New Poetry Recommendations

[The Poets]

Originally posted by smithpeter on the new poems thread:

I hereby declare The New Poems List thread officially defunct and lacking any purpose besides being a place to slam like a really, really sluggish chat room for mature adults often lacking maturity.
I have no authority.
I yam whom I yam.

Hence, a thread about new poems at Literotica. Not a unique idea.

a bit of random humor, "if you would like to make a call, please hang up"

History repeats itself.

Our old new poems thread has gotten gargantuan. The last time we fed it that many posts and it grew that big, we started a new thread. So, here you go. A new poems thread.

People, let's keep this one slender. No fattening it up with chatting. (Is that possible? I'm doubtful, but I'll try to have faith in my fellow poets. )

Have you hugged a poem today,
Eve

* * *

A simple rule, that will be enforced for a while, and after that we'll just play it by ear: poetry discussion only. This thread is to recommend, review or comment on new poems posted at Literotica. No off-topic chat, no thank you notes unless they include relevant comments about the poems. If you have any other comments to make or if you want to thank the reviewer for the mention, please do it in PM or post on the Chit Chat thread. We have the entire forum to chat, I think we can keep it out of this one thread, so that no new poems go by unnoticed. I hope you all understand why we're doing this.

There are several people who volunteered to review the new poetry list once a week, but everyone can and should post their reviews, of course.

* * *

A list of previous incarnations of this thread, for reminiscing:

• The New Poems List
  - 15th November 2001 to 28th September 2002
  
• new poems
  - 28th September 2002 to 13th June 2004

 

[WickedEve]

New poet to Literotica offers us 7 new poems. Here's a taste of what's being offered:

Scarlet Reminder
by J.B.Shelton ©
Beneath your lip print, Van Gogh’s Starry Night, it’s luster lost
compared to lips as such.

November 28th
by J.B.Shelton ©
tree garland, tinsel
on the floor
nothing to stop us
but a plate-licking dog
and some candles
burned too low.

California
by J.B.Shelton ©
I found myself, years ago, on a plane
to Tallahassee,
leaving behind life for a day
without snowfall.

Jumper
by J.B.Shelton ©Four years later, I sit
in a bathtub, drinking
Earl Grey, and remember
those words. So I write, and try
to do something about it.

There's more by J.B.Shelton. Be sure to read them on the new poems list.

~~~~~

the linearity of Trust
by RazzRajen ©
strewn like so many baubles
in front of believing eyes
dies-believing is what happens
Ridden again and ridden twice
glue nor chewing gum nor the
best wishes of anyone
will never seal back fissured jewels

Good poem, and the excerpt above really shines.

~~~~~

Lullaby
by Liar ©
Audio Poem

nobody told me
that sometimes you fall
through a liquorice dream

It's difficult to share only a few lines of this poem. I couldn't decide which ones. The entire poem works together nicely, and no line is better than the next--it's all good.

Oh! I just clicked on the audio--I never listen to audio. Go listen. Oh my goodness. I have shivers. Liar, will you call me tonight and do that lullaby for me before I go to sleep?

~~~~~

I am California
by Syndra Lynn ©

Syn gives us California in two very different parts:
I
Kiss me yellow-green
with sunlight dappled forest floor.

II
Tie asphalt ribbons
to concrete cities

Excellent poem. Read and vote.

~~~~~

in his yard
by OT ©
seasoned blue smoke lingers
only yesterday
I held the fork while he poked with
endless curious-boy questions
the blue smoke wafts skyward

I just cry too easily. This is has me all weepy. Now I'm looking at my kids and realizing... Anyway, wonderful poem. Big kiss to the OT poet.

~~~~~

I'm going to take a break and come back with part two.

[WickedEve]

Highly recommended:
Prose Poem Prolix
by JCSTREET ©
A LAYMAN’S GUIDE TO ENGULFMENT

By JCSTREET © 2004

Something has to give way soon.

I am watching her hand. It is small like the hand of a child and this is meet. She is not genuous. She carries the mixed grill of her life on an empty stomach and a smile. The texture of the skin on her hand is like that of a map of desert… filigrees where the clay has been deflowered by drought; the canals of Mars seen at a great distance.


I offer you only the beginning. Now take a quiet moment to read this in its entirety, please.

~~~~~

Love Birds
by LilyMelb ©

A pigeon by the road.
Flying out to its dead lover,
a brown smudge on the tar.
Not understanding,
why she won't follow him back.

Be like the swan and gracefully read this poem.

~~~~~

Dark Magnets
by Tathagata ©

colored by night
these things remain
ghostly beacons

Are you drawn to the darkness? Read Tath's poem.

~~~~~

Anna
by Tathagata ©

anna teases
pleases
strokes and pokes me
she fucks me
stabs me
kills me
drinks my life
then
spits out sacred ink
onto receptive pages

Read Tathagata, and then read anna, so you too can be stroked, poked, fucked, etc. What more can you ask from poetry.

~~~~~

Christchurch Airfield
by Assogue ©

`Burry's Field' they called it when
In `26, came the `flying men',
First Francis Fisher came to stay
Flying an Avro 504.K.

Poetic and informative! Give this interesting piece a read.

~~~~~

Monday Morning Ritual
by Dustystar ©

Holding his sole in my palm is my
Early morning ritual taken after vitamins
And before two eggs, always over medium,
The yolks barely bleeding.

A ritual worth reading.

~~~~~

Altar of Stone
by Syndra Lynn ©

And in narrow cracks, earth gives footing
to manzanita, pine and oak
where She dabbles in the ancient,
patient art of bonsai
on a megalithic scale.

Very nice, Syndra. Sorry jim isn't doing the reviews today. He would loved "patient art of the bonsai."

~~~~~

the letter
by tarablackwood22 ©

he is inside her now,
crawling
from the corners
of her dreams.
night after night,
he occupies those hidden reaches,
has set up shop
in their folds.

