Linger Longer. A poem.
Why do I always linger longer in this place? Why do I capitulate to my black dog space? I throw the stick for him and he brings it back for me to beat myself again, so he can jump and … Continue reading Linger Longer. A poem.
Author: Laidback DM
I’m a writer/graphic designer creating content for tabletop role playing games since 2019. And poetry. Don't forget the poetry.😊
Haiku Friday. ‘Dressed to Kill’, a haiku trilogy.
Dressed to Kill. A haiku trilogy. 1. Dressed Dressed to kill, you are; A fortunate turn for me, can’t avert my eyes. 2. High You float on high heels, that could puncture my heart through like Cupid’s arrow. 3. Gone … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Dressed to Kill’, a haiku trilogy.
Upstart Photographer #7. And poems, no less.
Yep, it’s that time of the month, again. Time for some dreary photos to liven up your/my dreary world. This time, I’ve included a few (very) brief poems to accompany my black and white, unfiltered shots. Sunlight. A poem. Through … Continue reading Upstart Photographer #7. And poems, no less.
U r. A poem.
U r the heavenly glimpse unspoken. U r the enigmatic mystery unleashed. U r my unfettered tragedy in the making. U r the starving soul to which I’m drawn. U r the the boundless ocean to which I succumb. U … Continue reading U r. A poem.
Strangely Surprised. A poem.
Strangely surprised: it would seem I believed that I’d be so much wiser from here on, indeed. It just took one glance and I’m back on the teat, pride reined in per chance, all humility. Strangely surprised that there’s no … Continue reading Strangely Surprised. A poem.
Anvil. Part 3.
The little girl flinches, stepping back and hugging the teddy bear and Granny Chun’s leg. “Well what did you expect?” says the old woman. “You come here looking like some badass, muscle-head man and expect your daughter to recognise you?” … Continue reading Anvil. Part 3.
Concrete. A poem.
Here I am, brought to heel by poor choices and destiny, to learn a well-earned lesson of respect and humility. Here behind this concrete veil, my hope is born anew. All thin facade and curtain call, a life sentence, all … Continue reading Concrete. A poem.
A Captured Moment. A poem.
The most beautiful woman in the world smiled at me and laughed with me and had me hypnotised with every sultry breath and swollen, fulsome thought. I was so enraptured that I wanted one single moment of this polychromatic butterfly … Continue reading A Captured Moment. A poem.
Haiku Friday. ‘Star Shells Sing’ – a haiku trilogy.
Star Shells Sing. A haiku trilogy. 1. Star See the stars above, sing songs of restless passion. I know how they feel. 2. Shells I would take them all; capture all the star-bright shells, cast them on your shore. 3. … Continue reading Haiku Friday. ‘Star Shells Sing’ – a haiku trilogy.
Entwined. A poem.
Entwined, we two; encapsulated in a mad statement, read between lines and screamed between pages. A subtle madness, shortness of breath, long, laboured movement and languid, liquid refrain. Teetering on the brink of apogee, into a light that breaks this … Continue reading Entwined. A poem.
Anvil. A short series. Part 2.
The bubble cab drops quickly. Through the transparent plastiglass roof the Anvil can see the city’s bottom, a mishmash of giant tubes, pipes, grav generators and spotlights. The ocean below rises to meet the taxi, a cacophonous tundra where waves … Continue reading Anvil. A short series. Part 2.
Deserted. A poem.
Deserted. Desert winds wax and wane around my anxious senses, tinged with the scent of the exotic, the lingering perfume of your passing. I track through the remnants of my wandering wastrel heart, amongst tumbleweeds of loss and regret, wondering … Continue reading Deserted. A poem.
My Black Walls. A poem.
My walls. Are. Black As oil and just as wet. Wet. … Continue reading My Black Walls. A poem.
Meltdowns happen.
Every once in a while, I find myself in a mental space I’d rather not be in. And it doesn’t seem to take much to get me there. It’s a sure sign of poor mental health when a clothes washing … Continue reading Meltdowns happen.
Anvil. A short, unplanned series. Part 1.
He awakens to a miasma of colour, of senses and routines flashing incandescently in his mind, before his eyes, of images and words and confusion and cacophony, as the world comes into focus. Through the informational arrays filling his vision, … Continue reading Anvil. A short, unplanned series. Part 1.
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