"stollen" poems
I've been missing
authentic selflessness
devoted kindness
and the soft laughter
you let out
when I used to do things
like try to cheer you up
I've been missing
fiery conversations
deep and vibrant
they used to dance across my face
every time I had a stollen space
alone
with your voice
I've been missing
grace within strangers
the signs of simplicity in nature
The way you'd stuff me into your
envelope embrace
and those hearty compliments
that I used to save up for calloused
malnourished days
I miss
you impressing my brother
with your dutifulness
and natural peace,
showing big bright flecks of acceptance
in your eyes
I miss
the lightness I would feel
the second I pulled into our parking lot
and saw your muddy shoes outside
our place
I miss
noticing the yellow parts of the day
brought by your soothing spontaneity
I miss
laying my wild heart down at night
and being able to close my eyes
without wasp anxiety
stinging the lining of my stomach
I miss sleep and
the way I used to be with you.
Pure beautiful lovely and utterly unique
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
Being in love is like painting,
you get excited while creating it,
but when it's done,
it becomes nothing more but memory,
you can only think or talk about it.
And when it's sold,
it belongs to someone else,
you may or may not reach it,
and it can be sold again,
stollen or rarely borrowed.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
A nymphet,
A fruit never to be tasted
Forbidden.
And sadden it would be wasted.
Stollen
Never asking but demanded.
Ravished
A desire never to be sated.
a youth wasted,because we never waited.
The weight I bear it well.
Tempting the fates
I dreaded hell.
Our death awaits.
Dipped to deep in her spell.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
Sinking beneath the surface
Of the brackish deep
Swallowing the waters
Of despair
Succumbing to the ocean
Of misery
Soaking up pressure
So endlessly bleak
Drinking in the infinity
Of the black disease
Closing my eyes to
Only escape
Surrendering to the
Demons of stollen light
Swimming to the bottom
Of despondency
I have died
In The Hopeless Sea
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:04 PM UTC
Venom!
Carry not venom in sharpened fangs;
Which pierce peace.
Bring not scorpions madness unto the kicking tail of abnormality.
Nausea sickens impolitely,
While walking through a softened heart.
Be not bitter as I am not.
Tells me that I am not forgot.
Each time with words you crucify.
A public notice not denied.
Cannot deny in whinging and whining.
Powerful hearts are both entwining.
Smash and grab,
A stollen heart.
That was Stollen,
Well bread.
Not stolen,
Straight rye bread,
Stolen from a German fantasy.
Fruity, spicy full of fun.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 12:09 PM UTC
I recall our high place
Where we worshipped on summer nights
Sitting on the pond bank
Watching the sky's reflection on the still waters
Every star perfectly mirrored
We skipped stones along the lucid summer sky
Paying our tithes with moist kisses
Eternity whispered in our ears with breezes
Prayers scattered along the waters edge in white flower petals
We two children, closer to whatever God resided then in our hearts,
Than we would ever be again
Our laughter echoed like church bells rang on Sundays for worship call
The moon, our reverend, calling our hearts
To The Great Alter of All That Is
Time was still and stollen
We lived then,
I go there sometimes still and think of you
Since you were plucked so carelessly as the most beautiful of lotus lillies
~A
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 11:17 AM UTC
remember when
you would write
all your poems
about me
how you
carelessly
would leave
your breathless
i love yous
in between
each line
like a secret
between the
two of us
hidden behind
your words
were our
held hands
and our
stollen kisses
and your
written art
was our love
translated
into the
language of
the stars
you created
a tiny universe
with every
line and curve
of every letter
and it was
paradise
yet those
days are
far gone
and our
universe,
our heaven
was swallowed
whole by the
boundless waves
of oblivion
you erased
the romance
and replaced
them with
stains of
infinite farewells
now you
hold a pen
like its a
loaded gun
prepared to
shoot
and you
stare at
the paper
like a
selfish god
depriving
a blank galaxy
the beauty
of constellations
and i just miss
your poetry
i feel
like i have
been evicted
from my own
home because
i lived
in your words
i found shelter
in the pages
you have filled
with your messy
penmanship
so with
shaky hands
and a heavy heart,
i try to recreate
the phrases
you have
written with
your heartbeat
but nothing
compares
to the image
of our love
immortalized
in your poems
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
The iron man stood on top of the cliff'tall as a house all rigen and stiff. He's big as a bedroom and faster than cheaters. His head is big as a bus and the iron maan is tougher than a lion some of his body came off his fingers crawling away his ear ran away oh dear, Has the sear stollen his ear? dont know the iron man walked in the sea to find his ear he went deeper and deeper the iron man's eyes turned red then green the the iron man could no more be seen......
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
The iron man stood on top of the cliff'tall as a house all rigen and stiff. He's big as a bedroom and faster than cheaters. His head is big as a bus and the iron maan is tougher than a lion some of his body came off his fingers crawling away his ear ran away oh dear, Has the sear stollen his ear? dont know the iron man walked in the sea to find his ear he went deeper and deeper the iron man's eyes turned red then green the the iron man could no more be seen......
