Submissions by Tristique
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Nighttide
Her fingertips graze his skin
and he is close in the dark, warm.
An embrace encircles her thoughts;
she quiets.
Daylight finds her side cold.
He wills his eyes closed, if only
to bloom at night under the glow
of her touch.
and he is close in the dark, warm.
An embrace encircles her thoughts;
she quiets.
Daylight finds her side cold.
He wills his eyes closed, if only
to bloom at night under the glow
of her touch.
62 reads
4 Comments
Perceptions
If the same dream visits again and again,
is it not its own reality?
The vines creep around her throat, rub the skin green,
reaching for naught but to layer around and around
and squeeze space and air out, her voice silenced.
She wakes into a fragile now, and restarts the dreaded
countdown until the next sleep.
is it not its own reality?
The vines creep around her throat, rub the skin green,
reaching for naught but to layer around and around
and squeeze space and air out, her voice silenced.
She wakes into a fragile now, and restarts the dreaded
countdown until the next sleep.
80 reads
10 Comments
Ley Lines
Her face betrays the careful shades, layered
the awkward one, the odd one, the insignificant one.
When the ley lines align, when she distracts herself
with wonders, the cracks widen and there is a glimmer
of hidden colors, provoking nothing.
There is a rare orchid that blooms once every hundred years
and no one sees it.
the awkward one, the odd one, the insignificant one.
When the ley lines align, when she distracts herself
with wonders, the cracks widen and there is a glimmer
of hidden colors, provoking nothing.
There is a rare orchid that blooms once every hundred years
and no one sees it.
45 reads
4 Comments
Flickers
A thin veil keeps the world intact
although the flames burn bright
on that side of their heat.
The tips of their minds bend
to the light and warmth
and all and nothing... yes, all.
The first of firsts spirals to more
until all that is left is fire
burning through the veil.
although the flames burn bright
on that side of their heat.
The tips of their minds bend
to the light and warmth
and all and nothing... yes, all.
The first of firsts spirals to more
until all that is left is fire
burning through the veil.
89 reads
2 Comments
Worn Rocks, Flowing Water
Why do we forget that free flowing tears
wash away the pebbles that block
the lightness waiting to buoy the inner self?
A child knows to cry, without being taught,
then smiles as the drops dry on her skin,
already present in her new moment.
How many other lessons have I forgotten?
Cry, before the pebbles become rocks,
that take longer to erode and heavier to carry.
wash away the pebbles that block
the lightness waiting to buoy the inner self?
A child knows to cry, without being taught,
then smiles as the drops dry on her skin,
already present in her new moment.
How many other lessons have I forgotten?
Cry, before the pebbles become rocks,
that take longer to erode and heavier to carry.
50 reads
8 Comments
Touch
Either touch translates the messages
beating out the rhythms
of a neural blast spin star-blaze.
Sparks fuse into throbbed embers,
which steam into streams of molten urgency.
Nerves strain then release atomic fallout
auguring the event horizon, a wormhole
of senselessness, prolific in tongues
slick with entranced moans.
beating out the rhythms
of a neural blast spin star-blaze.
Sparks fuse into throbbed embers,
which steam into streams of molten urgency.
Nerves strain then release atomic fallout
auguring the event horizon, a wormhole
of senselessness, prolific in tongues
slick with entranced moans.
180 reads
4 Comments
Response
palms aflame, igniting skin trails
across the wilderness
of silken responses
taut tightening on contact
where new meetings spawn
epicenters of pleasure
until the tsunami rolls
over from tectonic ruptures
when lips slide inside
sublime oxygen-sweet welcome gasps
sunshine on bikes, mercury is high
sold truths ramming, plunging home
across the wilderness
of silken responses
taut tightening on contact
where new meetings spawn
epicenters of pleasure
until the tsunami rolls
over from tectonic ruptures
when lips slide inside
sublime oxygen-sweet welcome gasps
sunshine on bikes, mercury is high
sold truths ramming, plunging home
103 reads
2 Comments
Arousal
Pointed towards your gravitational center,
every lash and freckle saluting your sun.
I bask in the heat from your want.
Your gaze sidelines my intentions,
lowers my pulse, which melts into the flush
rising from desire's core.
I recede, then rush to create an enveloping
of both your ้lan and mine
to join for a bliss of understanding...
to know, the devastation within.
every lash and freckle saluting your sun.
I bask in the heat from your want.
Your gaze sidelines my intentions,
lowers my pulse, which melts into the flush
rising from desire's core.
I recede, then rush to create an enveloping
of both your ้lan and mine
to join for a bliss of understanding...
to know, the devastation within.
180 reads
4 Comments
Labyrinth
Talk to me, hear my voice.
I'm weary of staring at bricks.
I dropped the ball of string
and can't see past the tears.
Each one that falls plants
a thorn beneath my bare feet.
Find me, see me, walk with me.
Together we can quit this labyrinth.
I'm weary of staring at bricks.
I dropped the ball of string
and can't see past the tears.
Each one that falls plants
a thorn beneath my bare feet.
Find me, see me, walk with me.
Together we can quit this labyrinth.
68 reads
6 Comments
Dawn
The thunder of warrior roars
flattens the words of poets,
wagon wheels burying gems in mud.
I ache for the whisper of dreamers,
awakening my soul
like summer winds rippling grass.
Share with me an ethereal journey,
joined in spirit on the infinite plane
of pulsing light orbs.
West is the moon, and east are the stars
and dawn rises in our hearts,
every day.
flattens the words of poets,
wagon wheels burying gems in mud.
I ache for the whisper of dreamers,
awakening my soul
like summer winds rippling grass.
Share with me an ethereal journey,
joined in spirit on the infinite plane
of pulsing light orbs.
West is the moon, and east are the stars
and dawn rises in our hearts,
every day.
69 reads
6 Comments
Telling Tales
Did you know this night was our last?
Shall we tell a tale or two?
I see you looking at me; the latest round of words
lying neglected between us.
It is time for new stories, so murmur one or two
in my ear... Lean closer, so I can hear.
Press on with your story, I insist. Kiss and tell,
it's expected, a heated perspective.
Let me whisper a few of my own oh no,
I won't interrupt, you're right. Carry on...
Wonders trip from your lips. I'm listening,
enraptured oh, say that part again!
It's a firm favorite, I...
Shall we tell a tale or two?
I see you looking at me; the latest round of words
lying neglected between us.
It is time for new stories, so murmur one or two
in my ear... Lean closer, so I can hear.
Press on with your story, I insist. Kiss and tell,
it's expected, a heated perspective.
Let me whisper a few of my own oh no,
I won't interrupt, you're right. Carry on...
Wonders trip from your lips. I'm listening,
enraptured oh, say that part again!
It's a firm favorite, I...
141 reads
5 Comments
Blind Flight
Our blood pulsed in each other's veins,
and we breathed in the sunrise.
The forest spun, branches blazing,
wings alight with every phoenix cry.
I was your re-birth, and you mine,
baptised in burning entwinement.
Today, my knees are cut, my ribs cracked.
The sight of your back tastes like ashes.
and we breathed in the sunrise.
The forest spun, branches blazing,
wings alight with every phoenix cry.
I was your re-birth, and you mine,
baptised in burning entwinement.
Today, my knees are cut, my ribs cracked.
The sight of your back tastes like ashes.
53 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Tristique