Elevenses - July Eleven Line Poem Challenge

[Piscator]

Again, thanks to all of you for taking part in the line by line challenges.

For July, the line count increases to eleven and this months challenge is for eleven line poems. As before, any topic and number of poems and forms within the requisite number of lines or multiple verses of that number of lines are acceptable. For the form fixated, the Poets Collective has an inventory of 11 line forms.

 

[Tzara]

Practical Advice for Forlorn Lovers

The odd thing about sex
is that it's not her breasts,
her hips, her

(quite lovely) legs.
It's that how
finally,

after all of that,
and that wanting to ravish her body,
(still a good plan, actually),

it ends up being conversation,
and touching, and that's what ultimately works.

 

[HarryHill]

..
Eleven lines while imbibing
...

 

[Angeline]

Sure it's all memorable~
the way you shoved yourself into me
at the start of my climax when I'd cry Now,
do it now, or sitting legs akimbo,
feet touching feet in our own variation
of boko maru so we could watch each other
pleasure ourselves,

but I most love how your eyes gleamed
as we moved together, the unexpected rills of laughter,
3AM sitting naked on our bed, knees crossed
while you stroked your guitar and sang for me.

 

[29wordsforsnow]

resorting our mikado limbs
that are weary of finding positions
when did it happen, this change of perspective?

neon-lit torsos' ebb and flow
arms stranded, digit-ally connected, talking bits
who are those side-by-side in the mirror six feet above?
most parts hidden under a bleached bed linen
lips moving without subtitles

perspectively we'll need to change, and let it happen
find new positions for what ring fingers wear
ludo words in this end-of-town resort​

 

[29wordsforsnow]

like a fish

pour me
an ocean of
so profound in
my glass of
vacuity
**
_____**_____
-=_____**_____=-
\\...........**..........//
\\...........*..........//
\\..........*..........//
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
#####\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\//#####
#////no matter how deep////#
#////when you hit bottom////#
#//////it will be all hollow//////#
#//////so uncork yourself/////#
#///and let my ears drain///#
#///your sorrow and pain///#
######################​

 

[Piscator]

Lamentation of a Lonely Lepidopterist

Butterflies are my life and my profession,
yet I face my fixation question.
My study of pheromones
left you on your own.
This made you
moan
for one who
worshipped you alone
and might my neglect atone
To which I offer my confession
butterflies are my life and my profession.
​

 

[Angeline]

Eleven Ruinous Lines

Why don't I like the number eleven?
My brain can't help but combine it
with seven and then conjure hot dogs
and Slurpees and such, or lottery tickets
(I've never won much) and by then
my muse is close by the gutter or maybe
a parking lot where some Ratso mutters

Got a light?

and I don't, just this sad little poem,
its high hopes dashed by my lowlife past.
I'll just step on the gas and go home.

 

[Tzara]

Saying "No" to Lily

I was in Austin, on a job,
and after a long day
stopped at a convenience store

to buy a six-pack
of Shiner Bock. She stood outside,
where the clerk couldn't see

and asked me for a light,
long left leg bent and raised.
Sexy, in the kind of way

we guys respond to women's flesh.
"Sorry, don't smoke," I lied, and fled.

 

[Piscator]

First Time

My first time was long in coming
until,
you at length released my fat drill's
plumbing.
Yet still, I sensed something lacking
from your
frustrated moan at my hard core
slacking.
Your moist quim rose to meet my tongue
licking
your shiny pearl as soft moan sprung.​

 

[butters]

alternate freedoms, computer games and the intellectually lazy

free the butterflies, collect to win, it says
but when did blowing them up become 'freedom'?

in a world of alternate freedoms
some swallow the big lies
made palatable via training from birth
by a culture built on lies
on not questioning authority
on a diet of violence is fine
if you're considered the good guy

not that hunting them first
before spearing their hearts was much better

 

[Angeline]

All Screed, No Poem

To be human is to fall and fail,
to walk off without realizing
the pain we cause, the grievance
or, worse, to know and not care.

As flies to wanton boys are we
to the gods; They kill us
for their sport.*

We are a wanton world. We choose
to ignore the cruelty and ignorance, hate
that clouds our lives. We can open the heart,
cultivate kindness. We can choose, but do we?

*King Lear, Act 4, Scene 1

 

[todski28]

Wrong thread

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Merely half a year till...

Wrong thread

(apologies, but this felt like a perfect prompt)

Left, right,
needles whirl,
drop a stitch
inside - on a July night -
the home of a witch
costumes disapproving girl
said to be nice and kind
but obviously color blind
mixed up rose with red
and suddenly had
Santa in bikini

 

[Lyricalli]

Plagued by dreams
strange rides
through my unsleeping mind
wake exhausted
wish you were here
or there
anywhere your voice
could penetrate the noise
of another goodbye
unsaid but certain
hope weary as my bones

 

[HarryHill]

..
Elevenish Jive

 

[Piscator]

An Everyday Goodbye.

An everyday goodbye, a quick
hug, a soft kiss, the door lock’s click
and you are off to work while time
slows as I write my fractured rhyme
to fill long hours and quell my sigh
an everyday goodbye.

Daylight wanes as eve’s twilight gloom
descends to fill this lonely room
once lit by our joint love, now dark
and yet my ear still keens to hark
an everyday goodbye.

___________________________________________
I think this is a slightly modified Short Rondeau in which I used a longer first phrase of L1 as the rentrement.

 

[HarryHill]

..
Eleven Wrinkled Lines
...

 

[HarryHill]

..
So July crawls, soggy inferno,
looks too beat to make the trip,
thirty one days from start to finish,
feels like more.

The garden loves the heat and rain,
climbs up to meet the sky,
and I, old worn caretaker,
toil between shrunken rows bye and bye

Farewell July, you've done your best,
and now you'll go with all the rest,
remembered in redacted joy, relief.

 

[Tzara]

Age

What I want
is for you to walk, nude
across our bedroom floor.

I admire the shift
of your hips, now so generous
with age and childbirth.

And your breasts,
though weighted,
still so feminine and lovely.

That I offer you my raised arm to curl your body
is simply apology, not rejection.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Summer Wind6rtf

This wind comes too early.

The leaves refuse to release, still green
and soft as summer. No blossom
gives up petals to fly like early snow,
long gone, just memories now.

Only rain, driven against the window,
fingernails tapping, “here I am”.
Unfamiliar after a five-month drought,
we welcome the reconditioning as the trees,
patiently waiting for refreshment,
stretch their roots in pleasure.​

 

[Piscator]

September Sandhills

September’s end descended swiftly
on the island of Manitou, as dark clouds
and strong winds vanquished yesterday’s
sun, bringing gray skies and cold rain.

In the fields, sandhill cranes gather,
then lift, en masse, silhouetted against
a sombre sky, their raucous cries harkening
to prehistoric times as they disappear across
the horizon following the east wind which
will carry them to Michigan and beyond.

We lower our heads and pedal on.