Submissions by Penknife
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Hi there, I'm a scouse poet meaning I was born and bred in Liverpool, UK. Most of my poems are from personal experience. I have written since I was ten. I also have a passion for psychology and a focus on therapeutic writing.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th Aug 2014 5:50am
9th Aug 2014 5:50am
Puppet Heads
Puppet Heads.
Puppet heads don't watch whose pulling the strings.
Puppet heads tend to repeat stupid things.
Puppet heads mistake themselves for free thinkers
Puppet heads can't see beyond the blinkers.
Puppet heads are often nodding dogs or 'Sheeple'
Puppet heads seem like androids and not real people.
Puppet heads never seem to want to explore
Puppet heads often slam shut the door.
Puppet heads are programmed to believe what they do.
Puppet heads can appear within me and you.
Puppet heads are dull they all sound the same.
Puppet...
Puppet heads don't watch whose pulling the strings.
Puppet heads tend to repeat stupid things.
Puppet heads mistake themselves for free thinkers
Puppet heads can't see beyond the blinkers.
Puppet heads are often nodding dogs or 'Sheeple'
Puppet heads seem like androids and not real people.
Puppet heads never seem to want to explore
Puppet heads often slam shut the door.
Puppet heads are programmed to believe what they do.
Puppet heads can appear within me and you.
Puppet heads are dull they all sound the same.
Puppet...
52 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jul 2014 5:48am
15th Jul 2014 5:48am
The Venus to your Mars in a planet called 'Ours'.
Love looks like such a tumultuous ride
Now that I observe it without you on side.
It's as if I can see it through his eyes
as a web glued with illusion and thread with lies.
What is forever anyway but a sickening replaying
of ground hog day.
I never wanted to be a saviour nor a captor
but I did used to dream of happily ever after.
It was a phrase hammered into my little girl's brain
they never mentioned the heart ache and shame!
And I never wanted to play the wicked witch
or the Madonna/whore nor the spinster bitch.
I didn't want...
Now that I observe it without you on side.
It's as if I can see it through his eyes
as a web glued with illusion and thread with lies.
What is forever anyway but a sickening replaying
of ground hog day.
I never wanted to be a saviour nor a captor
but I did used to dream of happily ever after.
It was a phrase hammered into my little girl's brain
they never mentioned the heart ache and shame!
And I never wanted to play the wicked witch
or the Madonna/whore nor the spinster bitch.
I didn't want...
45 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
13th Jul 2014 3:03am
13th Jul 2014 3:03am
The Silenced Souls
We are the quiet souls,
with a small shouting voice.
And we can only hope
through a sea of static white noise
he can still hear us.
Despite being but grains of sand
on an endless beach,
we live on hope the horizon has not yet died
and he and we are still within reach.
We are the bright lights behind the dim eyes
that saw through all of the sin and all of the lies.
And we can only pray
through a blur of colours
that our own still shine
and he can still see...
with a small shouting voice.
And we can only hope
through a sea of static white noise
he can still hear us.
Despite being but grains of sand
on an endless beach,
we live on hope the horizon has not yet died
and he and we are still within reach.
We are the bright lights behind the dim eyes
that saw through all of the sin and all of the lies.
And we can only pray
through a blur of colours
that our own still shine
and he can still see...
84 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
14th Apr 2014 4:04pm
14th Apr 2014 4:04pm
Beauty In Brambles
The gardener saw beauty in brambles
as his loving gaze fell upon me.
My roots reached all the way back to his own
entwined through time beneath an ancient tree.
And I was no bad apple in his eyes
but the apple of his eye.
He saved a seed from rocky ground,
so it was not lost but found
and would not die.
He planted me in the core of his heart
and let me thrive there.
His face became my sunlight,
his love became my air.
And when his petals withered
and winter turned him grey.
I tendered to our garden
so it would not...
as his loving gaze fell upon me.
My roots reached all the way back to his own
entwined through time beneath an ancient tree.
And I was no bad apple in his eyes
but the apple of his eye.
He saved a seed from rocky ground,
so it was not lost but found
and would not die.
He planted me in the core of his heart
and let me thrive there.
His face became my sunlight,
his love became my air.
And when his petals withered
and winter turned him grey.
I tendered to our garden
so it would not...
76 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2014 1:01am
22nd Feb 2014 1:01am
Shooting Cupid
Cupid's been shooting my dreams down,
with the same blade he used to burst my bubble!
He collects the jaded, jagged pieces
then buries 'em beneath the rubble.
He leads me up garden paths,
Where he takes aim with his poisonos dart.
He severs all of my hopes
whilst forever targeting my heart.
And when wounds become scars,
I can see but can no longer feel!
Revenge offers such solice
in a place I can not heal.
So I sharpen my own points
and my victory sings
once I've pulled my bow back
and pierced him through the wings. ...
with the same blade he used to burst my bubble!
He collects the jaded, jagged pieces
then buries 'em beneath the rubble.
He leads me up garden paths,
Where he takes aim with his poisonos dart.
He severs all of my hopes
whilst forever targeting my heart.
And when wounds become scars,
I can see but can no longer feel!
Revenge offers such solice
in a place I can not heal.
So I sharpen my own points
and my victory sings
once I've pulled my bow back
and pierced him through the wings. ...
94 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Feb 2014 4:46am
9th Feb 2014 4:46am
I was going to write you a poem but f**k it!
I was going to write you a poem but fuck it!