Turn on the lights, lock the doors and read the letter.

~~~~~

And this is where I stop. There are more good poems but my eyes are hurting, screen is blurring, swirling, my goodness, flying across the room. So no more reading for awhile!

[echoes_s]

...and what first greets my eyes upon glancing on the new poems was this soothing, wonderful, mesmerizing poem by hippiedude Swim Quietly Until Dawn A definite must read…

I often watch from the upstairs window,
just beyond the moon glow’s reach,
as a phantom tide comes in
and my house becomes an island,
brushed by a warm
and ancient trade wind.

There was no way to break this poem up for a quick peek as it all blends together so perfectly and needs to be read whole as Denis Hale rocks us hard at breakneck speed Classic Rock And A Way-Hard Cock

hmmm, hippiedude again befuddles me with his intricate language and mystic tongue weaving tales and torching minds with Throw Back Road

Put then to rest the naked railing,
the bitter gray dog snarling teeth.
Lift mystery moon from lapping dust,
dispatch to freedom Fame’s aural captives,
who paint their souls like rain—like rust.

Oh man, I just peeked ahead and see so many names out there familiar to me, Seattle, Eve, Razz. Anna, Fawnie, Catbabe, JC, tungtied, neo, carrie, bluerain, dusty and more…going to be a long and tough review night tonight…geesh, what a time to open my eyes and focus

[echoes_s]

SeattleRain expands imagination with devilry and daring bringing a huge grin to paper with shopping list: aisle 7

knuckle measure inch by inch
of flower and butterfly plastic clips
estimating length of vertical lips
for skin stretch isolation and pinch
pull back and test of trust,
mirror aimed between

"better leave those eyes opened, you know
how far this can go"

God Eve hits hard with Familiar Nothing I am not going to give a peek on this one also, but go read as it is so beautiful and touching…

…and then Eve brings bob Finds Love II which is a bit haunting, leaving one wondering just who or what he loves but also draws attention to care and detail of the emotions of poor bob and wonderful collection of care and colors. First go read the first bob Finds love (link is nicely provided at the top of the poem from Eve.

pleasure's in the process
of acquiring,
in love that glistens
when she's silent.

RazzRajen shows us learned realization and harmony from two separate standings with Synchronocity of slipped Dimensions

annaswirlsbrings back memories of June bugs with cicadas, making me shiver with Red Eyes

Catbabe… Phew, blew me away with Look Into Me . Not saying anything else but this…

Was it in my eyes,
as I smiled at you briefly,
and walked away,
from this
stranger seduction,
not afraid of you,
but,
terrified of me.~~~~~~~~~And go read the whole poem.

My eyes are burning, needing a rest and I have to untie the kids, let them out a while *grins*

more to come later.

[echoes_s]

Going to keep these short and sweet as requested…

Just-World
from neonurotic

fawnie brings us Rock-A-Bye Breezy

JCSTREET shoots straight from the hip in this poem Killing

champagne tells us about Carnal Beauty, the title speaks for itself.

tungtied2u softly and sadly haunting, speaks of Borne pain

Toward A Word talks to her as he were talking to us with, appreciating the simple things of life with Small Intimacies

storeywriter4u writes a simple and flowing how can i

JCSTREET again brings a smiling yet intricate and enjoyable read with April Brought Rivers
and another delightful and tongue-twisting, yet display of control over words and play with Close-Hauled At Night

cuzinevil almost sings smoothly, a nice and easy read with lilt Trials of Love

Then I came across Humping another by JCSTREET, not knowing what to expect, but smiled as I read this. Don’t miss it.

[minsue]

Hokay. Long day. Tired gosling. Please forgive the very late, very brief notes on some of today's New Poems

Missing by tungtied2u

The exact fit
Of each contour of our bodies
As we merged into one
synchronous sexuality

Poignant and beautiful


Dawn Mist by JCSTREET

wraiths in a drift, teeth-baring
smoke

July 7, 1977
Been saving this one for us, JC? Thanks!


Broken Scream of Light... by ladyambar

What is the meaning of this?
How should I develop that?
Confusions splashed into scrolls
Broken screams of light
Strong essence my poet must have

Difficult for my sleepy eyes without any breaks, but the images wrought were worth the read.


Nothing to Comment On by Dustystar

I rest my face in your hand, feeling fingers like thieves
Steal into a forest of brown and copper,
Searching for purchase on the terrain of sun starved scalp.

Breathtaking.


Bolus by by JCSTREET

To short and sweet to try to break it up by quoting. Just go read it, dammit.


And lastly on my brief list tonight, tungtied2u brings sweet smiles with Bedtime with Buddha

Bedtime
Tucked up warm
my wife and I cuddling
In between baby Buddha
a giggling, grinning presence

And now I hope to follow baby Buddah's lead and "sleep the sleep of peace". Thank you again, echoes, for doing the lion's share today

[Syndra Lynn]

It is HOT in California today people, but the poetry at Lit is even hotter!

Let's start with my big brother, Tathagata who adds his first E to his wonderful collection of poetry with Cha-no-yu. Well done dear friend.

Another favorite poet of mine WickedEve brings us a distressingly poignant look at lackluster loyalty In Sickness and In Health Till.... I love this, Eve. It is a real and chilling and oh, so understandable look at human nature. Wonderful. Then she gives us a saucy look at sweltering salty sweet sex in 97 Fahrenheit. Hot.

This brings us to tarablackwood22 who always manages to leave me breathless. Today she brings us a wonderful romp of a pirate's tale and a loving tribute to a well loved uncle in talking to pirates. Go read her whole collection. I bet you don't find one you don't like.

Oh! All my favorites are turning up today. If I find Jim and Kunda farther down the page it will be a perfect day. Onward!

Love Miss echoes-s. She brings us a beautifully written look at a failed marriage in First Year Anniversary

catastrophe made me wet (thanks! ) with My Fucking Neighbors. Fine erotic tale of audio voyeurism.

But the Wet Panties Award (didja even know we had one?) goes to Toward A Word for Indelicate. I love the lusty, honest, oh so luscious picture this painted in my mind. Hot!

fawnie has me figured out. A well written ocean poem catches my eye every time. Her Relentless Tide swept my heart away as well. Thanks F!

blueelflover spins a lovely poem of self destruction in Child's Play. This is a difficult must-read.

irishcatsmeow tells a tale of another tattered union. Imperceptible Degrees is a great read.

Man Ray gets my vote for "Best New Words" today. How Many...? offers us this:

How many hard spanks do I have in my hands for you?
A squillion?
How many frothy times do I have in my mind for you?
A dildollion?

You gotta love this-fun read!

I was going to mention strangerwithcandy just so I could write her name. Then I read Incineration and got really hot. Great erotic poetry.

Randi Grail gets the award (and my thanks) for the nastiest poem of the day. A Reasonable Demand like this should be granted willingly.

Ok, guys. This is the first half of the review. I still have 34 left to read! Gotta go for now, but back in a bit and I promise to read every one.

Syndralicious

[Syndra Lynn]

Sorry it took me so long to get back to this-ITS HOT HERE!

onward-

dreamsweet tells us How it Always is. Longing for her distant lover finds her tossing erotic.

And soft we fall
to the floor with waves
of delicate lust
all spilled out around us.

That is so nice, DS.


hippiedude had 3 or 4 new ones today. I love this:

rumpled
and
disheveled,
partly opened robe,
pale skin draped
over chalky bones.

Go read The Problem with Vernal

Echoes_s makes a return appearance today with what may be my favorite today. Soft, sexy, Jazz has never sounded so good! Damn.

JCSTREET brings us an odd assortment in More Paeans to Lonnie. Odd, but wonderful.

The cotton was high and the livin’ was easy. . .and on the long, tanned legs, gossamer panties melted/at a glance

That's just good.

kinky shy girl takes a look at what happened to annie. This one touched me for reasons I am unsure of, but you will enjoy the read!

Another of my favorite poets brings us a doozie today. normal jean is a poet's dream in Poets Don't Sleep. Very good work.

In a breathtaking dazzling poem of love with meter likeened to the beating of my heart, The Mutt pours out his soul To Roxanne, on Her Birthday.. Nice, nice work. Then he touches my heart again in missing.

Ah! My day would not be complete without a poem from Jim. jthserra spins a misty love story in Ballerina. This is wonderful! And then, a look at the ancient, patient art of bonsai in Goshin. This is a tiny piece of serenity. Simply lovely.

Cordelia, one of our most brilliant poets, brings us a list of wonderful goals in to do today. Poetic? YES! Poetry? Debateable-but I wouldn't miss reading it if I were you!


WOW! That was a whole LOT of damn fine poetry. If Kundalinguini had kicked one in, I'd have had a full house!

This is a collection of the most talented poets and the most wonderful poetry anywhere.

I feel so lucky that you guys let me hang out and play.

namaste my friends

Syn

[JCSTREET]

REVJUN17

My heart aches and a drowsy numbness o'er my senses steals, but
it's only the nitroglycerine

=====

Eve the Wicked probes a dilemma endemic to America--discontented wives--in
Paper Doll

I need simplicity,
life pre-cut, ready to wear.

Busy mornings, no problem.
Closet holds skirt, blouse,
and shoes--all attached.
Perfect hair/makeup/attitude
combo on the dresser.

Downstairs, dressed children,
with cereal bowls, full;
walked dog curled on a rug;
husband with permanent smile,
paycheck in hand.

At night, turn down the sheets,
fold the tabs on my nightie--
paper doll ready to fuck,
until realization

that I never cut along the lines
of an orgasm.

how much of this discontent has surfaced since Tim Berners-Lee invented the
world wide web is difficult to calculate--but well it serves the wandering
cyber-male - with a quick grin--a ready wit - and a slow hand - or a
cyber-female - whispering in the night to a newfound "sister"

-----

Eve also reminds of of bumps on the head--steaks on black eyes and other intimations
of the thousand natural shocks to which flesh is heir with
Insignificant Calamities

doors and drawers
catastrophes abound

head, knees
fingers and toes
no part of you is safe

keep them open
or keep them closed

run away when
doors and drawers
are in slamming motion

(OUCH Eve - I'm smarting already)


=====================

