GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
two : American Invasion
deleted
deleted
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007 Challenge
- Thread starter PandoraGlitters
- Start date
PandoraGlitters
Sandy Survivor
- Joined
- Sep 23, 2007
- Posts
- 2,457
Wonderful run, Neo. Finish when you get those last three. Would be great to read. (Are you doing NaPoWriMo? I would but am going to Paris on Friday, and can't make any promises. Might do the 30/30 in May).
Tzara and Tristesse, some really promising poetry there. Will reread these with great pleasure. Beautiful Avatar, too, Tess.
Tzara and Tristesse, some really promising poetry there. Will reread these with great pleasure. Beautiful Avatar, too, Tess.
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
three : Bellocq
gone somewhere else,
gone somewhere else,
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GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
four : Stepfather
No romantic, he read the obituary,
thought of the widow. His drowned friend,
her husband, being the common link.
He had felt a pang jealousy
when the invitation arrived,
ignored it as he held her on the day.
Now he saw his way,
she would be alone, lonely,
a child bride with children.
He would be her saviour.
Her eyes bruised by grief,
veiled in shock,
her children bewildered
by the absence,
the whispering silence.
The wedding was a civil one.
They couldn’t love him
any more than he loved them
or she loved him.
There were no angry gestures,
abusive words but no loving either,
no hugs from him just
judgment and disappointed eyes.
No romantic, he read the obituary,
thought of the widow. His drowned friend,
her husband, being the common link.
He had felt a pang jealousy
when the invitation arrived,
ignored it as he held her on the day.
Now he saw his way,
she would be alone, lonely,
a child bride with children.
He would be her saviour.
Her eyes bruised by grief,
veiled in shock,
her children bewildered
by the absence,
the whispering silence.
The wedding was a civil one.
They couldn’t love him
any more than he loved them
or she loved him.
There were no angry gestures,
abusive words but no loving either,
no hugs from him just
judgment and disappointed eyes.
H
hmmnmm
Guest
001
Abundant causes for employing yellows
are perfectly understandable, in light
of marches endured, with all getting mashed
together: beery-eyed, garlic-breath
lecher inclusive. Oh no, no flying off
to prate or blurt or blab name or whom, since
per the garlic, the beer, and all of the asses,
only the deluded will believe
he is immune. And delusions - delusions - well,
delusions… Delusion goes down best
and works neater on a warm day.
This wanted to be about yellows,
the abundant causes found
to employ yellows
that are not all cautionary. Cabs, for one,
and umbrellas and clothes that will come
in the summer, matching the music.
Abundant causes for employing yellows
are perfectly understandable, in light
of marches endured, with all getting mashed
together: beery-eyed, garlic-breath
lecher inclusive. Oh no, no flying off
to prate or blurt or blab name or whom, since
per the garlic, the beer, and all of the asses,
only the deluded will believe
he is immune. And delusions - delusions - well,
delusions… Delusion goes down best
and works neater on a warm day.
This wanted to be about yellows,
the abundant causes found
to employ yellows
that are not all cautionary. Cabs, for one,
and umbrellas and clothes that will come
in the summer, matching the music.
H
hmmnmm
Guest
002
...........
...........
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H
hmmnmm
Guest
003
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-------
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Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,610
n:6
Shibari
Only when I have tied
the last knot can I step away
and see your body
as different from a white oak
or a supple young birch I mean to train
in its insistent growth.
Then, the loops of hemp lose
themselves into background and I
refocus on the fine surface
of your opened, pristine skin,
where I delight in all the odds and ends
I may now, in leisure, stroke.
Shibari
Only when I have tied
the last knot can I step away
and see your body
as different from a white oak
or a supple young birch I mean to train
in its insistent growth.
Then, the loops of hemp lose
themselves into background and I
refocus on the fine surface
of your opened, pristine skin,
where I delight in all the odds and ends
I may now, in leisure, stroke.
GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
five : Easter visitor
Calliope came to our feeder today
ending her flight from down Mexico way.
Satisfied thirst was first, arriving as if rehearsed,
the winter residence quickly dispersed
as she hustles them off all courage and bristle.
Now she seeks webs and last year’s soft thistle,
Animal fur, colourful threads forming her tiny nest.
Only then will she settle and rest.
Apologies - that's truly awful.
Calliope came to our feeder today
ending her flight from down Mexico way.
Satisfied thirst was first, arriving as if rehearsed,
the winter residence quickly dispersed
as she hustles them off all courage and bristle.
