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Angeline said:
Try it! I want to start a exercise/practice thread with stuff like A-Z poems. We used to do that sort of thing a lot when I first came here. :)

ETA: I did cheat on X but X is tough :D
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Smithpeter would think I've fallen asleep while I wrote.
 
HarryHill said:
Smithpeter would think I've fallen asleep while I wrote.
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Lol. smithpeter would very gently tell us both that this thread is for writing poems and not judging them. I am quite sure of that. But in spite of it I will say that I love how your poems here often have a dialog with sp. It brings him back for me, makes me feel his presence hovering around the forum. That's a very good thing to me.
 
Zounds!
Your excellent wizardry
verifies undocumented
topography. Suppose
rapacious quahogs pried
open neverending mountains
lustfully keening, just intent,
hoping gormlessly for edible
delectables ...closer....but....
alrignt.
 
Easy

It ain't all they say,
no matter who you or
what you might have in
mind for such an unknown,
yet powerful, force

But it has it's moments,

The way clothing tends to
become miniscule to the point
of almost an afterthought,
especially the closer you
get to the Oceanfront.

Thongs might not be allowed,
but thongs visible beneath tight
shorts and worn in tandem
with bikinis acting like diving buoys
on a scuba dive--all alert and no
real support to speak of,

That's an obvious one, of course,
but the way people open themselves,
not merely for others' eyes, but to
the ideas that others might have for
them. Compliments seem to work their
magic in ways not possible a season
backwards or forwards, and unheard of
during winter. And the heat seems to
amp up everyone, looking for
something to do that would give a
reason for why they're sweating.
 
there's a china chicken
all polka dots and skinny red legs
green beak and comb
on a hazy blue rotundness
looking at me
with the patience of clay -
wondering why?
 
butters said:
there's a china chicken
all polka dots and skinny red legs
green beak and comb
on a hazy blue rotundness
looking at me
with the patience of clay -
wondering why?
Click to expand...

Love this! I have two red clay chickens on my doorstep. Why? Because I can:rolleyes:
 
Desejo said:
Love this! I have two red clay chickens on my doorstep. Why? Because I can:rolleyes:
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heh :) it's a gift for my friend in norfolk - she likes chickenalia :rolleyes:
it's pretty cute, though, in a weird kind of way, but it has this quizzical look in its eye that is either a masterpiece of art or a happy accident. i'm going with happy accident.

two? why? why not :cool:
 
Chickenalia

They follow the mower,
come running to that
Pavlovian bell,
ringing in 4 cycled
combustion.

Red eye dotted black,
chilling to find one
oh so small
exposed to evil aspect.

Gauntlet of feathered
claw and beak, intent
beside the blade
sometime they gather
so close and thick
the front yard takes
all day.
 
"...Harry placed his hand on her belly over the life there, the impossible life that the three of them had quickened by the river. The same night that they created their spawn of Halfling children; and, the same morning the twined trio sent the emotional blast of joined energy to the tiny minds that spun over the song blessed pool of their birth. Harry became as unspeaking as Oldman. Sandra leaned against his shoulder and sighed, as the outskirts of Memphis passed by in her blurred vision..."

Chosen Mate, chapter 10, Gamblers and Outlaws (unpublished)
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..
Oh my children
where will death take you along the journey
through black water gauntlets to the sea
fields of sedge offering shelter and danger
above, below and within
beware as sweet prey fills your jaw
that you do not fall as well.
 
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HarryHill said:
..
Oh my children
where will death take you along the journey
through black water gauntlets to the sea
fields of sedge offering shelter and danger
above, below and within
beware as sweet prey fills your jaw
that you do not fall as well.
Click to expand...
this and the excerpt? whets my whistle - wanna read the whole thing! :rose:
 
Did you ever have those days, smithpeter
when you were so blue the day turned to black
shades of existence coloring your world
in the absence of light.

A bullet would take away this pain
malignant growth lodged tight in heart
that no physician living or dead
can excise

A rope would do the trick
leave the strange fruit, hanging
from a deciduous tree in the fall
choking on words that grasp no air
while leaves shower in the struggle

Better perhaps to walk into that cool green
leave the trees to their proclivities
cartridges in their chambers
search for that great physician
that healed you
 
Last edited:
HarryHill said:
Did you ever have those days, smithpeter
when you were so blue the day turned to black
shades of existence coloring your world
in the absence of light.

