writing live

[Piscator]

the sum of zero

nothing
the positives
offset
the negatives
leaving us
with
nothing​

 

[Angeline]

The rain pelts the window,
really pissing it down, sleet
pings and slushes eventually
snow squalls in brief
but sudden fury, rages
itself to nothingness
and the Sun triumphs.

They say it's very cold
outside. How would I know,
watching cars edge by
in a snarl of traffic, frozen
like the roads and the past
stretching into oblivion.

Call it my hometown.
Call me a still life, watching
from the warm side of the glass,
listening to the measured sound,
breath by breath, steady
as she goes.

 

[Rockymtnman]

early morning sun
slashes across the frozen street
violently, beautifully
splashing the mix of grey and white
with a bright orange swath of blood
snow crystals glint like tourmaline
colors change quickly
as the sun continues its assault on the dark
the grey and white is back
as quickly as it disappeared
and the scraping of my shovel resumes

 

[29wordsforsnow]

a beach of pleasant
footprints in the sand
the shoreline is vast
one side deep, one past
until a sudden groove
hands tried to smooth
a red line beneath
close to one of seven seas

is this the end of the world
an open door into the cold
a questionable starting point
or a place to lose and rejoin

imagine more in the sand
leaving for the hinterland
make it four, a thought to soothe
but my counting becomes loose
in the sudden rain
falling hearts in pain
whisper mind the gap
watch your step

 

[Angeline]

Family

It's just another day
my dad used to say
when loss threatened
to swallow occasions that might
have been momentous,
joyous, anything but gray
drab or punctuated
by that woman down the hall
who says OH HONEE
over and over
and that's all.

You and I always watched
Jimmy Stewart saved
by an angel and you cried
every time because our life
was wonderful. I'd think so
too watching the tree glow,
the fire spit and pop.

One year so long ago
we watched Lawrence
of Arabia, all of us alive
still, besotted with the desert
and Peter O'Toole's blue,
blue eyes. Afterward we ate
spareribs and chow mein
at Lido Gardens. Now that
was a good year.

 

[Piscator]

Isn't it Ironic

Isn't it ironic that climate
warming may loosening
the polar vortex allowing
the jet stream to move further
South freezing us in more
temperate climes with
iguanas dropping from trees
in Florida and this can't be
good for orange juice futures.

And I'm not sure if it's ironic
or sad that the forty-fifth
President of the USA he is
hoping for resurrection and
to Override the constitution
although in Congress,
The Select Committee on the
Jan 6 Attack recommended
he be tried for insurrection,
fraud and he may well take the
Fourth Amendment while
personally I'd rather take
a fifth of single malt.

 

[AdriaRook]

"Shelf Life"
My sexuality sat upon a shelf
in a plain ceramic crucible.
The same way this womanhood
took away my importance,
my sanity,
my ambition,
my desires.

Breaking free of self-imposed shackles and chains,
from sensation denied, rejected.
Fevorous soul beseeching,
"Set me loose upon menfolk,
upon women,
upon the wise,
upon fools."



--------------------
Feedback?
I chose to write with by beats per line rather than rhyme: 11-9-7-7-4-4-3. If I'm off, call me out on it.

 

[Mrtenant]

Isn't it Ironic

Isn't it ironic that climate
warming may loosening
the polar vortex allowing
the jet stream to move further
South freezing us in more
temperate climes with
iguanas dropping from trees
in Florida and this can't be
good for orange juice futures.

And I'm not sure if it's ironic
or sad that the forty-fifth
President of the USA he is
hoping for resurrection and
to Override the constitution
although in Congress,
The Select Committee on the
Jan 6 Attack recommended
he be tried for insurrection,
fraud and may well take the
Fourth Amendment while
personally I'd rather take
a fifth of single malt.

Love it.

 

[Mrtenant]

Visions of long green grass
Soft and cool under my feet
Under the shade of the tree
Grown leafy tall in the yard
Psithurism filling my soul
Fresh grass, flowery perfumes
Crisp and cool
Closing my eyes in the wash
Of a fine Spring day
Shared with you

 

[Tzara]

the intensity of feeling I could see
in her eyes as I entered her again and again
was like a kind of exaltation
or revelation or autonomic swoon,
or perhaps merely a reflection

of my own now unburdening need

 

[Mrtenant]

Tales of yesterday
Tales of triumph
Tales of woe
Quells the beast within
Tales of which
Have yet to be told
Much you do not know
Worthy in this tale
In time darling
In due time

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Walking the pasture once of green
I came across what I hadn't seen
a sturdy brick wall so very high
it dared to touch the far away sky

Walking along, hands on the object
each rough yard threathens to infect
I stop like the words becoming echoes
wonder about the other side's meadows

My finger starts poking through the still wet grout
while the fires' burning brings smoke and drought
finally, a peeping hole in this massive barrier
only to find devastation what was once merrier

So many clouds caught it's dark like at night
rainstorms raging, it's a heartbreaking sight
This land in unbalance, I'm asking them all
strangers and friends, 'How to break down this wall?'

