Submissions by JohnFeddeler
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
My poems are blue collar; they work hard.
catch of a sigh
catch of a sigh
soft of a touch
grip of a feel
unbidden, unbridled
cold of a hearth
ghost of a song
adrift, & alone
want of a need
crush of an hour
night of a blush
sanguine, sinful, sincere
rush of a thrill
chase of a doubt
eye of a storm
flying, falling, fearing
knife of a throw
deep of a hurt
bruise of a gone
quicker than quiet
blue of a star
sleep of a dream ...
soft of a touch
grip of a feel
unbidden, unbridled
cold of a hearth
ghost of a song
adrift, & alone
want of a need
crush of an hour
night of a blush
sanguine, sinful, sincere
rush of a thrill
chase of a doubt
eye of a storm
flying, falling, fearing
knife of a throw
deep of a hurt
bruise of a gone
quicker than quiet
blue of a star
sleep of a dream ...
121 reads
10 Comments
Solomon's Robe
As the storm goes, so goes the painting, & the poem.
I will wear the robe of Solomon. come & gather before me,
you young & tender ones; rest upon the grass near my bench.
pay heed to this knowledge: as the storm goes, so goes the
painting, & the poem.
the storm approaches uninvited, in its fierce & bold magnificence.
it begets thunder & lightning & the roaring wind. it bestows fear &
awe in the hearts of those who witness, & worship.
so too must your creative endeavors be endowed with that same ...
I will wear the robe of Solomon. come & gather before me,
you young & tender ones; rest upon the grass near my bench.
pay heed to this knowledge: as the storm goes, so goes the
painting, & the poem.
the storm approaches uninvited, in its fierce & bold magnificence.
it begets thunder & lightning & the roaring wind. it bestows fear &
awe in the hearts of those who witness, & worship.
so too must your creative endeavors be endowed with that same ...
174 reads
10 Comments
she writes a lonely ode
I want to do things so wild with you that I
don't know how to say them." Anais Nin
(she doesn't know I watch her,
when she writes)
I was alone, until we found each other.
I have always been different from others,
in my yearning that constantly drives me
to discover the wonders of this blooming world,
the riches to be taken, absorbed, to love, and
be loved in return. and your passion reflects
my own, your pursuit of the extraordinary, your
vitality and vibrancy in loving, and in making love.
when we are...
don't know how to say them." Anais Nin
(she doesn't know I watch her,
when she writes)
I was alone, until we found each other.
I have always been different from others,
in my yearning that constantly drives me
to discover the wonders of this blooming world,
the riches to be taken, absorbed, to love, and
be loved in return. and your passion reflects
my own, your pursuit of the extraordinary, your
vitality and vibrancy in loving, and in making love.
when we are...
149 reads
21 Comments
tattered poem
she writes an infinity of I-love-you’s
on linen stationery then crumples each
page & tosses it at the corner waste basket,
she scores 2-points on one out of every three
throws while the other little tattered & crumpled
almost-poems cuddle up to the base of that
monument to archaic romance, she does this
because love doesn’t need poems, love needs us,
you & me, holding each other so tightly it’s like we
will be sucked into each other’s body, so close as if
we were welded together, so let’s do that,
let’s love each other...
on linen stationery then crumples each
page & tosses it at the corner waste basket,
she scores 2-points on one out of every three
throws while the other little tattered & crumpled
almost-poems cuddle up to the base of that
monument to archaic romance, she does this
because love doesn’t need poems, love needs us,
you & me, holding each other so tightly it’s like we
will be sucked into each other’s body, so close as if
we were welded together, so let’s do that,
let’s love each other...
139 reads
14 Comments
'Lynsey'
the truest art is the naked enchantment of a woman.
just gaze at her, & dare to deny it.
regaled in the wind that holds her, & refuses to blow
in any direction. sunbeams, iridescent gems, that
alight in her hair, invoking radiant flares –
the rippling fall of her tresses.
the way she poses, pensive & subservient: does it
make her more beautiful? more desirable?
she drives a man’s yearning blood, hot as desert rocks;
commands the drumbeat of his primal, savage heart.
nor would her charm be denied to another woman,
a woman with...
just gaze at her, & dare to deny it.
regaled in the wind that holds her, & refuses to blow
in any direction. sunbeams, iridescent gems, that
alight in her hair, invoking radiant flares –
the rippling fall of her tresses.
the way she poses, pensive & subservient: does it
make her more beautiful? more desirable?
she drives a man’s yearning blood, hot as desert rocks;
commands the drumbeat of his primal, savage heart.
nor would her charm be denied to another woman,
a woman with...
154 reads
13 Comments
puta
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
211 reads
15 Comments
syncretism in blue
ingest me
take within you this essence
which is merely a poor
& unworthy me
where you travel i travel
what you dream i dream
my ardor will brace your mornings
as the stars hold up the heavens
imagine an amalgam
of passionate meditations
(yours & mine)
to make one poem
of twisted tendrils
sumerian skies
a moonscape of lovesongs
wolf skin boots, howling
agony’s ode, dark daughter
a soldier of secrets
heart bursting untamed
a ceremonial offering; blue angel
place me gently
in vague...
take within you this essence
which is merely a poor
& unworthy me
where you travel i travel
what you dream i dream
my ardor will brace your mornings
as the stars hold up the heavens
imagine an amalgam
of passionate meditations
(yours & mine)
to make one poem
of twisted tendrils
sumerian skies
a moonscape of lovesongs
wolf skin boots, howling
agony’s ode, dark daughter
a soldier of secrets
heart bursting untamed
a ceremonial offering; blue angel
place me gently
in vague...
