My Writing (PEACH)

[Phae Nymna]

I'm making this thread as a little gallery space for my writing. I'ma add to it bit by bit. Feel free to drop by and critique.

As for background, I'll be 17 in four days and I'm to be a high school junior next year. I'm in the little leagues for now, but I want to get published in a big lit mag someday. For now I have my school's literary journal (Editorial Assistant!) and an application "LA Writes!", a state level magazine for writing. A lot of this comes from my English class assignments.

So here goes. Oh! And please ask questions and such. I love feedback!

The Movement (Personal Work)

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I feel changed
in a way it's too tired to break
this habit is not what they say
about what health claim
is written into law then we can
not worry? do you know what kind of a crime
it is that that assembly won't see
if they don't do it already
because they have concerns
the movement turned a new leaf
but the rest haven't got it
and so they keep yelling about
what Nixon wanted
was to get out of debt
"---------" tried to push it
but the bill passed regardless
of what science suggested
that it was harmless
until we banned it
we stamped it out with the war
did nothing but fed cartels
peddle it with illegals
we have to be respectful of intolerant people
is not what we are
traditionalists
nothing more
that we can do
nothing more
than sunshine well rather a lamp
and a hose were retrieved
from the archives
of the party
proved it
was stupendous

Mixology Haiku (Class Assignment)

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Muddled my mint leaves
indentSplashed bourbon o’er the cracked ice
Stirring the julep

Sugar is stirred up
indentDrops align on the outside
Cup it in my hand

Give it to Mama
indentShe sips and smiles, sips again
Boy, you mix it strong.

The Prophetess (Iron Poet Submission)

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Splinters grappled with white rubber
Bleached and roughened grey wood walkways
Shrimp boots marching to the water

Tip our hats off to the sailors
Wave to wrinkled friendly masters
And to bolder competition

Pier beneath us as we march out
To the great and rocking trawler
Flound'ring softly in the water

Kissing rebar struts farewell
Sinking spirits part the dock-head
Boarding now the ship Cassandra

Haply gunning into deeper
Water slapping 'cross the bow plates
Gazing back at barren harbour

Towing nets we puttered westward
Floating line out from great bobbins
Calculating our endeavours

Then with lifting power cables
Ripped out rumbling from the currents
Hulking hauls of sunken treasures

Hundreds, thousands, flumping mack'rel
Mostly oiled- not much better
Than the worst net last September

So we ripped her 'round and backward
Heaving portside our displeasure
Captain grinding on the levers

Overtaken with our failure
We made haste to moor Cassandra
In the pier we find no pleasure

Across the Serengeti (Iron Poet Submission)

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Across the Serengeti
From Sea to blazing Sea
A dying Zebra lies alone
A sight for all to see

Its sides are split
By claws all ripped
Emitting in the fray
A cry that that pierces
Through the dust
And farther yet to far away

The Vultures soar
As Lions gore
And the Beast does buck and bray
Though the circle it completes
Allows the passing of the Day

Devoured in the peak of life
It connects the cyclic ring
Fulfilling one most simple step
To feed the Beast the World calls King

VERTIGO (Class Assignment)

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PART I

seven hundred feet bridge the gap

seven hundred feet
that twist in the wind

seven hundred feet
between brownstone and gold

the tie has to come off
it is blocking his view
and the fog has not helped this

the hat is gone
he left it on his desk inside
inside where the phone has stopped ringing
since he jammed its wheel with a pencil
and now his tie is below
below him somewhere that he cannot see it

he cannot see down
or up or left or right
but he can look back
at his mistakes and his fears and he can look back
at his life through the years
he looks back and sees the veins of his hands
still clutching the brownstone

he slips on the wetness
but shuffles and trips
and lies flat on the billet with his
chest and his hips
and his palms and his forearms
flat and wet and pressed to the rock

andhe feels it

his head is cocked to the left
his ear is cut by the edge

he can see all of it now
 
PART II

he had been cold
a cold from rain and from fog
but a warmth is blooming in his face
and in his brain a hot knife
sliding right down his back

and his muscles wrack themselves not to spasm

there is an enfer jaune to haunt him now
seven hundred feet below
the pulsar of neon and tungsten and carbon

blazing in his stomach
burning his intestines
boiling his blood

he erupts-
his every muscle clenched
to squeeze out the fear

the fear
the fear of god and money and sex
the fear of red and yellow and black and

the fear of man and
the fear of his wife

the poison she poured
her heart in that meal
and she choked him
and he loves her
 
PART III

but her poison meets his lips
his lips that he pressed to the stone

he parts them to kiss her
and he heaves

he feels for the sill
but he cannot see

he is blind
to all but the hell below
and the pain in his hand
when the wet stone cuts him

he is crying
and red and yellow and black

he cannot see down or up or left or right
he can only see back where he was safe
and he flips and he sees back and
back is the hell and the yellow and red

and he hits them
too hard