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
She counted time not,
In hours or even days
But in stollen moments
Glances, caught
From loving eyes
Graceful touches,
Deemed "sins"
The wife of a beast,
Daughter of a merchant
She, the sold wares
Counting not, the hours of absense
But time gauged in wishes,
Her scarlet letter, blackened
Worn over her breast
Scars hidden,
Beneath fine clothes
She wears the jewels given her,
To blind onlookers
To the cloaking darkness,
That covers her soul
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
I'm all worn out I can never get a break
My brain hurts, this smile is one i've got to fake
All they want me to think about is school, school, school
But the only thing I can think about is you, you, you.
I've been trying to understand the way that you treat us all
You say no one cares
But is it really you who cares about no one?
You tweak when you dont get what you want
But haven't you had enough?
A 25 year long party seems too much
All the things you've stollen, all the things you have bought
Can't you take a look at what you've already got?
You're bitter and you're unfair
Your face is the one I cannot bare
Please look away because its something we cannot see
Eyes bulged out like you've drank too many energy drinks
Pupils small like you know that reality cannot be seen
Denial is a lot stronger then it may seem
The only time I ever see you now
Is in my dreams fire burning, vivid screams
Spirits crawling up and down the walls seams
Oh, there you are behind the window screen
Ma, pa?
You're never going to believe what I've seen.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:47 PM UTC
i have fallin in love with him again,
i have try to push him away,
i have tried not to think of him,
he has stollen my heart from someone else,
from some one that i loved dearly,
im fallin in love with him again,
he held me for a long time,
he tried to kiss me so i pulled away,
he wants me back again,
he thinks he wont hurt me again,
im fallin in love with him again,
i dont know what to do,
its complicated right now,
is it time to let this guy go?
i want some one who can ease my pain and be with me forever,
im fallin in love with him again,
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 6:04 PM UTC
Practiced pain and misery memorised
A shawl swirling round but nothing is covered
—nothing safe
Little woman—
Why do you roam so free on these greasy roads
People—
people are everywhere, don’t you see?
Do you not know how easy a shell is broken
—how swiftly the pearl is stollen
Little woman— little woman
Where do you hide your crystal wings—
Did you sell them for some loaves of breads?
Don’t assure.
Your eyes bear no tragic fruit and
I wish they did— Lord, how I wish so!
Anything but this casualty
Placidity—
Have they long forgotten
the sky-high castles they were robbed from?
All those moon-struck crowns—
Don’t, don’t assure!
Don’t spread out that hand
Don’t show me that tight stomach
I beg you don’t show them that
stomach—waiting to be filled—
Where in the hell do you sleep?
Don’t you have a door to lock?
Don’t assure—
You priceless, prince-less little woman
Why do you roam so free on these greasy roads
Why do you beg? Why do you—
I wonder why I ask— I with my flowers and bees
wonder what I even know—
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:42 PM UTC
Pale , washed out and faded.
Your once rose tinted lips that lingered at my body and colourless hands that grabbed my bruised hips , hungrily.
Our stollen kisses wasted on tequila and messed bed sheets.
It wasn't perfect but it was real.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
Alabaster hands
I paint like I know you
but I am afraid
I paint like I know
the hours of holy songs he sang
when chip by chip
he broke his David
out of stone
but I mumble with a brush
polluted a tomb
with thievery and doubt
if I return to you
I will do so stollen
rolled up in bay and --
my Florence! I couldn't see you
I was lost
I could not be him
he unleashed, I hold
and now you wear his hands
like a beloved scar
and then you haunt my sleep
with your eyes of old
I am sessile, sterile - I doubt.
I cannot speak.
stone carved inadequate, for
I do not know hands
the venules and the etchings.
I could not learn
fiddling like a cricket
in the arms of leaf
I see him leap through ages
to come and observe
I am an artefact flaw
and him the sound perfectionist
he inspects fingers
as they stumble in paint
ever-looming, giant, bearded
with a broken nose
you, Florence! He steals
movement, instill it, gifts it
you wear it, then you watch me
with museum eyes
Good love,
I am no David
do not ask that of me, I may weep
stone in my hand
I sling stutter over my shoulder
and watch the forever tyrant grow
Dec 17, 2022
Dec 17, 2022 at 3:34 PM UTC
I have a vision of hope
For all souls that yearn and are never sated
Those led astray by the world's misgivings
In the prime of their lives
I have the panacea
For all that despair
Who've watched their conscience stollen from them,
Their minds programmed negatively
With sadistic teachings
Leaving them craving for wealth and power
And then they can shed all the blood
till they fulfill their desire
I have a formula
I have a dream for change
To start the conversation
Write the poem that will break barriers
Unify all humanity
And begin transformation
Remind a brother of his mate
Living in the gutter
Turn all daggers into kitchen knives
And security budget to relief budget
Come join me on my revelatory path
We can achieve equality for all
We can cease all wars
Morality is engraved in everyone
Every person has some light in him
They might be murderous
A nightwalker's nightmare
But there is hope
We can turn on the lightswitches in their hearts
With love
Everyone lets give it a whirl today...
