Submissions by runningturtle87
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
If it's not intimate, what's the point?......................
Greek Swimmer
In front of her
broke an onslaught
of waves,
each one curled
and insensitive.
She waded
into the spilling mass,
each undulation forbidding
and yet bidding the next.
Any moment
her body weight
would float aloft,
and she would find her feet
dangling in the surf.
So,
she bent her knees,
allowed her head to go under,
pressed back her ringlets,
and then pushed off
and out into the sea,
bone chilling
and skin tightening,
with its chattering banter
and that laughter
that...
broke an onslaught
of waves,
each one curled
and insensitive.
She waded
into the spilling mass,
each undulation forbidding
and yet bidding the next.
Any moment
her body weight
would float aloft,
and she would find her feet
dangling in the surf.
So,
she bent her knees,
allowed her head to go under,
pressed back her ringlets,
and then pushed off
and out into the sea,
bone chilling
and skin tightening,
with its chattering banter
and that laughter
that...
93 reads
6 Comments
The Tipping Point of No (Atakti and runningturtle87)
Balance tipped towards the inscrutable,
the flame of vigilance burns brighter
than we know. Though we still dwell
in the shadows, there is a universal cry
for order in the chaos.
Shutting down in silent vows, scars
weave into beauty marks in our struggle
to refrain from inflicting the same marks
on others. It is a rare steel core that lends
strength, to step into the light.
the flame of vigilance burns brighter
than we know. Though we still dwell
in the shadows, there is a universal cry
for order in the chaos.
Shutting down in silent vows, scars
weave into beauty marks in our struggle
to refrain from inflicting the same marks
on others. It is a rare steel core that lends
strength, to step into the light.
97 reads
4 Comments
She's the Bass
She sails her ax
Like a harpie on the main,
one last lick
And she brings on the crane;
One last note
Like a death toll bridge,
She raises the heat
As she reaches the ridge.
Like a harpie on the main,
one last lick
And she brings on the crane;
One last note
Like a death toll bridge,
She raises the heat
As she reaches the ridge.
197 reads
8 Comments
Attention All Troops
My x-ray eyes
have revealed
that several
of you
are not carrying
a pen
with you
at all times;
a poet
without a pen?
Further,
I have spied out
those of you
who are going
commando!
There will be
an inspection
in my office
at 08:00;
dress casually
and do nothing
out of the ordinary.
The following nurses
and flag wavers
are required to attend:
List being
cumpiled.
runningturtle87
have revealed
that several
of you
are not carrying
a pen
with you
at all times;
a poet
without a pen?
Further,
I have spied out
those of you
who are going
commando!
There will be
an inspection
in my office
at 08:00;
dress casually
and do nothing
out of the ordinary.
The following nurses
and flag wavers
are required to attend:
List being
cumpiled.
runningturtle87
178 reads
10 Comments
Vote: Not Leaving
I will not be ashamed
a lurking lackey only
a coward's hand
at my throat
and termination's
bosom make a flower
wilted for my own.
What have I to say
and what have I said
and what yet
that lies unsaid
that I should wait
and stew
and crust
and waiver
in a fear of saying
this is who I am
and this is where I go
and this is what I do
and for what?
Some amateur has lost
a wayfard way
a stumbling darkness
and in pretense
has missed
the scheme of all
that I have said
when bread...
a lurking lackey only
a coward's hand
at my throat
and termination's
bosom make a flower
wilted for my own.
What have I to say
and what have I said
and what yet
that lies unsaid
that I should wait
and stew
and crust
and waiver
in a fear of saying
this is who I am
and this is where I go
and this is what I do
and for what?
Some amateur has lost
a wayfard way
a stumbling darkness
and in pretense
has missed
the scheme of all
that I have said
when bread...