put down the Co-Cola(r) and take a bathroom break before reading
wanton wonton's things to do on sunday when your l

the nic should be 'nuff to tell us that this person's wit is off-the-wall,
outside the envelope, beyond the frame, not even on the forward-looking-infrared (FLIR)
radar screen in front of the REO in the big F-14 Tomcat (FLy Navy)

but the poet sucks us in -lambs to the laughter by starting with a few banal lines which--in subsequent context--become

more and more
excruciatingly
pee-ones-panties-making

I don't think I can excerpt it because every line depends on subsequent and
previous lines - like the button that depends on that piece of thread which
is sticking out an inch from your shirt--you want to pull it don't you, you
haven't the patience to get a pair of scissors and cut it off so you're
gonna pull it (sigh)

(where did the button go? - it rolled under the couch I think)

(things to do on a Sunday when your I)
eat black grapes
read a health book
walk to the bus stop and back just for the heck of it
call your mother
write a letter (but not to him)
finish the black grapes
make soup
write another letter (this time to him)
eat the soup with oat cakes
re-write the letter to him
go out on the porch, wishing you had a ciggie
tear up the letter to him
dial the first 4 digits of his phone number
eat the rest of the oat cakes
stand on your head for 5 minutes (new perspective)
make a cup of coffee
call your sister
drink the coffee cold
dial the first 5 digits of his number
tape the pieces of the letter back together
eat a tangerine
eat a Hershey's bar (almonds)
call your best friend (but she's busy)
dial the first 6 digits...
disconnect the phone
soak in a tub with epsom salt
reconnect the phone
try to read a magazine in bed
skip the article on the "other woman"
answer the phone after 3 rings
it's him
he's whispering
he's downstairs while his wife is in the shower
he says he loves you
he wants to see you on friday
the whole day
you pretend to check your calender
you say you'll call him at work tomorrow
he says goodbye and hangs up in a hurry
you try to sleep
you see images of him
making love to her
he says it has become mechanical
that it's nothing close to what you two do together
you believe it
but you wish you could have mechanical sex too sometimes
you have a glass of water
take a last pee
and finally fall asleep

HOKAY - we've seen poems that make us hard (males)
or moistly receptive (females) - we've seen poems that make our eyes burn
with tears (not rears Tatha) - we've seen poems that make our hearts melt

BUT THIS

is something new - it's familiarity--it's burning irony so apparently
disingenuously presented - I think I'm gonna tape it up on my wall

unfortunately I hadn't been warned to put aside the Co'Cola(r) and take
a pee break so I'm all skanky now

(who is wanton wonton and why is she trying to kill me?)

--

The mighty RazzRajen givs us some pleasant relief (pick up those Cokes again)
with Assez-la?

which for those of us who were denied a classical education means

Enough there? (or perhaps idiomatically - Enough Already)

a Back glanced look,
second chances
poets painters prosers
wordsmiths woodsmiths
craftsmen crafters crofters
I'd rather be on
the windswept moor

I couldn't agree more--it's hard to beat the swelling of the heart when it
is the only sound one can hear in the far, bleak places.

Is that drool I see,
veined and
crusted flaked slowly
and crimson
The color of her lips as she
drew them again and
yet again
He was never sated.

and we sex addicts also get our fix with funky lips

Razz is also one of the mere handful of people in Judeo=Christian civilization who
refuse to deploy the vulgar back formation "satiated" when sated.

--

champagne1982 strikes a faux-classical mood in Dis Temper

not to mention the double entendre inherent in the title

I plead my heart be still,
In poorly pondered wrath
To strike not, those upon this path,
Anger at a fool bodes ill.
They only see the bilious foam
Lathered and frothing on whitened lips
Or the ugly pout from which sullen acid drips.
The centaur calls the swampy Styx your home.
I do not want that my immortal soul
Be doomed to founder in the mire.
Let peace and quietude transpire
Soft tranquility my goal.
I endeavour to be not vengeful with my will,
And swallow, e'en though humility, be a bitter pill.

One wonders if the last line is doubled as well--it DID give me a brief
quiver

--

bluerains' breathless
is an economical one-gulp poem which--to me--starts indeterminately but
finds its metier with

life recalls a
well spring of raindrops
sleeping in puddles

but check your spelling gurl before submitting to the New Yorker
(unless I've missed comething really arcane)

--

lighthearted steve porter gives us find something small
which packs a lot of punch into a single package

find something small
and make it tall

and if its sad
then make it glad

go find a twig
and make it big

like you took me
and made a tree.

again - double entendre on the terminal couplet but
did the poet intend it one wonders

--

I have been wondering where Maria (2394) was hangin' out
during her last reincarnation but her poem being, in between
has resolved the conundrum - meso-America

where, as a virginal sacrifice she ponders blood and trans-migration

(Maria - painting this image of a submissive virgin reclining gives your
admirers plenty food for thought [but enough of this gay banter])

I watched as my blood was smeared upon
a statue raised to the sky.
Sun god was appeased and the priests
prayed for health and crops and rain

<snip>

Away as a spirit, inhabiting rocks
a special place, near the top
of some mountain, crevice or hill
perhaps, wedged beneath a sacred stone.

blood is a powerful occult symbol--I'll think about all this Maria

--

tungtied2u types trippingly across the tongue with
3 stooges

(and he's read Tom Wolfe)

Electric Kool-aid
Acid soaked Ann Arbor afternoon
3 stooges on tv and in front of
Moe, Larry, cheese
let’s vacate this dorm dump
trip down flights of stairs
squeeze thru the exit
3 into 1 won’t go
nyuk nyuk nyuk

<snip>

Rushing, ride the drug high
into the arboretum
trees sway, lurch towards us
we sit in the open
safer in the tall grass
Luminescent greens lull us
a dog sentinel approaches
Curly speaks dog
Woof
We all comprehend
Welcome
Altered state of mind

yeah! there's nothing like a sylvan arbor to dull down that "Here be The Man" paranoia

--

Liar's Definition: Sanjib

is about this East Indian guy who wants to make it with a European girl
so as to make flesh that Indo-European fusion of which the ancients were so enamored

Sanjib draws houses
combs his hair to the left
drives better
than he dances
likes Brodsky and Peanuts
and real English tea

<snip>

a direction and dream
to marry a European girl
cherish, honor and achieve
and live by the sea

he probably will
because everyone can see
that even the gods swoon
when Sanjib smiles

at least
the European girls do
and bloody hell
(but I keep it to myself)
so do I

(DRAT! whadda I gotta do to get me a Eurogurl)

Liar then ups the ante with To travel in small Steps
a richly complex poem with a simple focus - navigating the Japanese rail system--ultimately with the assistance
of a pleasant young lady

Kimika, passer-by, goer-north.
Come, American. Better seats
in the other end.
and who the hell
was I to argue?
Some hours passing by,
diversion, new smells
and a face ever imprinted
when I close my eyes.
So where you going, American?
So am I, oh let me show you
all the things I love.
there are so many fractions
of any given place...
...the Great Dragon
no exception
A day and a night,
fast forward by,
to a Tokyo morning
and two happy
but hung over travellers
still quite strangers
part way
on a summer dry street
with a tight hug,
and a kiss on the cheek.
the only one I got,
but I don't mind,
I got faces and smells,
demand nothing more
And I never got around
to tell her
I'm not American.
So I guess I still might be,
somewhere up north
from Osaka Grand Central
something or the other,
when she close her lids.

===============this is a very different train experience to that presented at
www.gropedasians.com which specializes in that peculiar Japanese fetish of having
non-consensual, equivocably-consensual and--ultimately--consensual sex on trains
often with schoolgirls in their pretty little sailor suits

=============though - she would be bearing my children by now Liar.

I haven't known enough Japanese girls yet to be sated--butI recognize the delicacy,
the mannerisms, the singsong lilt to the voice, the head-bobbing and giggling, the
submissive courtesies that make men want to reach out to Japanese girls and
give their cheeks a little squeeze and hand them a small yellow rose only just
opening from bud

good job bro

=========

annaswirls has the rare quality of being able to paint characters so that the video instantly rolls in the mind
her more than you can carry

reminds me a little of GOOD COUNTRY PEOPLE/Flannery O'Connor in the GRANTA BOOK
OF THE AMERICAN SHORT STORY/edited by Richard Ford - Granta, London, 1992.

Mame - who bailed out of Edgewood when African-Americans began buying up property there -
is a quintessential American character

once again, Mame overestimated her strength
I don't know how I am going to carry this home.

Which is how Mame wound up in my passenger seat,
chicken breast and dried prunes
stashed in the back

up here right there
she points direction
with her pink charpe finger

no, she has not lived here all her life,
used to live in Edgewood
before it started to go black

walking Miss Mame to the door
we are greeted by Ester and Marie
who shake their heads and laugh
Mame did you go and get more than you could carry again?

she accepts tease from friends,
best friends whose black charpe hands
hold the door, help with bags

Mame laughs too, thanking everyone.

--I haven't faithfully reproduced the italics on certain lines
but I can see mame pointing her peremptory finger, as she
chivvies the driver.

Good work Anna

and more good work with tracing speechless

my eyes,
her fingers

read tear raised Braille
across “return to sender.”
She licks salt for something.

her fingers,
my lips

shhhh baby
let’s not talk about it tonight
just tell me I am beautiful
tell me we are blessed


--

haldir's work is interesting but unformed--check out
Incubus

Incubus

Look for me in the darkest hour
And I'll be there
To stroke you, lick you
Bite you, scratch you,
Fuck you.
Howl at the rising moon
With me in joy.
Snarl at the rising sun
With me in frustration.
Look for me in the darkest hour
And I'll be there.

===========
when he's fucked another hundred women in the darkest hours his work may become
more subtle---how do I know that? apart from all the hubris splashing bout the place--well . . .
I'm not going to tell you

