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Literature Text
I want orchid fingers,
gossamer & shy.
But my reflection,
she charms vipers
with bloody thorns.
Too many corroded anemones
have taken root in my soul.
My rose-tipped lips
will shatter the mirror,
& her poisonous seeds will
incinerate inside my now
phosphorescent heart.
gossamer & shy.
But my reflection,
she charms vipers
with bloody thorns.
Too many corroded anemones
have taken root in my soul.
My rose-tipped lips
will shatter the mirror,
& her poisonous seeds will
incinerate inside my now
phosphorescent heart.
Literature
Over Steeped
Uninvited, the past will loosen
the bow tie around his neck
and seat himself
at the head of your dining room table,
sharp elbows digging grooves
into the hardwood.
You'll live your days around him,
letting dust creep
into the harsh haunches of his shoulders
like snow piles up in the drive
on cold Sunday mornings.
You'll forget he's settled there--
stone-still and haunt-heavy
with the things you try your best
to sweep under the rug,
to pack neat and tidy away--
until he shifts;
a tuck of elbow,
a lift of eyebrow,
a twitch of finger.
On that day,
pull out your best China
and invite him to tea--
over steeped
and gulped quickly,
bitter and p
Literature
( 4/04/2014 )
Everything here is so fucking
loud and this dragon eyed girl
doesn’t feel like filtering
anymore.
She doesn’t want to answer
the phone today, either, so-
she stuffs her ears with
silence, and
her mouth with new
names
as she kisses
swollen knees.
She’s pondering
socks now too
with
their mixed &
matched indecency.
Real ladies wouldn’t
dare step outside
wearing one pink
& one green sock,
only,
but she’s no lady.-
A red lipped hermit
holding a knife to her
own throat, screaming-
writewritewritewrite
idareyou!
maybe,
who embraces
the sun and
the rain on her face
for the first time
in weeks.
Oh poets with your
Literature
mutewords
I tuck my thumbs into belt loops and listen
to friends’ syllables, and it’s all right. But then
mutewords slip between my teeth in droplets,
and everyone watches the rivulet of consonants
spill over my chin like I am a toddler gurgling
and maybe I am. I clamp my lips shut before
more can dribble down my shirt, and the letters
taste like day old coffee. Everyone blinks long and slow
to forget, but I remember that they heard my words,
their hollow dissonance, but did not want to listen,
and it’s all right, and it always is all right.
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Hahaha hey guys.
You know all those prompts?
I had some free time in school, and I was going to write something from them.
Then this happened.
Woops.
But I like this one because it's positive and what I need to keep doing.
I like flower analogies.
You know all those prompts?
I had some free time in school, and I was going to write something from them.
Then this happened.
Woops.
But I like this one because it's positive and what I need to keep doing.
I like flower analogies.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
Comments21
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactI have to say the beginning was really good, but then I got a little confused... What happened to make "you" so bad and is your reflection deadly? I haven't read many poems like this and other than being a bit confusing, it's really well written and thought out. Like I said the beginning was great but the ending got a little wordy, for example I had to go look up "phosphorescent" because I had no idea what it meant! Maybe try using some more well known words. I could feel the want in the start and the corroded anemones in the poem. Good job.