Submissions by Northern_Soul (-Missy-)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Give it time, I’ll corrupt you
SELF POEM
Published
Today 7:00am
Today 7:00am
A little pigeon post is good for the soul
don’t get me wrong, dear
pixels are great
but they don’t shake my shit.
I think of them often
the ones that have come
and gone
all of the people I’ve known
who have been nothing
but notifications
alert noises
little absent avatars
dressed in digital clothes
and I wonder if they see me
as one and the same
just voice notes and songs
drifting out slowly in the ether
and then there was him—
him I’d allowed to burst
from the screen, listening ...
pixels are great
but they don’t shake my shit.
I think of them often
the ones that have come
and gone
all of the people I’ve known
who have been nothing
but notifications
alert noises
little absent avatars
dressed in digital clothes
and I wonder if they see me
as one and the same
just voice notes and songs
drifting out slowly in the ether
and then there was him—
him I’d allowed to burst
from the screen, listening ...
#technology
49 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th May 2024 9:47am
19th May 2024 9:47am
The storm after the calm
and after the rain
you stole
all of my words
not a thought
not a whisper
do you know
the power
in that
in you
you stole
all of my words
not a thought
not a whisper
do you know
the power
in that
in you
#silence
#storm
80 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
18th May 2024 10:33am
18th May 2024 10:33am
How to fix burnout
some bitch with a clipboard
sits in front of me
rattling a pencil between her teeth
saying words like posture
and eye contact
of which I don’t like fucking either
and she’s making notes
on my history, the way my life
has gone down the proverbial shitter
how my spine bent up like a pretzel
months ago as wild birds
pecked at the remains
her face slapping me with a wound:
“you’re here, but you don’t look happy”
… of course I don’t look fucking happy, Susan
...
sits in front of me
rattling a pencil between her teeth
saying words like posture
and eye contact
of which I don’t like fucking either
and she’s making notes
on my history, the way my life
has gone down the proverbial shitter
how my spine bent up like a pretzel
months ago as wild birds
pecked at the remains
her face slapping me with a wound:
“you’re here, but you don’t look happy”
… of course I don’t look fucking happy, Susan
...
#happiness
#myself
#SelfReflection #SelfWorth
#SelfReflection #SelfWorth
86 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th May 2024 11:11pm
16th May 2024 11:11pm
Everything I Am
You asked me once
gently, in the dark
who I was.
It took me back
to being that lonely child;
how I’d blow dandelion blooms
to watch them fly
my Father seeing a thousand weeds,
while I saw a thousand wishes
ready to float into endless space.
I think back to that moment often
wondering where those tiny seeds
chose to land and root
just as I think of you now
on another continent
existing in one fixed place.
You asked me once
gently, in the...
gently, in the dark
who I was.
It took me back
to being that lonely child;
how I’d blow dandelion blooms
to watch them fly
my Father seeing a thousand weeds,
while I saw a thousand wishes
ready to float into endless space.
I think back to that moment often
wondering where those tiny seeds
chose to land and root
just as I think of you now
on another continent
existing in one fixed place.
You asked me once
gently, in the...
#friendship
#ImSorry
#respect #support
#respect #support
117 reads
13 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
16th May 2024 8:34am
16th May 2024 8:34am
At night the birds still sing
Mae was fragile
I saw it in her eyes most nights
while we capped fresh bottles of wine
pointed them at each other like guns
talked
smoked
listened to the cunts we had
rent books with play video games
on a dented sofa
but never us
always her kitchen's cold table
collecting every tear
I was never sure if it was the wine
or the arseholes we were shackled to
but something soothed
in the way her red hair swept softly ...
I saw it in her eyes most nights
while we capped fresh bottles of wine
pointed them at each other like guns
talked
smoked
listened to the cunts we had
rent books with play video games
on a dented sofa
but never us
always her kitchen's cold table
collecting every tear
I was never sure if it was the wine
or the arseholes we were shackled to
but something soothed
in the way her red hair swept softly ...
#StreamOfConsciousness
#weakness
89 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th May 2024 11:55am
14th May 2024 11:55am
So, Cerys—
we meet again
as I take up these words,
fall into the future with arms
outstretched t’ward stars
I think of how uncertain life
fucking is—
how it’s the unexpected
that sweeps me up,
puts its hands on old scars
reads them like braille
all those secrets,
all that bile
and it’s over now.
I think back to my Mother
how her heart is a fortress
arriving unannounced for visits,
glimpses into her steel-bar world
and Dad’s lack of feeling
blunting with every death,
choking...
as I take up these words,
fall into the future with arms
outstretched t’ward stars
I think of how uncertain life
fucking is—
how it’s the unexpected
that sweeps me up,
puts its hands on old scars
reads them like braille
all those secrets,
all that bile
and it’s over now.
I think back to my Mother
how her heart is a fortress
arriving unannounced for visits,
glimpses into her steel-bar world
and Dad’s lack of feeling
blunting with every death,
choking...
#StreamOfConsciousness
92 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
11th May 2024 2:01pm
11th May 2024 2:01pm
Vigil
I lay awake
in a soft-light state
thinking of all the voices
that had come and gone
the good ones that stayed
how their memories echoed
through amber streetlight
barely shadows in the dark.
