A Short Collection of Trashy Poems

[Haunted]

high rise


I know it
you are stuck again
in an elevator
going sideways

until you unstuck
I’ll stretch out
on the ledge
the way you stretch
the truth

[Hawkman]

Sorry Haunted, I missed this when you posted it. As always, a succinct and and minimalist piece, expressing much in few words. You might want to address S2 L1 though, as there seems to be a typo: "you're" rather than "you," perhaps.

Always good to see an offering from you.

Live and be well - H

[DieterM]

Yes, I second Hackman, good piece again! I didn't see where H. had noticed the mistake—I took "stuck" for a past participle at first and found it perfectly normal to create the verb "unstuck". Then, after some mulling (2 seconds at least), I realized the present tense would have to be "stick", which I found odd, too. And after looking up this word that I thought I knew perfectly well, I found out "stuck" (as used in "to get/to be stuck") was an adjective. So of course, in straight grammar terms, "unstuck" as a verb is not possible. Yet, as everybody knows, "straight" is not what characterizes me best (lol), so I have to confess I rather like the oddness of "unstuck". Or should you use "unstick"?
This is the best occasion, too, to thank you, Haunted, for having commented on my latest poem (the title of which i've even forgotten, but you do remember the "whatever day", I guess). Didn't find the time to answer and say thanks.
And at the same time, I'd like to wish you and Hawkman and Auntie and all my other LitNet-friends and -acquaintances wonderful holidays, a merry Xmas to those who are concerned (wouldn't want to anger my non-Christian friends) and a happy, happy New Year!

[Haunted]

the man in the red suit


the mall closes
and I catch up with Santa
wish for a small gift
a little happiness

he says its elusive
for people like us
the boxes always arrive
torn or crushed

he says he is Greg
we dance to silent night
eggnog on his fake beard
gets in my hair

[Hawkman]

Haunted! It's been more than a year... But here you make a triumphant return with this little seasonal gem. Your expression is as crisp as ever. Good to see you posting. Don't be a stranger :)

[YesNo]

Nice poem about Santa. The receivable gifts are those able to be given.

[Haunted]

Hawk, couldn't believe it's been that long. So good you're here with your usual insightful comments.

Y/N, thanks for the comment, and so well put. Did make me think deeper into the idea of giving.

Really appreciated both your comments.

[qimissung]

That is a little gem, Haunted, short, crisp, with a slightly skewed point of view-pure Haunted!

[DieterM]

Oh yes, jeez, time's a-fleetin'… but glad I took a glimpse online only to stumble upon your gem. I second all the other opinions: pure Haunted, Haunted-style :-) xo

[Haunted]

Qim, thanks for the kind words, just what I needed to get started on the next one. Have a happy new year and come back soon.

Dieter, thanks and please take more glimpses in the new year, cheers! xoxo

[Haunted]

re: high rise, I fell off the tracks; belated thanks.

Hawk, good catch. Counting on a comment and help from you always.

Dieter, hmmmm let’s see… unstuck is like undead, a made up word but feels right. I wouldn’t mind you getting stuck in here and offer comments : )

[Haunted]

a beach in Maui

black sand happens
when ejected lava
melts like dirty hot syrup
hardens on its way down
then plunges into water

it sticks everywhere
we trace on glossy dark sweat
make full body tattoos on a whim
shower off when we want
no lifelong commitment

[Hawkman]

Hi Haunt. The second stanza is much stronger than the first. The description of the advent of black sand is actually irrelevant to the meat of the piece and it does not read well. I'd discard all but the first two words of it, which I'd use to open the second stanza. You'd then have a crisp coherent whole which conveys it's pithy sentiment of observational comment coupled with that touch of bitterness and regret.

A much purer distillation of Haunted verse!

Live and be well - H

[Haunted]

Hawk, love your version! I am currently reading spacetime and quantum mechanics, my mind is on matter, that was how the first part came about. Some commitment issues but mostly carefree. Thanks for the critique as always, invaluable!





a beach in Maui

black sand sticks everywhere
we trace on glossy dark sweat
make full body tattoos on a whim
shower off when we want
no lifelong commitment

[Jerrybaldy]

Haunted you are becoming Prince like in your brevity. Your posts are always a must read. That's a,lot said in five short lines. Screwdriver *

[Haunted]

Jerry so glad you are here *clang*

[prendrelemick]

the man in the red suit


the mall closes
and I catch up with Santa
wish for a small gift
a little happiness

he says its elusive
for people like us
the boxes always arrive
torn or crushed

he says he is Greg
we dance to silent night
eggnog on his fake beard
gets in my hair



Just found this. It's really good, compact but wide, full of hints and nuances. I want more - but that would spoil it.

[Haunted]

prendrelemick I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for commenting!

[AuntShecky]

Good to see you posting on the NitLet agan, Haunted

[Haunted]

Hi Auntie long time no see. Enjoyed your new iteration of NitLet. See you around!

[Haunted]

remembering Kilauea

you open up
like a mountain would
you want me to let you in
the way you have
I’m on the verge
the earth’s paunch churn
the lava lake swells
water closer closer closer
can’t
I’m afraid

[Hawkman]

Hi Haunted,

I seem to have missed this. Must've been posted during my apostasy.

I can't help thinking that there's a typo in l6. Shouldn't that be "churns?" It doesn't quite make sense the way it is.

Apart from that, the poem is evocative. It puts you in the moment, that seductive few seconds of fear and wonder, the 'imp of the perverse' that tempts the will to oblivion. But at the same time, there are the polar opposites of fire and water, the lava lake conjurs the image of seething liquid red hot rock, but where does the water come from? It draws nearer. Is the narrator running from the fire, the consuming red heat of the mountain, closer to the sea which threatens to consume her if she jumps? Is the fiery mountain the red devil and the water, the deep blue sea? The narrator is trapped, and robbed of volition.

Interesting. You have earth, fire and water, all of which smother, suffocate. There is no air...

The narrator is robbed of the freedom to breathe.

Nice one, Spooky.

[Jerrybaldy]

Come on home Haunted x

[Jerrybaldy]

This place needs you x