Submissions by atarliss
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
The only thing I know is that I write because I need to.
Odyssey
"Chilly temperatures ahead"
"Rain will increase"
"Threatened with severe weather"
"More storms on the way"
"Tornadoes rampage through"
"Worse than thought"...
"From the ashes"
"Amazing photos"
"Tornado threat passes"
"Warmer temperatures"
"Less rain"
"An odyssey".
Note: This poem was written for a NaPoWriMo prompt: craft a poem completely out of news headlines.
"Rain will increase"
"Threatened with severe weather"
"More storms on the way"
"Tornadoes rampage through"
"Worse than thought"...
"From the ashes"
"Amazing photos"
"Tornado threat passes"
"Warmer temperatures"
"Less rain"
"An odyssey".
Note: This poem was written for a NaPoWriMo prompt: craft a poem completely out of news headlines.
64 reads
4 Comments
Clouds--A Pantoum
Clouds fluffy as springtime lambs
Delicate wool spun by fairies' hands
Thin as steam from winter pie
Embroidered on the tapestry of sky
Delicate wool spun by fairies' hands
Gentle as foam on sea's expanse
Embroidered on the tapestry of sky
Soft as morning's misty sigh
Gentle as foam on sea's expanse
Glistening fish on ozone sands
Soft as morning's misty sigh
Beauty rich as diamond mine
Glistening fish on ozone sands
Thin as steam from winter pie
Beauty rich as diamond mine
Clouds fluffy as springtime lambs.
Delicate wool spun by fairies' hands
Thin as steam from winter pie
Embroidered on the tapestry of sky
Delicate wool spun by fairies' hands
Gentle as foam on sea's expanse
Embroidered on the tapestry of sky
Soft as morning's misty sigh
Gentle as foam on sea's expanse
Glistening fish on ozone sands
Soft as morning's misty sigh
Beauty rich as diamond mine
Glistening fish on ozone sands
Thin as steam from winter pie
Beauty rich as diamond mine
Clouds fluffy as springtime lambs.
53 reads
6 Comments
Rainbow Tanka
Beautiful ribbon
Threaded through the azure sky--
Misty colors shine
Like embroidery on the
Tapestry of a promise.
Threaded through the azure sky--
Misty colors shine
Like embroidery on the
Tapestry of a promise.
42 reads
2 Comments
How To Write A Poem
Reach deep into your soul
And pluck out
The apple of your heart.
Now grind out the juice
Of your very lifeblood
And crush your
Greatest thoughts,
Wishes
Dreams
Into inky pitch…
Now dip in
The pen woven
Of the strength of your sinews
And every bit
Of iron in your bones.
The ink will burn like acid
As it scrapes across
Your delicate skin,
A sharp needle
Studding a tattoo
Of scrambled syllables
And mixed-up meter,
Smearing out
A crazy conglomeration
That you can only hope
Will come out...
And pluck out
The apple of your heart.
Now grind out the juice
Of your very lifeblood
And crush your
Greatest thoughts,
Wishes
Dreams
Into inky pitch…
Now dip in
The pen woven
Of the strength of your sinews
And every bit
Of iron in your bones.
The ink will burn like acid
As it scrapes across
Your delicate skin,
A sharp needle
Studding a tattoo
Of scrambled syllables
And mixed-up meter,
Smearing out
A crazy conglomeration
That you can only hope
Will come out...
104 reads
12 Comments
Aurora Borealis
Aurora borealis,
The misty, foggy trail
Of elven paintbrushes
Streaking across the velvet
Cloak of falling night.
Aurora borealis,
The gentle cloud of
Rising dreams too precious
To be caught by a
Feathered leather hoop.
Aurora borealis,
The glittering swath
Of Idunn's veil,
Singing among the frigid stars
An endless strain of love.
Aurora borealis,
The fiery feathers
Born of nighttime Phoenix,
Swirling and fluttering in
The infinite pool of heaven's orbs.
Aurora borealis,
The milky dregs of...
The misty, foggy trail
Of elven paintbrushes
Streaking across the velvet
Cloak of falling night.
Aurora borealis,
The gentle cloud of
Rising dreams too precious
To be caught by a
Feathered leather hoop.
Aurora borealis,
The glittering swath
Of Idunn's veil,
Singing among the frigid stars
An endless strain of love.
Aurora borealis,
The fiery feathers
Born of nighttime Phoenix,
Swirling and fluttering in
The infinite pool of heaven's orbs.
Aurora borealis,
The milky dregs of...
56 reads
6 Comments
The Love of the Rain--A Palindrome
Rain is beauty
Incarnate,
This love of full skies
Straining from shivering restraints,
The joy of gently forming droplets;
The perfection of sweetness.
