Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
My neighbor's fine husband is home.
Whirring and hissing to a stop,
like some fairy tale benevolent monster,
his huge, unhitched truck cab
shudders and roars one more time
before being subdued.

Wearing this magnificent blue color
subtle enough for an evening gown,
it dwarfs the silver pickup
parked in front of it.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
david badgerow Feb 2015
each bird has its own branch and i am alone now
in mid-february midnight desolation
under a web of stars white as salt and just as plentiful
waiting on the celestial cyclist to bring the dawn across
my face and scorch the cool wet grass

tonight the clouds are arranged like a chessboard
a cosmic design in darkness and light
and i am a crippled pawn meditating with
with my pants off and my naked feet
in the sand of a north florida crossroads
trying to lose my own gravity and merge
with the stars cloaked in maniac faith
and american sweat

i'm waiting to be found by a bush doctor
with my head filled and floating like a nitrous balloon
under a canopy of hi-frequency bats
and the infinite disco ball hoping
this mighty poem might expand
time and fill space

i am no longer a jail cell poet starving
and pacing like a goldfish in an orange jumpsuit
the miraculous sunbreak has touched my deepest cells
hypnotized my life and caught
the tears on the right side of my face
i am a bee trembling in sunlight
salute me

i hope there is a mild breeze today
to dance sensually with my drifter's spirit
and swirl blond hair and pure cotton against
the sky at the top of this abandoned railroad bridge
covered in rust

all the sudden i am singing radically
about overcoming cosmic humiliation
bruise-purple tongue unhitched and lilting
long throat curled up toward the sun
as the birds and deer stand dumbfounded in the clearing
the sound resonates in my gut as my big white
teeth slam together

in this devout moment among
my share of god's abundance
i am only approximately human
one with the smell of living trees
dancing on the salad hillside
big eyes birthed inside sunset colors
soaked in warm honey with toes
twitching above the imagined
fire at my feet

when the singing stops and
the sun goes down i melt
back into my own temporal lobe
caressed by a butterfly finally
able to sleep
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2019
I throw comments to the wind
Ignorance keeps them afloat
I no longer take to heart
******* gliding from your throat

Your words grow weak
They wear thin
Confidence becoming strong
Don the realization that
Your home is where we don't belong

Insults get scattered like leaves
Falling from bare branches
Thoughts flow from your mind
Never-ending negative avalanches

Ashes I have been buried under
Remains of each mistake
Not charred hiding places but a jail
Out which I must break

Gotta keep from accumulating
Passive movements difficult to avoid
Hit walls hardest speeding fast
Crash like earthbound asteroids

It's great you are switching directions
Patterns easy to accurately predict
Mild
Temperate
Always fair-weathered
Around us come unhitched

You loved us once..
Has that gone?
Distracted by vultures' dying food
Rumors
Carcasses of gossip they feed on
Believing tails they allude

We are doing good
We are just fine
Have a job and a roof overhead
Everybody underestimates what we can do
By 30 we'll probably be dead

I anticipated this thoughts arrival
It still doesn't feel quite real
Stuff packed in bags and boxes
Across the porch surreal

We'll take pride and possessions
Say farewell spread with awkward "ums"
Mumbling how one day soon
We will spend some time that never comes
Taking a break from the challenge
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
Alissa had mentioned that Leonardo invited the cheerleaders to a private after-party at club Erehwon (“Nowhere” backwards). Leigh had an idea. It might be crazy but why should her sister have all the fun? She looked in Alissa’s closet and found some clean cheerleader uniforms. She called an Uber, then slipped into one of the white uniforms.

The Uber dropped her off in front of club Erehwon and the bouncer-sized doorman, noting the uniform, let her in, saying, “Take the second stairs on the left.” At the stairs, another large man unhitched a velvet rope and said, “First turn on the right.” She climbed the stairs to booming music and a pounding heart.

The door was closed - disappointment stirred in her. She’d expected the door to be open - all she wanted was a peek. Her curiosity immobilized her - she’d never seen someone as famous as Leonardo in person. She noticed the little camera above the door then there was a metallic clack as the door was pulled open - she could only gape at Leonardo in the flesh.

