Old 01-07-2014, 10:46 AM   #1
corndog_
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Discipline

I haven't got it. I can't get "30 in 30" or weekly for a year. I can't stay in line. Sometimes I eat breakfast cereal at bedtime.

So this thread is for those of us that just can't follow a schedule. Got a poem? Post a poem. But don't expect discipline.

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Old 01-07-2014, 10:47 AM   #2
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La Playa Maya

Five crabs circle
a split fish, its clouded eye staring
into the whateverafter. Do fish dream
of warm & gentle seas? I do.
The crabs are laying on
hands, a ritual dance. Advance
on the retreating wave, touch
the departed there, and here. Take
communion in this time-pocket
of sand. Down the shore

a sterling girl in a ruffled dress picks her way
between beached whales, calling
“Brace-lets! Real sil-ver!” Eyes clouded
by booze trail her swaying skirt. Behind her
two boys with trays of Cuban cigars, then a man
wearing hats, teacup-stacked. The whales roll
and gape and fill their maws with muddled mint
and rum. Tomorrow currents carry them
northward as new ones arrive. Crabs
will work the water’s edge for trinkets
and riches. There’s probably a moral

about race privilege or resource inequity
to unearth, but my book is good,
my mojito glass bejeweled with sweat, and the sand
is soft between my toes.


...
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Old 01-07-2014, 01:10 PM   #3
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i was all ready to write something here and made the mistake of reading La Playa Maya. how to follow that? *sigh*

ok, it is. that is all i can say about what is to follow:

we think we're so special
humans
homo sapiens
with all our sophistry, our
aspirations
our pangs and moral tugs of war
our conquered challenges
and more
ah, love
yes, that brightest beam
our gods, our buildings
discoveries and art in all its forms

and yet
what value our bones
our mouldered flesh
or ashes sat upon a shelf
as on the telly
some old china
more delicate than blood and meat
(survived four centuries, a feat!)
and now held up in high regard
outdoes us all, amassing sudden wealth
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What strange machinery lies between her ears
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Old 01-07-2014, 02:00 PM   #4
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
La Playa Maya

Five crabs circle
a split fish, its clouded eye staring
into the whateverafter. Do fish dream
of warm & gentle seas? I do.
The crabs are laying on
hands, a ritual dance. Advance
on the retreating wave, touch
the departed there, and here. Take
communion in this time-pocket
of sand. Down the shore

a sterling girl in a ruffled dress picks her way
between beached whales, calling
“Brace-lets! Real sil-ver!” Eyes clouded
by booze trail her swaying skirt. Behind her
two boys with trays of Cuban cigars, then a man
wearing hats, teacup-stacked. The whales roll
and gape and fill their maws with muddled mint
and rum. Tomorrow currents carry them
northward as new ones arrive. Crabs
will work the water’s edge for trinkets
and riches. There’s probably a moral

about race privilege or resource inequity
to unearth, but my book is good,
my mojito glass bejeweled with sweat, and (the) sand
is soft between my toes.


...
.................bangarang apathy/poverty/wealth/indifference
is this a chatty thread?
discussion?
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purple heroes with no song of their own,
no wings, no aspirations to fly,
spared the fish hook for their due diligence - today ... butters

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Old 01-07-2014, 02:06 PM   #5
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Quote:
Originally Posted by HarryHill View Post
.................bangarang apathy/poverty/wealth/indifference
is this a chatty thread?
discussion?
In a thread without discipline? Must you ask?
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Old 01-07-2014, 02:12 PM   #6
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
In a thread without discipline? Must you ask?
..
Oy
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purple heroes with no song of their own,
no wings, no aspirations to fly,
spared the fish hook for their due diligence - today ... butters

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Old 01-07-2014, 02:14 PM   #7
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Quote:
Originally Posted by butters View Post
i was all ready to write something here and made the mistake of reading La Playa Maya. how to follow that? *sigh*

ok, it is. that is all i can say about what is to follow:

we think we're so special
humans
homo sapiens
with all our sophistry, our
aspirations
our pangs and moral tugs of war
our conquered challenges
and more
ah, love
yes, that brightest beam
our gods, our buildings
discoveries and art in all its forms

and yet
what value our bones
our mouldered flesh
or ashes sat upon a shelf
as on the telly
some old china
more delicate than blood and meat
(survived four centuries, a feat!)
and now held up in high regard
outdoes us all, amassing sudden wealth
Is that bone china?


I like the pairing of Homo sapiens (literally "wise man") with "Sophistry" (from sophos, "wise")

Very nice
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Old 01-07-2014, 04:13 PM   #8
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Polar Vortex

The air is cracked
wide open, fiercely blue.
Tiny clouds reveal every living thing.
Behind the brittle window you’re
three chapters and two cups of Darjeeling tea
into the day. You’re nested
in fleece and plumped pillows, hair loose
and coiled about one finger. I’m ten minutes past
the last section of the paper, now stacked.
Over the rim of my cup I watch your breasts
lean into your gaped shirt. Perhaps it is the cold
snapping twigs in the stillness, perhaps it is the heat
of my gaze that causes you to drop one foot
from the couch to the floor,
and to set your book aside.


