Thoughts

[Dusky]

Because Pensees was already taken.

This is my NEW AND IMPROVED poetry thread. Welcome, one and all. Here I shall post stuff wot I did.

Why am I re-posting? Well, the old thread is pretty old (duh) and I'm shamelessly taking advantage of the notification system to infiltrate your consciousnesses with beautiful things. tl;dr I want more exposure.


If you'd like, you can find the old thread here. I will certainly be re-posting most of those in addition to what you see here, but ideally after some editing to improve them.


Without further ado, the directory.

Thoughts

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1	Searching the Attic
	Thoughts on I95
2	A Love Letter From the Surgeon
3	Dirge of an Out-of-Season Dandelion
	Taking the Long Way
4	Like a Skyscraper
5	What Once Was Mine
	Thoughts While Helping My Brother With Homework
6	Thoughts Right After

 

[Dusky]

Searching the Attic

You are the bug I crushed underfoot in the fourth grade,

not out of carelessness but after long observation.


You are the fire ant I set on fire; I,


a giant eye in the magnifying glass,


my first instinct on finding a slug


being to get the salt, but


you milk aphids the same way I milk cows.


The only one who will remember you is me, years later,


finding your delicate exoskeleton in an old scrapbook.

by Anomaly

​

Thoughts on I95

we went seventy eighty

ninety five miles an hour


hands rising boldly from the open top like towers against the wind


blonde and brown curls entangling like the strings of my headphones


just as reluctant to disengage themselves


driven by the coffee bittersweet awareness


of only half an hour left


driven by a sense of urgency


to fly off the fast lane


and away from the goodbyes we hurtled toward

by Anomaly

​

 

[Dusky]

A Love Letter From the Surgeon

I put my head to your chest

and listen to the four-chambered organ


rattling against your ribcage,


like a prisoner in the next cell over.


I tap on your shoulder in time


with that beat. I want to break in,


tear down what walls remain between us,


peel back your bones and swim


inside your heart. Give me a scalpel,


and I would cut off the casual


T-shirt, and through the formal


skin, inside to what is alive and pulsing.


I don’t think you understand – I’m symptomatic.


I’m find I'm short of breath, and my fingers


are twitching in the strangest way. I want


to explore you, the ventricles and atria-


I want to run


my hands down your muscle


fibers, I want to go


for your jugulars.


I want


to get inside.

by Anomaly

​

 

[Dusky]

Dirge of an Out-of-Season Dandelion

It was easier, she muses,

when she was ten and it was summer,


and these things were everywhere.


But she is eighteen and January


is giving her its dying breaths.


To wish for happiness is


a cop-out, she decides.


She wishes instead to know


what to wish for, and blows hard.


One small seed remains in the aftermath,


waving at her in the breeze like the arm of a friend.

by Anomaly

​

Taking the Long Way

My sister had a gravestone.

I had a book of prayer.


I could have asked her the hard questions.


Instead: celebrity gossip.

by Anomaly

​

 

[Dusky]

Like a Skyscraper

when i was nine years old i wanted to be everything and i was afraid of the dark and of getting lost. ten years later, little has changed.

when You


speak, every word


is a step to the guillotine.


clockhands spin three quarter time


and the free verse poet begins to rhyme


these things do not permeate my thoughts, nor


can i explain myself to You. i only know that i have died


many times over since late august, and that another girl grows


in the dark and ugly womb of my heart. she is not me, and i am not me.


we are a doll subject to the evils of innocence, curiously torn apart so a child


may find i am hollow. i was magnificent, do You understand? and never once did i


write poems scattered and unhinged. scrape me out, pour into me. it is just too late to be


whole without a core full of You, when i am just an origami girl. build me up, and tear me down…
​

by Anomaly

​

 

[Dusky]

What Once Was Mine

You matched my humor, when

we did manage to speak. I could not keep up with


how closely each Romantic language recalls Latin, so


I let my quiet place beside you as you strummed


suffice.


I had filled a role once: the writer,


all pen elitism and 4.2 GPA, but then I dropped out of college.


I still had my ink stains until you


fired the gun for a race I didn’t know I was in


and at a place I didn’t know was in danger. Still, timelines are funny;


your beginning began long before mine, so


you deserve to be the poet aunts and uncles coo over on Facebook.


But I am so tired of family reunions.


I fill a role now: the fuck up.


I hid in your glow - I had only wanted some small share.


Of course you left early, taking your acoustic guitar


and your intelligent conversation


and your publishings


and your grace


with you.

by Anomaly

​

Thoughts While Helping My Brother With Homework

Math has never been my thing, but this

is all quantity, no quality. My date last week


went well, fractionally


representing the greater area of this function


over the one I have broken, but the ratio feels off.


I try doing the math - 1 ocean, 2 countries, 3 hearts,


4 thousand miles, and infinities


within every moment I am yours. Yeah,


I can't figure out y either.


There must be a formula for this; loss of momentum plus


a growing need for attention plus


the wrenching pull of the void between us.


Such detached measurements have never filled me


like empty shelves or your rare smile could, but detached


fits, at least. I drift a path no equation could define,


looking for the intersection.

by

@Anomaly
​

 

[Hellfire]

Interesting poems, are we free to post some we know, or have made up.


P.S. sorry, I had to. Evil instinct you know.

 

[Dusky]

Unfortunately this thread is intended solely for showcasing my poetry. Feel free to post your own thread in the Creativity forums!

 

[Hellfire]

Okay, just checking.

 

[Dusky]

Thoughts Right After

Spelling ghostwords on your shoulder here

in the shower, finger parting


running water. Entire poems here,


across your back, collected


over afterglow and afterglow again,


most never to leave for the page.


Here there is no


search for a muse, no


need for inspiration, no


reach for renown. No,


here there is skin, meeting soul,


meeting quiet jubilation.

by Anomaly

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