What did he see? A young creature caught in the spill of light. Pale blue eyes, a fragile neck, an ill fitting white cheerleader uniform, bagging slightly where there wasn’t enough breast or hip to fill it, white sneakers like hooves below narrow ankles. A gleaming yellow crown of hair wrapped an upturned face. Slender wrists, long fingers. He saw her startle. He saw fear and then something in her gaze flared like bared teeth. Defiance. He didn’t recognize her as a child. He wouldn’t expect to see a child here. He’d been expecting Alissa and radiated a perceptible and impatient hunger.

What did Leigh see? A surprisingly tall man, in dark gray slacks, a black t-shirt and a matching dark gray jacket. A fine gold chain hung from his neck and there was a diamond earring in one ear - blonde hair barbered precisely and a slight stubble of beard framed that familiar face pin-pricked with freckles up close. His complexion was tan but fair and his eyes were deep pools of turquoise. He was flat-out beautiful but looked older than on screen and right now his eye lids seemed heavy and his posture made her think of an alert animal.

She saw him see her, sensing how the sight of her arrested him. “Who are you?” he said. Then Alissa was coming up the stairs, she had on a crimson cheerleader uniform which fit her like her own skin. Leigh slid away, along the wall, and Leonardo followed, getting slightly ahead.

There was laughter and music coming from the room “Where’s Leo?” someone shouted.

She’d been foolish to think she could just observe the party. A silly child, all dressed up.

“Who are you?” he asked again. Helplessly, she looked at Alissa, who appeared to be both angry and trying to squelch the giggles. She couldn’t admit her name - say who she was and why she was here, not when she was dressed up like this and he was looking at her that way. There was no answer.

“She’s just a kid,” Alissa said, taking Leonardo’s arm. “She’s not supposed to be here.” she said, as she glanced at Leigh and twisted her head to signal “GO.” He didn’t shake her off, but he didn’t respond to her touch, either. He was still looking at Leigh. Alissa was looking at her, too, he couldn’t see that Alissa was biting her lip, eyes full of mirth.

Their faces cornered her like hounds surrounding a fox. “Shall we?” Alissa said, after a moment, her voice was rising. He yielded, and started to follow. Leigh pressed back against the wall and turned her face away as he passed, she caught the smell of his cologne and some other fragrance, slightly bitter. She wasn’t used to strange men examining her and her skin seemed to prickle. As he moved away, his step slowed. She knew he was willing her to look up into his face, but she wouldn’t.

“She’s just a kid,” Alissa said again. “Leigh, go home.”
“Leigh,” he repeated.

Still she didn’t look up, not until Leonardo and Alissa had finally closed the door. Leigh darted down the stairs and out of the club. There was a crowd now and what looked like paparazzi - but no one took notice of her as she moved partway down the block and began to pace, and chew a fingernail, while waiting for her Uber.
now for something completely different.
Becky Littmann Aug 2014
All the crazy **** I do
& no one even has the slightest clue
They only hear parts of what I've been through
Only if they knew
& all of its true
See it always gets me flowin'
& no telling how long I can keep it goin'
Some parts may sound the same
but that's not how I spit my game
I'm better than that..
that's ******* lame
So **** whatever you claim
& let me try to explain
after this you'll always remember my name
Forever imprinted in your brain
hard to get out like a blood stain
You might as well leave it there to remain
& you'll always have good thoughts with not one reason to complain
because I'm Becky Littmann *****!
My words will leave you with a nervous twitch
because I've turned up the switch
Now even faster than a softball pitch
my words are sharp & hard hitting, they will leave your brain needing more than one stitch
You could end up in a ditch
but you'll realize it was all a dream after I give you a lil' pinch
....actually your mind had a glitch
& your brain may have slightly came unhitched
I can fix it though, it's a cinch
Just sit right here on the bench
Now can you just hand me that wrench
it may hurt a bit, so your teeth I would clench

I'm **** proud to write so clever
I'll write about anything & whatever
I don't want to stop ever
writing is so freeing, however
it's annoying when you can't write whenever
& the words & thoughts just building up with no time to write, whatsoever
You're freaking out cause you can't wait to put them together
Eventually finding time to write & share it with whomever
there's no way I would not share my work, nope NEVER
You'll always know me any place you are, yes wherever
SO WHAT'S MY NAME.... DO YOU REMEMBER??
Crazy may be what the call me but Becky Littmann is me forever

