Leeched Poems | Examples

Her Art

Her mind accumulates
the mechanics of metaphysics.

Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling - word-pictures
too intricate to be entirely recalled
upon a whole canvas.

She discovers these figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes as bright as a solar flare.

She has been building images,
that can only be truly perceived just once,
then after that,
they are just her writings.

Her Art

Her mind accumulates
the mechanics of metaphysics.

Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling - word-pictures
too intricate to be entirely recalled
upon a whole canvas.

She discovers these figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes as bright as a solar flare.

She has been building images,
that can only be truly perceived just once,
then after that,
they are just her writings.

He Reimagines

He records the works of his life, the ephemera
he once scrawled onto the tissue thin,
thinking them indelible blueprints.
Most were fables told to a dying legend,
Pastimes, that were chariot wheels
for his little red wagon.

He is an inventor of sorts, an engineer
of impossibilities.
He accumulates metallurgical oddments
for mechanical artifacts
that have no purpose or point;
contrivances with strange gears.
attachments that bolt on to
only missing parts.

They are pieces of an assemblage
made to represent an unknowable idea.
He structures these devises
on the leeched rims of endless visions.

His minds darkened workshops
flicker with the light of kerosene lamps.
He needs shadows and the gleam of
yet undreamed dreams,
he needs gaslight eyes
while shaping the formless.
Nuts, bolts, levers, and steam driven
small brass sprockets
for the calibration of improbable elements
are his articles of faith.

A life he once constructed
falls apart little by little.
He now searches for stronger,
less breakable mechanisms
to put together, no matter that they
serve no purpose, other than
to girder and frame
featherweight straws in the wind.

Twilight Rising

TWILIGHT RISING

icy&
in a lacklustre
  glow
a
 relished pallor
leeched out
then
assimulated

  a blended allusion
 repeated&
advocated
   in images
evokes
  the absent
yet so

transcendent
  transmutated
in
 sheer
emptiness
  an
embraced
blankness
  implicit yet
seemingly
  personified
in a gleam
   of sunlight

THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived

Accessible

Having a future would soon take its toll…

My reality is doomed as my capacity becomes full. 

They say all I need is hidden inside me.

But that part of me is guarded and can only be opened with surgery. 

Only by tearing my tissues apart. 

And cutting the harsh fabric of skin like art. 

Will an ability be revealed?

Will cutting my flesh access a gift that is healed?

But all that hurts too much to reach. 

And maybe some things were not meant to be leeched.

From Sunrise To Sunset

Aurora begins collecting daybreak’s embers -
sparking them till sun has caught on fire.
If fortunate, we get to waken to blue skies
as sun rises higher and higher.

Brightly comes daylight – eventually fading
after its zenith has been reached.
Sun worshippers know very well
precious light by nightfall can’t be leeched.

Soon twilight unfurls vibrancy wondrously -
colors whose beauty can sometimes make us sigh.
Pink or persimmon dissolve into the sea,
or violet we might see streak the sky!

Aug. 2, 2021 for Joseph May's Alpha Lines Poetry Contest
submitted Aug. 12 for A Brian Strand You Choose Poetry Contest

The Fight

The Fight


	Determination to remove your force
	of despondency.
	That osmosis of my joy being leeched
	through your membrane of anxiety
	to a cavern of what if’s and if only’s
	preventing the next step, the positive thought
	due to the never- ending saturation of the negative.

	Maybe moment by moment, cell by cell 
	is all I can fight to exchange this pessimism for
	optimism, so that my existence moves towards
	the light of happiness, defeating the empty 
	thoughts and lies that try to drag me into darkness.

	Dark flowers of foreboding may lay hidden,
	shaded and mushroom-like under logs and 
	fallen leaves of disquiet and worry, 
	creating shadow, trying to remove the sunlight,
	hoping to replace the blue forest flowers I grow.
	But I won’t give up, for light always overcomes darkness.

Times End Age

After the stoned and stoning age
The iron axe head fell
Steam fizzled out
Electricity waved hello
TV leeched onto something in our psyche
Space seemed a chore
Nuclear scared us to our irradiated core
PC took over
AI looking over its morality shoulder
Now this age of unseen smiles
government counting death by percentages
sorry not to put at ease
maybe its the end of these

The Poet

Her mind accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange linkages,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together;
the mechanics of metaphysics.

Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling, or just waiting for,
a glimpse of a word-picture
too intricate to be entirely recalled
as a whole canvas.

