Summer Time and the Living's Easy Challenge

Piscator

Literotica Guru
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May 30, 2003
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The summer doldrums are upon us and it's been a long time since we had a challenge here so here goes. Write a new poem of at least five lines on the summer doldrims. Leave your poem in this thread, and leave any comments and discussion on the same thread. The challenge will run until the end of August but feel free to extend it if your muse calls later.
 
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Dog days

Days pass slowly and the air
is thick with humidity but
this ain't no ruby shoes
movie magic miracle
a funnel cloud hangs
on the horizon
and we're still
in Kansas
friend
 
love this ^^

it all hangs together, with ominous undertones, in its funnel-cloud shape
 
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
Nor fond of artificial chill
I'm sleeping neath a soggy sheet
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
And dream these dog days will be fleet
And bring me crisp October. Still
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
Nor fond of artificial chill

:rolleyes:
 
Weather

She has a spray bottle of water
with which she mists
the room.

Despite the fans, it's so hot I lie naked
on our bed. So she likes to spray,
well, me.

Afterwards, she tells me
that she was merely trying to cool me down.
I suspect she is lying,

so I turn her over
and again endeavor to sweat.
Later,

we both mist each other. Again.
 
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
Nor fond of artificial chill
I'm sleeping neath a soggy sheet
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
And dream these dog days will be fleet
And bring me crisp October. Still
I must repeat I'm sick of heat
Nor fond of artificial chill

:rolleyes:

Thanks Angie, I am curious is there a name for an eight line iambic tetrameterish poem with an a,b,a,a,a,b,a,b rhyme scheme?
 
Thanks Angie, I am curious is there a name for an eight line iambic tetrameterish poem with an a,b,a,a,a,b,a,b rhyme scheme?


Yup. What Tzara said. It's a rather bleh triolet, but first poem I've written in a while (it's hard to be introspective and write with nurses, etc. in and out all the time), so thank you P'tor for the opportunity. :rose:
 
summer time... and the living is easy

...seems so at odds with bodies starved
of feeling safe&troubles halved;
of never knowing when or if
the next paycheck is coming in;
or if the unawares-infected
are someplace near -- spreading
because a mask is just too much
to ask them be adult and wear;

and how absence of leadership
can only stoke a fire's fear;
and how the storms they are blowin';
wild fire, floods, and heat disabling
...ever more too much to bear;

and the thugs in jackboots
in unmarked fatigues
weild batons of hatred
spill blood on our streets;
as the bills all come due;
as they foreclose on you;
as the voices are lifted
and good men go missing;
and adults throw tantrums--
in stores, karens pissing;
when ballots are something
a war's starting over
it all starts to feelin'
like a 5-'nado reelin'
through the u.s of a

*sigh*

*counts blessings*

here, in this green spot,
we're luckier than many
no mortgage to pay off
and food in the pantry
land, trees and water
weigh boredom with laughter
frustrations are fleeting
... for summer comes easy
 
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hmmn, kinda missed the 'doldrums' part. ah well


angie, always good to read you. you and tz manage to make forms unintrusive to the fell of the poem.

yours definitely captures the pervasive sweatiness
tz's is less uncomfortable but just as sweaty :D
 
hmmn, kinda missed the 'doldrums' part. ah well


angie, always good to read you. you and tz manage to make forms unintrusive to the fell of the poem.

yours definitely captures the pervasive sweatiness
tz's is less uncomfortable but just as sweaty :D

Miz B your poem certainly captures the uncomfortable zeitgeist of this sad season. Anyway I'm sure we have enough doldrums for all the poems in this thread and then some. Sigh.

Yes T-Zed and I both wrote sweaty poems but his sounds a lot more fun. And kudos to 29* for catching the ambiguity of mist! I mist that when I read the humid poem. :)
 
The Moment

for weeks the weeds were unattended
the green in the pool came naturally
papers' news stacked and bleached
a torn blue filter cloth sail among the roses
the grain's yellow fading into earthy brown
the skies' clock ticking yellow, purple, red and dark
what's taking you so long, my dear?
sitting, ewer by my side, ever waiting
for this one mute exploding moment
a Stargazer born

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When summer was good,
afternoons buzzed and chirped,
water arced cold
from a brassy nozzle
and tasted metallic.
Our snake green hose,
quencher and drencher,
lived coiled on gray concrete.