163 reads
15 Comments
Frankenstein, mon amour
I was born from death.
I was created from the remnants of corpses,
resuscitated by the contraption of a demented dreamer,
who conjectured that reanimation was possible and
necessary; that immortality should not be the selfish
realm of God.
I was designed without regard to aesthetics, but rather
stitched together as a hideous parody of that which is
human, an ugly facsimile. yet it was the mighty magical
spark from God’s own domain that animated me; great
streaming bolts of His fire that gave me life. therefore,
since I was made by heaven, I...
I was created from the remnants of corpses,
resuscitated by the contraption of a demented dreamer,
who conjectured that reanimation was possible and
necessary; that immortality should not be the selfish
realm of God.
I was designed without regard to aesthetics, but rather
stitched together as a hideous parody of that which is
human, an ugly facsimile. yet it was the mighty magical
spark from God’s own domain that animated me; great
streaming bolts of His fire that gave me life. therefore,
since I was made by heaven, I...
168 reads
10 Comments
noir desolate
serenity in amber. a shot glass full of it.
it’s not much, but it gets me through this cold, rainy
night. this lonely night, that hangs outside my window
like an old movie. I can hear a mellow trumpet wailin’
the blues while the credits roll.
and the usual suspect stares back at me from somewhere
beyond that window. it’s a woman; it’s always a woman. a
chorus line of soft lips & hard hearts. curvy figures with crossed
legs perched on bar stools that run from here to the plastic palm.
vamps that enticed me with a well practiced hip swivel,...
it’s not much, but it gets me through this cold, rainy
night. this lonely night, that hangs outside my window
like an old movie. I can hear a mellow trumpet wailin’
the blues while the credits roll.
and the usual suspect stares back at me from somewhere
beyond that window. it’s a woman; it’s always a woman. a
chorus line of soft lips & hard hearts. curvy figures with crossed
legs perched on bar stools that run from here to the plastic palm.
vamps that enticed me with a well practiced hip swivel,...
116 reads
7 Comments
bistro love song {w/blue_angel}
there was a love song playing. at the bottom of a stairwell.
behind the door of the Cellar Bistro. so I pursued it.
I am the most unafraid man on earth.
My debonair escort gingerly rakes his gaze over my disheveled charm.
standing stark and lonely against the rain sheened street, he peaks my
curiosity. I accept his, let’s get better acquainted, gesture.
to offer love to a stranger for fleshly favors is a felony.
it is to be a criminal of the water; to be a pirate.
but, God forgive me, I am a pirate.
This bistro, like the fire in...
behind the door of the Cellar Bistro. so I pursued it.
I am the most unafraid man on earth.
My debonair escort gingerly rakes his gaze over my disheveled charm.
standing stark and lonely against the rain sheened street, he peaks my
curiosity. I accept his, let’s get better acquainted, gesture.
to offer love to a stranger for fleshly favors is a felony.
it is to be a criminal of the water; to be a pirate.
but, God forgive me, I am a pirate.
This bistro, like the fire in...
131 reads
13 Comments
Paris Texas
she needs it, she prays for it
her primal passion
in bed, on her back
legs raised, bent at the knees
a bas relief, glamorous grief
she’s not a whore, she just wants more
her heathen delight: the might, the spike of a man
in the vee of her sight
desire measured in inches
like dashes on a map
every inch is a mile
every lunge is a smile
then flip her like a nickel
the backside of romance
round as a penny tight as a drum
sweet hell in the go, & heaven to come
she gyrates, then rotates
to gaze at the storm...
her primal passion
in bed, on her back
legs raised, bent at the knees
a bas relief, glamorous grief
she’s not a whore, she just wants more
her heathen delight: the might, the spike of a man
in the vee of her sight
desire measured in inches
like dashes on a map
every inch is a mile
every lunge is a smile
then flip her like a nickel
the backside of romance
round as a penny tight as a drum
sweet hell in the go, & heaven to come
she gyrates, then rotates
to gaze at the storm...
244 reads
12 Comments
Harder than Hollywood
I knew right away she was the kinda woman that would
cost me time & heartache. if I was the faithful type, I’d
stick to my whiskey bottle. but whiskey bottles don’t
come in blonde and sultry.
as I watched her, I fell into my daydream, drifting into that
never land where flowers bloom in the gutters & two lonely
hearts stroll into ever after, happily. then a doll like her slaps
me back into this celluloid pantomime, this cold, cruel cinema.
see, I never had the savvy to back away from a losing proposition.
I always figured my butt was...
cost me time & heartache. if I was the faithful type, I’d
stick to my whiskey bottle. but whiskey bottles don’t
come in blonde and sultry.
as I watched her, I fell into my daydream, drifting into that
never land where flowers bloom in the gutters & two lonely
hearts stroll into ever after, happily. then a doll like her slaps
me back into this celluloid pantomime, this cold, cruel cinema.
see, I never had the savvy to back away from a losing proposition.
I always figured my butt was...
100 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by JohnFeddeler