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Poetry27
An Old August by AlwaysRainCheck, literature
Literature
An Old August
I watch you
cutting strawberries
in the amber afternoon,
sun on its midway
to autumn;
you won't let me help
because secretly
only half of them
make it to the bowl.
I smile back
at your playful eyes
because
you know.
It feels like
an old August,
in my stomach
some sort of sadness
some sort of joy.
Last night's thunderstorm
has left the ocean agitated,
wildly
beautiful.
Life is nothing
but a vacant place, today
and we shall
let it be,
let the world
wait for us, today.
Cross legged
on my piano bench,
I play for the cat
a winter Debussy
she's happy,
I could tell
she smiles.
Blood From a Far Off Place by Iago-de-Xibalba, literature
Literature
Blood From a Far Off Place
Quiver full of bullet tipped arrows.
The bow of aluminum my dad made in high school.
I step into the sunlight on the south side of the house.
I'm 12.
I don't know why I pull the bowstring
back to my eye, aim upward, and loose.
Straight above my head.
And the voice said,
"You are a most common creature,
though of a peculiar people."
The Sun glints off the arrow's shaft.
I shade my eyes and wonder how long
before the arrow hits me. How long before
I step aside. How long to decipher a riddle
from a lipless voice.
Now I'm 16.
These days, I fire two arrows above my head.
Wondering. Hoping.
Bring back that voice.
One arrow. Two seconds la
mechanic by saltwaterlungs, literature
Literature
mechanic
I want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes;
This dripping heart of mine can only feel,
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth,
so I only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that I care all too much.
In order to fix you up again,
I would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but I just haven’t figured out how.
Chimes by a-secret-key, literature
Literature
Chimes
A bird,
and the edge of winter. There are no signs.
I'm tired of this, the searing and the splitting,
metal on metal. I'm tired of myths. Won't you just be beside me,
be still? Let me picture you, just for a moment. Divine
concentration, that's all you take. Don't ask.
Living never felt natural.
But here we are, trying-
All for this one second,
this one flash of perfection. It's tricky
to be a person. I can never get the balance right,
and the seasons are a quilt,
heavy like a sand, damp
faces. Where is your voice, is it
beneath the soft song of the quiet? Your words,
did I make them?
Headdress by creataire, literature
Literature
Headdress
i.
tread noiselessly, and you become rabbitchild
there is a strength in silence
God hears your footsteps and counts your paces, maybe,
but no one sees, no one speaks
let it be, sweet destiny,
let it have its way with you
;; (& your children)
ii.
i'm no architect, but hear me:
i know a hieroglyphic when i see one
and the writing's on the wall
debutantes' young feathers
won't save you now
daddy knows best, always knows best
iii.
mama sings sad song when she braids warrior knots in your scalp
and sends you to the war that is life
pretentious prick by FrayedHeartString, literature
Literature
pretentious prick
i want
to burn all of your shit
it is in the next room over
i could
run my fingers along the wood of your
perfect, loving
guitar
caress it in my arms
like you used to do to me
and then take it to the back window
of your fucking ugly red car
it's not even that
nice of a car
you pretentious prick
i could burn up that painting
i made for you
for christmas last year
snap the dvd i bought you
in half and use it to rip up your clothes
i could
wreck every single bit of you
like you did to me
and you keep doing
you said you're not selfish
that i was the only one to think so
but
you didn't even wait
ONE
FUCKING
WEEK
and i'm here starving as a stupid