You may know my name now
& have heard my stories & thought WOW
But you'll never completely know what I've been through
& what I truly value
it's my life & I won't argue
I've only given you a preview
& none of it would I undo
because to me none of it was an issue
everyone may have their point of view
or their opinion about what I choose to pursue
but honestly that's nothing new
I wasn't asking for your thoughts but wanted to explain to you
what made me wiser & how I grew
I'll cherish every memory & moment with my crew
which brought me to the point of a new
...ME to debut!
& experience what some people may think is taboo
I'm glad I shared moments with a certain few
& no names need to be said, they already know who
I'll continue to be crazy & do all that it is I simply love to do
Being myself & staying true
So with all that, I bid you adieu..
JL Mar 2016
Unhitched feel me now like a blast furnace     Total ****-up   Remeber? the one who was pallbearer & genderless
Neo natal I'm at the rim pitch black coughing up laughter finding **** in the face of it
Cog in the computer
Backward  bell curve
Left skewed
Average
Low
So low
Nobody in particular really
just mashing buttons hoping it's a payoff
Not god just a phantom limb living for the hell of it
ego antipode
Breeze-Mist Dec 2016
The hunter runs after his prey, and then
It leaps forth into the stary night, which
Swallows it up to be part of it when
The hunter finds their chase to be unhitched
Around the entire globe, we find
That we all have some commonalities
We all have something in the human mind
That reflects our common realities
We chased our prey, only to find that it
Had taken off for the celestial
With our knack for storytelling and wit
We had made star pictures and festivals
It oddly speaks to our human nature
That our stories can become much greater
Based on this article: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/scientists-trace-society-rsquo-s-myths-to-primordial-origins/
Lee Turpin Oct 2014
what kind of movement was it?
that brought the head to the knees
a curled spiraling whimper
unhitched to the winds round the room?
what kind of act,
blue through and through
could topple such bonds that were deeper?

what were the thoughts
that built up like bricks
due each meiotic mutation?
what brute could so brash
dried out heavy headed
to full careless crush
the gentlest swath
her two hands ?

where went the time
day by day through each slot
like coins I collected
each morning each night,
pearl afternoons

the glint off your brow,
the stoop of your chest the
scoop of your back-blades,
more leaves of memory
now slipped out by the breeze through my mind with a cry,
theived hollow,
out the window and gone

where now is the murmur of glow
with thunder softened out through the trees
electrons spinning the push of your atoms to mine
where now the wordlessness,
you with me?
boo, heartbreak.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2015
IF WE SHADOWS....

It was as if
a cloud had fallen asleep

in the lower field.

It had already eaten
an unhitched wagon

and half a red barn.

It watched us approaching
from the yellow windowed house

where the babies lay asleep
blowing spit bubbles.

It seemed to smile in a
giant grey candy floss way and then

started in on
first you and then

me or what
was left of me that I could see.

It had eaten all of you
except your excited voice.

All you could see of me
was my nervous laughter.

We had been evicted from
our known selves

and there was no known
forwarding address.

We were all points of
the compass at once.

“Moo!” commented a cow
on the situation at hand.

And “Moo” mimicked the cloud
having had

eaten everything.

There was no place to live
except inside our thoughts

and our thoughts
walked our bodies

towards the barn that
like Mr. Schrödinger's cat

was either there or
either not.

“Moo!” said a moo.
“Moo!” said another moo.

One moo almost the clone
of the other.

We had arrived.
We were now here.

Suddenly our arms legs and other
bits of our bodies was

returned to us
thanks to a light switch

that made us in our own
image.

We owned ourselves again.

The cloud was sleeping
in the field.

One could almost imagine it
snoring.

