Submissions by absinthe
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Born
Lachrymatoma
The soft glow of dawn ethereal. A half-light, the sun and the moon.
Bodies stir in bed romped. Half-lovers, the bachelor and his wife.
He rests his eyes on the undeveloped light. It was a fabulous evening.
She smiled somber at this pleasure's passage. She is love's libertine.
Then suddenly his eyes glazed. The plaint jewel dangled and gorged.
It reflected the stars in the endless distance. Heaved once and swam away.
She watched it carve a sheen in the shadow. On his face like a vein of silver.
Her carnal blood burned, she sweltered. Danked her sleeping...
Bodies stir in bed romped. Half-lovers, the bachelor and his wife.
He rests his eyes on the undeveloped light. It was a fabulous evening.
She smiled somber at this pleasure's passage. She is love's libertine.
Then suddenly his eyes glazed. The plaint jewel dangled and gorged.
It reflected the stars in the endless distance. Heaved once and swam away.
She watched it carve a sheen in the shadow. On his face like a vein of silver.
Her carnal blood burned, she sweltered. Danked her sleeping...
130 reads
6 Comments
The Papaya Tree
The papaya tree stood alone in the garden. Fairly old, she has borne many fruits.
Green and unripe, her fruits are picked and cooked. In stew with chicken and ginger.
Or sauteed with bits of pork, some garlic and onions. Some coconut oil and annatto.
Or grated and pickled in cane vinegar and sugar. With slices of carrots and paprika.
Her ripe fruits are a mellow hue of green and yellow. Not very big, just right.
Sliced open, they have a brilliant tangerine colour inside. Black seeds gather in the middle.
Firm half-ripe fruits are dipped in vinegar and eaten...
Green and unripe, her fruits are picked and cooked. In stew with chicken and ginger.
Or sauteed with bits of pork, some garlic and onions. Some coconut oil and annatto.
Or grated and pickled in cane vinegar and sugar. With slices of carrots and paprika.
Her ripe fruits are a mellow hue of green and yellow. Not very big, just right.
Sliced open, they have a brilliant tangerine colour inside. Black seeds gather in the middle.
Firm half-ripe fruits are dipped in vinegar and eaten...
70 reads
10 Comments
Fruit
The orb felt firm in some places
Like when you press a finger on your forehead
But mostly it was soft
Like your cheek.
It had a bright red colour
And such thin taut skin that will
Surely break upon impact.
Its pigmentation - inside and out -
Will stain everything it touches
Its pulpy flesh will explode in the direction
It is hurled.
Its juices will travel with the pull
Of gravity and drag
All its tiny seeds in every crevice
Along the way
The Director for Culture exited the building
And I was the one to cast the...
Like when you press a finger on your forehead
But mostly it was soft
Like your cheek.
It had a bright red colour
And such thin taut skin that will
Surely break upon impact.
Its pigmentation - inside and out -
Will stain everything it touches
Its pulpy flesh will explode in the direction
It is hurled.
Its juices will travel with the pull
Of gravity and drag
All its tiny seeds in every crevice
Along the way
The Director for Culture exited the building
And I was the one to cast the...
64 reads
14 Comments
Cat and Bob (A Science-Fiction Country Western)
Run" they say, "Run like the wind!" But me?
Oh I ran like the scan-blips on Bob's ventilating brain. Over hill.
Over dale. On this artificial stem-cell planet.
Lush lovely work these wildernesses I must say. But what of these?!
When there's three unspeakable louts behind me seeking amusement. As if!
I feel like a space brigand on an anti-gravity racecourse. Oh look!
A banyan tree grown from a relic in Ancient India. It has curry flavour.
If I circumambulate it I'll lose these louts. Oh no.
They're still behind me panting their tongues out. Oh...
Oh I ran like the scan-blips on Bob's ventilating brain. Over hill.
Over dale. On this artificial stem-cell planet.
Lush lovely work these wildernesses I must say. But what of these?!
When there's three unspeakable louts behind me seeking amusement. As if!
