Old 09-04-2009, 10:04 PM   #126
pushkine
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5

Dead

Because I'm not the kind of guy
Who's given to outrageous lies,
I'd like to think you'd find me dear.
But sex I like to engineer,
And plans, sometimes, go all awryó

Delights I thought we'd love to try
Require me to be too spry
For aging muscles, limbs. My sphere,
It seems it's not.

So let me simply stroke your thigh,
Gaze moonily into your eyes.
I am not one for Love's Frontier,
Apparently, but I'm sincere:
I'll love you 'til the day I die,
And I am not.


.
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Old 09-04-2009, 11:47 PM   #127
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so itís a gunshot kaleidoscope
sequenced thought and deed
not to worry
itís all about the porn
cock drips slide down satin sheets
gray thoughts gather
purged by weary whiskey shots
winds break against the window
sounds of natureís flatulence in the night
discard dreams at the door
slip-on slippers
worn but comfortable
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Old 09-04-2009, 11:50 PM   #128
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She has an endearing smile,
just for her girlfriend's boyfriend.
Not that I care.
Not my type anyway.
Sipping blow jobs
and other sweet drinks
brimming with cream.
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Old 09-04-2009, 11:55 PM   #129
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He wondered,
sometimes,
if she kept nettles in her panties.
Such a prickly nature.
Such a puckered frown.
And if she did,
if it really made her wet.
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Old 09-05-2009, 12:05 AM   #130
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He hated dining alone,
since he tended
to gulp down food.
So he invited his book.
Good company,
allowed him to savor the meal.
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.
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Old 09-05-2009, 10:34 AM   #131
PandoraGlitters
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Pushkine it has been wonderful writing with you. I look forward to reading more of your poems. And Fool! You were really on a roll yesterday!
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Old 09-05-2009, 03:13 PM   #132
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Week 5, Poem 5

Recipe for Nomasha

Wait until the stems have thinned
and the fruit is heavy. Catch
it in the first wind of autumn,
in your hand before it hits
the ground. Squeeze everything
but save the seeds for later.
Press the water from the flesh.
Notice the intensity deepen
as you wring the pulp. Stir
in the first words you ever meant.
Repeat. Serve cool
in warm hands.

Last edited by PandoraGlitters : 09-07-2009 at 10:56 AM.
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Old 09-05-2009, 06:28 PM   #133
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Week 5, Poem 6

Other Uses for Duct Tape

Over the ears so he can la-la-la
can't hear you can't hear you can't

this time it won't work when you say
stop. When you say
it hurts.

Can't hear you can't hear you
say hello or nice day isn't it or anything
that might stem the hatred flowing
in his rich, warm blood. Can't hear
you bitch. bitch. bitch. Because
I don't like the look of you when
you lift the glass and especially
when you smile.


Because a smile could mean
she came in peace, after all,
and that would ruin everything.

Why spend time on the firing range
for that? What were all those grenades
in his closet for if not to toss
casually into her lap
as she raised her glass
drinking to his health.
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Old 09-05-2009, 09:39 PM   #134
pushkine
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6

Six

The Underworld is quite chthonic
óThose rivers, that three-headed dogó
And even though it's not demonic
(A Christian myth), it's still a bog.
Poor Orpheus trods down there, slogging
On though the muck, his conscience flogging
At him to seize Eurydice
From Hades and Persephone.

But you know this. You're educated,
Or would be, if our schools were good,
And brains were simple blocks of wood
To shape, or tubes to be inflated.

Hell, I'm no Ovid, anyway,
Just seven poems in seven days.


.
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Old 09-06-2009, 01:11 PM   #135
Angeline
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1-1 I love you my sweet unspoken

I love you my sweet unspoken
words unthought untried still
struck by the possible hopeful
in general or genre before

I tap keys before I know truths
unspoiled un-nothing denied fill
me part way and call it half
full for this is the how of the

what I believe until I can
say voiceless evers applied will
anyone listen, will you under
stand the quiet empty core?
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Old 09-06-2009, 01:16 PM   #136
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Pushkine, your ear is impeccable on that Hades poem. You must be a hell of a dancer and Angeline!!! So delicious! I am rereading.
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Old 09-06-2009, 01:43 PM   #137
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Quote:
Originally Posted by PandoraGlitters View Post
Pushkine, your ear is impeccable on that Hades poem. You must be a hell of a dancer and Angeline!!! So delicious! I am rereading.
Let me know if you can figure out what it means. I'm not sure I can.
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Old 09-06-2009, 01:57 PM   #138
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Seems to be a love poem to the process of writing and hoping to be understood. But yeah I had to reread it to get that.
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Old 09-06-2009, 09:40 PM   #139
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7

Rondelet

......Within her arms
Find I an anchor to this world.
......Within her arms
Is pleasure found, and all its charms,
And here security's unfurled
Like an embracing fog. When curled
......Within her arms.




