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all of a sudden passion suddenly

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Tzara said:
Well, that just blistered the plastic on my goddam expensive 19 inch Trinitron screen!

And, uh, thank you very much. ;)

Welcome to the Poetry Forum. Stay a while. Pretty please?
Click to expand...

ditto. :)

sweetjain said:
I feel so powerful now! Thanks. I am having fun here.
Click to expand...

you have a thing about cats, don't you. :cool:

welcome.

:rose:
 
he's disappointed, the job
that job, the one I wasnt invited to
fell through, and now he's stuck
and probably thinking that I cant hear
him on the phone

complaining about how tedious
we have become and he must have forgotten
how thin the walls are, and that the volume
on the phone is turned up to four
because he says he cant hear
all that good, anymore

but he hears the tap tap
of my keyboard at midnight
from three rooms away, so I steal
minutes here, hours there, hoping
that He will stop by to say

hello, My pet, please talk with me
type quietly, but stay
 
I am surrounded by four legged
friends, some slim and tapered
dark skin, tung glistening
far from their equatorial home

others sit short and squat,
thick folds soft and lush, brushed
bold in colors, like plummage
plucked from exotic bird, not
soft balls boiled , blanched and dipped

my favorite is laid back, smooth
legs bent back, under and up
arms graceful as swan's necks
gently sloping back, beckoning
"Come. Sit. Rock away your weariness."
 
normal jean said:
he's disappointed, the job
that job, the one I wasnt invited to
fell through, and now he's stuck
and probably thinking that I cant hear
him on the phone

complaining about how tedious
we have become and he must have forgotten
how thin the walls are, and that the volume
on the phone is turned up to four
because he says he cant hear
all that good, anymore

but he hears the tap tap
of my keyboard at midnight
from three rooms away, so I steal
minutes here, hours there, hoping
that He will stop by to say

hello, My pet, please talk with me
type quietly, but stay
Click to expand...
I'm a sucker for closing rhyme, and I thought this one worked well, NJ.

Confessional in a way that works universally, I think. Intimate, yet universal. A little sad?

I hope not.

Liked it (as if you can't tell). :rolleyes:
 
Tzara said:
I'm a sucker for closing rhyme, and I thought this one worked well, NJ.

Confessional in a way that works universally, I think. Intimate, yet universal. A little sad?

I hope not.

Liked it (as if you can't tell). :rolleyes:
Click to expand...


Dear Tzara, you are so very kind...thank you :rose:

I wrote it for a "friend" and quickly edited and posted it. If you have any suggestions, I always appreciate them

:)

j
 
normal jean said:
Dear Tzara, you are so very kind...thank you :rose:

I wrote it for a "friend" and quickly edited and posted it. If you have any suggestions, I always appreciate them

:)

j
Click to expand...
It is an excellent and touching poem. I hope he appreciated it, too!
 
flyguy69 said:
It is an excellent and touching poem. I hope he appreciated it, too!
Click to expand...


"he" will probably never even see it as he is unaware of this author name... its just a way of holding onto feelings I should have tossed a long time ago.

thanks Fly, you sexy angel, good to see you

:rose:
 
normal jean said:
"he" will probably never even see it as he is unaware of this author name... its just a way of holding onto feelings I should have tossed a long time ago.

thanks Fly, you sexy angel, good to see you

:rose:
Click to expand...
If you toss those feelings you won't write this poem... :(
 
mental sex, at least 2 kinds

and "he" is the kind that loves you
for an hour then fucks you blind
mentally, baby, mentally,
"he" makes you want him
then leaves you wondering why
and then theres "you" the lover
who wraps his heart around your mind
and infuses you with all that hopeful shit
( like restoring your faith in ALL mankind)
but youve been telling yourself
that you have no time for hope
yet he's the one that gets you thinking
as you lie in bed alone at night
I wish I could fly, wish I could fly
fly, fly, fly
 
This is supposed to be love

I followed the railway tracks
in your eyes

until I came acoss a pair
of mountains

paler than moonlight
each one had our names

written across their peaks
but mine was feinter

as if you had come before
and tried to scrawl it out
 
Ara's Barber Shop

Saturday was the day for my cut. Draped
in a black surgeon's cape, Father told Ali
to keep it short, as if purity was somehow
determined by hair length.