--

AND AT THIS POINT MY FRICKIN' CABLE CONNECTION WENT OUT AND THE WORLD BECAME BLACK)

(months later)

--

a poem called sorry from a nic like doormouse might give one images of submission
and the poem doesn't disappoint in that regard.

I have not seen this poet before but she is spare and to the point

Sorry

Absailing, spiralling, slowly uncoiling

That's me.

Caring, manipulative deceptive
Hurting

The rug has been laid;
Yet the edges frayed

Truth, sincerity;
It's time.

Love honour integrity
Loyalty

Undying devotion provokes;
Untold thoughts, desires
Yearning desires

Untold lust afire
Untold sacrifices surfacing
Untold love

Love. Abandoned hopes;
Shattered dreams.

I'm ready.

Confessions. Meanderings.
Haunting history prevailing;
Commitment surrender.
I'm ready.

I bow defeated.

====
I like the first six lines best though the last two will hae some reaching for a pen to note any relevant phone number
(check spelling of abseiling though--it's phonetically corect but.........)

I want to see more by this person

==============

lostandfounder is a clever clogs this week with
A Question on Haiku
in which a series of haiku encapsulate his question, neatly and elegantly

What makes a haiku?
Five, seven, five, set in stone
Like some ancient runes?

Or is it flowing
Like a stream filled with spring rain
Liquid and alive


Short perhaps?
Crisp words used with care
Or humor

Haiku wears
Many different masks
Chameleon poem

===========

a good lesson in economy and symmetry

==========

Uncle Pervey makes his pitch to be a backup screenwriter for Third watch with
Blue Line!

which--before being disabused--I thought referred to a cab company in Ottawa--
if I could get back all my Blue Line tips late at night I could drink cheap wine for the next eight years

Sometimes the job is just way too much,
Cause their daily work is with crime.
Dealing with low-lifes soon gets them,
They're united and they're the "Blue Line!!"

you seem ambivalent about the role of our heroic boys in blue Uncle - shame on you
(tehe)

===========

simply_cyn wants us to be in no doubt as to her slutness - slut is a word of
power when used in the bedroom - several flight paths north of crack 'ho' so
I don't see this as any reason not to take her bowling

Cyn

has a singsong rhyme scheme which I would usually eschew but it maps the terrain where the rubber meets the road alright.

Panting breath past parted lips
Heaving breasts lift in aching need
Tingling flesh shivers in delight
Lustful passions scream to be freed

Searching fingertips over heated flesh
Trembling lips leave a searing trail
Shifting thighs brush in helpless want
Trust heart, oh so frail

Exquisite limbs and aching form
House the slut within
Broken dreams and shattered heart
Present the girl called cyn

it's not subtle enough to induce me to take a personal break before finishing this odyssey but it has its charm

=====

The Grand Old Man of the group--Tathagata--much lusted after by the local matrons
proves that he understands exquisitely (you thought I was going to split the infinitive)

the Japanese tea ceremony/with

Cha-no-yu

flagstone path
moss covered
stone lanterns light
ceremonial tea house

bend to enter
all are humbled
equal

small brazier heats
pure mountain water
small stones
submerged wind chime
signal readiness


and I add the tea
to your unglazed cup
and adding water
create the world


in silence
I mix your tea
green
frothy
fragrant

turned 3 times
birth, life, death
impermanent
as this tea

I offer you this cup
this meditation
this ceremony
this moment
of perfection

I hope he travelled JAL and not Pan-AM

=======================================================================
REVIEWER'S CORNER

There's a definite Japanese theme this week and I wonder if it's some form of
morphic resonance connected with the visit of her Royal Highness (a Japanese princess) to
Canada over the past few days.


Indeed a Japanese of my acquaintance recently wrote in a syntax that will
be familiar both to Liar and to Tatha



"Many thanks for your most beautiful letter. In this approaching spring, may <name>
wishes you a heart garden blossom with pretty spring flowers. Though we live apart
from each other, the morning wind will take my blessings to you and may happiness
accompany you forever. Thank you very much for writing to <name> and more hugssssssssss
for you, my dearest friend.

I am returning home to Japan and right now, I am writing in the room of my school.
Tell you a little about myself. Every year, from around April till September, I will
usually visit back to my school and study for a little. Even though I have graduated
years ago, but the coming back to revised my school work and revisit my mentors
and reconnect with nature is a big joy in my life. My foster parents stay in Japan
and they operated a koi farm. And all my mentors and friends are here. And moreover,
spring in Japan is most beautiful...where cherry blossom bloom the whole nation and
every of us are touched by their fragrance. This inspires me to write most of the
months during spring till autumn."

I find it impossible for my occidental pen to adequately respond to her images.

END OF REVIEWER'S CORNER - I NEEDED A BREAK--THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR HOURS

Do any reviewers get so involved that they fail to feel the fell of night and wonder why it's getting so hard to type--do they ever become
dizzy and suddenly fall right over from lack of food and water??????????

================================================================

When I finally come to one of Tara Blackwood's poems I tend to sit back - light up my pipe - watching the little coals burn
yet more holes in my old woolen cardigan and cry ARRRRRRRRGH MATIES sufficiently loudly to upset local
cats.

Today's poem speaks not of the seamy underbelly, the demimonde, Berlin in the 20s, longings, moanings,
not of the tenderloin or midnight wanders, morning maunders--not at all

it is childhood reminiscence and like a couple of other poets on here, tara makes the
imagination wince and sing with apprehended sounds and scents

Her talking to pirates

Tara has attracted so much comment in the group that for me to mouth fresh encomia might
well guild the lily - so I'll let the poet's luscious lips speak for themselves

even the dogs sheltered
that February day, den
foggy with pipe smoke, smelling
of cherries and wood,

resonant with the squeaks
of Uncle Willy’s rocker
and gunfire from ice pellets
peppering the windows and vinyl outside.

him,

spinning pirate stories
as always, through hail,
so clear and chilling
the skull and crossbones flapped
from the fireplace mantle, treasure
buried under the floorboards.

planks ran from the deck
of his desk
to the briny odors
of the scullery
(the salty perfume of Aunt Ester’s country ham),
and mutineers walked and drowned.

through parting pipe clouds, thunder
broke from the ceiling,
brave buccaneers
hung from crow’s nests
in room corners, ordering
the cannons ready.

men of the deep sat
at our kitchen table, slamming
down their iron mugs
in the slap of uncle’s hand
on the mahogany, mead frosting
their beards, wiped
by heavy blue sleeves.

surge of the sea
on parlor floor,
we rolled
soaked in watersplash,
ducking fire and swing ropes,
knives in our teeth.

nieces and nephews
partners in blood,
sworn
to a man with a boy’s heart.

------------

there's not much I would change here except this verse

resonant with the squeaks
of Uncle Willy’s rocker
and gunfire from ice pellets
peppering the windows and vinyl outside

=============
my take is
=============

(resonant with
Uncle Willy's rocker squeaks, ice-
pellet gunfire
raking the windows)

or something close to that

================

I've been on a lot of ships
from yawls in squalls
to iced up peepers on sweepers
to the sleek greyhounds of death on Standing Naval Foce Atlantic patrol (STANAVFORLANT)

and the crashing of the men's iron mugs works for me

====================

too bad Tara's from Evanston or she could be "Big Noise From Winetka"

========================

honorable mention: echoes_s First Year Anniversary

=========================

I'm too weak of stomach to get my teeth into Tristesse's Puke

but I'm not a censor so there it is for vomit fetishists

=====================

catastrophe does a clever deal at her HMO with
health insurance

doctor's office
cold
funny smell
tight cuff
pressure high
smiling nurse
ticking clock
clock ticking
waiting now
ugly gown
knock on door
smiling doctor
sterile room
legs spread
cold metal
warm fingers
magic touch
rub my button
secret service
pay the bill
like my health plan
that pays the hooker

=================basically the poem's protagonist has the "little girl gets her first cum in the gynie's office"

I've seen this fetish in the dark, desires and Fantasies room at Talkcity
which really helps those cold, dark winter nights slip by.....but........
I can't get into looking at wide-open cooze with a cold speculum inside.

more power to anyone though who can make their bones at Blue Shield's expense

===================

PHEW - I believe I've strayed back into the 16th--inadvertently--something I would never do vertently

CARLIEBEAR'S PICKOF DA WEEK

has to be wanton wonton's poem - I will still be reading this on my deathbed

I prostrate myself at her feet
scrunching her grapeseeds with my molars

FIN--THE END--AL FIN--NICHT MEHR

[annaswirls]

If you happened to miss this one, go check it out--- you will not be disappointed, here is a little tease

As if--

by neonurotic ©
Spooned over with
cold feet
between my knees

"It's not summer yet"
she whispers

[Liar]

Let's start with the getting nekkid business...

I gave my sister a funny t-shirt last christmas. It was plain and red, and on appropriate boob-level it said "Jamie Oliver Gets On My tits". She hates Jamie Oliver, she loves that tee. Now, we are clearly in no need of the man who got trademarked as The Naked Chef, (I'll bet a fair number of you don't know just what the hell I'm talking about here. Oh well.) because lots of poets shed their at least metaphorical clothing and went a-cookin on their own:


Naked Chocolate by Syndra Lynn is a sweet and sexy playful treat.
Whip cream clouds,
pert cherries peeking out,
jiggle like jello
when tasted with tongue.


Naked Belgian Haiku by Kundalinguini. Hey more chocolate poetry, that made me realise that I have a dirty mind. If you saw the same thing I see in these words, you have one too.
Hardened pleasure melts
warm and liquid on the tongue
Bittersweet delight


Naked Linguine by Kundalinguini again. The (kunda)linguini man brings us some linguini. Delicious.
reproductive seed
kneading egg
just moist
slightly salty
pinched and pressed
rubbed and rolled
stripped and finally
turning hard


