2023 Poem-A-Week Challenge (Poems Only Thread)

[The Poets]

Happy New Year, poets! C'est moi, Angeline. For reasons unclear to me Literotica is not liking my Angie log-in so here I am in the guise of The_Poets. (I'm hoping for a better tech life in 2023!)

As noted in the title this thread is for poems only. If you have comments, questions, suggestions, whatever please put them in the other 2023 Poem-A-Week thread, the original one that announced this challenge. All the non-poem stuff is welcome, just not in this thread!

All types of poetry is encouraged, free verse, formal, prose poems, illustrated, you name it. Let your imagination guide you.

Calender weeks run from Sunday through Saturday and it's up to you to keep track of how many poems you write and when you write them. If you can't make a deadline or need to skip a week, no worries. Life can be messy and one's muse can be fickle. Just do your best. This is a forgiving, accepting kinda forum. Oh and if you haven't signed up, feel free to join in whenever.

Happy poeming!

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Everything new! - or just reset?
I come empty-handed to this latest party
of fireworks spent and bottles emptied.
Licking the bowls or licking the wounds?
Watching you pick up the trash
of yesterday's non-conversation
we had fun rolling the dice
meeting halfway of a cone of ice
the most gentle touch I hope I can
make this the very last
like it was the first of the brand new year
Kisses, and roses, my dear!

 

[cascadiabound]

The new year dawns
So sweet
In company of friends
Old and new
Fleming fizz
Penicillin
Moscow mule
Port and scotch
Bourbon too
Logan circles round and round
Chocolate cherry cake
May it be a foretaste
Of what may come
This year of portents
Wrap me in your love
Kiss my forehead
The new year dawns

Week 1: Poem 1

 

[Mrtenant]

Dawnlight streaming through the panes
Up and at it, so many things to do
Setting sail and catching the breeze
Out the harbor into open seas
Sailing out into the great unknown
Flowers opening across the bluffs
Perfumes wafting across the glass
Shivering deep against the cold
Warmth of today's coffee in my soul
Firm is my grip upon the wheel
Wind in my hair across my face
Closing my eyes with memory sweet
Clear skies and well wishes
Fill my heart, and renew my soul
Smooth sailing for me and thee

 

[Winter_Fare]

I was hoping for change
But change
scares me
Destructive by nature
And fickle as fire

Too many
Things in the way
That I care for
To many things on the line

 

[Tzara]

Sumi Ink on Mulberry Paper
with Collage Elements

A crane, near the shore,
waiting for unwary fish to wander
too close to the rocks,

its wings formed from those clear,
smooth strokes
you no longer can manage.

There also the slate-colored stones
placed and pasted
onto the pristine white

of the paper,
as smooth as if they really
have been washed by countless tides.

Note that the frame hangs slightly askew,
for my hands trembled
as I mounted it on the wall,

but that only adds to the painting's beauty
because even the greatest art
requires some small imperfection.

Week 1: Poem 1

 

[Rockymtnman]

As the stone skips
tik, tik ,tik
along the surface
the circles expand indefinitely
reminding me of my insignificance

 

[Ambient4190]

smooth my whiskers

smarten my claws

swell my tail

chase me?



my brothers heads rise

lust in their eyes

fangs on display

the hunt in play

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

1- 1

The Story of Your Body


The story of your body
along my own, outspread. pages
ensnares me.

I will read you, slowly,
savouring every word
that I might recall it all later,
when you have left me.

On page one your gently eager fingers
find those places
that make me gasp and arch.

Skip to the chapter where your small
but oh-so-sensuous kisses
leave memories as you move on
until you stop my breath with your lips.

We unite smoothly, a delicious sliding
union and lie still in this new reality,
a comma before the next disclosure.

 

[butters]

[1]


old year buried
pristine diary opened—
what possibilities!

 

[The Poets]

Somewhere Blues

Downtown is gray
The streets are tired,
traffic snarls, blats
and groans. I hear
nothing like those joyful horns,
impatient taxis darting
like schools of fish, busy
restless and yellow
navigating lower Broadway
circa 1960.

Oh no.
Here's a surly stop and go,
get outta my way bitches.

I watch sluggish progress
from my window in the pale
afternoon, the weakening sun
of this fading day.

Once this was my home
town but I don't know
where I live
anymore.


(Angeline, Week 1, Poem 1)

 

[Wonderer67]

1/52

January 3rd

I hacked and slashed
Thru the sticker bushes in my head
I was really trying
Looking for a little optimism
Entangled with thorns
Pricking my arm, ripping my shirt
But it wasn’t to be found yet

 

[Tzara]

Night

Maggie has been gone
for six hours. On her desk
sits a half-empty
can of Diet Coke and
part of a poem
she had copied out
in Russian—

Ночь моя—бред о тебе,
День—равнодушное: пусть!
Я улыбнулась судьбе,
Мне посылающей грусть.

Her yellow pencil has rolled off
onto the floor.
It needs sharpening.
I place it back on the paper,
straighten her chair,
close the door. Maggie
has been gone for six hours.

Week 1: Poem 2: Total 2

 

[Amalinda]

Poem #1
Amongst my dearest friends I am at my most alone
By the fireside I feel the utmost chill
I read words that cannot reach me
Laughing silently an absence of any joy
She, who loved me, is cold and still.



In memory of my much beloved Mumma.

 

[Moochienanu]

Inhale

You’ve stolen
Every last breath
Escaping
My lips
As yours graze
Against them
The taste of
Desire
Filling my lungs
In it’s stead

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

1 - 2

In Search of Scarlet

The trees in Jua Park are
dense. A green wall between me
and reality, the sky a memory in
these shadows. It’s an unfamiliar world,
strange scents, sounds, the damp
Brazilian heat, and perceived danger.

