Submissions by HarleyQuinn
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Fairly new at this, and though I may not be the next Wordsworth or Maya Angelou I love words more than the air in my lungs.
On the Road
Bumping along the empty road
Potholes like scars a pockmarked cheek
The smell of dust and pleather hangs in the air
In our single cab bakkie* with a bench seat.
Laughing about nothing and everything,
All at once
And gossiping like bored ou tannies**
Or just sitting together in tranquil silence
Enjoying eachothers company.
We're on our way to the crocodile farm
Or Sodwana Bay to drift along the rainbow coloured world.
Maybe St. Lucia for the endless stretches of soft white sand,
And memories of ashes scattered in the...
Potholes like scars a pockmarked cheek
The smell of dust and pleather hangs in the air
In our single cab bakkie* with a bench seat.
Laughing about nothing and everything,
All at once
And gossiping like bored ou tannies**
Or just sitting together in tranquil silence
Enjoying eachothers company.
We're on our way to the crocodile farm
Or Sodwana Bay to drift along the rainbow coloured world.
Maybe St. Lucia for the endless stretches of soft white sand,
And memories of ashes scattered in the...
110 reads
5 Comments
The North Men
Over the sea
Milled to salt
Where giants rest
And serpents lurk
Where the wind, it stabs
Cold as ice
Where even the most savage fear to pass
That's where you'll find the Norsemen.
On monstrous waves
In the darkest storm
Riding the tempest
Like a spirited horse
That's where you'll find the norsemen.
In the midst of the battle
Where blood flows like mead
And the line between friend and foe is blurred
Where there is no room for grudge, nor prejudice
Where your heart pounds with the...
Milled to salt
Where giants rest
And serpents lurk
Where the wind, it stabs
Cold as ice
Where even the most savage fear to pass
That's where you'll find the Norsemen.
On monstrous waves
In the darkest storm
Riding the tempest
Like a spirited horse
That's where you'll find the norsemen.
In the midst of the battle
Where blood flows like mead
And the line between friend and foe is blurred
Where there is no room for grudge, nor prejudice
Where your heart pounds with the...
78 reads
10 Comments
Lea (prose)
You are beautiful.Unequivocally, delicately, intensley, profoundly beautiful. Anyone who says differently is a liar. Maybe that's what draws me in.
You ruined me you know. Granted you had help, but what you did would have done the job on its own. Don't get me wrong, that's not what this is about... Or at least I don't think so. Who knows, maybe this is my subconscious exacting the revenge that I can't.
I don't love you. This can't be love. Maybe its obsession? But that can't be, I'm not obsessed anymore. Am I?
I did love you, but you ruined me. Now I just keep you...
You ruined me you know. Granted you had help, but what you did would have done the job on its own. Don't get me wrong, that's not what this is about... Or at least I don't think so. Who knows, maybe this is my subconscious exacting the revenge that I can't.
I don't love you. This can't be love. Maybe its obsession? But that can't be, I'm not obsessed anymore. Am I?
I did love you, but you ruined me. Now I just keep you...
76 reads
2 Comments
High (prose)
That first hit is always the best. Like Goldielocks you pack it, not too tight, not too loose but just right. The glass presses against your lips and you stop, just for a second. Just long enough to draw out that feeling of anticipation that makes goosebumps erupt all over your body. The lighter clicks, and you start to inhale.
The smoke is like hot syrup hitting the back of your throat. Its heady and sticky and warm. It tastes acrid, yet incredibly sweet at the same time. You feel your lungs expanding. Making way and being filled with the magic. You push it to the max till you feel...
The smoke is like hot syrup hitting the back of your throat. Its heady and sticky and warm. It tastes acrid, yet incredibly sweet at the same time. You feel your lungs expanding. Making way and being filled with the magic. You push it to the max till you feel...
170 reads
8 Comments
Was It My Fault?
Was it my fault?
I really can't tell.
Maybe I got myself into this hell.
Was it my fault?
Did I lead you on?
Was it your lack of control,
Or my infant siren song?
I wonder.
Was it my fault?
Did I invite your scalding hand?
It burned to the bone,
But I can't blame you.
You're only a man
Was it my fault?
I don't understand.
How could I, still innocent,
Possibly have planned
Something so vile,
So evil,
So sick to the core.
Does this mean that I'm...
I really can't tell.
Maybe I got myself into this hell.
Was it my fault?
Did I lead you on?
Was it your lack of control,
Or my infant siren song?
I wonder.
Was it my fault?
Did I invite your scalding hand?
It burned to the bone,
But I can't blame you.
You're only a man
Was it my fault?
I don't understand.
How could I, still innocent,
Possibly have planned
Something so vile,
So evil,
So sick to the core.
Does this mean that I'm...
113 reads
16 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by HarleyQuinn