30 Poems in 30 Days (Redux)
- Thread starter Neonurotic
- Start date
Lyricalli
Strange Little Bug
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2014
- Posts
- 4,406
3-10
Connected Reflections
My lines, never perfect
rarely feel pristine or polished
but you say they shine
as you twirl them in your light
describe the colours you see
in the prism of your eyes
leave me undone in your eloquence
But you speak of beauty
as if you are beast
careless and clumsy
unaware of the elegance
in the way you turn a phrase
or the artistry
within your brutal honesty
You won't see your beautiful
the way that I do
just as I don't recognise
the way your eyes reflect me
and these mirrors may only exist
because we hold them
but that is the strength of their value
Connected Reflections
My lines, never perfect
rarely feel pristine or polished
but you say they shine
as you twirl them in your light
describe the colours you see
in the prism of your eyes
leave me undone in your eloquence
But you speak of beauty
as if you are beast
careless and clumsy
unaware of the elegance
in the way you turn a phrase
or the artistry
within your brutal honesty
You won't see your beautiful
the way that I do
just as I don't recognise
the way your eyes reflect me
and these mirrors may only exist
because we hold them
but that is the strength of their value
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshm-11
Larkins' Mystery
Ellis steps to the piano
and he's tall, a stoop-shouldered
weary-seeming sort of a guy
in thick Coke bottle glasses
with big square hands, ungainly
below the cuffs, long dark
fingered Ellis a study
in black and white against the keys,
is so much more than you'd expect,
a master receding behind classical
proprieties that shift in and out
of blues precisely fluid and silky
smooth one forgets
who is Ellis and where are you
but somewhere pure and true
where even the most elusive
words won't go.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__6FLgkDi88
Larkins' Mystery
Ellis steps to the piano
and he's tall, a stoop-shouldered
weary-seeming sort of a guy
in thick Coke bottle glasses
with big square hands, ungainly
below the cuffs, long dark
fingered Ellis a study
in black and white against the keys,
is so much more than you'd expect,
a master receding behind classical
proprieties that shift in and out
of blues precisely fluid and silky
smooth one forgets
who is Ellis and where are you
but somewhere pure and true
where even the most elusive
words won't go.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__6FLgkDi88
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshm-12
Crows and Small Blessings
The Sun lights up at 4am
as do the crows. They're fat
sleek and loud. Crows! It's too early,
the Moon looks naked at the dawn,
it's still supposed to be dark, see?
My eyes droop as I peek
through the blinds hoping
the grey fox will bring her kits
to the clearing and drink. But no
it's only crows cawing, scratching
tiny clawprints on snow.
Your hands are tucked under your chin
like a prayer, perhaps for a special dream
like the one where Dylan gave you gems,
a glittering fist of sapphires and pearls,
rubies and emeralds: why your eyes lit
up just telling about it, but now
you look serene and pure, brow smooth
and face relaxed just the scant hint of a smile.
You looked like this when you had gone, too.
It was a small blessing to me, even if
you couldn't wake to tell the part about
how you put the jewels in my hands.
Crows and Small Blessings
The Sun lights up at 4am
as do the crows. They're fat
sleek and loud. Crows! It's too early,
the Moon looks naked at the dawn,
it's still supposed to be dark, see?
My eyes droop as I peek
through the blinds hoping
the grey fox will bring her kits
to the clearing and drink. But no
it's only crows cawing, scratching
tiny clawprints on snow.
Your hands are tucked under your chin
like a prayer, perhaps for a special dream
like the one where Dylan gave you gems,
a glittering fist of sapphires and pearls,
rubies and emeralds: why your eyes lit
up just telling about it, but now
you look serene and pure, brow smooth
and face relaxed just the scant hint of a smile.
You looked like this when you had gone, too.
It was a small blessing to me, even if
you couldn't wake to tell the part about
how you put the jewels in my hands.
Last edited:
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshw-14 (only 16 to go...wheeee)
Monotonous Monorhyme for Bulwer Lytton
It was a dark and stormy night
and Bulwer Lytton was a sprite
at my elbow urging pray invite
this lot of n'er do wells do write
poems thick with cliche or shite
so absurd as to forthwith ignite
a stink so great vultures alight
and critics weep upon the sight
gnash teeth on Strunk & White
and swear they'd rather fight
than type another word tonight.
Monotonous Monorhyme for Bulwer Lytton
It was a dark and stormy night
and Bulwer Lytton was a sprite
at my elbow urging pray invite
this lot of n'er do wells do write
poems thick with cliche or shite
so absurd as to forthwith ignite
a stink so great vultures alight
and critics weep upon the sight
gnash teeth on Strunk & White
and swear they'd rather fight
than type another word tonight.
Lyricalli
Strange Little Bug
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2014
- Posts
- 4,406
3-13
Challenged by this game
we play
as you place your pieces
on the board
gather your resources
force me to change
my strategy
rethink my moves
if I... then I can...
if he... then maybe...
and the wheels turn
round after round
until the points are tallied
and we both know
the score
Challenged by this game
we play
as you place your pieces
on the board
gather your resources
force me to change
my strategy
rethink my moves
if I... then I can...
if he... then maybe...
and the wheels turn
round after round
until the points are tallied
and we both know
the score
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,469
10 - 16 Time and Again
Croce was right;
there never seems to be
enough time.
I have spent all of it,
and it's taken so much
more than expected
to simply sort out
the good times from
the not-so-good;
never bad,
even when arguing or
engaged in giving each
other silent treatments,
it was still time spent
together.
