Submissions by Tristique
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Quiet Crumbling
I'm invisible when you're angry.
You walk past
and I stand, stuttering
in non-movement.
I ask softly, but you wised up.
These days, you deny it.
"No, baby, I'm not angry with you."
"I'm just a little tired."
"I had a rough day."
Is this progress?
I think I preferred it
when the crockery was flying.
Come back, let's smash some glasses...
You walk past
and I stand, stuttering
in non-movement.
I ask softly, but you wised up.
These days, you deny it.
"No, baby, I'm not angry with you."
"I'm just a little tired."
"I had a rough day."
Is this progress?
I think I preferred it
when the crockery was flying.
Come back, let's smash some glasses...
45 reads
2 Comments
The Space Between Us
The hot red beam has defocussed from me,
although it left marks in laser burn patterns.
For days, it has lit the room, the garden, the street...
I know it has now found reflection
in the low, dark clouds gathering tirelessly,
low on the horizon, swelled ranks of a cruel army.
They still advance, filling the small space we have
and one of us forgot to shut the window again.
Let the furies beat the walls, that is the nature of them.
Just between you and me, let's pretend they're strays.
Can we just stay here, baby, for a little while?
although it left marks in laser burn patterns.
For days, it has lit the room, the garden, the street...
I know it has now found reflection
in the low, dark clouds gathering tirelessly,
low on the horizon, swelled ranks of a cruel army.
They still advance, filling the small space we have
and one of us forgot to shut the window again.
Let the furies beat the walls, that is the nature of them.
Just between you and me, let's pretend they're strays.
Can we just stay here, baby, for a little while?
42 reads
4 Comments
Time Out
Without a word, you bring me a blanket,
some chocolate and a mug of hot tea.
You grab your soccer cleats
and grin at me on your way out.
It won't be too long (count the hours)
before we indulge in each other again.
some chocolate and a mug of hot tea.
You grab your soccer cleats
and grin at me on your way out.
It won't be too long (count the hours)
before we indulge in each other again.
43 reads
0 Comments
Pelagic
What do you need?’ you ask me and each time you do,
a new moon spins between earth and sun, and the pull
in between is the sea swell on shimmer tides.
‘Tell me,’ you say, drawing my bow line closer.
The waves rise, the trance sails unfurl in a glow eclipsed
only by the silver-white sun lick across the surface.
Horizon melodies outline our eyes, as perpetuity rolls on
in slow strokes — sky… sea… sky… sea… sky… deep
heaves, gliding high on the crests, where lifted waves shake…
Foam crashes, breaking shudders, I’m immersed in your name.
a new moon spins between earth and sun, and the pull
in between is the sea swell on shimmer tides.
‘Tell me,’ you say, drawing my bow line closer.
The waves rise, the trance sails unfurl in a glow eclipsed
only by the silver-white sun lick across the surface.
Horizon melodies outline our eyes, as perpetuity rolls on
in slow strokes — sky… sea… sky… sea… sky… deep
heaves, gliding high on the crests, where lifted waves shake…
Foam crashes, breaking shudders, I’m immersed in your name.
85 reads
12 Comments
The Answer
To see, to hear, and in turn to offer one’s reality
without hesitation or artifice.
To align mind, heart and words with open hands;
to smile at those who hurt.
To belong to one another and move past habits
of false power and want.
To wait for the lost to find their place in the circle,
several lives over.
without hesitation or artifice.
To align mind, heart and words with open hands;
to smile at those who hurt.
To belong to one another and move past habits
of false power and want.
To wait for the lost to find their place in the circle,
several lives over.
80 reads
0 Comments
Keep Calm, Stick to the Story
In the flow of the story, I stop, stumbling over your gaze.
Before I can frame the "wh-" of "what?" you kiss me,
demanding all the oxygen in the room.
You smile into my lips, my squeak-sigh amusing you.
Under my hand is the heat and thud in your chest.
Well, alright then... where was I? Oh, yes...
Before I can frame the "wh-" of "what?" you kiss me,
demanding all the oxygen in the room.
You smile into my lips, my squeak-sigh amusing you.
Under my hand is the heat and thud in your chest.
Well, alright then... where was I? Oh, yes...
61 reads
6 Comments
Storm Promises
I can hear you thinking of me,
like shushing of foam on the sand.
Some days it roars, swelling with the surf,
thudding on shores of mighty rocks.
I listen, awash with bliss, to the promise:
we will take each other by storm.
like shushing of foam on the sand.
Some days it roars, swelling with the surf,
thudding on shores of mighty rocks.
I listen, awash with bliss, to the promise:
we will take each other by storm.
74 reads
8 Comments
Last Chance Ashes
The ashes of a few last chances are now cold,
like all your tomorrows. I blow them off my palm.
I had an open hand, ready to pull you up - and I have -
but you saw a footstool and stepped... then misstepped.
You tripped over a myriad lies and excuses you laid
at your own feet, not mine. My hand is now closed.
The ashes of a few last chances are lost in the wind,
like all your tomorrows. May you reap all you've sown.
like all your tomorrows. I blow them off my palm.
I had an open hand, ready to pull you up - and I have -
but you saw a footstool and stepped... then misstepped.
You tripped over a myriad lies and excuses you laid
at your own feet, not mine. My hand is now closed.
The ashes of a few last chances are lost in the wind,
like all your tomorrows. May you reap all you've sown.
93 reads
4 Comments
Kaleidoscope Balloon
It was a dream that woke me, wide-eyed, breath short.
I glowed with the choice, to think about it, or sleep
and re-live it.
Russian doll dreams, where I slept. You leant over,
wavering but wanting. I awoke, instinctively kissed you,
hands pulling your collar.
Everything lifted, a kaleidoscope balloon adrift
on orange crush clouds. It was the start and the end,
and all I wanted.
I glowed with the choice, to think about it, or sleep
and re-live it.
Russian doll dreams, where I slept. You leant over,
wavering but wanting. I awoke, instinctively kissed you,
hands pulling your collar.
Everything lifted, a kaleidoscope balloon adrift
on orange crush clouds. It was the start and the end,
and all I wanted.
76 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Tristique