Naked Fruit by Angeline starts out innocent enough, but sure enough syrns playfully silly and downright randy as we read along. Delightful.
Cantaloupe is best scooped
into submission, musk or watermelon
slice pressed between lips and teeth,
so the juice runs back
over your tongue, your throat,
intense like summer.


Naked Fig by darkmaas. The challenge's patron himself takes a trip down Memory Lane. And Memory Lane is rainy. Which doesn't have to be a bad thing. Not when you've got the right company...and figs.
we sat close and mostly naked
on the dark verandah
and watched the rain black street
grow misty with the quiet hiss
of passing cars


Naked Dessert by Tristesse. A tasty, erotic treat. I wonder if it's mrore tasty for the treater or the treatee, and who is who in this scene...
He brought bowls
of soft fruit and cream
whipped firm.
He spread this
on her table-belly
and spilled it on her breasts
as she laughed again.


Naked Berry by neonurotic is probably my favourite of the foody bunch. Attraction disctracion of a very familiar kind. At least to me.
I'm wondering
does she
taste like fruit?

A raspberry sip?

I want to lick them
naked, but she
keeps them moving


Naked Mango by champagne1982. Carrie gets it on in this cool, funny and sexy rhyme-fest.
You twist and mango twirl me
and kiss my mango throat,
on my stove, cook mango syrup,
float my mango gravy boat.


And finally, my own mislabelled entry. naked nerve. But I'll change the title to the more fitting naked bitter.


Phew, on to the rest then...

[Liar]

Yes, there were some other great poems too. And blow me backwards, there were many of them.

First of all, something is wrong with the link on the New Poem's page to Eve's Mildred At Home. When I click it I come to the Lit frontpage. Odd.



Ok, on to working poems. There are lots and lots and lots of great poems today. I'll keep it short, mostly for the sake of my own sanity.



May/December Rapist by flyguy69. Sharp, spitting, hot as fuck.
My vintage tongue
bends hip hop
to Strunk & White
Phony cacophony


Tink by WickedEve. Superb Zoey from a few daysago has gotten a buddy poem.
The journey to the hill is black now.
Tink is a story told,
photograph for her to hold.


copacetic persuasion by WickedEve again. Short but says a damn lot.


sprawling sunbeams by echoes_s. What can I say? I muist admit that imagery and core message was a little hard to grasp. But really, I can't care. Perfect phonetic balance in elaborate sentences. It's music without notes. This reads like a fucking fugue.


Four-Leaf Clover by Uesugi Ieyasu. A new poet with very strong interresting voice. There are edges to polish, but a very impressive start.
Have I been asleep throughout this quake?
Should they fear resistance when I awake?
How many times shall history be repeated?
Until my spirit is permanently defeated?


Envy's Eyes by champagne1982. Razor sharp. Just read those opening lines. Then go read the rest.
You lie awake with eyes sewn tight
nevermore will you yearn


One of the Roving Kind by Reltne. Another new poet worth a mention. This reads at first like an impressive dictionary excersise. But look closer, or lean back, and there is a poem of astral perspectives there.


Psalm of Reason by The Mutt.
The Lord is not my shepherd,
For I am no one's sheep.
Right on!


The Quarry by tungtied2u made me remember easier days. Simple but astute descriptions.
Shaved gray granite tables
await at the beach
spreading ourselves upon them
we serve ourselves to the rays
naked as jaybirds
and twice as boisterous


Sweet Venom by fawnie is a sultry peek into a game for two.
Revisions now haunting,
subtle words with intent,
"just let me love you"
you meant, "let me fuck you"


even now by tarablackwood22. Her sharp stacatto style is there, but more comntemplative and personal then the usual output. But equally bloody good.
we fuse once more
like lightning, flash
of fury past,
fuck electric.


Poet Chick by Angeline. Some poems are overwhelming, or transcending, elevating, pongiant, poignant, passionate, perverted... Poet Chick is just nice, and that's all it needs to be. More nice poerty, please!


Maria's Garden by Tathagata. Maria's got a poem, Maria's got a poem, nah na nah na nah na. Yes, I'm jealous.
I see her kneeling
in fertile earth
hands blackened with nurturing
coaxing
pleading life
out of tired soil



BLEARGH! You guys write too many good poems! Not I'm gonna go for a short midnight walk, because my ass has fallen asleep.


#L


ps. CAN SOMEONE PLEASE SEND A FEEDBACK NOTE TO AT LEAST THE NEW POETS AND LET THEM KNOW THAT THEY WERE REVIEWED?
My IP adress is still for some reason banned from sending fb.

ps2. [self plugging] I did a poem too. Definition: Clara [/self plugging]

ps3. I am certain that there was one more poem that I liked, but forgot. But if I try to find it now. I'm gonna faint. Aplologies to you, whoever you are.

[perks]

Psylocibin Cabaret by ScottX
Forget the fact there are a few misspellings and grammatical errors <psilocybin, smoke, it's, madmen's> Possibly there is an apostrophe phobia, but really who cares, ok, I do somewhat, or I wouldn't have mentioned it. That being said, I loved the content of this poem. The select imagery that jumps from one idea to the next in perfect flowing form is amazing. The genius of "with tall glasses of Brew HaHa" blew me away. I also appreciated the selected article of "the" when referring to "the temptress" in the first line. It envokes the knowledge of the reader to a familiar trip/dream. I loved the fantastic ride. Thanks.

Amenity Afterwards by WickedEve
I'm not satisfied with this. Yes, I love the imagery, yes I love the feelings I think are there/behind it. But I don't "know" what I'm really supposed to be feeling. I feel like I've read a fragment, and want to interpret without context. Yes, it's poetic, but it leaves me wanting to read the rest. I think this is unfinished, Eve. On one hand I love its simplicity, but on the other I feel like you not only cut the crotch, but the deeper emotions that this poem is capable of.

Fathers and Dads by MT_Pitcher
timely, yes, but I'm not feeling this in a poem sense, or even prose. At times it feels a bit preachy, and I don't really agree with all of it, but that just talks of content. It reminds me of an email my mom will send me and a whole slew of others in about 4 years, and attached to it will be some blinking teddybear and hearts with a note that warns me of a curse unless I send it to all the people in my addy book.
But, I do feel that you were sincere and it was very heartfelt, so that has some merit in itself.

Prose Poem Prolix III (Love Museum) by JCSTREET
this poem is loooooong, long loooooong! and I like it that way. I am simply amazed by the duality of this poem. How it can feel so full of subtext when it is written in black and white is thrilling. It sometimes reads like a play, and that's an interesting thing. I found the structure, the exact descriptions and overall feel of it to be simply breathtaking. Thanks for the read. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was quite filling.

Born Too Late by tarablackwood22
I can feel the depth of your intensity for the subject matter, and I can see the poetic imagery. However, that being said, I don't think they mesh very well. If I may use an analogy, it feels like broken sauce to me. It contains excellent ingredients, the author has the skill, but it just got overworked and so it broke. I would suggest that you read this poem for a week until it's almost memorized. Then leave it for a week. Then, write down what you remember. You will be left with the content that you need and the imagery to make it whole. But for now, I think possibly, that some of the point of this poem is lost in order for you to use the "poetic imagery". I'd like to see it a bit more simplified. And yes, I think you can have a perfect poetic phrase and be simple at the same time. This poem wants to be great, and I'm sure it will be. I agree that your passion is quite apparent.

Irish Wisdom by Tathagata
verses two and four are my favorites of this piece. I'm swayed by "ethereal bird" and "pisses them off", because they scream of the Irish I know. I even felt the accent a bit when I started reading the first verse, maybe I was a little biased by the first lick of frosting<the title>. Somewhere in the mix I lost the Irish feel, but then you dragged me back with those few notable phrases. This is an ok poem. Solid enough, but I wasn't wowed. You have the capability to wow me.

Spirit of the Age by hippiedude
get out your dictionaries kiddies, you'll need it for all those $50 words. You'll be so engrossed with needing the definition and wondering where the meter ran off to, that you won't even notice the rhyme scheme. Oh, wait, cat's out of the bag.
I'll have to check with Ms. Webster to find out exactly what the poem was about. I can't imagine anyone using those words without feeling intensely about something important.

in trees by lipsticksunset1984
"when grass was gemmed
by pearls of morning"

goddamn, can you have more imagery or be more poetic than that? Simple thought, crystal clear content, brilliant imagery. Nature embracing humanity, humanity embracing nature. Just beautiful.
I have to say, the only reason I didn't give it my "perks of excellence award" was because it really wasn't my cup of tea, but hell, it's classic and very good. Good, solid poem, and a beautiful read.

Naked Semolina by normal jean
First of all, loved the title. Secondly, found your content interesting. I don't know what "your chive exhale" means. It sounds cool, but it lost me. "rushed and rouge" why didn't you match verb tenses?"rushed and rouged"? That was a little disconcerting too. Made me trip over my words and flounder in the semolina. I wish the line "minted lamb and grape and grain" lost the first "and" and went with a comma instead. "minted lamb,grape and grain". Instead of "feast of pasta" I wanted "pasta feast". I don't know why "knave frenetic spoon" is even in that whole stanza, it works without it, and I'm not confused, because I know what all that other stuff means, but "knave frenetic spoon" not a clue. In fact, without that, I absolutely love that whole verse. Your "attendance", "resemblance", "remembrance" assonance was witty. "butter cream" is a known frosting, and I don't feel it fits with the whole pasta thang you've got going on, but that's just culinary content.
It could use a bit of tweaking, but I think it's a great start, and it looks like you had lots of fun writing it. Nice concept.

think it might be a turnstile by annaswirls
I like this poem, hate the frosting<your title>. Nice use of "paths diverging in a wood" as a directional. Put my head in a great mindset.
