Hey Pulp poets! It’s Essine, the Pulp Poetry Editor, here to tell you about a super incredible new poet of the month: Our very own Bridgette! From breathtaking poems about death, relationships, and change, she has the perfect poems for all your March heartache or itches for new poetry. – xoxo, Essine
A declaration of benevolence for a boy deprived of affection who is urged to bare his heart.
“I don’t care” are just words verbalised in a manner seemingly self-convincing; a facade of strength when it is clear he lies in pieces, in despair, falling apart, trying as hard as he can to seem okay.
Mesmerising eyes express it all.
Occasionally one must hold their tongue for holding your tongue is easily done when one must deny feelings out of fear of facing rejection.
Because both are apprehensive in the face of emotion.
And she tries fervently to destroy walls so resolutely built with a motive of keeping out those with fabricated feelings.
While he didn’t have to try very hard to vaporise barricades of hers.
But how can it be demonstrated that her sole intention is to show him devotion?
Eloquent words falling from the mouth of a man
Make it hard not to notice the beauty of his face
As fibres stretch and pull to form a smile
Or while brows knit together.
It is everything I can do to hold off the burning
Under my skin –
The burning impulse
To reach for his hand
Or lean in closer.
The scent of his cologne simulating a false distance
Twitching in my topmost disc urges me over,
Just a few inches.
With each minuscule snap
Of the tissue lining the very tip of my spine
I find myself unable to maintain
The position that I have.
Giving in to the abductor that had been yearning
To break away,
My neck twists
To the right
While my conscious mind
The adductor to take over.
SMOTHER THEN DROWN
I’m sorry that I smothered you
By loving you when you didn’t want to be loved.
The depths of your eyes just leave me lost in my mind.
Perhaps it’s not the right time
But I can’t seem to shut this off.
A touch that shocks right through me
And sets my soul on fire.
No amount of words to show to you
Your effect on me.
Just one word
That might make you flee.
VINGT ET UN (TWENTY-ONE)
Cold fingers, cold glass.
Odd how the daily routine transformed
from normal to haunting
in seconds flat.
In an instant her face filled with stress,
eyes a window to things falling apart.
Slow movements made it seem
as if time had stopped.
Such a blank look on her face
made the heartbreak evident.
The drop of her fragile heart
could be felt with one glance.
Through the halls she moved
tears clearly blocking her vision.
Pacing back and forth only caused
the small room to close in tighter.
Voices; a jumbled mess, actually,
turned to white noise
rising louder and louder.
Still the ticking of the clock
stood out as immensely as her pain.
Such a sorrowful sound her crying was,
as it had appeared that she was
no longer breathing.
How could it be true?
unbearable heaviness descended.
Her knees giving out,
the flowing of tears continuing
as she sank
to the ground.
Twenty-one is not supposed to be a year to die,
It is supposed to be the year to live.
IN ECHOES OF DESPAIR
Things one meant to say
Overthinking, overloading, overtired
Controlled moves carry such grace
While uncontrolled thoughts
Ruin the game
No impulse to perfect
A saviour dousing the flames
What a mess
The smoke rises higher
Just what should happen;
Is anybody there?
Words to know, from Musculature:
Fibres – thin pieces that form muscle and nerve // Disc – round, flat cartilage between back bones // Abductor – muscle that moves a body part away from normal positioning //Adductor – muscle that moves a body part back to normal positioning
Bridgette Annalyse (Jameson) is a young Choctaw living in a Los Angeles suburb. Her passion for all art forms have brought her to the zine, where she’s also an editor. She enjoys art collaborations, talking about rad things, and Psychology. You can find her on twitter, facebook, check out her blog, or reach her via email email@example.com! A major thank you is given from Bridgette to Saffa and TheScratchMan for the art, including the featured image by the latter artist. Bio writing is also generally done by herself but in third person~
Thanks so much for reading Poet of the Month, and thanks to Bridgette for the fantastic poems! If you know someone (Your bff! Your cousin! Yourself!) who would make a great Poet of the Month, feel free to send all poetry to firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com! We love reading your submissions, no matter what they’re for! P.S.– We’ll be taking new Late Night Poetry Club submissions soon, so keep a look-out!