Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Delaney Marie Dec 2013
It's as if my hands were created with the sole purpose of touching you.
Take that away and watch as they intertwine with one another,
assuming a posture of prayer,
pleading with God to bring
you back to
me.
Mollie Grant Apr 2016
Romantically speaking,
I am not very romantic at all.

My spine curves and
sprouts forth a
humerus that holds
to a radius and an ulna
with metacarpal bones
dangling
downward
reaching for something to
anchor themselves to.

I am not very romantic at all,
it's just that my bones have flourished
curling around you.
Elioinai Aug 2015
My wrist is laid
down
alone
upon a table
large well formed feet
visible beneath the glass sheet
that's chilling to the skin
blood recedes from distant hand
until it gathers in a puddle
between the ulna and radius
a bruise of vague percussions
spreading up my little metacarpal
as it smashes vainly upon resistant stable
trying to steady the dancing toes beneath
a barrier so clear
the dust from last week's walk from work
are seen around a sole
that won't decide
where it wants to go
or if going can be defined
while blurred blue engulfs the cloudy witness
to my pointless movements
ontop
beneath
behind
the glass table
chukwu christian Nov 2014
With humility heart
Kindness jungle through stars
Pointing accommodation in distance
Revenging mind of resolution
World babies milk suffering
Eyes pouring of anger.
people of different society

sword always blood eye
swing if man betrays
if speak we create
revolting mind of past
irokos of enslavement
when shall middle fingers
equals other? creator metacarpal
future a bird in the sky.
a pain in my heart
Lexie  Aug 2019
Innocent
Lexie Aug 2019
Plead guilty
For my innocence
When I am mute
I have a bad habit
Of forgetting where I am
Map of skin
Freckle islands sinking
In a pool of sweat
Salty oceans
I have no way to cross
Bridges of arms
Crumbling in uncharted waters
Mast of spine
Scoliosis of will
Tethered ligaments of indifference
Rails made of keratin
Clinging together with
Iceberg cold hands
Tearing apart
A home built
In this cave
A hollow cavern of chest
All that is left
Climbing Incan temple steps
With leviathan limbs
Up the ribcage of my back
A tower with two windows
One doorway in
I have never found a way out
Pulling vines down
Over my ears
I don't want to hear
Music anymore
A trap door tongue
Under the floorboards of my teeth
Lips nailed in submission
Captive, it won't let me out
I have no leverage
Against myself
No femur to pry
Into an iron heart
Veins and arteries wrapping themselves
Around my humourous
Metacarpal judges
Presiding over a court of ligaments
There is no connection
Cartilage sentences, unspecified
How harsh, how long
I tell you
I am innocent
Guilt tears me apart
The gavel falls
Greeting the back of my hand
Bones break
Calcium powder
Mixing with marrow
I am innocent
I am broken
I will heal
Dan McGowan  Jun 2015
EvenKeel
Dan McGowan Jun 2015
slanderous silk sac
shaved and crushed
work of olden theways
when metacarpal tightens
look for mandible to snap
strawdawg sippin’ smoothie
******* hithemark
when love is all yousee
war is what youneed
to even keel, your crook’d beam
Sometimes **** happens and we we have to right our own ship.
King!
My coronation was a trial by fire.
A heavy orchestration of pain casted upon me was my test of ascension
mechanisms of a divine imagining
that which has stretched me beyond thresholds of innocent humanity presented me another edge to my identity
sharper
Cutting deeply into my flesh, that divides like the most tender choice
yet
teaching me equally valuable lessons  
furthering my progression, in life.

The throne is uncomfortable to me.
They lament to me, constantly, that I will “grow into it”
this, abominable seat of my dubious existence here
it’s vast backrest, comprised of a fallible love
petrified skeletal appendages – arms
and various metacarpal complete with long, gnarled, and bony fingers.
It does, whenever I should take a seat, reach into my back, to give a malicious massage to my soul, yet, it does become a shield, of sorts, protecting me from the multitude of tormented souls that fall behind me.
My back
it becomes stressed
all the while I am approached by the denizen of our lower realm.

In such
I am a mastermind to the humbled classes
the discarded region of society’s social classes,
wherein the poor persists, without fruition, in attempting to escape a den of poverty,
akin to the various ways that obstreperous children may try to exit a room secured by vigilant adults
just to reach a room filled with never-ending sugar.
This realm, it is where I am directed to guide.

My crown
oh
it is cumbersome and burdensome upon my crest
heavy is this appointed ornament
to me it is a compliment to the curse
to them – it is a highly important adornment.
Unbeknownst, however, to the masses that wander under moonlight shows,
it slows my pace
akin to stepping double-time through moonlit painted snow
cold.
At times, it causes me to perceive that I am entertaining them,
a frost king
it penetrates my flesh and bones
corrupting my other sanities
now, no doubting or second guessing
hands, that gripped my head many moons prior delivering me from my greatest vessel, were immediately replaced
Excruciating!
I can recall
the unfathomable pain that saturated my newly emerged head
crowning into light that glared proudly from high above - divine!
My departure from a blessed, blood and sweat drenched ***** concluded with them crowning me.