Can anyone here kick me the sick bucket?
When I see myself through your weary eyes
I become someone I pity even dispise.
I was going to write you a poem but fuck it!
Instead I crumpled it up and decided to chuck it.
Pathetic verse and desperate rhyme
plagues me like a curse and wont make you mine.
I was going to write you a poem but fuck it!
You'll only hurl insult and I'd rather duck it.
Because even though I'm sincere in my odes of love
It has become clear my poems and me will never be good...
Can anyone here kick me the sick bucket?
When I see myself through your weary eyes
I become someone I pity even dispise.
I was going to write you a poem but fuck it!
Instead I crumpled it up and decided to chuck it.
Pathetic verse and desperate rhyme
plagues me like a curse and wont make you mine.
I was going to write you a poem but fuck it!
You'll only hurl insult and I'd rather duck it.
Because even though I'm sincere in my odes of love
It has become clear my poems and me will never be good...
107 reads
3 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
8th Feb 2014 3:49am
8th Feb 2014 3:49am
Touched by fate
In my futile attempt to force the hand of fate
It greets me with a wry smile and pulls me back to wait.
My fragile heart pounds as if time is too late
So I try to turn back the hands or bring forth the date.
Still every day has the same thing to say and begins and ends with ''wait!''
No matter how much I will and prey or ache and hate.
It is the hand that seems to halt my dreams
it is the hand that holds my life
It is the hand I beg to lead me to him
so he can take mine as his wife.
And though echos from the future whisper it will be
My eyes are...
It greets me with a wry smile and pulls me back to wait.
My fragile heart pounds as if time is too late
So I try to turn back the hands or bring forth the date.
Still every day has the same thing to say and begins and ends with ''wait!''
No matter how much I will and prey or ache and hate.
It is the hand that seems to halt my dreams
it is the hand that holds my life
It is the hand I beg to lead me to him
so he can take mine as his wife.
And though echos from the future whisper it will be
My eyes are...
77 reads
1 Comment
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Feb 2014 3:01am
8th Feb 2014 3:01am
Cup of poison
You were my cup of poison
A punishment of trust.
I drank you in so thirstily
just to sate my lust.
You were my broken cup
chipped, cracked and leaking.
I could never fill you up
or find what you were seeking.
My lips were parched
you were warm and wet.
I was drunk on love
as I took my first sip of regret.
That left a bad taste in my mouth
turned me sour and left me bitter!
But the more I felt hollow,
the more I would swallow not to be a quitter.
It inflamed my heart
and infected my brain
tore my...
A punishment of trust.
I drank you in so thirstily
just to sate my lust.
You were my broken cup
chipped, cracked and leaking.
I could never fill you up
or find what you were seeking.
My lips were parched
you were warm and wet.
I was drunk on love
as I took my first sip of regret.
That left a bad taste in my mouth
turned me sour and left me bitter!
But the more I felt hollow,
the more I would swallow not to be a quitter.
It inflamed my heart
and infected my brain
tore my...
92 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th Dec 2013 1:49pm
5th Dec 2013 1:49pm
The Price of Poetry
The price of poetry
is the same as laying your soul bare.
You put your heart on the line
every time your words take like birds to the air.
You are naked as you undress your defences
behind metaphors, sentences and rhyme.
When you live life like an open book
where anyone can look,
there's often a cost, often a fine.
All the time spent soul searching, analysing
fantasizing and dreaming,
only for them to twist your words
and contort the meaning.
Or glance over them before tossing 'em aside
as cheap sentiment or worthless...
is the same as laying your soul bare.
You put your heart on the line
every time your words take like birds to the air.
You are naked as you undress your defences
behind metaphors, sentences and rhyme.
When you live life like an open book
where anyone can look,
there's often a cost, often a fine.
All the time spent soul searching, analysing
fantasizing and dreaming,
only for them to twist your words
and contort the meaning.
Or glance over them before tossing 'em aside
as cheap sentiment or worthless...
133 reads
10 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Sep 2013 9:34pm
14th Sep 2013 9:34pm
Free writing /free falling
How many times I have waited for you! stood at the back of the line of a never ending queue. I had nothing but faith and hope to hold on to! and still you refuse to ever come through. I am a ghost in love because of you! my flesh is transparant my heart see through. I craved for your touch to make me real because when you held my hand I could finally feel but you wont breathe life into me again and you leave me out in the wind and the rain and you make my love obsene and my wish insane you turn love itself into a game. You build your walls behind that smile and close the doors behind those...
96 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Aug 2013 10:52pm
14th Aug 2013 10:52pm
The phone box.
I want to pick up the phone
but it's spiritual Russian Roulette.
A direct line to love and regret.
I ache to dial your number
but it's emotional suicide,
In a place where love & logic collide.
To hear that voice on the other end of the line!
To make a choice and travel back in time.
In a phone box late at night
under the pouring rain and street light.
The penny drops, my heart stops
I thought you may not be there!
My throat closes, my eyes water
it's not you....it's.....her!
but it's spiritual Russian Roulette.
A direct line to love and regret.
I ache to dial your number
but it's emotional suicide,
In a place where love & logic collide.
To hear that voice on the other end of the line!
To make a choice and travel back in time.
In a phone box late at night
under the pouring rain and street light.
The penny drops, my heart stops
I thought you may not be there!
My throat closes, my eyes water
it's not you....it's.....her!
131 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Penknife