Somewhat squishy, I know, but my first try at a rondelet. Anyway, that's seven. Kinda fun. Thanks, PG.
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Old 09-07-2009, 12:15 AM   #140
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At first,
Iím not sure how to answer
when asked.
Sometimes it seems
the world is skewed
in my focus,
slightly off center.
Other times
it seems that time has slipped
off the tracks,
or goes faster than I expect it to.
But never slower,
time never goes slow.
Often it seems there is a fog
in which
I canít hear, canít see, canít think
as clearly as I should.
But after that imperceptible pause,
I always answer with a smile.
ďIím fine.Ē
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Writing poetry is kind of like being a husband. You have to learn when to shut up and call it done.
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Old 09-07-2009, 10:57 AM   #141
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Beautiful finish to your week, Pushkine.
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Old 09-07-2009, 11:36 AM   #142
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Week 5, Poem 7

(Better late than never, poem 7)

Electronic Muse

I want to be reborn in the valley
between your thumbs, beneath the canopy
of your gaze, in that golden mean
measuring the natural, sorrowful
slack between what we wish for
and what we live. I give my limbs
to your careful hands, to be added and divided,
coded and woven into the spiral
rising from our restless sleep
into the dancing night.

Last edited by PandoraGlitters : 09-09-2009 at 07:44 PM. Reason: changed do for live and standard to mean
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Old 09-07-2009, 07:36 PM   #143
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8

World Was in the Face of the Beloved

Rain fell steadily outside the open window, moistening the air. She lay on her left side, reading a book held in her right hand. The arm covered her breasts, a bit. A crumpled, very white sheet sheathed her hips and legs.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"Rilke," she said, slightly trilling the R. She smiled the same beatific smile that had made me beg her into bed.

My eyes were drawn to that circle of dark ink lanced into her skin, centered on her belly like a brand.

"Welt war in dem Antlitz der Geliebten," I murmured. "And elsewhere."


.

Last edited by pushkine : 09-07-2009 at 07:52 PM. Reason: Typography.
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Old 09-10-2009, 06:56 PM   #144
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Where are you, Foolio? Where's that villanelle? I like rereading this, but three times is enough. Give me more.
Quote:
Originally Posted by The_Fool View Post
At first,
I’m not sure how to answer
when asked.
Sometimes it seems
the world is skewed
in my focus,
slightly off center.
Other times
it seems that time has slipped
off the tracks,
or goes faster than I expect it to.
But never slower,
time never goes slow.
Often it seems there is a fog
in which
I can’t hear, can’t see, can’t think
as clearly as I should.
But after that imperceptible pause,
I always answer with a smile.
“I’m fine.”
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Old 09-10-2009, 07:13 PM   #145
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Quote:
Originally Posted by pushkine View Post
World Was in the Face of the Beloved

Rain fell steadily outside the open window, moistening the air. She lay on her left side, reading a book held in her right hand. The arm covered her breasts, a bit. A crumpled, very white sheet sheathed her hips and legs.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

"Rilke," she said, slightly trilling the R. She smiled the same beatific smile that had made me beg her into bed.

My eyes were drawn to that circle of dark ink lanced into her skin, centered on her belly like a brand.

"Welt war in dem Antlitz der Geliebten," I murmured. "And elsewhere."


.
*sigh* Thanks for the extra, Pushkine.
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Old 09-12-2009, 11:31 AM   #146
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Week 6, Poem 1

High School Reunion

One man with light bones fiddles with a pen.
Pumpkincheese tarts solicit fingers on a repurposed
holiday tray but not the fingers of the Japanese ceramicist
that held my breast. The much loved girl from two doors down
took the tray when she left.

Under our feet sand cooled and shifted.
Pumpkincheese tarts spiced lips
and everyone talked too much even
the ceramicist who mainly signs.
Eyes glazed in lantern light;
I slept on her best friend's couch.

One saturday morning it is twenty years after
we tubed down Ozark rivers
in bikinis and I led the girl down bank
to the smoking van.

Last edited by PandoraGlitters : 09-12-2009 at 11:40 AM.
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Old 09-12-2009, 11:46 AM   #147
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Angeline View Post
I love you my sweet unspoken
words unthought untried still
struck by the possible hopeful
in general or genre before

I tap keys before I know truths
unspoiled un-nothing denied fill
me part way and call it half
full for this is the how of the

what I believe until I can
say voiceless evers applied will
anyone listen, will you under
stand the quiet empty core?
Oooh! Or it could be clever mockery of someone with little wit. It's a twofer.

ETA: I sometimes worry that my poems are too empty.

Last edited by PandoraGlitters : 09-12-2009 at 12:37 PM.
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Old 09-13-2009, 07:35 PM   #148
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Week 6, Poem 2

Newbie Inventory

socks that never need washed
steel, dirt, rock but it's still two-dimensional
nothing more than a texture
that and vague, thick skin,
the means to wear it thinner
and a swift steed
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Old 09-14-2009, 03:59 AM   #149
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#1 Ba-donk-a-donk

Ba-donk-a-donk
are the syllables that compose
“LOVE” floating, in a cartoon
balloon, above his head
whenever he lays
eyes on his Vidalia
Layered, earthy, rich and sweet
Al dente, she
always bites back
He never minds the tears


#2 Dirty Muppet Poetry

One gets a reputation
you know, for being facile
when the taking of liberties
is liberally taken so far

What next,
my splintered dignity, when
the sloth in his nimble fingers, finds
its way under my dress, yet again?

Applause meets and greets
cries of “encore”, “take a bow”
‘Tis what I live for, and I’d oblige
if only his hand weren’t up my ass.
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Last edited by sassynyc : 09-15-2009 at 01:17 AM.
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Old 09-14-2009, 07:58 PM   #150
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Excellent start, Sassy! I totally did a u-turn on dirty muppet poetry. Wow! What an end!
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