Sweetness of perfection, the
Droplets forming gently of joy, the
Restraints shivering from straining
Skies full of love...this
Incarnate
Beauty is rain.
Incarnate,
This love of full skies
Straining from shivering restraints,
The joy of gently forming droplets;
The perfection of sweetness.
Sweetness of perfection, the
Droplets forming gently of joy, the
Restraints shivering from straining
Skies full of love...this
Incarnate
Beauty is rain.
43 reads
7 Comments
The Space of a Breath
The space of a breath
Is hardly enough
To spew out
The whirlpool
Of words
Swirling within me,
All the syllables,
Meters, measures,
Rhythms and rhymes
Beating their
Butterfly wings
Against my ribcage,
Fluttering, yearning,
Aching for
Freedom…
But the space of a breath
Is not enough
To open up
Their dungeon doors,
To throw aside
The reservations
Blocking my
Expressions from
Realization gained
In gazing on the
Light of day
In the form of
Inky words scrawled across
Crumpled notebook...
Is hardly enough
To spew out
The whirlpool
Of words
Swirling within me,
All the syllables,
Meters, measures,
Rhythms and rhymes
Beating their
Butterfly wings
Against my ribcage,
Fluttering, yearning,
Aching for
Freedom…
But the space of a breath
Is not enough
To open up
Their dungeon doors,
To throw aside
The reservations
Blocking my
Expressions from
Realization gained
In gazing on the
Light of day
In the form of
Inky words scrawled across
Crumpled notebook...
69 reads
3 Comments
Without Words
The space of a breath
Is hardly enough
To write
All the words
That could
Be said,
Or should
Be said...
But perhaps
It's enough
To pass
The fleeting dream
That could
Be thought,
Or should
Be thought...
For without
Our words
Our thoughts
Are all
We have.
Is hardly enough
To write
All the words
That could
Be said,
Or should
Be said...
But perhaps
It's enough
To pass
The fleeting dream
That could
Be thought,
Or should
Be thought...
For without
Our words
Our thoughts
Are all
We have.
82 reads
5 Comments
Poetry Is...
Poetry
Is the art
Of weaving
Spiderwebs
To catch the
Butterflies
Fluttering
Within our
Ribcages,
To carefully snag
The gentle,
Ethereal wings
And set them
Free
To their
Natural flow
Of rhythm and rhyme,
To restore them
To their true
Nature,
Where they
Can set us
Free
In return...
Poetry
Is the art
Of chipping away
The marble
Of Michelangelo
To reveal
The secret patterns
Hidden within,
The buried treasure
Meter and verse
Concealed
Within
The...
Is the art
Of weaving
Spiderwebs
To catch the
Butterflies
Fluttering
Within our
Ribcages,
To carefully snag
The gentle,
Ethereal wings
And set them
Free
To their
Natural flow
Of rhythm and rhyme,
To restore them
To their true
Nature,
Where they
Can set us
Free
In return...
Poetry
Is the art
Of chipping away
The marble
Of Michelangelo
To reveal
The secret patterns
Hidden within,
The buried treasure
Meter and verse
Concealed
Within
The...
89 reads
8 Comments
Night Haiku
Night's softest shadows
Slowly shroud me in darkened
Mist—It's time for dreams.
Slowly shroud me in darkened
Mist—It's time for dreams.
38 reads
2 Comments
The Little Button Man
Once I met
The little button man,
Dressed all in brown,
The little button man.
“How do you do?” I asked
The little button man.
“Very well, very well,” sang
The little button man.
“Where do you live?” I asked
The little button man.
“In the laundry, in the laundry,” sang
The little button man.
“What do you do?” I asked
The little button man.
“Snitch the socks, snitch the socks,” sang
The little button man.
“Why do you snitch?” I asked
The little button man.
“No matches, no matches,” sang
The little...
The little button man,
Dressed all in brown,
The little button man.
“How do you do?” I asked
The little button man.
“Very well, very well,” sang
The little button man.
“Where do you live?” I asked
The little button man.
“In the laundry, in the laundry,” sang
The little button man.
“What do you do?” I asked
The little button man.
“Snitch the socks, snitch the socks,” sang
The little button man.
“Why do you snitch?” I asked
The little button man.
“No matches, no matches,” sang
The little...
57 reads
3 Comments
Synesthesia
Sapphire tastes,
Yellow scents and
Neon sounds
Embedded in my fingertips,
Swirled in every perception
That is captured by my
Heterogenous senses,
Each color a
Synonym for another,
Integrated, interlaced,
Always together.
Yellow scents and
Neon sounds
Embedded in my fingertips,
Swirled in every perception
That is captured by my
Heterogenous senses,
Each color a
Synonym for another,
Integrated, interlaced,
Always together.
49 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by atarliss