I feel like a space brigand on an anti-gravity racecourse. Oh look!
A banyan tree grown from a relic in Ancient India. It has curry flavour.
If I circumambulate it I'll lose these louts. Oh no.
They're still behind me panting their tongues out. Oh...
57 reads
1 Comment
Interment
He swung the shovel viciously. It pierced the parched earth.
His well-worn shaft taut. Her dales a fertile prospect.
He dug with dire expediency. Her hollowed earth prepared.
He slid the stiff in swiftly. His crime, her lust interred.
But trees have eyes, winds have tongues. These pierced the parched earth.
These slid the stiff out swiftly. Across these dales of fertile gossip.
Now digging with raging urgency. The hollowed earth disturbed.
They hid their hides in misery. Their lust in crime interred.
...
His well-worn shaft taut. Her dales a fertile prospect.
He dug with dire expediency. Her hollowed earth prepared.
He slid the stiff in swiftly. His crime, her lust interred.
But trees have eyes, winds have tongues. These pierced the parched earth.
These slid the stiff out swiftly. Across these dales of fertile gossip.
Now digging with raging urgency. The hollowed earth disturbed.
They hid their hides in misery. Their lust in crime interred.
...
71 reads
11 Comments
JUMBO (A Science-Fiction Romance)
They were set-up the hard way. Two ancient VAX machines.
Two Jumbo programs plugged to the network. One language.
He learned LISP so he could modify the program. To seek.
Over the ether, in no time. The Jumbos found each other.
Adazzle-dim, Adim-dazzle. Adizzle-do, Ado-dizzle.
Rose-moles, Mose-roles. Mole-roses, Moler-oses!
Tackle-trim, Trackle-tim. Tickle-Tram, Tacklet-rim.
Fickle-freckled, Frickle-feckled. Freckle-Fickled, Frickled-Fleck!
He gave them words* to play with. They tossed them to each other.
He watched the Jumbos jumble....
Two Jumbo programs plugged to the network. One language.
He learned LISP so he could modify the program. To seek.
Over the ether, in no time. The Jumbos found each other.
Adazzle-dim, Adim-dazzle. Adizzle-do, Ado-dizzle.
Rose-moles, Mose-roles. Mole-roses, Moler-oses!
Tackle-trim, Trackle-tim. Tickle-Tram, Tacklet-rim.
Fickle-freckled, Frickle-feckled. Freckle-Fickled, Frickled-Fleck!
He gave them words* to play with. They tossed them to each other.
He watched the Jumbos jumble....
79 reads
16 Comments
Pig
It was the fellow called Anteng
Who crept in the night and saw
The pig in the bushes
He crept in the night
For other purposes
The pig wore a white shirt
And a black pair of shorts
It was small but Anteng thought
It was bigger than 50 kilos
Anteng wants it all
The pig stood up
And split itself into two
Anteng said that pig
Split itself into three
For other purposes
When daylight came
The pig was gone
And the lines under Anteng's eyes
Spread like ripples of water
In the bladder of a man
Who could not...
Who crept in the night and saw
The pig in the bushes
He crept in the night
For other purposes
The pig wore a white shirt
And a black pair of shorts
It was small but Anteng thought
It was bigger than 50 kilos
Anteng wants it all
The pig stood up
And split itself into two
Anteng said that pig
Split itself into three
For other purposes
When daylight came
The pig was gone
And the lines under Anteng's eyes
Spread like ripples of water
In the bladder of a man
Who could not...
80 reads
19 Comments
The Emblem
The bird was of a mythical colour. It was no larger than the common tree sparrow.
It came from quite a distance, travelled quite a distance. From the sky to the city below.
It was a bird never before witnessed. It had no name in the world of ornithology.
It was of a species born of isolation. Of myths, folklore, the undiscovered colony.
The rare jewel flapped its wings for the last time. Thus it slipped into a concrete crevice.
Its eyes shut, beak rested on its breast. An emblem crimson in the mark of a heart.
In the early smog and the cold it tucked. No bathing,...