Love is all
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
With leaves fireworking
their last defiant blaze
against grey skies and the mud,
once again I forget to remember
the muted tannoy announces silence
for customers and staff
and the surreal descends
among the tins of peas and carrots
where the absence of the normal clatter
suddenly roars, catches in my throat,
the plaintive, Sally Army bugler
scoring the sadness in these aisles,
these isles
with two minutes passed,
the cacophony of the tide
of plant based diets
and too early Stollen returns
to wash over, to forget
Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 6:51 AM UTC
I'm not good with words on paper
Or on my tongue.
They get caught in my throat.
Or stuck in the tip of my pen.
Sentences never string together.
But are cut and pasted.
Words carefully chosen and stollen from others.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
There is a plummeting within me
I reckon not unlike tumble ****
in a lone, stranded desert
That of violence
so long silenced
That of anger, and hail storms
upon freshly blossomed hyacinths
a smothered baby bird
or a tree towed down
Repressed,
the twigs and shrivelled seedlings
cry out
and dry gusts hear
One upon other lunges
And I, them weeds—
them weeds— and more,
a deafening brawl
Rolled, as wool, into an orb
That laughs an unkept,
dimming painting
Jumps over rocks
this wicked, rotten child,
And descends under still
Perhaps—
A brick that stumbles out the wall of my skull
and down my depths,
it begins to explore
The den
where an injured bird
snores bleeding
And ceramic bars that surround
Down still—
A churning, twisting furnace
Burning all menace to gold
And labyrinths
beneath
Restless as they warp
upon themselves—
Them groaning snakes
It plummets down still
past the stars
past the battered moon
On, on ’til the cracked rocks
Pull it under, under, under
and my steps feel heavy
A fat brick kiln burping within
And steam and smoke
strangely slither
Then one more brick breaks loose
then one more, then—
and there is a plummeting within me
Like that of beads from a broken necklace
They lurk
from flesh to flesh
Climb up my bare white trees
filled with mud
This faded landscape painting
claws down my spine
And ***** its stollen hues out
Like those
of battles
or slaughtered moths
Of old, crinkled terrors etched
with foolery
Hymns of fury undissolved
and those of naked, shivering sheep
a kitten’s skull
stuck down the drain
There’s a plummeting within me
terrifying, and disgusting; angry and
beautiful— all hyped up to scream
I fear the landslides will
carry me along
and I will let them.
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 5:35 PM UTC
Under the night—there’s a lake
beneath whose serene, silvery strands
blooms a city so filled with buzz
folks chock on it—
In the coal-coated sky, planes flutter;
billboards shine over gleaming malls
reeking of marbles and crystals and wealth
and little kings and queens prowl about—
ants dressed in facies—
and balloons breathe freedom
as children’s distracted fingers let them go;
blues and yellows—neons and pinks
and greys.
and overflowing pavements cuddle into the hysteric roads
winking cars, cursing vans—
honking and screeching and scratching
and laughing and—
Screaming? Shrieking!
Crying blood! Crunching metal!
A mother covers her toddler’s eyes
as pieces of flesh scatter around like confetti
A crowd gathers about what’s left of the—
human.
—ants before a rotten grape.
kings and queens with their buggies and guards
tiaras and lockets— arrows and darts
and the lights still smile, adds still run
and so does the blood—
and so does the dog with a missing limb
and so does the car that never stopped
Nothing remains of the flower, nothing of the bee
Statures jump out of ringing vans
men in suits— men too late.
They collect the pieces of steaks and the dog’s leg
and take them away.
and a slim lady cries, melting her smooth skin
A child, gawking, lets go his balloon,
A teen chocks on her wine—
footprints engrave in the clotting blood
Through the clouds, flies up the balloon
carrying the first scream, the first screech,
the panic of the driver who vanished,
the frenzy of city still as a corpse—
up, up into the breathing water —
another prince screams under his trembling crown
and in a wounded street far away,
whimper crawls out of a ravaged girl,
grubby boy weeps for his stollen rug
a woman curses, a girl trembles, a guy laughs,
a man sleeps, a lady paints herself, a cat dies, a trigger is pulled,
a cigarette is lit, a bottle breaks open a leg, a wolf howls,
a boy weeps in his bed
—a little whimper for each.
and little bubbles wade in her delicate waves,
the air pops those pomegranates open as
tongueless stories disperse around—
silent on her glossy lips.
and over her, the night sky yawns
as I crawl under her layers, and close my eyes,
listening to the sloshing waters, the owls far away—
begging for the bubbles to stop the screaming.
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 2:55 PM UTC
Ships lost at sea
Sea spray vandalized the decks
Her hair will fan her face like a main
The women has no breath twas stollen by the sea
Floats like a ghost
Pale she is indeed
Spices sink into the blue
Swallowed by the depth
Sails are torn, sails are failing
Along with stories not spoken
The graveyard is the sea
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 10:03 AM UTC