A bullet would take away this pain
malignant growth lodged tight in heart
that no physician living or dead
can excise

A rope would do the trick
leave the strange fruit, hanging
from a deciduous tree in the fall
choking on words that grasp no air
while leaves shower in the struggle

Better perhaps to walk into that cool green
leave the trees to their proclivities
cartridges in their chambers
search for that great physician
that healed you
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this was live? powerful piece!
 
You don't believe me when I say
That little tank top, worn and gray,
Excites me like a cocktail dress.
"It's morning and I'm still a mess,"
You say, unable to believe
Your body ever could achieve
A beauty that inspires delight
In what you wore to bed last night.
And yet, I see you standing there,
An angel with disheveled hair,
And wish, in spite of what you've said,
To quickly take you back to bed.
 
I think I'm done, smithpeter
Poetry seems not my forte
nothing chanced to say
in erotic verse today

So away to the yellow pad
crafting love stories with no lust
only the hope of an old man that must
keep the faith or die

I've enjoyed my time
constructing rhyme and nuance
that never seems as clever
as other fellows write

friends were made here
enemies too I'm sure
one pulls while the other pushes
silent words for all to hear

Adieu dead poet,
Bill said, 'partings such sweet sorrow'
you'll never see me again
unless I return on the morrow.
 
Sadness

HarryHill said:
I think I'm done, smithpeter
Poetry seems not my forte
nothing chanced to say
in erotic verse today

So away to the yellow pad
crafting love stories with no lust
only the hope of an old man that must
keep the faith or die

I've enjoyed my time
constructing rhyme and nuance
that never seems as clever
as other fellows write

friends were made here
enemies too I'm sure
one pulls while the other pushes
silent words for all to hear

Adieu dead poet,
Bill said, 'partings such sweet sorrow'
you'll never see me again
unless I return on the morrow.
Click to expand...


You are a bright prescenes here Harry, so I would hope that this is more a now feeling as opposed to a continued feeling!
 
Little boys filling my PMs
with explicit requests
for pictures,
surely shouldn't
run off their mouths
at stretch marks
and varicose veins.
 
False stars sear
pin pricks of light,
they sup and settle,
I, awake, stare
through the window
into the space of
abscense
unseeing eyes entertain
my thoughts with
internal visions
 
Running through threads
here and there
wondering how I compare
when people say
A picture paints a thousand words
Ive noticed that some poets can

"paint the universe"

in three
 
Neonurotic said:
I hope this is just a moping type poem, that you will return tomorrow.
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..
Poets are a moody bunch, and funny too. enjoyed your latest. Excuse me, I'm here to talk to the man.
..
Fuck, smithpeter
What do you say after that? You know what I'm talking about
written off the cuff too I'd bet. interuptions, later.
 
UnderYourSpell said:
Little boys filling my PMs
with explicit requests
for pictures,
surely shouldn't
run off their mouths
at stretch marks
and varicose veins.
Click to expand...

How come I don't ever get
PMs from the younger set?
No one will "run off their mouth"
or ask me what I've got down south.
but I am stoic, won't complain,
I'm busy reading about Champagne.

:cool::eek::D
 
Tristesse2 said:
How come I don't ever get
PMs from the younger set?
No one will "run off their mouth"
or ask me what I've got down south.
but I am stoic, won't complain,
I'm busy reading about Champagne.

:cool::eek::D
Click to expand...
You know you've popped a cork with this
Vague threats of questions stewed
I know they hover like a lover over a kiss
Mercy! Angeline, look what-up you've brewed!
 
champagne1982 said:
You know you've popped a cork with this
Vague threats of questions stewed
I know they hover like a lover over a kiss
Mercy! Angeline, look what-up you've brewed!
Click to expand...

The poets come to write pantoums:
they vent, declaim or versify.
I start some threads and write my words.
I'm walking on a different path.

They vent, declaim or versify,
allegiance comes or friendship goes.
I'm walking on a different path,
I'm following my words alone.

Allegiance comes or friendship goes.
Some lives perforce live on in me.
I'm following my words alone,
I carry those that cannot speak.

Some lives perforce live on in me.
Lest their voices cease to be,
I carry those that cannot speak
and from them something new is born.

Lest their voices cease to be
I start some threads and write my words
and from them something new is born:
The poets come to write pantoums.
 
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