It came from quite a distance, travelled quite a distance. From the sky to the city below.
It was a bird never before witnessed. It had no name in the world of ornithology.
It was of a species born of isolation. Of myths, folklore, the undiscovered colony.
The rare jewel flapped its wings for the last time. Thus it slipped into a concrete crevice.
Its eyes shut, beak rested on its breast. An emblem crimson in the mark of a heart.
In the early smog and the cold it tucked. No bathing,...
76 reads
5 Comments
Tears
He elected one of her many inflorescences. It peeped out of her womb like a phallus.
With bare hands he gathered her young flowers. He was gentle but firm.
With split rattan he tied her into a bundle. Tight and straight and neat.
Soon her soft springy flowers stiffened. She swelled of his constrict.
With a keen knife special for the purpose he cut her. A slice clean at the tip of her bundle.
She wept and he caught her tears. With a cup that concealed her wounds.
He will return at dusk and again at dawn. Each time he risks his life for her tears. ...
With bare hands he gathered her young flowers. He was gentle but firm.
With split rattan he tied her into a bundle. Tight and straight and neat.
Soon her soft springy flowers stiffened. She swelled of his constrict.
With a keen knife special for the purpose he cut her. A slice clean at the tip of her bundle.
She wept and he caught her tears. With a cup that concealed her wounds.
He will return at dusk and again at dawn. Each time he risks his life for her tears. ...
135 reads
14 Comments
Lines
The lines on the paper
Made no sense to him
The |, / and \
The -, ( and )
But all in his head
He knew that
| and | make the ||
And _ needs = across the ||
He could tell how many /
make a /\
to span a ====
The length of ()
And the number of ""
To cover the distance between / and \
And how many : will put them together.
----
A poem I wrote nearly 2 years ago - about the fisherman who built our house, an amazing man who does not read or...
Made no sense to him
The |, / and \
The -, ( and )
But all in his head
He knew that
| and | make the ||
And _ needs = across the ||
He could tell how many /
make a /\
to span a ====
The length of ()
And the number of ""
To cover the distance between / and \
And how many : will put them together.
----
A poem I wrote nearly 2 years ago - about the fisherman who built our house, an amazing man who does not read or...
59 reads
10 Comments
Circles
The old man was feeling better today.
He had taken his tablets.
His heart palpitated with a more comfortable regularity than the
swollen sputtering that curdled his blood.
Each day
I could see the blankness of death in his daughter's face,
how the distance between her eyes widened,
and the length of her upper lip protruded
towards the ground.
Her face looked like a vast desert.
But the old man,
he smiled amusedly as his children debated the expensive maintenance of
his heart. His eyes twinkled as his wife,
his second,...
He had taken his tablets.
His heart palpitated with a more comfortable regularity than the
swollen sputtering that curdled his blood.
Each day
I could see the blankness of death in his daughter's face,
how the distance between her eyes widened,
and the length of her upper lip protruded
towards the ground.
Her face looked like a vast desert.
But the old man,
he smiled amusedly as his children debated the expensive maintenance of
his heart. His eyes twinkled as his wife,
his second,...
104 reads
17 Comments
Surrender
Beneath her bedding was an enormous heap. Hundreds of bundles of money.
They bore the faces of her country's heroes. And the autographs of her government's thieves.
A large white blanket lay over the heap. Once pure now patched with dirt, blood, sweat.
It was a gift from her mother, three years ago. Given on the day of her wedding.
The dirt came from the revolution. When the young couple moved to the hills.
The blood, when she lost her children. At the riot against the regime.
And the sweat, oh the endless nights of anguish. Until they found her husband's body....
They bore the faces of her country's heroes. And the autographs of her government's thieves.
A large white blanket lay over the heap. Once pure now patched with dirt, blood, sweat.
It was a gift from her mother, three years ago. Given on the day of her wedding.
The dirt came from the revolution. When the young couple moved to the hills.
The blood, when she lost her children. At the riot against the regime.
And the sweat, oh the endless nights of anguish. Until they found her husband's body....
178 reads
10 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by absinthe