My own challenge

Triggers 2 & 25 Double Acrostic and the words '"perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved".
.
My Lord, you strip me, uncover
And display, not only my body but me.
See perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved at
Thy feet, hands tied but taking your penis,
Engulfed into my mouth, all for this enigma
Rarely understood, I beg, use me my Master Dom.
 
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You're on a roll Annie!

Potent poetry production line,
industrialised,
but not sterilized.
Looking for good clean fun?
Move along!

It'll be hot and steamy,
romantic and dreaming,
As the work rolls away from her pen,
And the poet breaks out her word zen.

;)Uggg:rose:
 
You're on a roll Annie!

Potent poetry production line,
industrialised,
but not sterilized.
Looking for good clean fun?
Move along!

It'll be hot and steamy,
romantic and dreaming,
As the work rolls away from her pen,
And the poet breaks out her word zen.

;)Uggg:rose:

I've always worked better when somebody tells me what to write about!! Must be a lack of imagination or my submissive side lol :D
 
Three audio

I’m a rookie just testing Myself.

The Angel of Temptation and the beauty named Eve.

It started years ago, voice of an Angel with a mind of a tempting devil.
Her voice sweet and kind, but with such a dirty sexy mind.
Before finding love she whispered into my ear.
Many nights all alone, it was like she was beside Me or on the phone.
The Angel of a voice so sexy and sweet.
Will never know how much she helped Me.

I wondered over the list, soon found a new voice.
A beauty named Eve, with a wicked playful mind.
She was different in style, with a touch of overseas class.
What a voice, what a mind, and a bigger heart to please then one could dream.
The one called Eve was also a gift in My lone time.
She is gifted at pleasure and enjoys it so.
I found more peace because of her gift, it was as if she could make you float.

The time has changed Me for the better.
I’ve found love, beyond all others.
The Angel and Eve, I am thankful still.
These women eased pain in so many ways.
To each I say one final thought.
Thank you for your gifts and your naughty beautiful hearts.

To Angel and Eve of the Audio of Lit.
 
I’m a rookie just testing Myself.

The Angel of Temptation and the beauty named Eve.

It started years ago, voice of an Angel with a mind of a tempting devil.
Her voice sweet and kind, but with such a dirty sexy mind.
Before finding love she whispered into my ear.
Many nights all alone, it was like she was beside Me or on the phone.
The Angel of a voice so sexy and sweet.
Will never know how much she helped Me.

I wondered over the list, soon found a new voice.
A beauty named Eve, with a wicked playful mind.
She was different in style, with a touch of overseas class.
What a voice, what a mind, and a bigger heart to please then one could dream.
The one called Eve was also a gift in My lone time.
She is gifted at pleasure and enjoys it so.
I found more peace because of her gift, it was as if she could make you float.

The time has changed Me for the better.
I’ve found love, beyond all others.
The Angel and Eve, I am thankful still.
These women eased pain in so many ways.
To each I say one final thought.
Thank you for your gifts and your naughty beautiful hearts.

To Angel and Eve of the Audio of Lit.

Thank you for joining in but Audio means just that, something we can listen to. I wonder if you really are new or if you do remember the delicious WickedEve.
 
I’m a writing rookie. Eves_Garden not Wicked.

Enjoying the chance to explore the art of writing.
 
Captured in pool blue memory
as if it were photography,
the last hours of virginity:
ghost white legs kicking
up spume enough to lace
a mango one-piece. Brothers Marco
then polo. The California boy,
almost 18, climbs the high dive
slowly. Bounces twice before
he slices down, and breathless
seconds pass. He tugs my leg
before he surfaces, rattling
droplets from his alien
hair, his alien tan. Of course
that evening I held his hand
and pretended I had before.
The real surprise was brevity.
An ash length of one
cigarette. After, he asked
if I was going to cry. Still
Stunned I answered no.
He held me anyway. Just
Two years later he died,
self-strangled. I decided
California dreams were lies
and gave up trying to tan.
But summer. Summer.
 
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Captured in pool blue memory
as if it were photography,
the last hours of virginity:
ghost white legs kicking
up spume enough to lace
a mango one-piece. Brothers Marco
then polo. The California boy,
almost 18, climbs the high dive
slowly. Bounces twice before
he slices down, and breathless
seconds pass. He tugs my leg
before he surfaces, rattling
droplets from his alien
hair, his alien tan. Of course
that evening I held his hand
and pretended I had before.
The real surprise was brevity.
An ash length of one
cigarette. After, he asked
if I was going to cry. Still
Stunned I answered no.
He held me anyway. Just
Two years later he died,
self-strangled. I decided
California dreams were lies
and gave up trying to tan.
But summer. Summer.