"geological crack in plan" that whole fault line thang was really good. I appreciate your strophe breaks, and it feels complete, because I really want to make a decision. I think your title works for you, because of where your head was, but just reading it with fresh eyes, I see nothing relating to a turnstile or why you would even label it so. I'm not directed by the title in the least, and it distracted me from the poem for a minute, until I read the poem without it. Poem good, title noooo. That being said, it probably alludes to another poem that I haven't read, and I'm just lifting my skirt and showing my ignorance. *laughing*

flattering light by WickedEve
this poem reminds me of night lighting in south carolina, it's all completely indirect, and you captured the simple essence of it. No matter your reason for the poem, it works, and it's good.

Sugar Magnolia by Angeline
Jerry Garcia anyone? And honey, you know it's "sugah" *wink*
this poem was so smooth, I didn't even have to smoke to feel the high. Seamless, fluid, better than the twenty minute version.

The Kissing Leaf by WickedEve
this is by far my favorite of your offerings today. I think the simplicity of your "flattering light" was perhaps purer, but I relate to this one more. I know that girl, I know me in relation to her. I love when I can reach out and touch the people in your poetry. The emotions are so palpable. That is such a gift, Eve.

Good morning poets, well it's morning here in Seattle and it is good because the sun is shining, which is rare as you all know or have heard. Since sunny days are few and far between, I better get out there and enjoy it myself.

I think this is the first time that I've seen less than 15 poems on Sunday's new poems page since... ever, I've never seen it! I don't know how Rybka did Sunday reviews for so long, and here I get the break after a month or so of reviewing


~ ~ ~


Sunday's first offering is by poetboy824 with Silly Flowers, a sweet and sentimental piece. Psst—always go for the flowers, you'll never go wrong.

It seems silly
To give you flowers
Like giving King Midas gold
Because when I think of you
I imagine you
As some kind of Magic Goddess
Turning everything you touch
Into flowers

~ ~ ~


RazzRajen Submits on Joinings with these very vivid and wiggly images:


Writhing masses of
flesh like blood worms
being fed to ravenous
gulping mouths

Trembles and tremors shook
the rippling flesh
Her belly undulated in
deepening shadows
that drank Him in

Later, they were One
as always They were
meant to Be

~ ~ ~


tungtied2u ravages navel oranges Ambrosia and asks important questions What If

What if it was in your head roaring like a jet airliner
until you would give anything for peace and quiet
How would you turn it off?

~ ~ ~


Angeline tells of us of Copacetic Ghosts, showing us her creative imagination is filled with music (as we've always known.) Writing such poetry let's us 'ride around in the bus' too.

I love my ghosts.
They ride around my imagination
in their old tour busses, jumbling
over the ruts of rural America and me,
gig to gig, poem to poem,
talking low, nodding. They drink
from flasks and laugh, throw craps,
wait for me to slow down
and listen

~ ~ ~

Prince Jhonny submits a touching write with Peace [For Rhonda on 06-01-04

I watched you sleep for hours today
And that brought me more comfort
than anyone could pass my way


~ ~ ~


A few offerings from newbie poets or, ones that are new to me, were RISING STAR - Watching Her, Karma, If I had my way, and Taster's Choice, LadyCibelle - Wet and Tasty_Teaze - Let Me Remember


~ ~ ~


That's it, a dozen or so poems make up the New Poems page, so go out there read, vote, and leave comments — support your own


- neo

[perks]

Amorous Widow by WickedEve
I knew this was a terzanelle from the minute I started reading the first verse. It has that certain classic feel, with structure and meter.I do love how you deftly incorporate assonance; it adds to the fluidity of the piece. The prickly side of me was turned off by your word choice of "desire", but honestly, it still works, it just doesn't match the brilliance of the rest of the poem for me. It's one of those words that we hear so much I have a hard time ever seeing it being used. Also, even though I really like "while gardener reveals in streaming bath" and I think I know what it means and how it fits in context, really it's not that clear, although it's more than poetic.
Overall, fuckin' A it's a teeerzanelle, and I defy anyone who says it doesn't kickass.

Bicameral Man by hippiedude
this one, I really like. Yes, you use your trademark big words, but they don't stnad out for me in this piece. They're incorporated and not glaringly obvious in their depth and length. I think your structure is better, it is more fluid. I'm directed by your title, my understanding is that bicameral refers to dual branches of legislature, I'm not sure how that fits with your poem, but I can still buy it, and it'll work, especially with all your points of change. Two things "gazing wistfully" is not an original phrase. I think you know that. I've heard it used more than a two dollar hooker. Your poems are better than that, especially taking into consideration your vocabulary. Also, I thought you misspelled the cloud word, so I looked it up and learned something. Thanks teach.

After The Fall by WickedEve
hey look ma, a poet. Of course you're talented, so let's say I hold you to a higher standard of nitpicky-ness. The strength of your last verse overshadows the rest of the poem. Titled something else, the last verse could be the entire poem. It's strong enough and has the complete thought, and imagery. The last line of the first verse is at odds with the first two. chic comes through the window, to where it's warm, yeah, I get that. But it doesn't feel like that. I don't know whether to hate the choppiness of the first two lines, or love the imagery itself. I do know that as a whole the first verse doesn't work for me. Yes it sets a certain tone, but it's completely unfulfilling. The second verse feels to me like you needed a transition from choppiness to genius, and tried to use a bit more imagery by using the word "white" instead of whatever you were thinking about. I'm screaming in my head "white what?, damnit white what???". Then I get to the the final verse and I want to smack you for the first two, because I had to get through all that pain for this beauty. So, I call the first two verses thorn one and two, but thank god for verse three, it's your full blown rose.

Black Circle by ScottX
I'm really starting to get involved with your poetry. I like your "voice", you have a certain style of imagery that makes your poetry your own. This one was really complete. I enjoy your word choices and how the phrases you pick work independently from each other and in tandem at the same time. It's as if in one line you're reading something with a certain context and the next line you turn the context on it's ass and drive the reader in a whole different direction. I think that's a great talent. I do think you copped out on the title. I bet you could have come up with something a bit more savvy. I also wonder why in the middle of plural nouns, you have "allegiance" instead of "allegiances". I'm not sure of your word choice with "government". It's so bland, with all your talk of allegiance and serpentine and clandestine, you may want to rethink that. Also, you have "men of the brood of Faust", like the idea, hate all the "ofs", possibly you could go with "men in the brood of Faust" instead? I think "incantation words" is redundant. And "decrept" should be decrepit. But really, that's just tweaking, and I gave the poem a five anyway,because I like it and I can.

Scrape by champagne1982
Overall, a pretty good poem. Solid voice, great imagery within the context. I have a little issue with your first line's verb tense. You say she "could" fix it, when in fact within the first verse, she "is" fixing it. I'm not sure why you made a line break after "scour" instead of before it, especially with that comma use. Because otherwise, the meaning is illogical grammatically. Scream poetic license all you want, but your second verse is stronger because of the clarity, not the lack of it. You know, if you reworked the first four lines of this poem, it would be magnificent, because the rest of the poem is great, in fact there is that one moment of almost hidden genius when you allude to the bike in the second verse when you say "pedal". I really loved the second verse. This poem, almost read like you were learning to ride, faltered at the beginning and then took off the training wheels at the end. I enjoyed it. Oh yeah, I'm not sure I like your frosting<title>. It's functional, but not too tasty.

Silly Flowers by poetboy824
I don't think your title should be silly flowers, because you allude to her having the ability to turn everything into them, so then they wouldn't be silly at all, especially if you like her, right? I like your use of rhyme as a tool instead of a singsong needle to my eyes. There's a smattering of meter that attracts me too, noted mostly in the lines "I think of flowers// Sunflowers, daisies// a blood red rose". I think there would have been even tighter meter if you got rid of the "flowers" in the first line of that bit. The only "thorn" in my side with this whole poem is the structure. I see where verses should start and end, and want to do the same with some of the lines, just to be able to breath between blossoms. Still, all in all it is a sweet poem, without being cheesy or giving me a toothache.

surrender by Tathagata
get rid of "grey" in the first verse, and "death" in the second. They're alluded too and redundant. Your title works for me. I love a good directional frosting.
this one made me "wow" again. thanks for the read.

on Joinings by RazzRajen
"Reflected shadows in
panes of shattered lake
surfaces"
ohhhhh, that's purdy! Even if I might remove "surfaces" with the use of "panes" it's pretty understood, I would think. You like the big words too, Jazzy, but they only kill me once in awhile. Good thing I have that built in dictionary. "agglomerate" and "accreted" one right after the other, made me lose your imagery, because I's not as edumacated. Pretty good poem, I struggled with clarity here and there, but I enjoyed it anyway. Plus, you have some meter that sneaks up on the reader, and I enjoy little suprises like that.

Let Me Out of This Box by Wicked Eve
complete in image, structure, thought. I'll wrap this box and stick a bow on it. 5.

What if by tungtied2u
Eve's right, it doesn't read like a poem, but yet it has structure, some internal rhyme and content. Everything is fluid but the last verse, leaving me feel somewhat incomplete and questioning "what if" this was a poem. *grin*

