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HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo

The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.

40810If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.

Perfect on PaperWe cut hearts
into paper to make streams
of love.
That was my impression of it.
That you ripped
off
the pieces you didn't want
until you got something that was
pretty.
It's no wonder
that I can't believe that someone
would think I was paper-perfect,
or loved.

~♥~♥~

Of Nuisance LeavesHear me read it!

Leaves clutch their ropy fingers around the tree's limbs. The zesty leeches bloom, crack open overnight and slip silently up the nearest oak or maple. They pierce the crunch of bark and penetrate deep into the rubbery veins.

They feed. They pauperize plum and peach until they are heavy and brown; heavy laden with the stolen sap.

When at last they reach their fill the tree can finally shake them off emphatically, desperately, until at last it is clean again. The tree reaches its black bones to the sky in praise and as a new year begins vows never again to be the victim of leaves.

BuriedUnder the paprika house,
are the bones of my father
and nestled between rib
and reason, is our love.

United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of

In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So

A chance secondI lie awake, staring at the cornices.
3AM: my fingers worry at the corners of my sheet.
My anxiety worries at the corners of my rib.
I bite and tug and huff out my misery
As the silence keeps me awake.
I lay with pressure of your absence
Pressing down over my nose and mouth.
A soft asphixiation of the heart, of the sanity.
It is a hot grey night in London.

You are awake, startled by the sunlight.
7AM: you can't lift your weighty skull from the sheet.
The day sirens, but you stay, settled,
Under the weight of your shroud, your loss,
Only the silence keeps you awake.
Unknowingly, for the first time in weeks
We are unintentionally in sync;
Laid

The DancerHear me read it

The night I met Jessie she was beautiful. She swayed to the almost intolerably loud music as if her bones were made of it. She was something unknown. I remember the sharp cut of her hair had it run across her cheek parallel to her carved out cheekbone. It looked like a wig, I wanted to touch it. I wanted to touch her, and see if she felt like plastic. Who could ever believe that someone so perfect could be so real. I regret that. I regret doubting her reality.

Eventually she bought me a drink, she called it an Appleté but trapped in the pulsating fuchsia lights of the club it looked purple. It tasted like jealousy; sour and

Framed[ I met him at the county fair.
It wasn't like the songs predicted;
I had mud up my shins and he
had grass in his hair. What a mess. ]

[ I kissed him at my grandma's house.
He swallowed me and digested me;
I became a part of his simmering self.
We fused together, and I died. ]

[ I married him in a triangular church,
When I turned up in white he grinned
and whispered "what, no muddy knees?".
I put a leaf from my bouquet in his hair. ]

[ He kissed her at my grandma's house.
She had left it to us when she passed.
In the house where I'd learned about love
he taught me all I know about betrayal. ]

[ He left me at the train station.
I'd helped

OIt permeates everything
It is the cells. It is the cell
in which I am rotting.

The sheen over my eye,
the flesh I rip from the side of my nail,
the teeth I grind it with.

The tears, blood and sweat.
It is below carbon and hydrogen,
embedded in the air I breathe.

It is sleeping under my fingernails,
It is the undeniable, genetic, atomic truth.
Oh, my oxygen permeates everything.

It is the cell.

GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".

Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.

He accepted me, gills and all -
He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
under the seascrapers of pollution
that hung over my head.
Or he said he did.

At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
my innards trailed across the coral reef
as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
I tried to believe.

I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
Where he had spooned out my intestines
To tether them to a boulder.
I tried to breath

Cavities1. One 23 foot length of intestine. Only one small knot in the system. £3006. Free shipping.

2. One kidney. (2 available from this seller). Each with a centimeter of renal artery included free! Order now and we will throw in a free gallbladder in near pristine condition! £2700.

3. One brain (faulty) with scratches in the frontal lobe due to patching of a minor issue from warehouse. Refurbished by a licensed neurosurgeon. Not fully functional but perfect for parts. Serotonin not included. £18200

4. One vertebral column with or without spinal cord to suit buyer. Can be gift wrapped to taste with a personalised card. Leave y

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More from `KathrynODriscoll

Mirroring - Draft One /Mirroring

Sat in her audience of broken up glass
Eyes unseeing and liquid, she shakes
Sparkling fragments of old shattered hearts
Mirroring the mirror, she breaks

Hair veiling her face is her only protection
Guarding her sad mind from critique
Tears flourish their signature over her face
And her nightingale voice cannot speak

Mirror, Mirror - Draft One /Mirror, Mirror

Item.
Hair band - 1 - Beige.
Holding her thoughts together,
Cool and collected.