Thanks for joining in, I was beginning to wonder what I'd done wrong that nobody was talking to me!
 
Thanks for joining in, I was beginning to wonder what I'd done wrong that nobody was talking to me!

I only just saw this thread, dunno why, so I'll see about slipping into author-mode and getting some of those triggers done anew (maybe doing some of the ones I missed the first time around *g*) throughout the week.


:cool:
 
Quotation #8
Write a poem that includes the phrase "that's what jazz means to me".

back when words were nothing
but tools to pry the undergarments
from a woman that didn’t understand
poetry..... scratch that
I think women have poetry scribed
into their bones
and coursing through their veins
as if tundras
star filled skies
and grass spun daydreams
are in their DNA

Back when I didn’t understand
poetry
back when words were harsh
a dialect of cunt and fuck
and the rhyme
oh the incessant repeat
of monotone beats
and metre was a measure
Not a beat count

she poured effort
and encouragement into a driftless
rhymer of sad prose
pump and dump erotica
and shitty grammar

as if there were
cordant notes of beauty
amid the discord
as if between the untuned strings
and fumbling fingers
that beneath it all
was a music
a voice
that deserved to be heard

and so she with magic
in her words
guided a lost boy
into art
hack and slash words
into a semblance of place
time
order

into words that spoke

yeah
She is something
with the bluesy tunes
the scent of old books
and knowledge that flowed
that’s what Jazz means to me

And so I say thank you
in my own clumsy way
by more coherent than I used to be
 
Theme #5
Write a poem about shopping for breakfast cereals.


Here between the coco-pops
froot-loops
And the mundane all too serious
bran-based cardboard-flavoured dross
I find a simpler idea
that this is the dream

it’s hard and there’s suffering
my bones ache from overuse
but when she toddles up the aisle
pulling things of shelves
smiling the joy of first discoveries
and the boys argue and tussle
my eldest herding the youngest
like herding a cat

(yeah I’m that dad
the one that runs his kids
freerange through the shops)

because strapping them down is no way for
then to feel the world
beneath their feet
to fall and fail
to learn the resilience to accept no
to understand boundaries
without boundaries
to find their own way while
I’m still alive enough
to pick them up when they fall down

It’s worth the disapproving looks
it’s worth the constant redress
because their future is brighter
when they learn things
deep in their skin
when they can feel every bump
every emotional scar

Yeah here in the cereal aisle
I see more than just brands
and the mundane
I see more potential
than they know
 
Keyword #1
Write a poem that includes one of the following words: neverending, highway, cocktail.


There’s a blackness to 3am
that goes beyond mere night
when inhibitions are drunk
men howl at the low slung moon
it’s corperal glow dilating pupils
to hunt

curse words slam into the
highway, drum crescendoes
harsh and steely
the thud of boots
on asphalt

the meaty thwack
of a fist meeting face
the sharp click of something
moving wrong beneath the skin
the roaring pain
that shoots through the wrist
as it bends awkward
because drunk bastards move weird
when you hit them
even when you don’t
shuffling ungainly
stilt
-ed
movements

run their mouths like a pack of wolves
yipping at what they think is prey
I don’t m know if they realised
before the first hit the pavement
crumpled, a lead sinker straight to
the depths of unconscious dreams

that their baying for blood
had earned them what they wished for

hard lessons were to be learned
ones I was taught
from the day I could walk
 
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Theme #5
Write a poem about shopping for breakfast cereals.


Here between the coco-pops
froot-loops
And the mundane all too serious
bran-based cardboard-flavoured dross
I find a simpler idea
that this is the dream

it’s hard and there’s suffering
my bones ache from overuse
but when she toddles up the aisle
pulling things of shelves
smiling the joy of first discoveries
and the boys argue and tussle
my eldest herding the youngest
like herding a cat

(yeah I’m that dad
the one that runs his kids
freerange through the shops)

because strapping them down is no way for
then to feel the world
beneath their feet
to fall and fail
to learn the resilience to accept no
to understand boundaries
without boundaries
to find their own way while
I’m still alive enough
to pick them up when they fall down

It’s worth the disapproving looks
it’s worth the constant redress
because their future is brighter
when they learn things
deep in their skin
when they can feel every bump
every emotional scar

Yeah here in the cereal aisle
I see more than just brands
and the mundane
I see more potential
than they know

Oh Tod that is so beautiful and dare I say my most favourite of all you have written? Has it gone into submissions, because I'll 5 it :heart:
 
Keyword #1 Write a poem that includes one of the following words: neverending, highway, cocktail.
.
I m losing my sight in this neverending mish mash of tomfoolery
some being way up there has deemed that I should bear.
The irony is it's curable, but I can't have the operation
because of what's gone before with my lungs!
Isn't that the stupidest reason?
Hey you up there sort your lists out, it's first the cataracts,
THEN the lungs!!
 