I clapped my hands together.
“Ok!” I said

“…let’s get on with
the milking!"
Shadows look curiously 3-D in fog....and more real than us...I was thinking of Shakespeare's lines lost in the mists of my mind and walking with my little Tilly to milk the cows and see the new calf that had only arrived the other night. She had rushed in to tell me that there was a cloud fallen in the field and it was asleep. It was the first fog she have ever seen and this was her reasoned argument for it.  We had to use the words "Fog, Lost, Directionless, Echo and Homeless" for the ideas to latch onto in the poem but not used the actual words themselves....say them without saying them....this was my attempt at doing that.
Alan McClure Feb 2019
They had faces and bodies when I was young,
and they were rare -
Maybe once a year, a joke would be ruined
by a walking sneer,
my unselfconscious laughter curdled
by their pitiless scorn.
But, young and sure, I'd bounce along,
leave them forgotten,
and look for the good.

Blessed to expect
that people were kind,
I unshackled them,
disembodied the derision,
unhitched them
from reasoning, living beings

Left them free to gather
in geometric clusters
lurking on the edge of sight
like burning after-images
of a cruel sun

Wordless, sightless, lifeless
empty, ******* spaces
glimpsed with a shudder
on the best days -

gathered in consumptive clouds
on the worst.
Unseen by my companions
they eat my ability
to explain or expel them.