He never spoke as his hands danced
with my hair, scissors imitating fingers
weaving in and out of pale blond locks.
There were no smiles or lollipops, nothing

candy coloured like the two plastic canes
outside the shop. Everything was steel -
even my Father who turned to rust
when he was finished.
 
Climbing Blackpool Tower

Start counting your breath. Traditional
methods won't work here so use a
sequence instead: 1, 3, 4, 7, 11, 18.
Hold onto the handrail, a whale spine

steam-bent, as you walk on and on.
Avoid looking towards the earth. You'll
see nothing but everything you loathe
watching you. Do not fall or trip.

And if pain starts invading your legs,
ignore it. Forget that stitch and breathe.
Keep walking. Stare at the clouds. You'll
be there soon enough. Take a rest.

When you have reached the top, lean
forward a little and stare at the earth.
Pick it up and carry it on your back,
this is your prize today. Now descend.
 
Pavement Jigsaw

I saw it carved out of everything
my soles had forgotten to pick up:
a sunken yellow spine buried under
rain, a frieze made out of mislaid

tarmac. I could see bulls leaping
when I started staring at it,
early morning entertainment for
the blurry eyed. Picking up today's

copy of the Metro, words started
to fly out - adjectives heading
towards the sky on hot air balloons,
popped only with a tap on my

shoulder and the words excuse me
 
Tzara said:
Lune

Fruit lies in dead leaves.
Wind covers.
Squirrel hunts for nuts.
Click to expand...

Wasps swarm to steal
the last of the apples
bite by bite.
I knew there was a reason
for wasps.
Clean-up in the orchard.
 
Looking for Autumn

For Tzara(for the inspiration)

I thought I'd found the moon buried
under a pile of leaves but it was just
an old weathervane, its rusted arms
splayed out like points on a compass.

Perhaps Mother had swept it under
the porch, but all I found there were
Raccoons chewing last night, clouds
still visible in their teeth.

And then I smelt it - a feint hue of honey
mixed with vinegar. It was trapped
in Father's headlights, lighting up
the dead.
 
You folded me with gentle creases
and when you finished
I was no longer just a piece
of blank paper wedged
behind some filing cabinet drawer.

When you put me down
and gave me a mother’s nudge
I could see the roundness
at the edge of each tomorrow
and all I wanted to do was run.
Open, you said to my eyes

and they did but I was not a swan.
They are common and when they fly
there is only a faint swish of the wind.
You said I needed the drum of hooves
against the earth and the danger
of being hunted to feel the rhythm
of life and the thrill of death inhaled
in every torn breath that would bless
me with the strength to race
with all the other wild things
past the fences and into the night.
 
Doubt is a tea bag slipped
into my cup of water. I think
everything is the same
for the first few seconds
but then it steeps away clarity
and even the colours leave
the season until there is nothing
not even the white
of winter’s librarian hush.

A half–full spoon of sugar
does not sweeten the taste
of your quiet lips and swallowed words
nor does it soften the bitter solitude
of spreading darkness and fear
that I cannot see my future in the leaves.
 
you feed me a hand of rain
but dont aske me o define it
It is not the time
it is not the time

you do not deserve me
but you are going to get me anyway
because I am already there
the note has been written
the physical crawl is just a formality
i have taken you
a thousand times
just like hard glow lovers do
with eyes closed




the lily pad flowers we could not reach them
the rain defines season and bloom
we have no time not time set aside nor day length night moments
counted by twos
just the rain on our roots suggests
hopen youself
it is worth the risk



you do not find that color in tnature
until now
 
Minervous said:
Powerhouse

When you are away, that certain pressure builds
like a lake behind a dam. I can hardly wait
for your return and how, like a careful engineer,
you flick the switches of my nipples, feel
the humming dynamo in my cunt, and then,
with that precise cock and tongue, open up
my sluice gates and let my waters run.
Click to expand...


I kinda know how you feel!!

love your subject matter, Min

:rose:
 
Sara Crewe said:
Doubt is a tea bag slipped. . .
Click to expand...
Ah, pretty damn good, Ms. Crewe. Pretty damn good.

The main metaphor is excellent and that "white / of winter’s librarian hush" is really good.

Shit. Now I have to come up with something. ;)
 
Günter Grass

Take a box back to its plans.
Deny all knowledge of it being
a box. Repeat over and over
again until the last person
has left the room.
 
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