the moon falls into my teacup
and sleeps there
a crescent on a white bone
my thoughts fall, too
like cigarette ash
and sometimes the bowl is filled
with my reflections
and at other times, silence
in the white hollow with the
slip of moon
a sip of this, like facing death
melts away time
Follow me carefully through a field of broken glass,
And let me walk before you to make sure I clear a path,
And pray my feet cut deep so that they drip and bleed,
So you can finally see . . . .
The pain of my affliction,
For you I suffer me.
I saw you yesterday,
A moments breath from death
Broken like a chameleon,
Whos color wont match its step.
You wouldnt see inside me,
You said it felt too real
it sounded like an excuse because,
Youre too scared to feel.
This embarrassing poem
Was written when I was alone
Before we were through
Seventeen degrees of freedom,
Burn down one by one.
Listen for the hiss and crack
as you watch your neighbour run.
Watch the gunsmoke of my mind,
Heave a collective sigh.
You and I and all of us
Born to a clear grey sky,
A spherical cage of containment,
Here we mean to die.
Colours of you
Ill watch the transient light of a late winters dusk,
Escape through your fragile eyes,
Standing beneath the hue of a melting amber horizon,
The slightest breeze embracing your figure through your dress,
Your perfume whispering in the air around us
Ill listen to the way you laugh and how it paints the room in colour,
In honest shades of truth and earth that remind me that youre real,
You smile and turn thorns to silk against my skin,
As the melody of us begins to play in dream-like ballads
Now I understand you were born for moments like these,
Yours to make and mine to keep,
And ill realise.
The most fragile and poetic words
Will never do justice
To the way your beauty awes me.
I hope its warm in that womb,
Because its cold out here.
When your new eyes meet mine Ill greet them
With no lies. Just love.
Your goal in life was to be an echo
In the deep chrome canyons of you
Remember to remember me
Standing still in your past
How sexy it is
to hear an edge
of plastic being scratched
and then the whole thing torn
off behind you when you know that
a sexy girl is sitting behind you
on the inbound transit
the door ajar then wide open
My wounds are bleeding
And my skin will dry
In the pitch of the evening
Floating in your uncoloured eye
No need for candles
I gave you light the day you were born
Hold my coffin by the handles
Let the tears from water to blood transform
Location: Gold Coast, Australia
Cold After Midnight
A hand I take and pull through flowers comes complete with you. You followed me with the sun in your eyes, teetering skillfully past dead estuaries of forlorn affection to the place we called our own. Darkness ripens and diffuses your silhouette against the last of the escaping light, but I can still see your face flecked in cherries of blood. The freckles in your eyes sit perfectly aligned with mine. Jade. Porcelain. Luminous. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked, but you smiled so I did too. It was so especially cold but you undressed anyways, reminding me of a melody I once loved but cant remember.
Shadows sat beside us, your fingers feeling fine in mine. The resonance of distant sound now softened into the soft lull of silence. You told me how you killed a bluebird once, and how you cried when you knew not what to do with its lifeless wings. You loved contradictions didnt you? Then you looked at me and laughed. I tried to laugh back but I did not. I said nothing. You were a summers birdcage, a diorama of sympathies - my candle with no wick. All of us living, most of us dying you always believed that.
The ink of melancholy stains my hands and the sky becomes a medley of tempers so we sit in silence. We drank with unrequited sincerity and littered each other in confetti of cigarettes. Your eyes, with all their jaded sensibility look at me and say just a taste, but I look away. I never looked back. I never hesitated for a moment. A taste was never enough. You stood to follow, and I felt your breasts against my back, the silk of your whisper against my neck. You were curious but you needed courage for love.
By D.A McDonald
Welcome to my creative writing site! This webpage was created in order to showcase a small selection of writing that i intend to publish in the near future. Feel free to leave comments and criticisms - they will be used to give me a feel for the appetite of my chosen demographic. Thankyou for your time, i hope you enjoy what is on offer. Feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you have further inquiries.