I only just saw this thread, dunno why, so I'll see about slipping into author-mode and getting some of those triggers done anew (maybe doing some of the ones I missed the first time around *g*) throughout the week.


:cool:

Thank you Remec, glad to see you here :rose:
 
Oh Tod that is so beautiful and dare I say my most favourite of all you have written? Has it gone into submissions, because I'll 5 it :heart:

Since the new upgrade to the home page etc I wouldn’t even have a clue how to submit my writings truth be told Ibhavent been to new poems or the other side of lit for probably close to a year, I’ve been flat out busy and tend to submit anything to the other poetry site I frequent, more eyes, more feedback, though it tends to be almost all positive and very few real critiques but you get the odd gem.

As to this being a fav thanks Annie it does mean a lot, the spelling errors m, repeats and structure need a decent tidy up before it goes anywhere though :D
 
Since the new upgrade to the home page etc I wouldn’t even have a clue how to submit my writings truth be told Ibhavent been to new poems or the other side of lit for probably close to a year, I’ve been flat out busy and tend to submit anything to the other poetry site I frequent, more eyes, more feedback, though it tends to be almost all positive and very few real critiques but you get the odd gem.

As to this being a fav thanks Annie it does mean a lot, the spelling errors m, repeats and structure need a decent tidy up before it goes anywhere though :D

I had to go looking myself to remember how to submit but if you follow this link it should take you to your Personal Control Panel then go to works and up the top it says submit story which then gives you the option to submit a poem.
If you mean the other site I think you do, I rather deserted as so many sycophants abound!
By the way I like your poem just as it is, it's raw and powerful!
 
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I had to go looking myself to remember how to submit but if you follow this link it should take you to your Personal Control Panel then go to works and up the top it says submit story which then gives you the option to submit a poem.
If you mean the other site I think you do, I rather deserted as so many sycophants abound!
By the way I like your poem just as it is, it's raw and powerful!

As to the final statement yup asskissery is a top priority for most of them,

As to the poem, most of my stuff is raw, and has. certain todski to it, but getting things from raw and powerful to refined and powerful..... it’s where I fail

I will think about submitting it, but it’s hard to throw things out for minimal return.... granted Ibhavent been commenting properly not critiquing for gods knows how long so I don’t feel like I should submit it, for the sake of fairness of that makes sense to you
 
As to the final statement yup asskissery is a top priority for most of them,

As to the poem, most of my stuff is raw, and has. certain todski to it, but getting things from raw and powerful to refined and powerful..... it’s where I fail

I will think about submitting it, but it’s hard to throw things out for minimal return.... granted Ibhavent been commenting properly not critiquing for gods knows how long so I don’t feel like I should submit it, for the sake of fairness of that makes sense to you

Sort of, I don't think many people are bothering to read New poems much these days, it seems to have been taken over mostly by strangers who don't give a rat's ass about learning how to write. I've submitted 2 or 3 and apart from GuiltyPleasure's comment on one I've had no other comments and no scoring. Is it any wonder that when there is any competitions they are mostly won by strangers that don't bother to set foot in here. It's ironic really because when I first came in here I was rhyming everything until I got a kick up the backside, and now New Poems is full of Rhyming couplets, so much so it does my head in to read them all!!
 
Trigger 39. Theme #7
Write a poem about your secret pleasure.''

Fuck me Daddy please, please.
See me holding my buttocks open
and looking over my shoulder
to beg for ass fucking like a whore. Your whore.
Push your cock against my pucker
until I gasp as it slides inside.
Pull it out and slide in again and again,
making me gasp every time,
until you have to ram it into me harder and harder,
until you have to hold onto me
to stop me falling off the bed at every hard thrust.
Don't wait for my orgasm Daddy,
just take me for your own gratification,
but that's silly of course I will cum.
Then as you withdraw to clean my ass hole with your tongue,
push your penis between my lips to clean for you.
Thank you Daddy for using me.
 
Do you, I hope it wasn't me! I even tried going back to the place Tod mentioned and I'm being ignored there too. I'm getting paranoid now!:eek:

Hiya Annie,

From the way you talk it sounds like this poetry side of lit used to be a lot more active, with a lot more of what I think of as serious poets (sorry if anyone finds that kind of labeling offensive but I need to differentiate with people like myself who are just mucking round with shiny words for shits and giggles. ;)).

Sounds like you miss the way things were. Well If you tell me what is is you are missing and what it is you are expecting, I'll try and be more like that.:D I'll never be a good poet but I can be a better one than I am now;).

I like to keep my friends happy:eek:.

Uggg:rose:
 
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