Leached Poems | Examples

A High Rain

Yesterday was hot, it nailed
its peeling skin to a desiccated air.

This morning, rain is falling,
but it has yet to land -
a weightbearing sky creaks
though it does not break.

Above straining clouds
a dam has broken, perhaps the deluge will
crush all before it,
but not yet,
earth’s frying pan is lit and smoldering.

The wilting dawn cannot wash its face,
bedsheets smell of damp dogs.
The electric fizz of insects
scratches at our drowsy minds.

If I shift a sweat leached inch
I might tilt the world over a hidden seawall
drowning in the middle
of a dry prayer for rain, or perhaps soon

the light might undress itself
to leap into the clear pools
of our openly grateful eyes.

Blonde

I hate that Nellie Olson
—Laura Ingalls, Little House on the Prairie

I’ll fix her. You’ll see.
—Nellie Olson, Little House on the Prairie
(regarding Laura)

Season 6, Episode 2: The two get muddy fighting over a man. Nellie gets even but guess who gets the man and the husband?! Don’t worry Nellie finds her match and he helps to turn her into a better person, well she wants to be better because she loves him. 

Blonde

B leached before birth, bright
     L ocks with buoyant curls
   O nerous trimmings with foxy tail
  N ellie was notorious, jealous,
 D emanding all of Laura’s suitors
E at out of her hands, nest in her blonde lair

Inside the Moon

The moon raced ahead of us,
like a thirsty dog.

Mama wet her knickers earlier that day,
she yelled at everyone,
for she didn't see it coming.

Later, we teenagers latch-keyed in,
the empty house begged us to come together,
passion leached through porous walls,
brazen desires made Hummel figures,
hide their faces.

The porch light danced,
in the center of a moth fandango,
our ears were listening to the road,
our shadows acting out,
turning to flesh
before we could stop them.

We were both inside the moon now.
Coyote calls trembled our young knees,
as we pledged to be forever this drunk
on each other.

When parents showed up
I was laying on the bed
cocooned in an afterglow,
and ‘my girl’ had slipped away,
yet we were both tied,
to the center of a magical moon.

Mama bustled around the house
like a Nile queen
singing her ***** little songs
that only hoot owls heeded.

Dad sipped a late cold one,
and remembered, with a grunt,
that tomorrow was still only Wednesday.

By then the moon had got so big
that I thought it might turn us all
into a fictional story,
one told between ageing astronauts.

Renewal

A scrapbook of soil
knits the land.
Earthworms patchwork
hidden birthing-chambers,
grit and gist abrades
into the leached sap
of leaf and grass.

Rain storms push up
an upholstery of luster,
mossy threads.
above tufted beds.
Frail daisy heads nod,
yet their roots grip and twist
as fibrous as hemp.

The turning lathe of a tireless wind
crumbles iron cities,
towers and arcades
stand emerald cast,
walls chained to creepers,
and a choking ivy.

Topsoil sinks to be
the undercroft of graveyards.
All is begun, all is lost
in the long gestations
of death and recovery.

Tempering's spun
beneath a settling moonlight.

Humid

The night ended in smoke.

Sleepwalking fumes 
          rolled over the park,
perambulated in groggy circles,
then got stuck in the tree branches
       where they hung as thick
as melting duck fat.

Around eleven in the morning
           the sky began to baste itself;
you could smell it simmering
on the edge of a backburning brink
   as it grilled a too torpid air.
It was sweet in the mouth at first
     then it fire-licked wet ears
and slippery toes.
Skeletal strings unwound.

 Mind-sweat began to pour,
    drowning-out hope of any ease,
    thoughts flopped to the earth
stewing amid overheated bubbles,
Microbes leached through
                               oily eyebrows.

Ohio just can’t get its weather right;
some nights merely pre-heat the day,
daylight pants through aphid snouts
             and brown stems,
or bulges lungs with its ballooning fevers.

if the next passer-by 
gleefully remarks:
           ‘what a lovely day’
                       they will be cursed politely
with a gorgon stare,
                       then a thin, and crispy leer.

Recordings

The house and barn have surrendered,
burrowing under the loose dirt of the sun.
Echoes run from house to barn, from barn to house,
a ritornello hurried along on the skirts of the wind.

Dust muffles yet imprints step and skip,
a written ergot that still keeps a voice
in the stillness. Laughter
trembles rafters, the faintest sound
stirs up bygone quotes and responses.

In the ruined barn, decay finds its language,
children still run here.
A transmission has leached from puttering feet;
it rattles the bones of embalmed mice.
A soundtrack of texture
running from barn to house – from house to barn.

I'M Cold

I'm cold

I'm cold... 
And I need your 
passionate soul, 
to warm me, 
to comfort me,  
to make me forget 
why I woke up 
with tears in my eyes 
this morning. 

I'm cold, 
and I suspect...
That I can only 
be warmed by you, 
and your consistency. 
By you, 
and your laughter.   
By you, 
and your presence. 

I'm cold, 
And, there isn't 
a blanket, fur, hoodie, 
or sunny day,  
that can warm the cold, 
that has leached 
into my bones, 
and is threatening 
the peace in my soul. 

I'm so so cold. 
Heal me.  
Share your warmth with me. 
I don't want 
To be 
Cold anymore.

Pentimenti Fade

The West is slipping away.
On the East side of this living space
light slips its shadowy leash,
paints a last frameless image
upon a bare wall.

Moving closer
I study a shape as it shifts slightly
while an unseen sun
shoulders the earth again.

If I squint it might be the face
of a friend. I look for fever,
the hollow-eyed recognition of death -
no it’s not her death mask
this is before the last breath arrived
a momentary representation
before her fade out.

I had assumed it was light
playing upon a surface
but see that the East has leached out again,
and it can cross the world
and travel time
arriving always before
the impatient night.

Recordings

The house and barn have surrendered,
burrowing under the loose dirt of the sun.
Echoes run from house to barn, from barn to house,
a ritornello hurried along on the skirts of the wind.

In the ruined barn, decay finds its own language,
children still run here.
A transmission has leached from puttering feet;
it rattles the bones of embalmed mice.
A soundtrack of texture
running from barn to house - from house to barn.

Leached Sand

The cloud-enshrined sun
The waves leaching away the sand
A whole world undone

Rose rayonnante de perle
Soleil soudé aux nuages
Un sourire de mère

Mussed baby petals
A rose-stem cut ere the thorn
A life rudely shorn

Analgesia

I come back to these scribbles
jotted down in broken verse
   of when I felt.
When my body burned with passion and rage
when my loins ached or my heart broke.

Revisiting the epoch of life
trying to re-assemble the shape of those energies.

Yet I am still numb.

Apathetic and drifting on analgesia
the medicine my hysterias sought.

Humanity leached into distance and fugue.
Desensitized to the state of existence. 
I cease to be me.

Brief Hospital Stay

i hate people in sterile places

its unnerving

to see them leached of colour,

needles in their skin

like punctured paper

And prodded by white coats , trying to find an answer

Can’t they see the problem?

fake flowers do nothing to lessen the paint of pale walls

sinking into her eyes

Magnetic

Surely you are a body heavenly
for you pull magnetic upon my soul
but ever since you retreated
Gravity felt onto my every whole

Calidity ever soft on my face
I can only but whisper your name
Pallid without your embracing eyes
Gloomy as the darkest greyish skies.

Frozen shadows,
Walking, stretching that seductive smile,
Brings me back, leached memories,
Of when you were mine,
As, I’m here hiding from the sun,
With a restless mind and a heart so sore.
With you gone, I can’t love no more.

Whenever I lay down,
Your vision appears,
Slowly I creep,
Anima, my soul flame
Watch my heart melting away
Help me forget
Erase all the memories we had
Wash away my sadness,
Cure my engraved wounds,
In comfort, possess me,
Help me stand again
I can’t bear all this pain
I can’t live in this despair.

I wait, as the butterfly,
For the wind, that gently,
Holds me tight,
And swiftly guides my flight.
My flight to a new journey
Maybe to love again
Maybe to not
But to forget you, to let go
I cannot

5th Place
Twin Flame Separation
Contest Judged:  5/21/2018 5:40:00 PM
Sponsored by: Madison Demetros

Ganesh In the Deeply Dark Dawn

Ganesh in the Deeply Dark (Dawn)

I sit, sullen
in this hot tub,
grown warm.
Here, I sit,
grown cold,
grown old.

The stars seem dim,
though neatly
arranged.

The dead leaves,
having leached their
green, beseeched their
sun-god, having breeched
their tip-top, up top, paraSol-top,
having reached the high holy Pale Blue,
having pleached in greens, having bleached 
those same greens, having (perhaps mayhaps perhaps) 
over-
                                                                 reached,

fall silently around me.
Joining my tears in
filling this bath.

The light, warily
illumines the manuscript
sky.
Confronting my dark.

I can’t read these stars.
I can’t know my Way,
my Fate.

They say that if an elephant
could speak, we’d still
not understand her.
Wittgenstein’s lion.

The elephant isn’t. 
The elephant is...
mine.

Cant Be Me

Ripping off my face
Gotta preserve my personal space 
An unknown man now wears your skin
Naked down a world of many paths 
How many paths have leached the hours 
of this new dawn
Im tired and i dont want to engage in the
spectacles all identical underneath the 
dramatic exageration 
There you go
Leading ninja figure stalking the night
Time for a napping fix

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