She discovers these odd figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes too brightly.

Slowly she feels the inconceivable
creep upon her, imagines discovering 
the last transcendental piece 
of a scattered poem, the keystone.
Senses reach for a nexus
there are endless connections,
too many to grasp.

She realizes that her whole life
she has been building images
that can only be seen once,
once before their time, after that 
they are just
writing.

The Poet

He accumulates oddments and curios,
contrivances with strange gears,
attachments that bolt unlikely parts together.

Pieces of something he is structuring or
assembling, a mechanism
too intricate to be entirely recalled.

He discovers these devises
on the leeched rim of vision.
Part of his mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp.
He does not want to waste much light
on impossible projects,
yet slowly he feels the inconceivable
taking shape.

He imagines stumbling across
the last piece of a construct.
Fingers search for connections.

He realizes that his whole life
has been spent building something
once seen.

Dreaming

Dreaming of sugar spun so high
I could barely touch the sky when
a bird came and sat on my shoulder
she said she was messenger of the
gods of this realm and we (the humans)
of course had forgotten to sow our
souls with seeds of true harvest
most notably we strew our seeds onto the
hard ground of leeched existence where
little can be gathered other than motes
awaiting the rain of content to soften
our fields, we discover perhaps the
drive to exhume something thought
lost but not buried, at least in the 
usual of sentiments, not in the ground
but in the concrete village we call
our selves...we hope, we pray, we
silently scream for anyone to listen
the gods of this realm have turned 
away to their parlor games as we no
longer remember to deify their
existence, so who will deify ours?

In Best Interest

We met from a mutual friend.
We quickly adhered as if we were in quantum entanglement.
Laughs shared, cries heard.
I fell in love with you, due to my ignorance.
I Cried, and cried for weeks, while your spirit fly in the sky.

You hurt those that once called you friend.
You destroyed some, but caused pain with all.
Your abuse leeched over to them, and they got infected and loved you.
over and over it shall continue until the end.

I felt much aftermath from the explosion.
I healed and healed, for weeks.
Lonely I remained for weeks and weeks.
Until one day I met them.

Again we quickly adhered.
Fear I feel each day for them.
This was one you broke

They hate you but hate them self more.
I Fear they will follow your destructive path.
Help I try, for what seems that it is all for not.
Am I gaining the same feeling for them as I once contained within me for you?

I truly wish I can help more.

I Owe You Mother

Your lips start to move
and I hear the sound of your worries,
numbered like the children of Abraham,
boundless, like the sands in Egypt,
all of them, calling audibly.
the wrinkles beneath your eyes wrinkle me,
unwelcomed lines tracing the paths to a grave,
alas, I might not be able to return everything you gave.
these things; your voice, your eyes, 
remind and hasten me, 
yet I feel like I’m running on a mill.
terribly wounded by frenemies,
but only angry at the air,
the trees, the freer animals that I can’t be,
and at the luck that thus plagues me,
haunting, taunting, like a lion does a deer.
clutched and leeched to joyful memories,
the flashes of the folding of your skin,
and the growing tiredness in your steps.
Mother, 
these years have betrayed me,
the knives in their hands,
have the wounds on my back as their scabbards,
they’d just pulled and plugged,
they took your youth and gave me fear,
and now threaten with the hardness of the earth,
so every time I hear your voice coarse with worries
and see your wrinkling face with nothing in my hand,
my heart shatters.

Spider On Vase

Spider on Vase

Poor teetering thing that leeched the rim
To poise and watch the world from summit
It hiked the slope and scaled with ease
Its several legs had gained momentum
Triumphant conqueror of the peak

The hero now surveys the giants
With peripheral eyes to view
The gaping hole of one such hulk
From which was issued a thunderous sound
That made the crawly start to quake

Its fate secured within their reach
The proximal limb ready to pulp
And dash the crawly to its death
Lithe movement in its spiny legs
Takes it down the crater route
Into the vases obscure hollow 

And deftly rappels the precipice
With actioned spinneret
Scarce light below that thwarts its fear

Away from gaping noisy giants
At peace to spin and weave a web
Of symmetry that knows no bounds

Threatening Desires

Ripped, tattered, uselss wings

Cravings denied, heartless beings

Happiness was finally reached

Then you take her, ecstacy leeched

Gleaming smirks now faded frowns

Two for him, one for me

Loveless hate, can't you see?

Pain prevented, if only you cared

Instead you lash out, weapons bared

Multiple lives you would of saved

If only, if only, you had stayed

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