Into Her by darkdragonlover
Since you asked for a critique on your first poem. I'll give you one.

I'd like to see you throw all your rhyme out the window, and rewrite this poem in your own words, not forcing them into some known structure that you think will make it a poem. Remove all phrases that you've heard before "a chill went up and down her spine", "passion", "flames"... you see what I'm getting at? Then once you do that, and you get down to the meat of the emotion. Turn around and describe those emotions with some of your own originality, so we can hear your true voice. You obviously are interested in writing poetry, I would love to see you interested in writing your emotions and turning them into poetry eventually. It's good to start anywhere.

Beef Injection by JCSTREET
are you kidding me with this poem? I laughed, I cried, I had to give it a five because it mentions the word "duck". I'm biased what can I say? Okay, this poem starts out like my worst nightmare and then by the end I realize that really nothing has changed, I was just fooled by big words and larger than life internal rhyme and imagery. And yet, I couldn't stop reading, didn't want to at all! It was fast, and bipolar, and god knows the mania in that is all kinds of fun. Go back on the meds dear, but if you decide not to, you can send your whacky brain tirades to me. I was raised on that rollercoaster. It's smart, it's crazy, and if it didn't have the raunchy bawdy sex thrown in, I would have thought it was a conversation with my mother. It's an electrode to the balls of the poetry forum. *laughing*

Dum-Da-Dum-Dum by Reltne
I don't know the history of this, but it feels like 8mile slam poetry style. I'd like to give a shout out to all my peeps in the poetry thread! Yeaaaah Yeaaaaaaah! w00t w00t!

Okay, I haven't done Eve's glass box through 50 Reasons, and I can't remember where neo stopped and started, I just need to take a break for a minute. If anyone else wants to step in, feel free.

Part II of my mentions...



~ ~ ~

New poet Elanora Day presents a couple poems for us to enjoy today with Night and Mouth, and more notably For free

When you lay buried in the cave
of our confession, tell me what you feel.
Nothing was ever wrong that feels
like love.

Call it whatever you want.

I have seen the night
shade ochre in your eyes,
the twist of lips that pleasure,
almost a sob when hips jerk
and we tremble together,
release the only freedom
we have left.

~ ~ ~


Boomerengue delivers this beauty, Remember


This world is made of opposites
and is unbalanced for now
but the wheel turns slowly
and the balance returns
the healers will always out weigh the hurters
so sit and heal, my friend
and know your own outcome
but remember to pray for the hurters;

~ ~ ~


WickedEve brings submits one of my favorite reads of the day with glass box. This is very well written piece of erotica—a hot image x4—cubed, rather.

repeated images on walls
sweep the floor
and splash the ceiling.

thrust and slide once,
a hundred times over.
each square holds the same scene.

~ ~ ~


ehoes_s brings us take my hand, soft, beautiful and hazy write

caressing skin with scented earth
sprinkling laughter, darting mirth
come, come dance, take my hand
travel with skirting land
swing puffs of skies, sail prancing seas
mingle yours with pleasured pleas

~ ~ ~


Another new voice, lipsticksunset1984 presents a fine write with twilight

the wind whistles up a rain
the air stinks of spring

this is the moment of final blink
the razor’s wish
I will know the full moon’s soul

I impale hell’s starless ceiling
with thoughts
to be read by my locater

~ ~ ~


tarablackwood22 shares with us the eyes of future mornings—I particularly enjoyed this wonderfully descriptive stanza:

our last walk, dark and lonely
down this familiar street
with its deli smells of pickles and stew
and its boys pitching nickels, and you
knowing our parting
before we meet,
feeling what I feel, the going
of goodness, the in-betweens
of slavery and loss
and what they mean.

~ ~ ~


annaswirls Submits another one of my favorite reads of the day with cuckolds lament—very sexy, yes indeed... sly (secret) and sophisticated.

for our reunion ritual
under a tight hold and kiss, I tuck my
face between chin and shoulder
breathe deep in for traces of her-
a ritual that started the first time
I smelled her Bal a Versailles
and salty musk under your chin

~ ~ ~


That's it for the day from me. Please poets, if I, perks or Seattle Rain forgot to mention any poem that interests you, just recommend them yourselves with a link as it was confusing review day as 'The Powers Be' decided to mix the day up for fun.


- neo

[SeattleRain]

50 Reasons
by JasperMan ©

I'm not sure what I'm even writting about, I'm just gonna let my mind and fingers do the work. Hell, thats pretty much how I've done it for the most part.

this poem felt like bits and pieces because it was bits and pieces and JasperMan tells us this up front, but I did like some bits and a handful of pieces.

Jasper, may I direct you to All of a sudden passion suddenly thread? I think you could really have fun there-- your poem has that feel to it. Of course, submit all you want as well, but come passion a bit with us too sometime. It feels so good!

~

Watching Her
by Tasty_Teaze ©

I could not tell if this was a prose poem, a piece of a story or painting a detailed description of a lovely lady with words. It was a nice picture, but I like to be able to fill in some blanks


~

Unckle Pervy has two in my view

What Do You Do With a Sneaky Rascal
by Uncle Pervey ©
Sung to the music, "What Do You Do With a Thievin' Stranger," by Burl Ives.

Some sneaky rascal guy has his tongue in the 1st person story tellers hershey highway (omg I cant believe I just said that) and Daddy doesn't like it


(sorry I had to sing this to "what do you do with a drunken sailor")

and

Ruthie Maggee!
by Uncle Pervey ©

Ruthie shaves her pussy and keeps it nice and clean and I am not telling you any more.... gotta go meet her for yourself. Daddy doesn't seem to mind havin a taste of Ruthie, wonder if her Daddy is happy about it...

plsting to check on the status of the other poets....

[SeattleRain]

Maid of Honor

by darkdragonlover ©

I agree with Eve, great title for this poem which lists some of the domestic duties of the woman of the house. Give it to all your single female friends or as a wedding gift. eek.


Tasters' Choice
by RISING STAR ©

I hope I am doing this right
I know how women are about these things
Its crazy we had to wait after midnight

cute poem with a fun twist

~


xPeace [For Rhonda on 06-01-04

by princejonny ©

I watched you sleep for hours today
Amazed at the peace you know in dreams.

I liked the sentiment in this poem, very sweet, but I am rarely crazy about rhyme, it almost works since this is almost like a lullaby for someone already asleep.

~~


Thank You
by GinaRegina ©

Your cock is like a shaft of light,

okay I could not help but think of being fucked by a light saber, I am sorry Gina, not sure that was what you were going for.

I implore you, try to write this without rhyme. Think about what you want us to feel and then pick the parts that will do that to us. It feels to me that you really get pleasure from this man. But I am caught up in the rhyme that seems like you had to compromise what you are really trying to say. Please don't take offense, I just feel so much more free to come up with my meaning if I do not try to rhyme. Once you write what you really want to say, then maybe try to make it rhyme if that is what you really want to do. In my oh so humble opinion.....



~~


Let Me Remember
by Tasty_Teaze ©

Kind of a neat idea here to have a turn taking conversation between two lovers telling each other what they want to remember about their love making etc. I was confused (doesn't take much) about this format until gender distinguishing body parts came into play. Work on this, and if you do, please make a distinction between the voices (italics?)



~~

[SeattleRain]

If I Had My Way
by RISING STAR ©

I would give what you need
While giving what you want
Be your security as I put you to sleep
Right before sharing secerts
That victoria couldn't keep

I agree with one commenter that this reads like a very sweet note to a lover, which many poems are but it does not have a universal feel.... I am not sure why. I can't help myself, I like the last two lines.

~

Wet
by LadyCibelle ©

This is my first attempt at posting anything that I write….please be nice

Go say "welcome" to Lady Cibelle!

~

And say hi to another new poet and read this sad poem:

Based On A True Story
by RISING STAR ©

i remember holding you
everybody said you had my eyes
but calling his angel home

so very soon caught me by surprise,

Karma
by RISING STAR ©
i never put it together
and i dont think i tried
but now my life has changed forever
and tonight i cried,
played the game
but now it doesn't feel the same

I agree with Syndra's comment and would add-- don't think of rhyme when you write your poem until you have it cut down to exactly what you are tryning to say. Boil off the extra water, you might have a rich stew in there.



oop I have just been notified that I crossed the line lol

I am going to BED!



zzzzz

night poets, lets all be poets

I read a lot of nice comments on poems, thank you to everyone who read, voted and commented on this great batch of poetry! Do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around

that's what its all about....

night now

Seattle

[champagne1982]

I thought I'd share a quick review of today's, the 21st of June and the longest day of the year's New Poems.

ScottX Keeps us awake with a solid sleepless look that's Denied By Morpheus but my favourite of his today and also my fave of the day is this modern solution to crowed cemetaries Immortal

A new face to the poetry lists is Barushko. Have a look.

WickedEve gets us through the night terrors and difficult moments of childhood by talking to Katy.

hippiedude reminds us that it takes a community to raise a child but it only takes one to save them. Read what happens when suddenly the neighbours are blind and deaf. Don't forget to lock your doors and cry for The Bleeding Family

RISING STAR has been making his presence felt on the New Poems list. He has 3 more to offer today. If we plant in the light of the moon, water and feed and sit back to watch it grow, this may lead to the cloud with the castle and the goose that lays the golden eggs. Ya never know.

To share in the longing and love that only long distance romance seems to evoke, have a peek at LadyCibelle's submissions page. She shares 3 poems today, and I think she's another new member worth watching.

