
Smile eerie, teeth wicked and sharp
Eyes blinking slowly, its stare
An oath that your soul it will reap
You draw back your dagger
Driving your frozen feet forward with a shriek
Coming down with momentum
Moonlight glinting with the blade's sweep
Relief washing over you
The baby's forsaken body lying in death asleep
Eyes still open, unmoving as you heave
Deep breath in, as your heart beats
Until, motionless eyes slowly roll to the side
The blood on your knife, now on your skin creeps
Crawling and drawing its way up in streaks
Encircling your wrist, holding you in its keep
You struggle in its grasp, as with torment it wreaks
It's body shrivelling as its blood encompasses your physique
Meshing its blood with your blood, overpowering your every essence
Until your lips although moving, are no longer able to speak
And slowly, your body shrivels along with the form in the cot
Blood flowing, down your body it creeps
Returns down your arms, down the shining blood-red blade
and back into the empty skin
Figure transforming, as the baby reaches down and slowly
The handle it retrieves
Drawing out the weapon
No longer in blood is it steeped
The baby closes its eyes, as sleep clutches it's form
Breathing small breathes through its small nose
Figure of a mother barely holding on
Laying on the ground as her eyes leak
Jun 30, 2024
Jun 30, 2024 at 10:46 AM UTC
woke this morning on the wrong side of bed
or was it somebody else's bed altogether
the birds were screaming and I felt like shrivelling
why is it that mornings either bring dread or fresh terror
I'm angry at more things yet again
I'm not sure I mean to slam these doors or glare
do I feel like stringing words or writing music
why is it that human speech sets me on edge
the heart is in actuality quite small
(the size of my clenched fist before I drive it into the wall)
we set up mirrors around the perimeters of its insides
to make it look larger, encompassing and more roomy
did you say symmetry or did you say cemetery
not sure if I wasn't listening, or you weren't clear
isn't speech meant to be understood
went to sleep on the wrong side of bed
or was it somebody else's bed altogether
you were humming and I was daydreaming, listening
the only thing in my head "what am I doing"
do you feel like sexting or do you feel like sleeping
I like it better when you call me "pretty" and not "beautiful"
I fail to comprehend strings of words flying out your lips
but when you touch me I understand
we hold our false large hearts in beaten chests
(the redness of skin tearing as I claw at flesh)
we play around with foolish words
and when dawn breaks we dress sore clawed backs
fading in, fading out
trying our hardest just to recall how to look clean
our sweetness lies only in the night
and steadily, bitterness comes every morning
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
he dug gold,
fresh out of her heart
until her bones were left shrivelling,
bericaded completely
by stenching coal.
her mines grow empty,
though he returns on a blue moon
in attemp to shovel out any last morsels.
clinging onto their cave by bare strength.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
My body trembles at the sight of shadows.
Fireflies flicker and flash above us.
Burning hands and hungry flesh.
A knocking begins.
My tongue pressed against my teeth.
"Why do we make things so complicated?"
Tangled and messy in the muscles of hearts.
I heave and hurt.
Early mornings. Little sleep.
Is this the purge?
I can’t remember the last time someone spoke to my skin.
Company is expensive. The price of a hot meal.
I ***** the faces of lovers on my wall with needles, and cover their mouths with tape.
Pressed up against isles of DVD’s.
Kiss me until you taste laughter.
I’ve never before felt so heavy.
Lungs shrinking, shrivelling.
Sockets are black holes now.
You never looked like just a man to me;
from the first time I looked at you
I saw poetry.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC