Submissions by wombat-pentagram (Noel)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Nov 2012 11:14pm
27th Nov 2012 11:14pm
the buzz
I am waiting,
softly the gods watch,
the flies circle, hiss your expectation,
I hear the whipper snipper,
the beating of the sun makes me sweat,
I can not wait for the time to move on,
and take the buzz out of death from the air.
softly the gods watch,
the flies circle, hiss your expectation,
I hear the whipper snipper,
the beating of the sun makes me sweat,
I can not wait for the time to move on,
and take the buzz out of death from the air.
41 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Sep 2012 7:28am
15th Sep 2012 7:28am
He wanders
Down the aisles I see him shuffle,
His old comfy leather shoes as cracked as his face,
His clothes hang upon his drooping skin,
as his age rustles from the creak of his bones.
He stops and sighs like a lonely wind,
He has lost his list again,
Pain lies like an old jumper over his shoulders,
And he cant shake the feeling of an ending.
He wanders, soft as a caress, his touch disappearing,
He has folded many minutes into the notes of his life.
When he takes out his wallet, he flicks gently through the receipts,
He picks up his solitary...
His old comfy leather shoes as cracked as his face,
His clothes hang upon his drooping skin,
as his age rustles from the creak of his bones.
He stops and sighs like a lonely wind,
He has lost his list again,
Pain lies like an old jumper over his shoulders,
And he cant shake the feeling of an ending.
He wanders, soft as a caress, his touch disappearing,
He has folded many minutes into the notes of his life.
When he takes out his wallet, he flicks gently through the receipts,
He picks up his solitary...
81 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
13th May 2010 4:17am
13th May 2010 4:17am
The Mother Line.
Sweet are the ghostly shadows,
that linger as the ancestors I call,
their fallen shapes, shadowed faces,
the pride of the ones who came before.
The link of blood, the link of pain,
life can only guarantee such things and no more,
love is what they tried to give,
love in the form of life giving moment.
Here I sit as they surround me,
those who I did call to me through the fold,
those who held strong, and those I still try to hold,
but shadows cease in light, and they are nothing more.
I think about the gifts bestowed, ...
that linger as the ancestors I call,
their fallen shapes, shadowed faces,
the pride of the ones who came before.
The link of blood, the link of pain,
life can only guarantee such things and no more,
love is what they tried to give,
love in the form of life giving moment.
Here I sit as they surround me,
those who I did call to me through the fold,
those who held strong, and those I still try to hold,
but shadows cease in light, and they are nothing more.
I think about the gifts bestowed, ...
194 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
29th Mar 2010 5:38pm
29th Mar 2010 5:38pm
The Beating of Pleasures
I do not refuse the beating of your heart,
do not deny that mine does too.
While you are stiffening under me, cold, icy,
I still do not refuse to accept you.
You may work within me, a saboteur of smiles,
but I can still work without you,
I never needed to feel you lingering in freshly stained sheets.
This patch of bother, this darkened smear,
a mingling of fluids grotesque and pungently sour.
A fruit has been picked, a cherry lays broken no longer fresh,
but is something you have tasted on again and again.
Each time I fear the taste...
do not deny that mine does too.
While you are stiffening under me, cold, icy,
I still do not refuse to accept you.
You may work within me, a saboteur of smiles,
but I can still work without you,
I never needed to feel you lingering in freshly stained sheets.
This patch of bother, this darkened smear,
a mingling of fluids grotesque and pungently sour.
A fruit has been picked, a cherry lays broken no longer fresh,
but is something you have tasted on again and again.
Each time I fear the taste...
357 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
28th Mar 2010 4:06am
28th Mar 2010 4:06am
The Birth of Nightmare.
With demon eyes of deathly gleam,
he padded softly in hellish dream,
and painted frowns across the doors,
and stretched faces from jamb to floor.
His sickly grin, his furry chest,
to the shrivelled heart that no beats test,
to tail, to fang, to claw, to darkened scowl,
the laugh, the cackle, the bark, the howl.
Oh sweet infestation of nightmare here
a mixture of all that we do fear,
and in inky shadows linger under bed, under floor,
to drive, to beat at us forever more.
Dark, oh dark, still black is white to eyes
where you...
he padded softly in hellish dream,
and painted frowns across the doors,
and stretched faces from jamb to floor.
His sickly grin, his furry chest,
to the shrivelled heart that no beats test,
to tail, to fang, to claw, to darkened scowl,
the laugh, the cackle, the bark, the howl.
Oh sweet infestation of nightmare here
a mixture of all that we do fear,
and in inky shadows linger under bed, under floor,
to drive, to beat at us forever more.
Dark, oh dark, still black is white to eyes
where you...