They are there
if I acknowledge them
or not
and in time
they make a nothing
out of everything.
Rex Allen McCoy Feb 2015
~~~
Dappled grey horses
sweat crusted and weary
hooves drifting dust
lift a day
passing dreary
The harness bells faded
reigned in at the rill
a cool running brook
near the base of our hill
~
My eyes
I'm a lad
scant older than four
brought visions to mind
full of wonders in store
A wagon decked out
like a big city market
he lifted the side
then he shook out the carpet
~
Our old kitchen door
screamed out
lack of oil
a kettle
clanged gently
just set on to boil
E'er mother's voice shouted
"I think it's the Pox
the old folks have died
I've been digging their plots"
~
"My father's in bed
and they won't let me near"
the stranger walked by
with a smile
mussed my hair
Went in with a bag
full of magic he grows
started mixing a broth
made with god only knows
~
Tip toed on a box
dragged in from the yard
through windows
he folded
gunpowder with lard
The screams of my father
sent tears to my eyes
they rubbed him completely
in spite of his cries
~
They fed him the broth
a few drops at a time
I climbed off the box
with his horses in mind
"The horses love apples"
I turned with a whirl
peeking out from his wagon
the freckled face
of a girl
~
In moments I knew her
a lifetime
it seemed
a most likeable friend
who knew all the schemes
As father got better
t'was time to move on
her father
a doctor
a peddler
a con
~
He'd done us a service
we could never repay
though he sold us an *****
an' stool
by the way
Each year they returned
once or twice
they dropped by
little freckle faced Mary
soon
the girl of my eye
~
They'd rest a few days
with each visit
it's true
she wrote the best love songs
while I wrote the tunes
Then one night it happened
'neath moon and the stars
consummating a love
that would forever
be ours
~
He stumbled upon us
but said not a word
in the morning
so early
fading echoes we heard
Ne'er again did we see them
though rumors
of peril ...
my parents expired
to a place 'neath the barrow
~
Five years had surpassed
isolation and grief
knocked a lamp
from the table
when I'd fallen asleep
The house nearly cinder
an' I felt like the fool
only item I'd saved
was the old ***** stool
~
Just sat there and watched
till the sun broke the morn
in the distance
an echo
I'd heard years before
Then over the rise
sweat crusted and weary
two dappled grey horses
on a day
passing dreary
~
The horses reigned in
right next to the rill
that sweet running brook
at the base of our hill
A woman climbed down
took a step
to the glade
the dawning day's sun
streaming in to pervade
~
A light in my heart
jumped a thousand times fold
the smile in her eyes
and the story's been told
The tears
fell in rapture
though nothing was said
embraced
now with Mary
she'd returned from the dead
~
She unhitched the horses
I lifted the side
"The years have been kind"
I said
lifting her pride
"Are you my daddy?"
I turned with a whirl
peeking out from the wagon
the freckled face
of a girl
A true story about my great great Grand Parents
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
In his tower of fish bone and stench
the sea called and the sea wept
He looked upon the promise of chance

A ribcage still with breath
the bird inside whiskey wet
callin out to the sea
"ohhh why can't you love me"

The moon it rose the tide did too
he unhitched the drift wood canoe
and the current stole all uncertainty

he rowed on, lost sight of shore
surrounded by what he adored  
water still; he feels complete
his birdie sang it's masterpiece.

He broke his ribs and let it fly,
"no need for that when i've got whats mine"
he watched his heart catch a westward breeze.

The king of bones, bleached by the sun
stepped out his boat immersed in love
his soul transfixed upon her depth
he looked down deep and held his breath

Ohhh he never saw it coming


The storm came and sent him down
her leviathans ate his crown
***** picked and scraped what laid at bottom

Swept away and drowning now
Grabbed for his bird and tried to howl
his fingers met the broken ribs
"how could I have fallen for this?"

Ohh a jawbone fit for a crown
The king of bones, the ocean drowns

her relentless undertow
dragged him to the shore he knows
smashed against the rocks, cracked and broken

ohh a jawbone fit for a crown
The king of bones, the ocean drowns.

So now he walks filled with pain
his birdie drowned in the hurricane
oh he was left wonderin, what coulda been.

ohh a jawbone fir for a crown
the king of bones the ocean drowns..
Hollow May 2017
Laying here thinking. It's time to get stitching. Too many holes in my soul to be keeping. No way to reduce the abuse of this world. Oh my god. What's gone wrong? this can't be the fate of our lives. Written on the whispers of all of our hate. Together in spirit but too far away. [this can't be pretend] When days come together and nights come to an end. We'll stare at the stars and dance with the sun. Hoping to never lose what we once saw. Hope of the ages. Hope from the wages. Getting to the top is never a simple hop. Too much of that **** and you'll end up unhitched. Dead in a coffin. Don't worry they're just coughing. too many tears and uncleared checks to put you out on top deck. Born in the butter. Gone with the gutter. Humble the hearts of the people who stumble. Struggle here now. Strengthen here now. Each stone getting lighter than the previous one now. Look down the cliff and notice who you forgot. Pull their cables up and never let 'em drop.
Another old piece. Not too sure about it.
PFL Dec 2017
Shutters banging, wires whining
window's panes expand & contract
recoiling from each of her gusty screams
