Swiped Poems

the dead choir

this choir only sings for one,
when once, blue-birds two,
the reflection of the splashing,
two souls, laughing against rapids,
when you danced, under moonlight,
I lost myself blinded to your sight,
a heaven, swiped two hands twice,
a mourning for a special someone,
the dunce springs off youth,
the affection of hand holding,
two nouns of sublimity,
Wish to rewind before that night.

The Hospital Cat

The surgeon
had successfully removed his libido
and fed it to the hospital cat.

Corridors became whispering tubes
for I.V. drip pushing wanderers,
their pale bottoms peering out
like beluga whales through the cracks
of gaping gowns.

He dreamed often,
the drugs swiped his mind,
he was a screen, that with flickering ease
erased and replaced his life
with crazily narrated electric poetry,
a hypersonic buzz
that pretzelled his thoughts.

A nurse appeared to him between
the sensual waves that spayed across
his surgically mauled mortality.

She was erotically enhanced,
her trance-dance of sexuality
poured into his flaccid organs
like a shot of ice-cold Taquilla.

Once she spoke to him - just once.
Her words were umber honey
between his parted lips.

He struggled to understand.

Clarity came upon him -
"You're my libido."

He had forgotten about the cat!

She purred softly
as she adjusted his pillows.

Hung Up on You!

I was hung up on you, oh that's true,
But not in the way you knew.
I swiped off the line,
While you were saying you're mine 
I just done - Hung up on You!

Forgotten Nostalgia

I’ve tried to fall asleep
And forget what we were.
What we had doesn’t matter
If you’re not here to share the moments.

What if I never told you?
Would we still be together—
Or would our relationship
Still fall apart in the storm?

Thoughts of you flood my mind,
And for some reason, they still hurt.
Shouldn’t memories of you make me smile?
Why is it pain that lingers?

I want to tell you how much you hurt me,
But maybe that would be childish—
It wouldn’t bring you back,
Just push us further apart.

We could’ve loved each other till ninety,
Or split and hated each other at twenty-three.
What if I went through the same thing
With someone else?

Would I feel this heartbroken over you?
What if I swiped right and moved on?
Maybe I wouldn’t be in this dilemma.
Maybe I wouldn’t know what love looks like.

I resent you and I love you.
I thank you and I blame you.
You showed me what I want in someone—
And how I need to carry myself from here.

I’ll miss you.
And I hope, one day,
We can be friends again.

red canvas

Trigger Warning: This poem deals with themes of self-harm. Please read with care.
--
my skin felt like a blank canvas 
every time they faded.
i felt empty
my urges unsatisfied.

i had to give in;
just one time,
i told myself again.
i marked the canvas 
angry veins of crimson swiped along the pale surface;
each stroke with more intent than the last.

the canvas wasn’t blank anymore;
it was tainted by my own scars.
i did this to myself.
the weight of my own hands agreed.

i panicked as i felt my arms sting,
was this an artist’s masterpiece or a crime scene? 
i was always punished for such taboo actions,
why did i keep trying to hide what was branded onto the canvas, 
always there, only able to be concealed.

even as temperatures rose, my sleeves became my bandages,
the summer sun never did see my arms.

Blood

The couch is torn apart.
Cushions bitten into.
Stuffing covering everything.
The claws swiped but didn’t get me.
They just knocked over the juice on the counter.
Juice everywhere.
But it’s better than blood.
He lives in the pantry.
All I have is some cereal and it’s mostly stale.
He eats it and laughs.
As I picked up the broken glass, I got a cut on my finger.
There is no blood, only a tender burning.
Then the cut laughs a bit.
I reach for a bandage and the lights flicker.
Slime is coming from the faucet.
But it’s better than blood.
The sun hasn’t set in 38 hours.
My cut didn’t stop talking for two days.
But it’s better than blood.
I never fixed any of the broken stuff in my house.
I just sat and ate stale cereal in the pantry.
I never fix anything.
I take a sip of milk but it’s spoiled.
But it’s better than blood.

LOVE IN DIGITAL AGE

In a world of screens and endless space
Two hearts collided, a love took its place
Among the likes and shares, they found a spark
A connection that ignited, a love left its mark

With filters and selfies, they captured their bliss
Their love story unfolding, a digital kiss
They swiped right, and their hearts took flight
In a world of technology, their love shone bright

They danced under neon lights, with beats in their ears
Their love was a rebellion, a flame that dispelled fears
With every text and every call, their love continued to grow
A bond that strengthened, a love that forever glows

In this century of innovation, they found a love so true
A connection that transcended, the digital world anew
Their love was a masterpiece, a work of art in progress
A beautiful blend of technology, and love's tender caress

So here's to the young lovers, in this digital age
May your love continue to flourish, and forever turn the page
May your hearts remain connected, through every high and low
And may your love story, forever be told.

