Poem: White



A Poem by Sam Oliver [Eris]


The blood doesn’t matter

Not the red

Where it spatters

On skin, my skin

So pale, so ghaunt

Like my teeth

Bare in their grin


I laugh at the pain

At the broken, lost mane

Of crimson

Of sticky, sticky red

That drips down my arm

That drips down my head


He cries

No, shouts

Backs away as the gouts

Of laughter and blood

Turn to mud

On the ground at my feet


Doubled but smiling

I watch him retreat

Wiping my lips

I make me

Look neat

For the man in the blue

As puzzled as you

When I walk in the door

And topple

To the floor


Eyes still wide open

Staring and broken

Watching the dust rise in clouds near my face

Hearing the song

Of the wounded and wrong

That leaps from your throat-

The deep rhythm’d sirens

Play bass


All that I think

As I slide from the brink

As the breathing can fade to a hum

The light in my eyes

As dark as surprise

Is yet at its heart




©2012  Sam Oliver [Eris]



No new short story just yet. ❤ I’m still working on it, of course.

I’m actually feeling pretty good, but poetry is dark for me and always has been. I find it hard to write about cheerful things, even with so-called cheerful titles.  I guess I find the dark of it beautiful in a haunting sort of way. I must have an unhealthy obsession with the morbid. But that’s alright. ❤

Anyway, enjoy.


6 thoughts on “Poem: White

      • It’s your birthday and IDK what to give you so I pegged out this poem.
        a poem from the heart
        for Christmas
        comes not like thieves
        but friends
        slowly and are never gone too soon
        with love
        and pain
        and sorrow
        but today we center love
        and hope
        and pray
        to share a day
        with all of those you love
        its not the cake
        nor cream of ice
        that make your day
        for you
        though cake and ice do sound quite nice
        they make not your birthday
        so you seized the your cup
        and howled a mighty
        and with good friends you quaintly supped
        a toast to all your years

      • ooooh! Thank you! ❤ That's so sweet. Yeah, another birthday come and gone, and now I've a poem to show for it. ❤ 'n actually the liquor I managed to down was… uh… well, it was interesting. I'm really glad I'm not an alcohol sorta person. I suspect if it was better in general I'd appreciate it more. But it never tastes right for me. blah. x3

  1. However dark it may be.. you still named it ‘White’… Besides, you have written poetry that made me happy n inspired one from me.. I still love the way you write and it’s sad that I can not spend a lot of time here… I’ll read all your stuff ASAP
    Enjoyed Reading White
    Priyanka 🙂

    • I’m flattered by your attention~ simply flattered! If you could see me, oh, the rainbow hue my face doth turn!

      So sweet of you, Priyanka. ❤ I'm glad I can be an inspiration! It's one of my deepest, darkest most secretest desires, you know? I mean that seriously. As long as I can touch people with my poetry or prose I'll feel like my life is truly worth it.

      And I'll be checking out your stuff constantly too, you know. :3 You don't gotta feel obligated to stare at my stuff all day long. ❤ I love your exuberance though, I think it's as inspiring (at the least!) as you find some of my poems!


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