Item.
Foundation - With moisturiser.
Hiding two small scars on her forehead,
Chicken pox, 5.

Item.
Mascara - Black.
And waterproof, naturally.
Her only constant. Black.

Item.
Lipgloss - Slight glaze of pink.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,
Watch her silence.

Item.
Blusher - Thin, Pink, High cheekbone area.
Flushes her face with enthusiasm (fake),
Hides that British white skin.

Item.
Earrings - 2 - Sterling Silver, clip on.
The distraction tactic,
She's avoiding your gaze.

Item.
Necklace - 1 - Sterling Silver chain

Michael - Draft One /Your eyes cast over me with that critical glare,
The tensions building, crackling in the air,
I hold my breath and wait for your analysis,
For an honest reply without bias or malices.

That hardened frown as you collect your mind,
And my heart quickens wondering what you will find,
This is me and who I am, laid out for all to see,
With every cynical breath, your silence falls on me.

Fingers on lips and a hush through the crowd,
As you dein to share your thoughts out loud,
And your eyes meet mine and with sadness say,
"I can't make my feelings just go away...

I see the hope that you cannot hold onto,
I see past the bravado, I see t

Memories of a 90's Morning - Draft One /In the dusky half light my thoughts stir.
In a murmur of memories I roll over and -

-

He is gone again.

My fingers close around the empty spaces,
The parts of sentences between the words,
The hollowness that flickers in his eyes,
When we make love, and his mind is elsewhere.

Mind elsewhere, mine elsewhere.

-

I let a sigh flourish against the sheets,
A sigh of a resentment, I suppose.

Another night waking, the afterglow fading,
And my lover yet again gone from his bed,
Missing me or just plain missing.

He returns to a more demanding mistress.

-

Its her sweetness on his tongue,
Her passion running through his veins,
And her n

Winter - Draft One /Winter

Flames lick relentlessly at the core of our fireplace
Stoking a passionate response from the cool stone
'Fire is the symbol of my violent love for you' he says
'I prefer water, it's calmer' I say. Each to his own.

We lie in the middle of a deserted forrest, in a cabin
Snug and warm in our earth haven... untouchable.
'The wood of the cabin comes from the trees around it
As my love for you comes from all of you, not just one part'

A delicate declaration but false nontheless.

You Again? - Draft One /You again?

Knock on the door in night hours
Trampling all of the day flowers
She sits on the step and she glowers
And glares her way through the door.

She stays stone cold on her seating
Waiting for her next meeting
Not one thought of retreating
The girl I hate most, that fat whore.

Shes waiting for me to come find her
Scratch at my eyes and I'll blind her
I can't pretend I don't mind her
And all her accomp'nying pain

She waits outside til the dawning
Weeping and crying and mourning
Replaying the past and then yawning
Oh great, its you (me) again.

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Submitted: March 9
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Matter

by `KathrynODriscoll, Mar 9, 2013, 2:28:08 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

It is only a matter of time
until the stone lays down with the sheep
and sleeps.
Rested firmly above the holes
where our eyes used to be.

It is only a matter of matter
until epitaph and eulogy diminish to dust
and sleep
becomes the eternal home,
not where our souls used to be.

It is only a matter of fact
that our words will become reductionist, redundant,
and sleepily
the world will forget
where our words used to be.

Matterby `KathrynODriscoll

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I was thinking about gravestones, eroding as we do. Those final words to summarise us, even they do not live forever. How long will my legacy live for?

Did you know that if a gravestone is unstable (and could potentially fall on someones foot or something) then the gravestone attendants have to lay them down. As if the stone itself had died. Somehow this seems so so sad.

love 2 2

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*lombregrise Mar 20, 2013 Professional Writer

you're part of "some clear tropisms for your frozen lines" here [link]

*lombregrise Mar 16, 2013 Professional Writer

feat here

[link]

~yoursingingsatellite Mar 11, 2013 New member Hobbyist Writer

Beautiful <3

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you

*PuzzledHeartBox Mar 10, 2013

A very intriguing poem about a rather saddening thought.

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you Mr PHB

*PuzzledHeartBox Mar 25, 2013

Most obliged.

~fantasylover103 Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

If it makes you feel better, when I grow up I'll make a little handwritten book with all you poetry and I'll force my children to pass it on to their children.

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013 Student Writer

smiles, thank you!

~fantasylover103 Mar 24, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

No problem!

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