I stand triumphant still
Moses would smile feverishly upon beholding the liars I have killed
Souls that I have saved.

She graduated the highest of class
remove my concern and the drugs would have taken her away
he could have walked away
a worker with no employer
his jobless gains
were too weak to sustain.
The child was a storm between he and the weary lover
filthy, she always thought
lack of maintenance and how the sheets wore their stains
though, he never gave up
his loyalty to his firm – begotten her diamond rings
six mouths that, gleefully, devour his sufficient gains.
lo
remove my torment!
That he could behold my struggle
lo, if I had failed to set an example he would have walked away

Oh!
My throne and crown are brutal to me
agonizing
acknowledged
appreciated
in life I will persist to possess my position gracefully
children now grow as men of learned minds
therein those gloomy alleys of sordid squalor
I serve with, merely, the shards of a broken, yet, celestial knowledge
and, I pray, the most high father will accept my offerings, from my most meagerly harvests.

Lo
most high father
my coronation was a trial defined by struggles
of survival
of the most furious fires!
I am ready!
I think.

Jonah Singleton 2024 ©️
Aya Baker  Apr 2014
Untitled
Aya Baker Apr 2014
i have always had
an unparalleled fascination
for the human body.
human anatomy to me, it seems
draws me in
like a moth to a candle.
it mesmerizes me,
to see drawings of phalanges and metacarpal bones,
all covered
like a secret lover
by smooth, knitted skin.
romeo, where art thou?
tracing pictures of the aorta and veins and arteries, i hope-
the sensual twists and turns of a capillary should fill the page.
let me bask in deltoid and trapezius muscles,
make my way to the clavicle.
let the beauty of the fragility and the strength of bodies,
divine and heaven-sent,
engross me for the decades to come:
to admire and enchant and enthral;
to hold spellbound and captivate and always intrigue me.
Bodies are beautiful, simply because of the way they *are*. And if you self-identify as ugly, then hey, you're still the diggity bomb! But I genuinely do love how bodies /are/ and I think everybody should, too.
my knuckles are a sandpaper
stained with cherry wine
a muddied grape metacarpal
as talented as the devil,
yet naive like a child
Etréstles was suspended in a tomb in the necropolis. There was a great quantity of accumulated air enclosed in the moldy walls, with populations of specters that moved translucent by other populations that walked inconsistent and of proto masonry, that in some resembled pink marbles on some striated slabs, letting pale rhizomes slip away, under a oblique land that was manifested meager on an unstable pedestal. Adhered to this exteriorization were Kanti and Etréstles, who, in their hydrothermal paragenesis, lay as a petro form at a great range of heat, making periodic effluvia of their Devonian geology; peering into a carbonization of the sedimentary rocks, which they attributed their attention to when remaining in the favorable climatic zones that made episodes on their hydro-thermal sediments, leading to the carbonization of the surface of the necropolis with micas and serpentines, to cool down, in the fields of the natural self-sacrificers that resisted the effect of the heat generated by the Zig Zag Universe, etching each other on pyrites and graphites. With a purpose of compactness, which increases and extends the widening of the enclosure to the emanations of the channeling that in the traces, it will be on linens that will come in the first charges of the homily from Tsambika, and then from Mount Hymetus in Athens, follow proliferating in populated hives of bees ******* in its forest, towards fragrant necropolis, in causes of the vapor of its magnificent flowers and herbs; so much so, that from the honey-paved lipoids, some spectra will emerge from being toxic, longing for the strigilae or S-curved striae (reverse or straight), copied from pagan sarcophagi.

Thousands after miles, centuries after centuries, adorning themselves in the boxes on the outer fronts of the tombs, almost as in constant Constantine-Hellenic brilliance. With their flat covers, they poured over them the devastating trisomy, whose extra diploid organism chromosomes, however from that aberration, would be parity of all beings tripled in their homologous chromosomal hereditary complement. Generating disproportions that in their execrable variation, would be destined to the patio of falling over them, in three inverted marble patios, revealing only some in their extremities, appreciating them with semi-covered figures and in relief, filling again by genetic trisomy for gentile practices to take them to Vas Auric Cristiano. Faced with such famous empyrean and reliefs, the Universe that also agreed, with greater conferred the spiral, towards the locus of the sepulcher chromosome, predicting lights on capitals in Theoskepasti, for goods that collect centuries in a hundred collected lilies, go where the imperfections, but already cut from its liliorum, in unknown metacarpal hands.
Kímolos
Hellenika Necropolis
James Floss Sep 2018
A muscle in my metacarpal twitches
A metallic smell pervades the air
I think I hear a high-pitched whining
Hairs rise on my arms and neck

Heart rate slows
Thrumming in my ears
Pores perspiring
Pupils dilating

Something’s coming…
Or someone…
(Or something wrong?)
What!

Flight or fight has me
A finger twitches and
Eyes flicker
Stay or go?

STAY!
STAND!
BALANCE STANCE!
PREVAIL!

— The End —