The Butty List - use it or lose it

chipbutty said:

My flab has never been more ghasted
as I stumble from the room,
to desecrate is monstrous
and creates a sooty bloom.
It's base and so improper
is the way I reasoned this,
and my head now spins celestial
in a spiral far from bliss.
Call me modest, if it helps you,
with insouciant rebel stare,
but the cicatrix created
makes a blemish hard to bear.
Away you rabid lamia
to your festering auric lair
before I mash you into pieces
with your limpid luminous hair.


well another brilliant response to the challenge, annie, using 16 of the 19 words on the list.
it seems only fit and proper that your write reflects your favour for form, and does what a lot of metered poetry does - makes something seem lighter than, on deeper reading, it really is. this can serve to magnify the darker undertones, once revealed. and it doesn't surprise me that there are dark notes throughout this; it's something i've noticed in many of your writes.

really liked your use of 'sooty bloom' too, annie.

Click to expand...

ninianne said:

when you called me lamia
I wasn’t sure what you meant
or whether I’d heard you right

the reasoned argument of a doryphore
(which I also insist I am not)
shows that
I am no monstrous sorceress queen
with a snake’s tail
and the most improper habit of eating my babies
I do not prophesy
or desecrate my own eyes
or devour a celestial being’s luminous heart
I have never even seduced young men
and suckled the blood and life from them in my passion

no, my magics are of a more modest sort
and the changes I’ve made
as I’ve manipulated your base elements to a more auric character
were small
and for our benefit
the necessary pains that you’ve felt as I have reopened
the cicatrix left by the passage of a clumsier woman’s knife-edged words
were meant for your healing
and I bled with you
even when my countenance was hard and insouciant
(you needed my strength
not a pitying sympathy)

once upon a time
you promised to love me forever
and I believed you without question
but the fires die and the answers spiral away into the dark
I am the wounded one now
you don’t trust me
and I stumble in the ashes
sooty and alone
my confidence and power now a mash of doubt and uncertainty
as you leave me with your last tmesis
just go away. I don’t need you any-damn-more.

Click to expand...

Remec said:

Misadventure

Could not be helped,
falling down that luminous celestial spiral
to sprawl at its sooty base and
cast an improper gaze back along
the auric bannister that my sweaty hands
did desecrate while trying to stop
my inevitable stumble

The insouciant voice of my own personal
doryphore spoke within my mind--a
near-sentient conscience can be so
monstrous, even when making the
most reasoned of comments.

Serves ya right,
scaredy-friggin-cat

I sighed as the throbbing of its
scolding tmesis renewed
the ache in my thoughts--
the mental cicatrix feeling like
it might tear once more.

But who would not be fearful to
find themselves suckled by
a lamia?

Click to expand...

greenmountaineer said:

Impoverished junior college prof,
I should not frequent joints like these
Nor fixate on the cicatrix
Beneath those two monstrosities.

I liked as much her lovely waist
And legs that spiral in the dark
Whose currency is thong and boots.
So why the matter, I suppose,
Her scarring from some surgery
With cantaloupes the size of those?

I reasoned I could look elsewhere
With another riveted stare
At her luminous auric thong
She dances waist and legs around

Improperly, I’d say in fact,
Such that a modest man like me
In this sooty smoke-filled joint
Becomes improper as can be,
Waving some of my little cash
While I suckle my St. Pauli Girl®
They charge a monstrous five bucks for
With pretzels tasting like soured mash,


Although I’d pony up my stash
And gladly desecrate my soul
For celestial risky business
With this lamia writhing now
Like some serpentine Salomé
To whom I slip a dollar bill
Among the others in her thong
That barely hid her labia.

“Why you cheap-fucking-skate,” said she,
“Rate’s a five-fucking-spot or more!”
And when I say “Why, Ms. Tmesis!”
I’m now a “fucking dorophore.”

“Doryphore? What the hell is that?”
I say to her, but soon recall
When the bouncer bounces me out,
And I stumble into the street,
She’s the one who likes to write pulp
I never got to first base with,
Miss Insouciant PhD,
Hidden beneath her frizzy wig,
Who also teaches English Lit
At junior college just like me.

Click to expand...

chipbutty said:

another full use of the words, all 19 of them. and again, i like how you've taken the language and applied it to a singularly human pain. to bleed with them, only to be told you are no longer needed? ouch. that's always gonna hurt.

specially liked these turns of phrase, ninianne:

devour a celestial being’s luminous heart

my magics are of a more modest sort

but the fires die and the answers spiral away into the dark

you don’t trust me
and I stumble in the ashes
sooty and alone




in fact, i like your end verse as a poem in its own right.

Click to expand...

ninianne said:

Thanks. I appreciate the thoughts. I like challenges like this where I need to fit thoughts around some constraint--it feels like I can craft a more elegant poem under that pressure.

I wasn't sure about the last verse. As I wrote, it felt like a postlude--because I'd already said most of what I needed to say. In a way, it felt as I was writing like a seperate poem that almost followed to where the rest was leading. I'm glad you feel as though it can stand on its own. I may have to work it separately and see what happens.

Click to expand...

The_Fool said:

She speaks to me,
my lamia,
in reasoned words
about topics many would consider
improper,
in many cases, monstrous.

Her eyes, luminous,
as she lies upon bed
in her insouciant way,
offering her base nature
in a modest way.
I spiral out of control, I tremble.

Her auric skin glistens
in the moonlight.
starlight.
Celestial bodies paying homage.
Who am I to be a doryphore
drawing attention to imagined blemishes.

And I stumble with steps and words.
My mouth mumbles
as if I suckled from her.
But she only offers a cicatrix for a nipple.
Saving her tender flesh for someone
else more deserving.

Click to expand...

And I stumble with steps and words.
My mouth mumbles
as if I suckled from her.
But she only offers a cicatrix for a nipple.

Click to expand...

chipbutty said:

ok, seems no one else is going to add anything more to this, so i'll just say a big thankyou for having fun with it, everyone, and that my two favourites out of all these writes (so fun to read!) are greenmountaineer's and bflagsst's.

both of them made me smile, lots, and i found the wordplay in theirs to be the most interesting. gm's was so well done, the list was subsumed by the content of the write - not easily done, as i'm sure most if not all here would agree. his became about the poem, not about the list, as i'd hoped. bflaggst's piece was so full of voice that, again, even though the list words were clearly evident, they didn't feel as if they ruled the write. i still hear that southern drawl, lol, and can almost smell that spiral of ham...


so these two are my favourites, but they were all well worth the read and, i hope, for you guys the fun of the writing!

thanks again

Click to expand...