I biked and skated.
Trips round the block bold
adventures in my mind,
France right next door
to Joanie's yard.

Sometimes her father sang
I've got a girl called Joanie Maroni.

That was a very good summer.

Cherries picked from the Whitman's
trees, stained lips and spit pits--
you know the good Augusts,
long before you dropped
from the world in a haze
of violence, put a different kind
of stain on summer

and every season after.

It's so much easier
to remember the rose trellis
and the green bench, fairy tales
on languid, innocent afternoons.
 
Too Darn Hot

It was never too hot for our
frenzied incendiary rutting as we
were young, horny and the rivulets
of sweat running down her lower
back only led my tongue to her
marvelous ass and the treasure just
beyond then I’d be stiff again
for a couple more couplings.

But now we are older, and she
turns the air conditioner up to
arctic so that even though it’s
hotter outside than ever before,
what with climate change and
although we’re stuck together in
semi-isolated social-distancing
there’s no way to break the ice.
 
Fast Thoughts

My Florida lover laughs
at my summer refrain
of man, it's hot
or
I wish it weren't so wet.

My year travels extreme
differences though;
thirty below
and now
thirty above.
I wish it weren't so hot.

But the kittens and I
can find respite
resting
in the big chair
with the fan on.
I wish I could sleep.
 
the heat sloughs of my skin
45 degrees of insanity
breathing ash and brimstone
it’s hotter sitting still than moving
through air thick enough to drag you
to your knees body leaking tears
that eyes are to dry to release

in the aftermath of this deluge
my head swims in molasses
two guys gone down with heat stroke
why is it always me still standing
why won’t I quit
what broke inside my head
that keeps me upright
and moving forward

I trickle cold water
over cracked lips
swallow through a sandpapered throat
cut the next piece
 
Peaches and cream

Slices of a perfect peach
ring your pouting pudenda.
I nibble them one by one,
sweet juices dripping on
your moistening cleft.

I savour the final slice
before my tongue moves
down to lap your honey
pot, the commingling of
sweet and salty facilitated by
your involuntary shudders.

I can resist no longer
but must use my rigid rod
to stir your vibrant vessel
thrusting deeply until our
mutual climax releases
my creamy effusion.

In repose, we share a
glass of chilled riesliing
and slices of a second
perfect peach, dipped in
our delectable discharges.
 
Dog Days
end the summer
with thick warm air that sticks
to your uncomfortable skin
at night.
 
The soft warmth of your long time friendship has grown
like a Summer storm, building on the horizon.
Heavy air a mood of suppressed emotion as the storm brews.
Your words so perfectly conjure a sense of foreboding,
of anticipation and waiting. The eerie stillness
before the first fat drops of rain, when storm light
makes luminous all roofs and fields and stands
black silhouettes of trees on the horizon.
This is the storm of expectation, a solution about to be offered
or all hell about to break loose,
stranded in that strange light that stills my heart
until I'm drenched and waiting..........
 
A Quadruple Acrostic, first letters of each line spell a word, as do the end letters reading backwards, plus top and bottom lines.
.
Sweeping high over weathered Elms,remember
How withered, dry leaves now spring to re-awake
Only to shed their weighty gathered overflow
When the heavens suddenly unleash a concerto
Enveloping far across the land and encroach
Rivers, endlessly wending onwards, hunting seas.
 
Dog Days
end the summer
with thick warm air that sticks
to your uncomfortable skin
at night.

Today
there's a soft breeze,
intermittent like a whisper,
brief reminder that autumn
is gathering hectic colors,
apple red and mottled yellow,
to blow in from somewhere
behind the clouds
and bring cool, sweet
change.

~

Hello Spanky! What a sight for sore eyes. How lovely to see an OT post! :heart: :kiss: :heart:
 
Peaches and cream

Slices of a perfect peach
ring your pouting pudenda.
The Helpful Voyeur's Haiku

I peeled those peaches
so that I could watch you eat
her plumped, runny fruit.


The Voyeur's Haiku, Again

Afterwards, always
I want you to start again.
Yes. I like to watch.
 
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