So the rain returns
to the fire that now burns
and the heat of here
dries the land over there

 

[Rockymtnman]

The silence Is so loud
i cease to hear my thoughts
and drift slowly away
like newly falling snow

 

[Rockymtnman]

The loud is too silent
and my thoughts scream at me
and I awaken like a volcano
destroying everything

 

[Rockymtnman]

I take another pull on the cuban
and the taste reminds me
Of our time in mexico

your tan skin
your perfect breasts swaying
as you dry off after a shower

the taste of your excitement
the moans as I nibbled
on various parts of your body
the feeling of being inside you

as I exhale and my mind
drifts back to the present
ode to joy softly plays behind me
the sun warms my face
and a tear let’s loose
down my cheek

 

[Lyricalli]

There must be grim satisfaction
to look back at the aftermath
charred remains and clouds of ash
with the hubris that you invented fire
as if you weren't handed matches
and given free reign to discover
every bit of friction you could use to strike them
by people who wanted to burn
to fan the flames
to test how hot they could get
before it turned to cinder and scars

We've all wielded torches
took our chances
danced in blazes that licked our skin
dared the sparks to combust
damned the consequences
learned that pain is part of being alive

Maybe you crave the taste of blame
to help feed the illusion
that your value is a boolean
of worthless or worthy
dismiss more complicated calculations
content to accept a simpler chemistry
that proves you're an arsonist
even when you're fuel
for an inferno someone else started
with their own appetite for destruction

 

[HarryHill]

Ay Mami!
Your carnitas,
fill my mouth up with,
piquant sweetness.
Now let's talk about that pie.

 

[Lyricalli]

I keep writing poems in my head
lying in a bed that's difficult to leave
and the only warm place in the house
right now I wonder where you are
and if you read what I write
and if I should press send
on any of it
their meaning in your eyes
both comfort and terrifying
I look to the ceiling for answers
but it just looms in the black
and cold
I'll just fall asleep again
wondering what the right thing is
occasionally distracted that I can't feel
my nose

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

A Waste of Resources

It is always a
disappointment to me if,
when I check in,
there is no evidence
of your presence.

I can’t tell if you are
watching from the shadows.
Then I remind myself
that you have a life
away from mine.

But that doesn’t stop
the anticipation,
the strange attraction,
or the irrational feeling
of need. that can never
be satisfied.

 

[Lyricalli]

There are hundreds of lines in my head
that keep floating through
all trying to write a letter to you
or seventeen
or a thousand and two
so you can see how they all get confused
and feel disjointed
when I try to make them assimilate
into something that masquerades
as poetry
just so I can pretend
you might read it someday

 

[goddessofglee]

I didn't read the rules...
Just came around here...
and started to pour a verse!

I started off to be close
I thought I'm verbose,
just talking as it arose
my feel a broken rose
i lie outside their door
crumpled, I don't know,
I'm yearning to be more,

my spontaneous rhyme
try to sound like sunrise!
but am becoming in to be,
as I wanted myself to be?

 

[29wordsforsnow]

I didn't read the rules...
Just came around here...
and started to pour a verse!

I started off to be close
I thought I'm verbose,
just talking as it arose
my feel a broken rose
i lie outside their door
crumpled, I don't know,
I'm yearning to be more,

my spontaneous rhyme
try to sound like sunrise!
but am becoming in to be,
as I wanted myself to be?

Let's do this in reverse:
Thou shall not ever fear
to break those bendy rules.

I heard from there and those
no matter what's your vow
it's hard to not expose
what lies inside your core
the feelings that you chose
they came from heart and are therefore
done in rhymes and not in prose.

There comes a time
when we will see
if this poetic spree
was holy crap or poor advice.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Mark O’Brian gets Laid

Mark O’ Brian contracted polio at the age of six. He had three functioning muscles, one in his right foot, one in his neck and one in his jaw. With these he managed to be a successful reporter, publisher, journalist, social critic and poet. Died July 1999 aged 49.

At age thirty-six his body
is like discarded clothing, twisted,
to tortured angles, pointless.
Turning is not an option,
eyes, ears, mind percolate all too well.
From the neck up he is perfect.
Paddle-hands, useless as empty gloves,
lie open at his sides, a state of pleading
but pleading for what? Not death,
those days are over for he is loved
and has loved but sex eludes him.
He dreams of it at night and wakes sticky
with reality. His care-giver says nothing
as he bathes him but it hangs in the air
like an accusation. He hates his body.

She comes into his claustrophobic world
like one of those pure spring days,
initiates all kinds of possibilities,
not just hands but tongue and more.
She won’t mince words, a spade’s a spade
in her world. With talk and mirror she
lets him see his eager body, that straining
thing he had not seen since he was six
and calls it lovely, not a common word for him.
At last, she touches it, nothing explodes,
we wait as she lowers, guides and smiles.
“Breathe” and he does.
Afterward she kissed his chest.

 

[Lyricalli]

You stayed with me all night
in a sequence of dreams
I can't begin to comprehend
when act one was the touch of your lips
your wanted weight pressing down
filling me with contentment
warmth
feelings that seem at odds with sex scenes

Most of what lies between
is a blur of lighting
and the memory of your face

But I'm left vividly with the conclusion
of changing sheets
because the cat pissed the bed
while you slept in the next room

I can only imagine what interpretation
those who delve into such things
might create
though in the strangest of ways
it seems to mean
I miss you

 

[Klingsor]

hint

what is it that you want? I asked
as she rose from the couch
and, turning, walked to the bedroom

where she paused, as if to display
the curve of her hips,
her long and taut thighs

then, looking back over her shoulder
said oh, nothing natural,
with a joyously wicked smile