Eleanora Day whispers words of love and assurance while holding us against her in Amante

Formalities by the author of this review could be something you'd like.


All of the poems I've mentioned are wonderful and worth reading and I'm sure I've missed a couple YOU would enjoy. Take a look at the New Poems, read, vote, comment and primarily, enjoy!

[annaswirls]

This is not the official review or anything, just damn, there are a lot of amazing poems out there this morning....


don't miss this: I was the first to comment, I don't want it to get lost in the mix:

This is a Dry Country

by Barushko ©


And laelia is back, strong as ever, check her out.

laelia

Another newcomer you don't want to miss:

It's essential
by LeMatou ©

These are a few in a sea of beautiful poems.

Whoever is reviewing today, I apologize if I am budding in, I just had to make sure to sing out a little commercial for these newcomers and newly returned. Please review them as well if you wish, as this is more of a public service message than a review.

this is anna excited

[annaswirls]

Ah Uncle Pervey with a question so many of us have had-- what the fuck is up with the points system around here? I really do not get it, I see incredible poetry out there that never makes the H, and I just do not understand. Not that this H is too important in the grand scheme of things, it just blows my mind....

BUT

as I was saying, Uncle Pervey asks a timeless question....

What's the Point?
by Uncle Pervey ©

What's the point of the whole point system,
When points gained are always disappearing?
The way they go aare just like "Black Magic,"
It makes you glad that you're "God Fearing!"

I for one have had my ups and downs,
And a fluctuating count movement,
I've gone from 4 points on some poems to three,
And from that point there's no improvement! ........

I've gone from just one to nothing, but,
What blocks my brain like an impeder!
How do these first points make their appearance,
When there's not even been a reader??

I am not sure what you are refering to as points, but it is easy to drop a point in the score, someone just has to vote lower.... I think you might mean views? Or # of people voting? A little confused, this has all be discussed, eek crazy stuff. If you mean how can you have a number of reads, they count any time you check your pending status poem, or when others are checking/editing your poem before it is posted.


~~


Freedom

An attentive master and his slave who crys for freedom--
here is a little taste:

by DuchessMorgan ©
Bound and blind,
Your mercy, I'm at.
Beneath my pussy,
I sensed you sat.

~~

Lady Cibelle has a few today:

A light in your eyes
by LadyCibelle ©

A beautiful smile
Forces my heart to stop for a while

My heart will yearn, my pulse will quicken
When you came into my life, my feelings did thicken

a love poem of rhyming couplets

Downfall of Men
by LadyCibelle ©

Wherever you lay your soul
You can pray anyone
The words have already been told
Chaos is the source of dawn
Find the tree, build your roots
Follow the path of your boots

She has some deep ideas here, and I know more people would get their messages of LadyCibelle dropped the rhyme scheme. I do not see how it enhances the poetry.



Dear God, are you there God?
by LadyCibelle ©

This one is from the darkest period of my life when I didn't see any light at the end of the tunnel. I really wanted to end it all.

a lot of us have been there LadyCibelle, not saying this to diminish the impact, just to let you know...

~~



Mirror of Soul
by GoddessOfSouls ©

Looking into eyes so clouded so dull as if life has left them barren.
masked with tears, they hide, washing away the life force where has the
Brightness gone recalling devilish smiles where now a frown lives.

I am not sure I understand some of the line breaks or capitalization choices, but there are some cool phrases and ideas in there worth digging for.


To hold a Rose
by Reltne ©

You flew a broad and heady passage
through the bright, bright hours,
but hold no more
that winged thought,
for chance must bid
upon this tinted lazy land
farewell of speedwell blue

I was not always sure what the writer was trying to say, but I loved how he/she said it. Worth the click and read if you have not yet checked it out. Unless this poet snuck in when I was in some extreme of emotion, I think they are new. Give him/her a welcome in.

~
Eve shows us her first terra cotta poem

opp I mean tetrazini um wait let me check back at the poem...
TERZANELLE! I gotta try one of those damn things...

SueLing
by WickedEve ©
[quote]
I imagine this poem being scratched by an inkwell dipped pen by the main character in a movie, as the introduction.... any screen play writers in here? This sounds delicious.

My favorite was the ending:

Tracing banished footprints with my finger,
silence permeates the house of evening.
Memories of touch and betrayal linger
on the same path as my Sue Ling.

~

RandiGrail has a few today, I will give you a few tastes:

I don't want to kiss you
by Randi Grail ©

so that we can beat as one
and speak as one when you
invite me into that tranquil
zen garden hazel vanilla mist
marvel

I like this part because it allows vanilla to be sensual, as I think it is... I know it is often used in a general negative way, no one really wants to bad mouth vanilla itself-- it is seen to be without flavor, but vanilla is not the absense of flavor like white is the absence of color--- it is a spice in it's own right....and vanilla extract on skin...mmm.. and this description Randi gives us is a sample of her smooth and dreamy writing. Beautiful!


Lecture on Gardening
by Randi Grail ©

untended seeds will grow
sprawling intentions writhe
and multiply sometimes
without green fingers
ploughing the soil

Okay, I gotta take a break, echoes_s and minsue, I am not sure if I will be able to do anymore tonight.... I will try...

I started at the bottom, up through Randi's I don't want to kiss you....

There are so many good ones up there that I did not touch yet.

Great work poets, welcome to those new here or coming out of hiding....remember it is all about poetry man, the rest is, well it just is.


annaswirls <--considering changing it to annasquirrels

[minsue]

I laughed out loud reading annaswirls's (annaswirls'? annaswirls's? ) death by produce (naked grapes?)

and pass the bag in a circle,
eating dangerous grapes

SeattleRain is still shopping in today's stanley groove joint plyers. First the hair accessories and now the hardware store. These aisles will never be the quite the same for me and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

waiting for her on the landing, face masked
in my new 3m respirator

LeMatou is a name that is new to me. This poet graced us with It's essential, a perfectly lovely piece and one that I agree with.

Instead

move through oil
it's essential

I was drawn right into the nightmares infawnie's Through The Eyes Of A Child. A poem that is as difficult to read as it is well-written.

pungent words, too foul
for young ears, cutting
and mincing
raw heart
for the stew.

The prolific Ms annaswirls actually gave me goosebumps while reading the weight of tools

something is touched,
your reaction is clear
but it is not my fingers my flesh
my muscle my heat

A fell in love with tarablackwood22's the ghosts of daddy's pool hall. I've never been there, but somehow I still miss it after reading this. Simply lovely.

later,
out of habit,
the blue barkeep toweled rings
from the pine top and tables
for the new day
that never came.

I was pleasantly surprised by Lounge Lizard by champagne1982. Not at all what I was expecting based on the title.

The work weary know a sweeter sleep
than those who fall
into bed exhausted
through avoidance of labor,
yours is a longer row to hoe.

A dark, beautiful poem on Depression and Damnation by lostandfounder is another of today's must reads.

Lost, found, and lost again
While laughing at blasphemy

Last, but not least....While it's too short and sweet for me to quote only a part of it, laelia's saturday night is damned near perfect. Go read.

As usual, there are lots of other good new poems out there. Please go read, comment, and vote! And thank you again, annaswirls for your help today!

[Syndra Lynn]

37 New Poems Today!

The ones that follow are those I enjoyed reading most.

Disclaimer: This is one person's opinion and not intended to reflect the voice or opinions of everyone who reads and writes at this website. If I do not mention a poem it does not mean it's not good, it simply means that it did not appeal to me as an individual. Please read and recommend any and all poems you enjoyed as well. AS human beings, we are entitled to like different poems and types of poetry. Thanks. We now return you to your regularly scheduled review.




Pensée Intime and J'ai entendumon coeur brisé by LadyCibelle are written in French so I will request that someone else review them. Thanks.



One Night by dreamsweet was the first to really stop me as I climbed up the list. She has second thoughts and made me think as well.
Cheek-blush sky rolls
into the darkest blue -
one horizon to the other -
dance party drinks,
my night in ruin
by a whisper of hope.


Arthurtown by Mia Moore is fabulous! Go have a look.
And the cheap beer flows like urine flows,
into the alley behind them
and stories fly like spittle from
their old-man,sunburned lips.

Shine and Burn by Luna_lit is lovely and distressing.
Love's temples are at play; we always knew the price
But what prepares a soul for this path of broken glass
Elixir of poison drunk dry, no choice, no excorsim
The scene requires play with no sign of final curtain

the eyesight of evening by lipsticksunset1984, one of our newest poets, offers wonderful phrases and images.
she stares
at the genius
of October orange,
tangerine tingles,

the jingles
of a long-lost lover
returning
with color and song.

Miami Sunset by Barushko offers this loveliness:
World girded a loose
cloak on our bodies, sun
woven into the folds, nuts
squirreled for winter

Encircled by princejonny caught my eye with this:
I saw a used condom in an alley today,
red and half full, like a broken heart,

horizontal surfaces by annaswirls is a joy to read.
these faces without hands,
gears without coils
over wound, under sprung
all fall to the floor
right on time.

Minute Maid by WickedEve is my favorite today. Well written metaphor, freshly squeezed phrases and a refreshing read.
On wooden post,
glass curves perspire.
Sundressed girl is fresh
and sweet.

And Mia Moore offers a second delightful read today. This one is deeper than the truth. Don't miss this one!
The price of gas is falling.
But the young men are falling faster

Those are my picks today. Just my humble opinion. What do you think?

Syndra