Encouraged by duchess' and Sylvanus' kind words (so complain to them if you want to ) I did some digging into the depths of my hard drive ... I only got old stuff to offer since I haven't written poetry or fiction in years and don't think that'll change too soon.
I'm going to disobey duchess' rule about one piece per thread, though, as to not drown the Hall of Gifts in my threads, if I continue digging, but I'll sort them into thematical groups ... but then again, it's the reader's opinion what the theme is to him. Guess I should just shut up now and get on with the poems. I'll add more as I find them and consider them worth the try.
A strange current carries me upwards,
chases me through the cold.
Carried through the water, the nerves numb,
I hit the layer of ice.
Like a projectile that's pressed flat against an obstacle.
The fist of the water continues pressing, I can't back away,
my face gets pressed against the ice.
No sinking into the sterile darkness, no going back,
and no way to the other side.
I stretch my arms, let my hands wander.
Seeking, with long thin fingers, spider-like.
They dart across the ice, seek an opening.
I slowly push myself along the cold wall.
The fist presses, I don't have much time left,
but I try to stay calm, concentrated, carefully considering.
My lungs begin to burn.
There, an opening.
My hands grope.
No even, circular hole like in my dreams.
Uneven, rough, with -
Pain.
I pull my hand back.
Red blood mingles with the cold water.
The edges of the hole are rough, sharp stones.
But I don't have the time anymore to be careful.
My hands seek places where I can get a hold.
I'm still loosing blood, the wound feels strange.
A leak in my last storage of warmth.
My hands have a hold.
The fire in my lungs threatens to consume me.
The fist presses harder.
My muscles tense, I pull myself through the hole,
out, out of the deadly cold of the water,
out, escaping the pressure of the fist,
out, air, able to breath again.
With all my strength I swing myself up,
deep into the maw of the monster.
---
Princess of Blue
Hairs red like a pool of blood,
eyes blue like veins,
Venus under a carpet of scars.
) I did some digging into the depths of my hard drive ... I only got old stuff to offer since I haven't written poetry or fiction in years and don't think that'll change too soon.