....
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Last edited by corndog_ : 01-07-2014 at 04:33 PM.
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Old 01-07-2014, 04:20 PM   #9
butters
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
Is that bone china?


I like the pairing of Homo sapiens (literally "wise man") with "Sophistry" (from sophos, "wise")

Very nice
yes, yes it is... complete with chips and nibbles to its rim. i hope that sounded suitably risqué

perhaps if i take this off the cuff stuff and work it, i might get a poem out of it. one day.

btw - nice to see you back, incorrigible, and HNY!
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What strange machinery lies between her ears
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Old 01-07-2014, 04:29 PM   #10
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I didn't mean mine to sound risque, I was only alluding to the appearance of place settings in a stanza about the insignificance of flesh and blood!

Odd how everything takes a sexual turn on a site called "Literotica."

Good to see you, as well!


And yes, definitely take off the cuffs and work it!
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Old 01-07-2014, 10:01 PM   #11
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Life is Threatening

Marking the shoals between the brackets
of land and skyline and the measurable
infinity of ocean the beach buoys nod
in time with my three-note sigh. A question
without words that asks whether it’s worse
to drift along with the fingers of the moon
and forget I ever had the intention to swim
or to succumb to the quick sand that never kills
by suffocation but instead holds me still with a promise
to avoid the scrape of rocks across the hull.

With every wave the bell rings in the buoys
and I hear the silence of my sirens call.
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Old 01-08-2014, 08:22 PM   #12
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Quote:
Originally Posted by KatieJones View Post
Life is Threatening

Marking the shoals between the brackets
of land and skyline and the measurable
infinity of ocean the beach buoys nod
in time with my three-note sigh. A question
without words that asks whether it’s worse
to drift along with the fingers of the moon
and forget I ever had the intention to swim
or to succumb to the quick sand that never kills
by suffocation but instead holds me still with a promise
to avoid the scrape of rocks across the hull.

With every wave the bell rings in the buoys
and I hear the silence of my sirens call.
Dark and deep.

Best to tie yourself to the mast.
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Old 01-08-2014, 09:12 PM   #13
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
Dark and deep.

Best to tie yourself to the mast.
Anyone without discipline is just going to say, "Skip the rope. I'll just hang on tight till you tell me to let go."
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Old 01-09-2014, 01:24 PM   #14
butters
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
Polar Vortex

The air is cracked
wide open, fiercely blue.
Tiny clouds reveal every living thing.
Behind the brittle window you’re
three chapters and two cups of Darjeeling tea
into the day. You’re nested
in fleece and plumped pillows, hair loose
and coiled about one finger. I’m ten minutes past
the last section of the paper, now stacked.
Over the rim of my cup I watch your breasts
lean into your gaped shirt. Perhaps it is the cold
snapping twigs in the stillness, perhaps it is the heat
of my gaze that causes you to drop one foot
from the couch to the floor,
and to set your book aside.


....
crackles with atmosphere

Quote:
Originally Posted by KatieJones View Post
Life is Threatening

Marking the shoals between the brackets
of land and skyline and the measurable
infinity of ocean the beach buoys nod
in time with my three-note sigh. A question
without words that asks whether it’s worse
to drift along with the fingers of the moon
and forget I ever had the intention to swim
or to succumb to the quick sand that never kills
by suffocation but instead holds me still with a promise
to avoid the scrape of rocks across the hull.

With every wave the bell rings in the buoys
and I hear the silence of my sirens call.
can't get enough of your material, katie - it's so... yeah. phrases like this: to drift along with the fingers of the moon lift this above the norm. all i can say is 'may we have some more, please?'
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What strange machinery lies between her ears
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Old 01-09-2014, 06:54 PM   #15
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Quote:
Originally Posted by KatieJones View Post
Anyone without discipline is just going to say, "Skip the rope. I'll just hang on tight till you tell me to let go."
Don't you worry I'm Charybdis?

Let go, KatieJ, let go!
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Old 01-11-2014, 08:58 AM   #16
butters
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removed as i decided it ain't no poem after all. now as prose in my sigline. for a while, at least.
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What strange machinery lies between her ears
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Last edited by butters : 01-11-2014 at 11:59 AM.
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Old 01-11-2014, 11:10 AM   #17
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hmmmmn, not sure that counts as a poem. think maybe it's a chopped up prose thingy. ah well.
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Old 01-11-2014, 04:14 PM   #18
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enigma

is a door exactly unlike
any other, Forest Green or
Brick Red. It bears a number
in brass, perhaps
the year you learned
not everything hidden
is dark. Or the buttons
you’d not unfasten. Touch
the difficult lock, picture the teeth
that turn out of sight. Work
the grain with your eyes, it yields
nothing. It’s gift
is blindness. You’ve stood
upon this worn stone stoop
before, the cacophony of the street
awash about your feet. Today
is yesterday or it is not.
In your hand a key that looks
exactly like an idea.



...
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Old 01-11-2014, 09:02 PM   #19
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I like enigmas of all varieties but your enigma poem is particularly good.


From the Threshold

Everyone sees with kaleidoscope eyes
focused or unfocused
by the stops and starts
of the train of time
and the perpetual ache
to fuse desire and vision
but no matter what appears
when the coloured pieces stop
moving she waits just inside
the threshold, painting
illusions that range between
open invitation and a small window
framing a single eye
clouded with an awareness
of one circled by a parasitic creature
birthed in the shadow
of conscience whose voice
whispers an inverted echo
of doubt that coaxes
her to close the door.

Not the gatekeeper controlling crowds
but a solitary prisoner caught
in a whirlpool of phobia-fueled
inertia that feeds the gnashing
teeth of darkness
and keeps her from fully living
in the honesty of the sun.


That was depressing. I promise the next time I am undisciplined I'll produce some lighter fodder.
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Old 01-26-2014, 11:02 AM   #20
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You Hate This Poem

This poem makes jokes about tragedies.
This poem does not care who reads it.
This poem does not know when enough is enough.
This poem takes without asking.
This poem is full of itself.
This poem never knows when you want to be alone.
This poem is never there when you need it.
This poem leaves a mess.
This poem calls at awkward times.
This poem reminds you of things you want to forget.
You hate this poem.
This poem is your best friend.


....
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Old 01-27-2014, 05:24 PM   #21
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An Impressionist Visits Minneapolis

Shrouded plowman on the reins
of a snarling beast, spitting snow
into the throat of the wind.
They escape the canvas but
are stitched back in.
Gray man, red beast. White.
White. More white.


....
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Old 02-15-2014, 04:01 PM   #22
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Chiaroscuro

I have so much to tell you, I hope you don’t mind
that I’ve made a list: you know how nervous I get
when time is short. I can’t say enough
about our neighbors— Kevin shoveled snow,
even cleared around the storm drain,
and Shelly brought pumpkin soup, a favorite
of yours. Today the coffee pot overflowed
on the counter; I did not finish it yesterday
and forgot to empty it. A bill came from a magazine
I did not know you read. It said “best deal”
next to “three-year renewal,” which made me laugh,
which surprised me. There are so many
things to sign! Daniel needs the keys
to the garden shed but I have forgotten
where you put them even though you held my hands
and had me repeat it. There are noises in the walls
and unless you are walking about at night we have mice.
The Christmas lights are piled, I do not know
where they go. Under the sink there is a bottle
marked “Tuesdays”; what does that mean? Does something
go in or does something come out? I cried when I typed
our bank password, that date flooded my mind
with sunshine on a balcony in San Juan, naked
and spilling champagne as we laughed. Your hair
shimmered like flame. Every day I lose
something: today the reading glasses
you kept here on our desk. And this candle,
the one you said to light and remember
you with, it has so little wax left
and I do not know what I will do
when you are gone.


....
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Old 02-15-2014, 04:17 PM   #23
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Quote:
Originally Posted by corndog_ View Post
Chiaroscuro

I have so much to tell you, I hope you don’t mind
that I’ve made a list: you know how nervous I get
when time is short. I can’t say enough
about our neighbors— Kevin shoveled snow,
even cleared around the storm drain,
and Shelly brought pumpkin soup, a favorite
of yours. Today the coffee pot overflowed
on the counter; I did not finish it yesterday
and forgot to empty it. A bill came from a magazine
I did not know you read. It said “best deal”
next to “three-year renewal,” which made me laugh,
which surprised me. There are so many
things to sign! Daniel needs the keys
to the garden shed but I have forgotten
where you put them even though you held my hands
and had me repeat it. There are noises in the walls
and unless you are walking about at night we have mice.
The Christmas lights are piled, I do not know
where they go. Under the sink there is a bottle
marked “Tuesdays”; what does that mean? Does something
go in or does something come out? I cried when I typed
our bank password, that date flooded my mind
with sunshine on a balcony in San Juan, naked
and spilling champagne as we laughed. Your hair
shimmered like flame. Every day I lose
something: today the reading glasses
you kept here on our desk. And this candle,
the one you said to light and remember
you with, it has so little wax left
and I do not know what I will do
when you are gone.


....
this is so touching, real, tender, painful, filled with love.

the ending is terribly poignant.
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Old 02-17-2014, 09:29 AM   #24
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Thank you. It is a little close to the bone, yet, which can ruin poetry.



We lost a next-door neighbor a few weeks ago; Kevin and Shelly in this poem are me and my wife doing our best to help.
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Old 02-20-2014, 08:02 PM   #25
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Arropando Mi Amor en la Cama

come gather up your things,
jump in bed my love
here's sweet water if you thirst,
a solid stone to stand on
beside strawberry sheltered banks, new cleaned beds of your dreams,
of sun warmed glyphs and bird wings
now tucked, bussed near breathless, covers drawn 'til dawn
or a moggy old man pulls them back
slips in the night beside you.
sleep well love
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but the worms toil through red clay without complaint
purple heroes with no song of their own,
no wings, no aspirations to fly,
spared the fish hook for their due diligence - today ... butters

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