On hikes, I heard them,
day after day, as if to tease.
Sometimes high-pitched screams,
children at play. And then
masculine, guttural scoldings.
But not a glimpse of scarlet.

On the sixth day, as we picnicked,
a pair appeared swooping gracefully.
Bright primary colours against
the green. Breathlessly, we watched
as they danced together.
Mission complete but I couldn’t leave.

 

[Lyricalli]

I used to fret
over each word and phrase
trying to make them sing
blend like chords
little bits of mind music
searching for the frequency
that would make you
if only just you
hum

Now I'm left to ponder
trees falling in forests
with no ears
and if one should play
instruments out of tune
to maintain muscle memory
discordant notes echoing
in an empty room

 

[Piscator]

The End of Herstory

It used to be called senility
now Alzheimer’s, or dementia
but in Agatha’s case I’d choose
primary progressive aphasia
in which her language capabilities
slowly and progressively became
impaired as the author of more
than eighty novels lost the ability
to swim in the Alphabet Soup.

Post-mortem textual analysis
suggests her vocabulary decreased
by fifteen to thirty percent.
And was her last mystery
“Elephants Can Remember”
an explanation or
a cry for help?

 

[Angeline]

Poem A Day

Oh I read them
daily, fumbling at the fine weave
of their words, the bold genius
of their inspired subjects. How
they do progress over lines
as if pied pipers were leading
toward a certain sea, as if
flocks of lambs gamboled
over grasses bright and
fleecy as the springy coats
they wear.

How indeed those poems run
to conclusions like water
over smooth stones. Oh
I know it's not easy; they
must have sweated, cursed
a muse that failed them,
railed at the iniquity
of art that seems just
out of reach. Of course

when I read them
seams don't show. I have
sympathy only for my own
twists and missteps, words
scattered around me
like children's alphabet blocks,
wooden piles, tumbled of, or,
and.


Week 1, Poem 2

 

[Mrtenant]

Week 2 - 1

Flashpoints

Where rubber meets road
Welding arc touches steel
Fireworks touched by a match
Touch of lips on a first kiss

First view of mountains
Steady surf against the shore
When an eagle takes flight
That first dance with you

Barbecue fresh off the grill
Ice cold beer on a hot day
Jetplane leaving the ground
Forehead kiss on your worst day

Crawling into bed with clean sheets
Eyes closing after a hard day
First view of seasonal color
Your naked body pressed against mine

Two wheel bike ride for the first time
Watching a rocket launch into space
Fresh haircut and styling
Fingers running through her hair

Game winning score
Sailboats sailing
Bacon cooking in the morning
Cuddles that last forever

Perfect desserts
Fine fellowship with family and friends
Holidays enjoyed together
Caressing her tearful face

Birdsong upon awakening
Still on a great vacation
Pure affection of doggies
Making love for the first time

Fireplace on a cold night
Shared with your lover
Resting in the crook of your arm
Whispers of hope and dreams

 

[29wordsforsnow]

worry and sorry this is my story

I hear them--the world neither at ease nor peace
brittle voices pressed inside newspapers
lives in numbers on the radio waves
how many lifetimes would it take
to learn about only half of today's
this day calls no solution

again and again this is my pain

I hear you--between the lines the tears drew
fingers working their magic to find the spot
where you shouldered the years ago
but all along back and neck I find the memories
torturing you--soon I give in, absorbed too much
this evening speaks no relief

round and round this is my sound

I hear you--through the paper-thin hours of ourselves
the tiring rumble of the laundromat
wondering how many stains it might erase
if we could strip off what wears us
this night tells no dream

 

[cascadiabound]

Full moon marshmallow fog
Shifts and folds in my headlights
Eyes blurry from cathartic tears
held back pushed down
seep, leak and gush
A flood of pain and sadness
weary of this mess
Voice catches, head aches
Add a benzo, ibuprofen
Remember to breathe
twenty eight thousand words
over two hundred minutes
can't stop the tears
Tamping down fears
New lists of nevermore
Building bridges back to you
Promises made between the sobs
Two stubborn souls
Love and forgiveness
Grace abides
Can't stop the tears
Your shirt soaked
Mascara ruined
New never agains
Hard limits too
Foggy head blurred eyes
When will my vision clear?
Picking myself up
Taking care of business
Got my walking boots on
The path wrapped in wistful fog
I'll walk forever
'til I'm on the road again

Week 2: Poem 1: Total 2

 

[Tzara]

By Way of Explanation

This isn't about
how perfectly we fit together,
as if we were Lego blocks

or complementary ions
looking to snick
our loose electrons into a lattice

to form some crystalline palace.
What I ever really want
is to talk,

in that goofy way
lovers do in romance novels
where sex is less important

than drinking in each other's eyes
or discovering we both
like to dance

or read comic books or
prefer rainy weather so long
as there's some good wine and a fire.

This is about companionship.
And if there's also some interesting
things our bodies

like to do then as well,
we can always talk about it afterwards,
your head cradled

gently on my welcoming shoulder,
your legs long along my own
my arm around you, holding.

Week 2: Poem 1: Total 3

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

2 - 3

Enticement

It was your fingers
surreptitiously stroking
the inside of my upper arm
and inadvertently (or not?)
brushing my breast
that started it all.

The rush of arousal.
Did you know,
calculate,
the prickling moisture
and nipple location?

Later you told me
that your fingers on
that smooth frailty
fed your erection.

In that crowded place
we buried burgeoning
passion for later
that, sadly, was stillborn.

 

[Winter_Fare]

I have nothing much to share

Ready made
Heat it up
Dress it up to look good
But it's ugly to me

So Breathe On
Anyway

Imagining the air will
Smell like spring
But it is
Dark
Outside and in