I think of him
the curve of his accent
covering old wounds
in new bandages
how I missed him
in poetry and photographs
that no-one really knows
except me
the sacred vessel
the empty shell
waiting to be filled
by a word, a look,
an apology that
never comes.
...
in a soft-light state
thinking of all the voices
that had come and gone
the good ones that stayed
how their memories echoed
through amber streetlight
barely shadows in the dark.
I think of him
the curve of his accent
covering old wounds
in new bandages
how I missed him
in poetry and photographs
that no-one really knows
except me
the sacred vessel
the empty shell
waiting to be filled
by a word, a look,
an apology that
never comes.
...
#StreamOfConsciousness
116 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th May 2024 11:32pm
9th May 2024 11:32pm
In[true]sive
I once wondered how many
keys I’d have to stab into my knuckles
to become a part-time Wolverine
I don’t know
what the fuck that means
or the exact amount of skittles
a human can consume before
pissing the rainbow.
Sometimes I think the reason
people from other countries
like British people is because
they find our misery comforting
which is exactly
the part of me that wishes
just for one day I’d of been
a pregnancy statistic
for some suit to bitch about.
My Grandmother ...
keys I’d have to stab into my knuckles
to become a part-time Wolverine
I don’t know
what the fuck that means
or the exact amount of skittles
a human can consume before
pissing the rainbow.
Sometimes I think the reason
people from other countries
like British people is because
they find our misery comforting
which is exactly
the part of me that wishes
just for one day I’d of been
a pregnancy statistic
for some suit to bitch about.
My Grandmother ...
#OCD
106 reads
7 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
9th May 2024 10:46am
9th May 2024 10:46am
No-one ever said it was easy
six hours between visits
and the usual suspects
are pissing their territories
on their pixelated walls
I think of every woman
that has ever hated my spit
and the men who found
weird strength in it
as if my mouth is a trophy
nobody fucking asked for
gathering dust in a cabinet
they show to old mates
knowingly after dark.
I think about words
if they ever mean anything
remembering the last time
I allowed them in
watching my heart
get...
and the usual suspects
are pissing their territories
on their pixelated walls
I think of every woman
that has ever hated my spit
and the men who found
weird strength in it
as if my mouth is a trophy
nobody fucking asked for
gathering dust in a cabinet
they show to old mates
knowingly after dark.
I think about words
if they ever mean anything
remembering the last time
I allowed them in
watching my heart
get...
#PowerOfWords
#technology
111 reads
26 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
7th May 2024 11:13pm
7th May 2024 11:13pm
All The Green-Cap Mothers
I step through a willow gate
into May’s orchard
it’s where we chose
to meet this month,
this community place
huddled beneath sky
and spring blossoms
and so I enter an old yurt
looking at a filthy floor
more dirt than wood
slowly watching feet
gather through grime
it felt like a metaphor
so much bigger than myself
as I sat down in a camping chair,
poured myself hot tea from a flask
and thought about how it never changes,
my desire to see these women thrive
how it...
into May’s orchard
it’s where we chose
to meet this month,
this community place
huddled beneath sky
and spring blossoms
and so I enter an old yurt
looking at a filthy floor
more dirt than wood
slowly watching feet
gather through grime
it felt like a metaphor
so much bigger than myself
as I sat down in a camping chair,
poured myself hot tea from a flask
and thought about how it never changes,
my desire to see these women thrive
how it...
#admiration
#respect
#support #women
#support #women
89 reads
4 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
4th May 2024 4:16pm
4th May 2024 4:16pm
Other Bones
What is her name
that one in your bed
draped in familiarity
as I drag thoughts across linen
as I picture a chicken carcass
forming shelters in the kitchen
where your children live.
Why does she not sing here
of all the words you never speak,
of her fingers and feet and face,
her vacant stories beating.
...
that one in your bed
draped in familiarity
as I drag thoughts across linen
as I picture a chicken carcass
forming shelters in the kitchen
where your children live.
Why does she not sing here
of all the words you never speak,
of her fingers and feet and face,
her vacant stories beating.
...
#StreamOfConsciousness
139 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd May 2024 2:00pm
2nd May 2024 2:00pm
All the tattered threads
I’m wide open
in a dentist’s chair
listening to words like
plaque and dental cement
how I’ve got good teeth
for my age, and I note
it’s not the same
for my folks.
I’ve a jagged edge
on a wisdom tooth
sheered right off one day
crunching on a sherbet
in the car
stabbed me in the cheek
for two weeks while I waited
to get the damn thing
filed and filled.
I think of how easy it is
to fill in the cracks
of the body
how all of me is mended ...
in a dentist’s chair
listening to words like
plaque and dental cement
how I’ve got good teeth
for my age, and I note
it’s not the same
for my folks.
I’ve a jagged edge
on a wisdom tooth
sheered right off one day
crunching on a sherbet
in the car
stabbed me in the cheek
for two weeks while I waited
to get the damn thing
filed and filled.
I think of how easy it is
to fill in the cracks
of the body
how all of me is mended ...
#SelfReflection
#SelfWorth
#StreamOfConsciousness #WritingPoetry
#StreamOfConsciousness #WritingPoetry
139 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Northern_Soul (-Missy-)