139 reads
8 Comments
Lost Erotic Lines from Romeo and Juliet
A little teasing then....
would you have me die
of such a wound as lightly
touched to death,
oh no, say it isn't so
but you would tug
the more fiercely,
and I
at the same moment
would taste the pleasure
of your winking eye,
that vertical mistress,
and probe her just as lightly
but only at first
and while we kiss,
waging a war of tongues
and naked yielding
I would have you
so that when
I can no longer bare
the elicited energy
of your gentle hand
you too will wriggle
writhe and...
would you have me die
of such a wound as lightly
touched to death,
oh no, say it isn't so
but you would tug
the more fiercely,
and I
at the same moment
would taste the pleasure
of your winking eye,
that vertical mistress,
and probe her just as lightly
but only at first
and while we kiss,
waging a war of tongues
and naked yielding
I would have you
so that when
I can no longer bare
the elicited energy
of your gentle hand
you too will wriggle
writhe and...
324 reads
18 Comments
The Remnant
Dance in the center
let the spotlight rage
don't let me swelter
that I live in a cage
Every move tested
and every word named
roars like a tiger
not some victim that's maimed.
What did she say?
what says she in that way?
"We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies-"
No calling bluff
or call so rough
or handed mantle rings
but when the morning
light returns
we see what sunlight brings.
...
let the spotlight rage
don't let me swelter
that I live in a cage
Every move tested
and every word named
roars like a tiger
not some victim that's maimed.
What did she say?
what says she in that way?
"We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies-"
No calling bluff
or call so rough
or handed mantle rings
but when the morning
light returns
we see what sunlight brings.
...
165 reads
13 Comments
At Gordon Ramsay's
As it stands,
Reach and stance,
This seated bar
Tastes of romance.
Each bite reminds
The pallet's dance
That quality
Is more than chance.
runningturtle87
Reach and stance,
This seated bar
Tastes of romance.
Each bite reminds
The pallet's dance
That quality
Is more than chance.
runningturtle87
225 reads
12 Comments
Vision of Health
Drinking more water
Nutritionally sound
Doing my work outs
Not acting a clown
Taking precautions
And focused each day
Doing my best
To work out each way
How to embrace
Horizon's each challenge
Finding my voice
Hoping to balance
What can unhinge
This uploading plan
Is giving advice
But not taking it, Man.
runningturtle87
Nutritionally sound
Doing my work outs
Not acting a clown
Taking precautions
And focused each day
Doing my best
To work out each way
How to embrace
Horizon's each challenge
Finding my voice
Hoping to balance
What can unhinge
This uploading plan
Is giving advice
But not taking it, Man.
runningturtle87
87 reads
4 Comments
Las Vegasm
The mind
Is for sale
In Hedonism West
Where everything's priced
And every out guessed.
There's no escaping
The cost
Of each day,
Waking and sleeping
We each have to pay.
This is the pennacle
Dream so American,
Balding of truth,
We loath
To grow hair again.
runningturtle87
Is for sale
In Hedonism West
Where everything's priced
And every out guessed.
There's no escaping
The cost
Of each day,
Waking and sleeping
We each have to pay.
This is the pennacle
Dream so American,
Balding of truth,
We loath
To grow hair again.
runningturtle87
125 reads
10 Comments
Do-gooders of the World Unite!
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
278 reads
12 Comments
Checking (It) Out
On the ledge
of not being
listened to
is the vast horizon
of misunderstanding.
Up
into the sky
is the undeveloped expanse,
the nuance
of the soul's critique,
the landless infinity
of subtly,
and the soundless quagmire.
Below,
in the chasms
and landscape,
the yearning
for knowledge,
the kind that builds
the righteousness
of the learned,
the forceful nature
of the traditions
of mankind,
those rationalizations
that turn spiritual truths
into commodities ...
of not being
listened to
is the vast horizon
of misunderstanding.
Up
into the sky
is the undeveloped expanse,
the nuance
of the soul's critique,
the landless infinity
of subtly,
and the soundless quagmire.
Below,
in the chasms
and landscape,
the yearning
for knowledge,
the kind that builds
the righteousness
of the learned,
the forceful nature
of the traditions
of mankind,
those rationalizations
that turn spiritual truths
into commodities ...
118 reads
DU Poetry : Submissions by runningturtle87