BODY WORK

Funny how independence
Can blind lack of choice
The feel of wheels
Silencing the roaring voice

Yellow, plain, drab
But it got me to my destination
Blaring the AM radio
While I chalked my delineation

Finally, graduating my goal
So I got myself a present
I wanted roast duck
But the dealership gave me pheasant

My partner wrecked my present
And took my decision power away
Every body I got was good for a time
Then turned to clay

Finally, free to be me
......WHO'S THAT......

Blindly I walked onto lots
Expecting care and compassion
They just wanted to sell, me,
A body decked in the latest fashion

Upside down, Topsy- Turvy 
Became my new way of existence
No wrecks to report
In my system resistance

Finally, my wheels were given back
My name swiped with black ink
All that I tried to build
Now with dirty dishes, in the kitchen sink

I'm left with ME
Without deceit running about
The journey is arduous 
But I'm finally finding out

.....I'm worth loving

Written by Trudy Schrader on 11-24-2024

Side-swiped

When hauling a load,
I rarely explode,
but I have to share a gripe.
Since you wouldn't yield,
I'm out in the field;
you ignored the double stripe.

Apology’s owed;
your eyes left the road
deciding which way to swipe.
I mean, what the heck,
your choice caused a wreck;
I sure hope that he’s your type!

----------

An Alouette that doesn't really fit either contest

Blessed Advent Cores His Great Divine

"Blessed assurance glory divine ..."

Supine haze swiped tall grass wooing shadows,
as chimes of wren's feathers a float parade,
begs a trace with leaves sought resting barrows, 
the fondness parting loft and low portrayed.

Nourishing willows stranding morning dews,
while lengthy lappings the murmured streaming, 
courses the sourcing promises pact sinews,
of turned new leaves and blazed hues trails dreaming.

Quietude slights segmental furtherance,
edging up-ends the friendlies beckoning,
hail the awakened, embracing balance,
trice the brevity traipsed separating.

The listless stares a sheltered clemency,
keys to a kingdom freed their fervency.

Tinder Surprise

I was hoping to find a new lover
I would find one one way or another
For online romance
I lowered my pants 
And quickly swiped left on my mother

Mary, Mary, Not Quite

The oldest version dates from Tom Thumbs' 1744 songbook. Modern versions keeping with times, caused 'Mistress' to go dark. 'Cockle' is a seashell.

Mistress Mary sang like canary,
When they surround her stronghold,
Swiped silver bells, hid pearly shells, 
And pretties weigh all in gold.

Reflections

When the evening sun
is slanting just so,
let us take a picture
of us both reflected,
heads tilted together
in a shaded body of water.

Maybe we will, by chance,
capture a lone eagle circling above us,
or perhaps two mourning doves.
billing and cooing
mirrored there
in a chilly Ohio lake.

In the paling
contrails of amity,
will that likeness
remain as a depiction
of unbroken love,

or will it slip away
in spans and spells,
but an image
of an unmasked memory,
one to be swiftly swiped
left or right
inside a cellphone gallery?

- When All Is Said and Done -

                            She swiped the lipstick across her lips
                            even if everyday life seemed hopeless
                             The path through flowers and weeds
                                   twisted in different directions
                                         pale meager illusions

                                    God knows she is exhausted
                                  Faith, prayer for grace and hope
                                      With eyes fixed on the sky
                                    she kneels divine to the earth

                             Abandoned as a glow worm in the dark
                                  so many walks in this labyrinth
                              Meek and humble to change directions
                                       Black sheep also have wool

                                   Dear God, send down an angel
                                    with the cross of truth, Amen

Hieroglyphics

The said hieroglyphics drove into the night,
Racked up its mystery, then parted and swiped,
Bellowed at suspicion and candid eye sight,
To foster fomented a reasoned parallax, piped.

Left to right, oppositely for contrite poise,
Firm doors open keen, quick ready pens,
Horizontal alignment - or vertical repose noise, 
A quiet supposition leaks to radiate slight dens.

Nowhere are the changers and the dyes,
Tainting for pleasure with respect full in heart,
The sound of footsteps - here, there, with eyes,
Demarcating foundations from glittery art.

The ben is there - detected and rye, sucking,
Shuffling previous dust beside dirt untouched,
The crazy ones create the world for bucking:
Reason defines the fibre, with mesh touched.

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