Now she seeks webs and last year’s soft thistle,
Animal fur, colourful threads forming her tiny nest.
Only then will she settle and rest.
Apologies - that's truly awful.
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H
hmmnmm
Guest
004
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GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
six : What Tzara said.....
Truth be told
She was my grandmother,
mother of my father,
so the small girl that was me
never thought of her as
“an old wife” but she had the tales.
Some had grains of truth
but others beggared belief.
Once, when a golden tongue
of egg juice licked down the
smoothness and approached
the blue egg china cup
I licked it thinking “waste not,
want not” in her voice. She snapped
the warm buttery taste away
“never lick the outside! You’ll get warts.”
This will have to do - it's been a busy few days.
Truth be told
She was my grandmother,
mother of my father,
so the small girl that was me
never thought of her as
“an old wife” but she had the tales.
Some had grains of truth
but others beggared belief.
Once, when a golden tongue
of egg juice licked down the
smoothness and approached
the blue egg china cup
I licked it thinking “waste not,
want not” in her voice. She snapped
the warm buttery taste away
“never lick the outside! You’ll get warts.”
This will have to do - it's been a busy few days.
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GuiltyPleasure
AWTSS
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
- Posts
- 14,131
seven : Deliverence
Released onto softness for the first time
they were tentative, fearful of the alien floor.
Silently observing, heads turning this way,
that way but slowly as if unbelieving of
what they see, feel, hear.
They were sad ambassadors of hen-dom,
drooping combs, pallid beaks and eyes.
A life spent in wire cells too small to turn in
hadn’t stopped them from tearing out
feathers in frustration to reveal pink skin.
We step away, watch them huddle as their
courage grows and small, nervous steps
let them realise the truth, they’re free.
Now, when we collect the plentiful eggs
bright eyes watch from under high red combs
and the pimpled pink flesh is disappearing
under glossy new feathers.
Released onto softness for the first time
they were tentative, fearful of the alien floor.
Silently observing, heads turning this way,
that way but slowly as if unbelieving of
what they see, feel, hear.
They were sad ambassadors of hen-dom,
drooping combs, pallid beaks and eyes.
A life spent in wire cells too small to turn in
hadn’t stopped them from tearing out
feathers in frustration to reveal pink skin.
We step away, watch them huddle as their
courage grows and small, nervous steps
let them realise the truth, they’re free.
Now, when we collect the plentiful eggs
bright eyes watch from under high red combs
and the pimpled pink flesh is disappearing
under glossy new feathers.
Neonurotic
Share some skin
- Joined
- Apr 22, 2011
- Posts
- 1,405
1: Mourning Night
So that I didn't know it was day,
you hid the robins of the early morning
because the night slipped away
like silk on your skin and satin on the bed.
When the stars fade, we both know
it's time for me to go.
Baby, you can't eclipse the sun, it too big
and what's between us is too.
So wide, the distance makes me feel
lonely lying next to you.
You got to know by now, I want
more then sighs in the dark.
We should live the love all day, if not
that then may our dusk never fall again.
.
So that I didn't know it was day,
you hid the robins of the early morning
because the night slipped away
like silk on your skin and satin on the bed.
When the stars fade, we both know
it's time for me to go.
Baby, you can't eclipse the sun, it too big
and what's between us is too.
So wide, the distance makes me feel
lonely lying next to you.
You got to know by now, I want
more then sighs in the dark.
We should live the love all day, if not
that then may our dusk never fall again.
.
H
hmmnmm
Guest
005
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H
hmmnmm
Guest
006
Upstairs is currently closed
and will remain closed
until - hm? No.
Cleaning is not the closure cause.
Cleaners went into it and applied
mop, cleansers, and muscle,
so it is quite clean.
Upstairs is closed
for another reason
that is confidential.
Highly confidential.
Closure is in effect
until the cute but somewhat
pesky, mixed-pedigree rodent
pokes through with its nose
and its lips shall part and shall
upchuck traditional entrails
our analysis crew will cook
in the kettles in the kitchen
so all will be informed as to
how hot or how humid, how humidly
sticky the weeks on which every
dream embarking shall be.
Oh sure. Sure. Complaint
may be lodged, however, it is only fair
to repeat the rather stale
public announcement so ones not aware
have no excuse to be not aware,
a small matter about the floor
of complaints. No the floor
does not speak. Doesn’t gab.
But it is the place where they
who read complaints,
do their complaint
reading. Well, not long ago,
they put on a celebration
for one remarkable complaint
reader who’d crossed into the class
of seniority, and, ha, well, just to say,
if that night’s antics and the standup
routines could be made into a movie,
no more complaints
would they have to read
but laugh at as they relay them
to that magnificent shredder downstairs.