like last breaths' growling sounds so stark,
Sirocco the mistress of many an imagination,
is howling just outside in the cover of dark.
Belligerent, drunken by Saharan sand,
thoughts stifled in its haze,
even the sun's face grays.

She can't help but touch everything,
an unwieldy child in a candy shop
handling everything that is yours as hers.
Her shrills build with no exhaust,
blasts of hot air run loose
a horse unhitched, where will it stop?

Enter the crescendo, a switch flipped,
silence's pause, the dialogue was not some surreal innuendo.
Now, exposed by the signal of a single brave Finch,
all's well, over and done,
the flock joins in fever pitched repetition,
too, but without competition.
Ben Jones Mar 2019
Preparing for a cataclysm
Not for the faint of heart
Tornadoes are tempestuous
Tsunamis, quick to start
A lethal strain of chicken-pox
Can wander on the breeze
And flu attacks acutely
With an uninvited sneeze
But no historic incident
Disaster or decline
Can match that of the Wobbling
Of nineteen fifty nine

It started over breakfast
With a rippling in the juice
The spoons were jiggled savagely
And dentures rattled loose
The condiments were quivering
The sauces sat and twitched
Cookies cracked and crumbled
And couples came unhitched
Horses bolted randomly
And ran around in squares
The pensioners reverberated
Rocking in their chairs

The birdies in their downy nests
Were bounced about the trees
The cars rebounded in the street
And stacked themselves in threes
Eyeballs turned alarmingly
The clouds flipped upside down
The church bells all played chopsticks
And the fish began to drown
The roads became entangled
And bunched up into knots
The pencils slipped their cases
Leaving tiny lines of dots

The cities were in uproar
The noise like solid thunder
As puddings toppled needlessly
And Jelly fell asunder
Furniture was undulating
Hats abandoned stand
Sailors found their sailing legs
A hundred miles inland
But just as it had started
The tremble shook no more
And one again, humanity
Could start to trust the floor

The roads were combed and straightened
And nestled back in place
The spoons were fastened safely
And eyeballs turned to face
The parrots were sedated
And locked up in their cages
Books were shelved and sorted out
With bookmarks in their pages
The world returned to normalcy
And soon, no single sign
Was left to tell the tale
Of the Wobble of fifty nine

**
Haddie Brenner Dec 2017
Unlocked,
My head unbuckled,
My arms spread.
My mind unshackled,
My heart prepared.
Unlocked,
Head to toe,
Unfastened,
Untied,
Undwelt.
Thoroughly unhitched,
Save one chastity belt.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2018
IF WE SHADOWS....

It was as if
a cloud had fallen asleep

in the lower field.

It had already eaten
an unhitched wagon

and half a red barn.

It watched us approaching
from the yellow windowed house

where the babies lay asleep
blowing spit bubbles.

It seemed to smile in a
giant grey candy floss way and then

started in on
first you and then

me or what
was left of me that I could see.

It had eaten all of you
except your excited voice.

All you could see of me
was my nervous laughter.

We had been evicted from
our known selves

and there was no known
forwarding address.

We were all points of
the compass at once.

“Moo!” commented a cow
on the situation at hand.

And “Moo” mimicked the cloud
having had

eaten everything.

There was no place to live
except inside our thoughts

and our thoughts
walked our bodies

towards the barn that
like Mr. Schrödinger's cat

was either there or
either not.

“Moo!” said a moo.
“Moo!” said another moo.

One moo almost the clone
of the other.

We had arrived.
We were now here.

Suddenly our arms legs and other
bits of our bodies was

returned to us
thanks to a light switch

that made us in our own
image.

We owned ourselves again.

The cloud was sleeping
in the field.

One could almost imagine it
snoring.

I clapped my hands together.
“Ok!” I said

“…let’s get on with
the milking!"
sandra wyllie Jul 2021
what would you call me? If I wasn’t attached
to a person, as a daughter, wife, mother or friend
you couldn’t say this is so and so’s daughter, wife,
mother or friend. What if I didn’t have a job or

a hobby? You couldn’t say she does this
or that. What if I didn’t even have an address? You
couldn’t say she lives there. All of the spaces would
be blank, because there wouldn’t be anything to fill

them in with. People would wonder about
such a person like this, unhitched and uncoupled. Would I
still exist? I would still have my thoughts; I would still have
my brain. I would still be me, the same.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2017
IF WE SHADOWS....

It was as if
a cloud had fallen asleep

in the lower field.

It had already eaten
an unhitched wagon

and half a red barn.

It watched us approaching
from the yellow windowed house

where the babies lay asleep
blowing spit bubbles.

It seemed to smile in a
giant grey candy floss way and then

started in on
first you and then

me or what
was left of me that I could see.

It had eaten all of you
except your excited voice.

All you could see of me
was my nervous laughter.

We had been evicted from
our known selves

and there was no known
forwarding address.

We were all points of
the compass at once.

“Moo!” commented a cow
on the situation at hand.

And “Moo” mimicked the cloud
having had

eaten everything.

There was no place to live
except inside our thoughts

and our thoughts
walked our bodies

towards the barn that
like Mr. Schrödinger's cat

was either there or
either not.

“Moo!” said a moo.
“Moo!” said another moo.

One moo almost the clone
of the other.

We had arrived.