262 reads
3 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Mar 2010 4:04am
28th Mar 2010 4:04am
University Rain
The water caressed my face,
the tears of a bulbous sun
which touched gently upon the earth.
Overhead sparks of sapphire in silk
like the wing beats of Ulysses
struck me with their perfection.
And there I was truly glad
to be able to see an academic world
enfolded in such a calm moment.
the tears of a bulbous sun
which touched gently upon the earth.
Overhead sparks of sapphire in silk
like the wing beats of Ulysses
struck me with their perfection.
And there I was truly glad
to be able to see an academic world
enfolded in such a calm moment.
201 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
27th Oct 2009 3:19am
27th Oct 2009 3:19am
These are the days of our lives.
The drip-drop splatter of time falling,
lunging across the void to crash upon our face,
the pouring rush, the scattered drops of drought,
these are the days of our lives.
The whistling rush of airfilled noises,
breaking incessantly upon the drums of our ears,
the garbled babble, the limpid sigh,
these are the days of our lives.
These are the days of the age of communication,
and praised are the ways to hurt ones mind, heart and soul.
For these are dripping droplets of electronic mindlessness,
and the rushing air of electronic...
lunging across the void to crash upon our face,
the pouring rush, the scattered drops of drought,
these are the days of our lives.
The whistling rush of airfilled noises,
breaking incessantly upon the drums of our ears,
the garbled babble, the limpid sigh,
these are the days of our lives.
These are the days of the age of communication,
and praised are the ways to hurt ones mind, heart and soul.
For these are dripping droplets of electronic mindlessness,
and the rushing air of electronic...
253 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
26th Oct 2009 6:06pm
26th Oct 2009 6:06pm
What he doesn't know, can't hurt him..
It all started before he came along,
Why did he have to come along, why did they both hit my heart?
It infuriates me that they know how to tease me,
it beguiles me that they know what they do to me.
Why can't I just choose?
Why do I want both their mouths, their tongues, their cocks?
Why do I adore both their asses?
Why can't they just say what they feel?
Why can't they make all of this turn into something real?
Boneless and spineless, we twist in a tirany of love triangles,
Men on men on men, what shall we face when we talk again? ...
Why did he have to come along, why did they both hit my heart?
It infuriates me that they know how to tease me,
it beguiles me that they know what they do to me.
Why can't I just choose?
Why do I want both their mouths, their tongues, their cocks?
Why do I adore both their asses?
Why can't they just say what they feel?
Why can't they make all of this turn into something real?
Boneless and spineless, we twist in a tirany of love triangles,
Men on men on men, what shall we face when we talk again? ...
361 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
25th Oct 2009 3:38am
25th Oct 2009 3:38am
The Morning After.
You seem to crawl like bugs at the back of my mind,
festering you make me grow, stiffening, hardening,
Groans and moans, why can I hear them here?
I thought I had lost you, I thought I had buried my guilt,
the lingering of musky flesh on my mind denies me.
Why can I taste your cum in the back of my throat?
The rising of the tide, the loosening of the urge,
the thump and stroke that no drum can make,
Why can I feel you in my arms?
What happened in that dark room, that dark place,
lingering in the scents I pull away from this...
festering you make me grow, stiffening, hardening,
Groans and moans, why can I hear them here?
I thought I had lost you, I thought I had buried my guilt,
the lingering of musky flesh on my mind denies me.
Why can I taste your cum in the back of my throat?
The rising of the tide, the loosening of the urge,
the thump and stroke that no drum can make,
Why can I feel you in my arms?
What happened in that dark room, that dark place,
lingering in the scents I pull away from this...
394 reads
3 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
25th Oct 2009 3:29am
25th Oct 2009 3:29am
Floors and Neon Angels.
Oh esoteric beat, pull me up to dance among the stars,
Light the skies in neon, and flash in thundering dance,
Your thump shakes the world, makes me lose my mind,
Your voice rattles through me, like chain dragged through pipe.
Hold me tight, oh arms of voices, entrap me here,
lost in flesh hued bars I feel the need for air, but can not escape,
I am a prisoner of the smoke hung void, a pretty trap,
I am spun and crushed, bruised like a rose petal.
These lights, once so enticing, kill me, stab my eyes,
The feet once so fleet and light, drag...
Light the skies in neon, and flash in thundering dance,
Your thump shakes the world, makes me lose my mind,
Your voice rattles through me, like chain dragged through pipe.
Hold me tight, oh arms of voices, entrap me here,
lost in flesh hued bars I feel the need for air, but can not escape,
I am a prisoner of the smoke hung void, a pretty trap,
I am spun and crushed, bruised like a rose petal.
These lights, once so enticing, kill me, stab my eyes,
The feet once so fleet and light, drag...
323 reads
17 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by wombat-pentagram (Noel)
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