Submissions by MadameLavender
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
What Lazarus Saw
Written for Atakti's "The Lost Scene" competition, I expanded a verse in the book of John:
39 Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.
40 Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?
41 Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me.
42 And I knew...
39 Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.
40 Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee, that, if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?
41 Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me.
42 And I knew...
71 reads
6 Comments
The Keeper Of The Names
(Written for the "Death" competition)
The end-date is added—
2014.
Another one finished too soon;
Goodbye, Joe,
Fickle and fifty-nine,
Diabetic coma-crash
And you never awoke.
Each name on the family tree
Has their start-date,
Birth,
Until I,
The Keeper of the Names because no one else gives a shit,
Adds the date of life’s summation.
The years fly by,
Making me tick off another
From time to time,
In my electronic list of who’s gone and who’s not,
And then I edit the phone...
The end-date is added—
2014.
Another one finished too soon;
Goodbye, Joe,
Fickle and fifty-nine,
Diabetic coma-crash
And you never awoke.
Each name on the family tree
Has their start-date,
Birth,
Until I,
The Keeper of the Names because no one else gives a shit,
Adds the date of life’s summation.
The years fly by,
Making me tick off another
From time to time,
In my electronic list of who’s gone and who’s not,
And then I edit the phone...
46 reads
2 Comments
Color In Death
(Written for Vee's "Daily Battle" competition)
What has died,
Has opened the canvas, blank,
New,
To be colored,
Or colored again—
Redone.
My purplish-pink scars,
A forever reminder
Of the surgeon’s knife,
And the perma-brown spots
From radiation—
I must stretch daily
To keep my arm and chest muscles from atrophy.
My hair,
Reborn and regrown
With far more gray than before,
But my thoughts are painted rainbows—
Hopeful,
Looking toward the future
And all it holds,
And...
What has died,
Has opened the canvas, blank,
New,
To be colored,
Or colored again—
Redone.
My purplish-pink scars,
A forever reminder
Of the surgeon’s knife,
And the perma-brown spots
From radiation—
I must stretch daily
To keep my arm and chest muscles from atrophy.
My hair,
Reborn and regrown
With far more gray than before,
But my thoughts are painted rainbows—
Hopeful,
Looking toward the future
And all it holds,
And...
52 reads
4 Comments
Nancy Was A Samurai
(Written for Magdalena's comp "Flowery Names, etc" where you have to take a cheery sounding name and give it dark connotations. Here's my take on Nancy Spungen, extreme wayward soul, girlfriend of Sex Pistols' Sid Vicious.)
Nancy was a samurai,
But only on a heroin-high;
It gave her all the fight she’d need
To cut herself and watch it bleed.
Her weapons drawn, a mighty sword
Scissor blades gave her wrists what-for
To somehow hopefully make her whole
As she swung around the stripper’s pole.
The violent schizophrenic did...
Nancy was a samurai,
But only on a heroin-high;
It gave her all the fight she’d need
To cut herself and watch it bleed.
Her weapons drawn, a mighty sword
Scissor blades gave her wrists what-for
To somehow hopefully make her whole
As she swung around the stripper’s pole.
The violent schizophrenic did...
74 reads
6 Comments
Existence Is A Four Letter Word
(Written for Miki's "What's The Point?" competition)
The point?
There is none set;
It changes constantly
Depending on where you’re presently at
In life.
Sometimes it’s to learn
Other times, to teach,
To grow
To be a child
Or an adult,
A helper, giver,
Sometimes a taker.
And there are moments
When all that’s required
Is to run—
Through the wildflowers,
The woods,
The wind,
The water,
Watching the colors collide around you
Taking notice of the canvas
Painted daily by the hand...
The point?
There is none set;
It changes constantly
Depending on where you’re presently at
In life.
Sometimes it’s to learn
Other times, to teach,
To grow
To be a child
Or an adult,
A helper, giver,
Sometimes a taker.
And there are moments
When all that’s required
Is to run—
Through the wildflowers,
The woods,
The wind,
The water,
Watching the colors collide around you
Taking notice of the canvas
Painted daily by the hand...
74 reads
3 Comments
Memories Of Trafalgar
(Written for the "Very First Love" competition....yes, I had a huge crush on Barry Gibb back in 6th grade--OMFG, he was hot stuff!) :D
The world still reeled from “Night Fever”,
And my twelve year old heart reeled from you.
1979—
Heyday of disco and nightclubs,
And me, too young,
Ah, far too young, to be your girl.
But I wanted to,
As much as Andy, Robin and Maurice had the limelight,
You, Barry, were the one Gibb
Who transcended all
In the eyes of this quiet, thoughtful child.
I sang along with...
The world still reeled from “Night Fever”,
And my twelve year old heart reeled from you.
1979—
Heyday of disco and nightclubs,
And me, too young,
Ah, far too young, to be your girl.
But I wanted to,
As much as Andy, Robin and Maurice had the limelight,
You, Barry, were the one Gibb
Who transcended all
In the eyes of this quiet, thoughtful child.
I sang along with...
61 reads
5 Comments
What’s Left Of A Million
(Written for the "Money" competition, where you have to say what you'd do with a million dollars)
I daresay a million, dollars to me,
Is not the amount up front, that you see;
The tax rate on that in our Promised Land
Is 39.6 percent, for Ol’ Uncle Sam.
So once you’ve been raped by the IRS,
You’re left with $631-Grand, at best.
Then there’s my daughter’s looming college costs
Of another $180,000, lost.
Now there’s only $450-Grand left—
Spend it quick, or they’ll tax you again
If it carries over to the next calendar...
I daresay a million, dollars to me,
Is not the amount up front, that you see;
The tax rate on that in our Promised Land
Is 39.6 percent, for Ol’ Uncle Sam.
So once you’ve been raped by the IRS,
You’re left with $631-Grand, at best.
Then there’s my daughter’s looming college costs
Of another $180,000, lost.
Now there’s only $450-Grand left—
Spend it quick, or they’ll tax you again
If it carries over to the next calendar...
74 reads
8 Comments
Transient Witness (A True Story)
(Written for the "Not As It Seems" competition, this is a true story from my high school days, back in the early 1980's)
“Be careful”
“Avoid him,”
They said…
Lenny
The Bum, downtown.
“He’s a sly one, you know”
“He’ll weasel you out of your money”
“He lives on the railroad tracks.”
The jeers,
The hate,
Because Lenny was the Town Bum.
But he used to escort me,
And my girlfriends,
Across the tracks
To our after school jobs
At the grocery store…..
How can he be that bad?
And Lenny would...
“Be careful”
“Avoid him,”
They said…
Lenny
The Bum, downtown.
“He’s a sly one, you know”
“He’ll weasel you out of your money”
“He lives on the railroad tracks.”
The jeers,
The hate,
Because Lenny was the Town Bum.
But he used to escort me,
And my girlfriends,
Across the tracks
To our after school jobs
At the grocery store…..
How can he be that bad?
And Lenny would...
68 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by MadameLavender