We were now here.

Suddenly our arms legs and other
bits of our bodies was

returned to us
thanks to a light switch

that made us in our own
image.

We owned ourselves again.

The cloud was sleeping
in the field.

One could almost imagine it
snoring.

I clapped my hands together.
“Ok!” I said

“…let’s get on with
the milking!"
sandra wyllie Mar 2022
in pieces, you shatter
as brains splattered from
the shot of a gun. Your insides
spill out like a puzzle, in red

blue, and yellow. You lay in
your waste as a baby in a day-old
diaper. Crawling out your head
a two-foot viper. Your limbs

unhitched, when only before they
held on by a stitch. Your eyes rolled
back. But the whites are not white. They're
stained satin black. And none of

the king's horses or the king's
men can put back your pieces together
again.
sandra wyllie Oct 2018
If I Didn’t Have a Name

what would you call me? If I wasn’t attached
to a person, as a daughter, wife, mother or friend
you couldn’t say this is so and so’s daughter, wife,
mother or friend. What if I didn’t have a job or

a hobby? You couldn’t say she does this
or that. What if I didn’t even have an address? You
couldn’t say she lives there. All of the spaces would
be blank, because there wouldn’t be anything to fill

them in with. People would wonder about
such a person like this, unhitched and uncoupled. Would I
still exist? I would still have my thoughts; I would still have
my brain. I would still be me, the same.
Donall Dempsey Dec 2023
IF WE SHADOWS....

it was as if a cloud
a cloud had fallen asleep
in the lower field

it had already eaten
an unhitched wagon
and half a red barn

it watched us approaching
from the yellow
windowed house

where the babies
lay asleep
blowing spit bubbles

it seemed to smile
in a giant grey
candy floss way


then started in on
first you
and then

me or what
was left of me
that I could see

it had eaten all of you
except
your excited voice

all you
could see of me was
my nervous laughter

we had been
evicted from
our known selves

and there was
no known
forwarding address

we were
all points of
the compass at once

“Moo!”
commented a cow
on the situation at hand

and “Moo” mimicked the cloud
having had
eaten everything

there was no place to live
except
inside our thoughts

and our thoughts
walked our bodies
towards the barn that

like Mr. Schrödinger's cat
was either there or
either not

“Moo!” said a moo
“Moo!”
said another moo

one moo
almost the clone
of the other one

we had arrived
we were
now here

suddenly our arms legs
and other
bits of our bodies

returned to us
thanks to
a light switch

that made us
in our own
image

we
owned
ourselves again

the cloud
was sleeping
in the field

one could almost
imagine it
snoring

I clapped
my hands together
“Ok!” I said

“…let’s
get on with
the milking!"
sandra wyllie Jul 2019
like a ball of yarn
that goes on
without a stitch
never becomes a sweater
just a line
that gets hooked on
whatever it finds
gets tangled
by the black feline
made into a web
of bitterness
someone took the string
that was neatly tucked in
and let out
all this
and it rolls
itself
in emptiness
unhitched
find the end
if you can
and pull
and pull
and pull again
Onoma Feb 2020
overexposed polaroids are
being dealt on the outs,
unhitched faces blowing blurbs.
filled with cathartic mumblings,
scrawled reminders to break
into the houses they gave the slip
to hours prior.
while
living alone to eliminate intrusion,
a mind's routine of
cutting the teeth of keys that won't
fit.
patting down the empty pockets of
limp thighs for spares.
is it not all as it has been left to--
the village idiot claiming the world's
***?
whose wayward business was made
to see where all the strangeness is
stashed.
following it around with a secret society
of eyes.
alas the induction, the inductee--
locked out.
Ankita Saha Mar 2020
I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
Quite apparently,
Quite before you had arrived.

On a plain summer afternoon,
While the world outside lagged a little,
I was resting on the chair, slackly as ever,
With my fingers holding their cup of tea.
The white curtains of the window swung a little,
It swayed left to right and towards me and back,
passing a gentle breeze slightly across my eyes.
I unhitched the door and opened the gate.
The sky on the left was darker than the right.
I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
Quite before you had arrived.

The sunlight battled to breathe,
But each time you crumpled it away.
Confused I stood,
Starring the fight between the yellow and the grey.
The dust rose high and hit my eye.
For a moment, I felt blind.
Yet, I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
This time, in a certain way.

Drop. And another. And another,
I saw you drizzle,
Glorious and divine.
Sulkily though, I waited for you.
For I sensed your coming the ugly way.

Rightly so,
You grew big and mighty.
Wild and intense.
The windowpanes began to hit against the wall hard,
You took away the light such,
that the candle refused to glow in dark.
The trees tried hard,
to keep up still, to keep up just.
You but shattered few till last.

And yet, I grieved when you left.
In joy and in pain,
In peace and in rage,
I craved you more and didn't want at all.
You were a beautiful happening,
You were a scary venture.
On a plain summer afternoon,
You were the rain.
Whit Howland Jul 2020
Turquoise blue
or coffee brown

or did it matter

as long as it spun
on its axis

and was life ever
really the same

when we unhitched it
like a wagon

and watched it bounce
down the stairs

only to have it collide
with other alien worlds

Whit Howland © 2020
A word painting. An original.

— The End —