Upstairs is currently closed
and will remain closed
until - hm? No.
Cleaning is not the closure cause.
Cleaners went into it and applied
mop, cleansers, and muscle,
so it is quite clean.
Upstairs is closed
for another reason
that is confidential.
Highly confidential.
Closure is in effect
until the cute but somewhat
pesky, mixed-pedigree rodent
pokes through with its nose
and its lips shall part and shall
upchuck traditional entrails
our analysis crew will cook
in the kettles in the kitchen
so all will be informed as to
how hot or how humid, how humidly
sticky the weeks on which every
dream embarking shall be.
Oh sure. Sure. Complaint
may be lodged, however, it is only fair
to repeat the rather stale
public announcement so ones not aware
have no excuse to be not aware,
a small matter about the floor
of complaints. No the floor
does not speak. Doesn’t gab.
But it is the place where they
who read complaints,
do their complaint
reading. Well, not long ago,
they put on a celebration
for one remarkable complaint
reader who’d crossed into the class
of seniority, and, ha, well, just to say,
if that night’s antics and the standup
routines could be made into a movie,
no more complaints
would they have to read
but laugh at as they relay them
to that magnificent shredder downstairs.
H
hmmnmm
Guest
007
,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,
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PandoraGlitters
Sandy Survivor
- Joined
- Sep 23, 2007
- Posts
- 2,457
Fantastic hmmnmm. You have a lot to work with in this run. You dug in and came up with some really novel images and poems that hit on many levels. I hope you come back to these and work them. And Wow, Neo. You, too. Your Mourning is so evocative. Interesting motifs.
H
hmmnmm
Guest
And you're almost too kind, PDG. #4 is an oldie I found, had forgot all about it, liked it enough to play around with it. #3 was sketched out last summer - still ain't quite there, but I feel something I like when I think about it. All the others are very new. Got in the mood lately. Thank you again. Great exercise thread. Glad you made it. Finally had a flash of insight in figuring out what I really like and I'm all jacked up to play around with it. Maybe here or the 30 thread. Thanks again.
RedButterflySlut
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2012
- Posts
- 285
001
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
Your beauty doesn't matter if he doesn't see it,
Even if they tell you you're Helen of Troy, you're Medusa in the mirror,
And your features are turning to stone.
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
It's high school forever, time doesn't move forward.
Every imperfection is a death sentence,
If I was quieter, skinnier, prettier, quicker to spread my legs,
Would he love me?
Would he think about me?
No.
When you're in love, rejected
Your friends give you advice, they console you,
And get frustrated when it doesn't help,
Because every love is different, unexplainable and unrepeatable,
Unrelatable and undefined,
They want to help, but you're alone.
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
It defines you- breaks you, or makes you
You're a ticking clock, a waiting time bomb or a butterfly learning to fly.
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
Your beauty doesn't matter if he doesn't see it,
Even if they tell you you're Helen of Troy, you're Medusa in the mirror,
And your features are turning to stone.
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
It's high school forever, time doesn't move forward.
Every imperfection is a death sentence,
If I was quieter, skinnier, prettier, quicker to spread my legs,
Would he love me?
Would he think about me?
No.
When you're in love, rejected
Your friends give you advice, they console you,
And get frustrated when it doesn't help,
Because every love is different, unexplainable and unrepeatable,
Unrelatable and undefined,
They want to help, but you're alone.
When you're in love, and he doesn't love you back,
It defines you- breaks you, or makes you
You're a ticking clock, a waiting time bomb or a butterfly learning to fly.
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PandoraGlitters
Sandy Survivor
- Joined
- Sep 23, 2007
- Posts
- 2,457
Welcome to the 007 thread, RedButterflySuit. Good start. I certainly can relate to that feeling, though it has been awhile since I let that bother me. My best friend told me, before she passed away, 1/3 of the people are going to love you, 1/3 will hate you and 1/3 won't give a toss one way or the other. That understanding made life a whole lot easier.
Look forward to reading more of your poems.
--Dora
Look forward to reading more of your poems.
--Dora
Neonurotic
Share some skin
- Joined
- Apr 22, 2011
- Posts
- 1,405
I should refrain from posting in this thread until I have more consistent inspiration, or else I'm cluttering. Thanks Pando for the comment on my last attempt. At least it was a good piece of litter to start.
RedButterflySlut
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2012
- Posts
- 285
002
Thankyou for the reply
I'm very sorry to hear about your friend passing away, so difficult to deal with. I've been there a few times.
I appreciate your advice, and normally it doesn't get me down when someone doesn't return my feelings. It's just this one boy that gets to me. I think a lot of people have 'the one that got away' or at least a person that it takes a long time to get over.
Poem Two
The Runner
I'm not graceful.
I'm not the goddess Nike, or the fleet footed Atlanta,
My running turns my arms red and my breath ragged,
I am not talented, I am not fast,
But I push on, determined to break new.
Each muscle burns, a brewing nausea grips my stomach,
I keep my mind blank: This is only me against myself,
Another inch, another minute, another mile-
I focus on what I can do, and celebrate it
Listening to judgement is only distraction.
I run on like meditation,
No clocks, no timers, no trainers,
No need to have validation of my dedication,
Just euphoria, and a burning that tells me
I have made myself better.
Thankyou for the reply
I'm very sorry to hear about your friend passing away, so difficult to deal with. I've been there a few times.I appreciate your advice, and normally it doesn't get me down when someone doesn't return my feelings. It's just this one boy that gets to me. I think a lot of people have 'the one that got away' or at least a person that it takes a long time to get over.
Poem Two
The Runner
I'm not graceful.
I'm not the goddess Nike, or the fleet footed Atlanta,
My running turns my arms red and my breath ragged,
I am not talented, I am not fast,
But I push on, determined to break new.
Each muscle burns, a brewing nausea grips my stomach,
I keep my mind blank: This is only me against myself,
Another inch, another minute, another mile-
I focus on what I can do, and celebrate it
Listening to judgement is only distraction.
I run on like meditation,
No clocks, no timers, no trainers,
No need to have validation of my dedication,
Just euphoria, and a burning that tells me
I have made myself better.
RedButterflySlut
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2012
- Posts
- 285
003
Makeup Made Up
I scrub the rough skin form my body,
Make it smooth and soft for his touch-
Remove my imperfections,
The things that make me stand out.
Every inch of me has been transformed,
From my iron-straightened black hair,
To the holes he will use so roughly,
To my feet with toenails painted bright pink.
My effort makes me feel disposable,
My imperfections that make me stand out are hidden
I'm just a girl.
When I make love to other women, I love their imperfections-
The way they miss a few hairs when shaving,
Cracked nails, bare lips, unpolished faces.
I am enamored by the scent of their wet lips,
The natural musk and lovely vulnerability.
Imperfect. Beautiful.
But he wants my insides cleaned,
The natural scent soaked away and perfumed,
Every inch of body hair removed, no tolerance of imperfection,
I feel like the image of a woman, with no soul inside.
He wants me quiet, he likes it best when I don't question him.
Nothing vulnerable, or real. Just disposable.
My hair is perfectly done, my lips a vulgar pink,
I wear a short dress, and five inch heels that show off my feet.
I miss feeling of being an awkward duckling,
Curly hair in a halo around me,
My skirt too long and shirt too loose,
This new girl in the mirror is not me.
Polished, poised, perfumed and scentless,
I am the slut he wants.
Makeup Made Up
I scrub the rough skin form my body,
Make it smooth and soft for his touch-
Remove my imperfections,
The things that make me stand out.
Every inch of me has been transformed,
From my iron-straightened black hair,
To the holes he will use so roughly,
To my feet with toenails painted bright pink.
My effort makes me feel disposable,
My imperfections that make me stand out are hidden
I'm just a girl.
When I make love to other women, I love their imperfections-
The way they miss a few hairs when shaving,
Cracked nails, bare lips, unpolished faces.
I am enamored by the scent of their wet lips,
The natural musk and lovely vulnerability.
Imperfect. Beautiful.
But he wants my insides cleaned,
The natural scent soaked away and perfumed,
Every inch of body hair removed, no tolerance of imperfection,
I feel like the image of a woman, with no soul inside.
He wants me quiet, he likes it best when I don't question him.
Nothing vulnerable, or real. Just disposable.
My hair is perfectly done, my lips a vulgar pink,
I wear a short dress, and five inch heels that show off my feet.
I miss feeling of being an awkward duckling,
Curly hair in a halo around me,
My skirt too long and shirt too loose,
This new girl in the mirror is not me.
Polished, poised, perfumed and scentless,
I am the slut he wants.
Last edited:
Tzara
Continental
- Joined
- Aug 2, 2005
- Posts
- 7,610
I've liked your poems, RBS, especially this last one. Welcome to the Poetry Forum.
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