Croce was right;
there never seems to be
enough time.
I have spent all of it,
and it's taken so much
more than expected
to simply sort out
the good times from
the not-so-good;
never bad,
even when arguing or
engaged in giving each
other silent treatments,
it was still time spent
together.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshm-16
A House Divided
Bullets fly, hate's on the wing: the Statue of Liberty is crying.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE3kKUEY5WU
A House Divided
Bullets fly, hate's on the wing: the Statue of Liberty is crying.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AE3kKUEY5WU
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,469
10 - 18 Curry Chocolate Coq au Vin
I read over the list and sighed,
a lesser cook might have cried,
our guest had been promised coq au vin,
but it turned out my larder was running thin.
So I decided it was time to improvise,
to simply make do, to go and devise
something from what we had,
I hoped it wouldn't be bad.
Peppers we had plenty in stock,
so roasting and chopping and into the crock
pot to be simmered down, nice and thick,
add in some spices, it should do the trick.
Fingers crossed when it came to that night,
we had fixed up the chicken, just right,
paired it with some rice with a flurry
of diced veggies, a variant curry.
Our guest ate it, and we watched closely
for signs of poisoning but they mostly
talked and talked while they ate and ate,
finally we relaxed; they cleaned their plate.
I read over the list and sighed,
a lesser cook might have cried,
our guest had been promised coq au vin,
but it turned out my larder was running thin.
So I decided it was time to improvise,
to simply make do, to go and devise
something from what we had,
I hoped it wouldn't be bad.
Peppers we had plenty in stock,
so roasting and chopping and into the crock
pot to be simmered down, nice and thick,
add in some spices, it should do the trick.
Fingers crossed when it came to that night,
we had fixed up the chicken, just right,
paired it with some rice with a flurry
of diced veggies, a variant curry.
Our guest ate it, and we watched closely
for signs of poisoning but they mostly
talked and talked while they ate and ate,
finally we relaxed; they cleaned their plate.
Last edited:
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshm-17
YouTube, Yeats and Me
I listen to your voice quaver
in a scratchy recording, your ghost
come from the great beyond to speak
its poems, claim them as belonging
to your voice and not these unknown
days that I inhabit. Heed my verse
you say: I've had a devil of a time
getting it just so. When you read
you sound as if you're singing,
holding the rhyme then thundering,
stentorian in your age of machinery
and the machinery of war that beat you
down no less than my uncertain future
will grind my fate for I, too, am fastened
in my time to a dying animal
and your words comfort me.
YouTube, Yeats and Me
I listen to your voice quaver
in a scratchy recording, your ghost
come from the great beyond to speak
its poems, claim them as belonging
to your voice and not these unknown
days that I inhabit. Heed my verse
you say: I've had a devil of a time
getting it just so. When you read
you sound as if you're singing,
holding the rhyme then thundering,
stentorian in your age of machinery
and the machinery of war that beat you
down no less than my uncertain future
will grind my fate for I, too, am fastened
in my time to a dying animal
and your words comfort me.
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,426
Nshm-18
Once I Was
They burn leaves in November
here after peepers leave town
and only pines are still green.
Maybe the first snow falls
in runnels creeping down hills,
but the town smells toasted
and earthy, blessedly unlike
the paper mill so we sit outside,
companionable in our chairs,
watching snow and fire until
I feed you homemade gnocci
and red sauce, parmigiano-
reggiano and we are toasty
inside. You make dumb jokes
about ciao and chow and I am
utterly charmed by everything
about you and how can that be?
I'd never felt that way before.
The fires went out but we still
lay burning in blue blankets.
Once I Was
They burn leaves in November
here after peepers leave town
and only pines are still green.
Maybe the first snow falls
in runnels creeping down hills,
but the town smells toasted
and earthy, blessedly unlike
the paper mill so we sit outside,
companionable in our chairs,
watching snow and fire until
I feed you homemade gnocci
and red sauce, parmigiano-
reggiano and we are toasty
inside. You make dumb jokes
about ciao and chow and I am
utterly charmed by everything
about you and how can that be?
I'd never felt that way before.
The fires went out but we still
lay burning in blue blankets.
Last edited:
Remec
Master Glomper
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2003
- Posts
- 8,469
10 - 19 The Ride
Mom always said not to
take rides from strangers,
or candy,
or talk to them,
pretty much don't have anything
to do with strangers,
except help them when they
need it.
Mom was big on the whole
Good Samaritan thing.
But, it had been a long day,
it was raining off and on
(more on than off, though)
and when that big, pink Caddy
pulled up alongside the curb,
I think I would have done
almost anything for a ride,
even without the driver's
low-end wealthy,
high-maintenance MILF,
look.
She beckoned me over and
even through the window and
six inches of space, I could smell
the apple scent of her shampoo,
hear the low bass faux-porno
soundtrack coming through her speakers,
and I was utterly entranced,
"Get in," she told me, and I
was through the door and lounging on
real leather, pressing myself into the
cushioning of the seat as she
pulled back into traffic.
A short ride to a mostly empty
parking garage led to a much,
much, longer one a top a different
sort of leathery surface, breathing in
those apples right up close,
and tasting nothing but the flavor of
her mouth, lips, and tongue as we
kissed almost the whole time
we fucked.
Mom grounded me for being
late that day, would have been worse
if she knew I had been
getting to know a
stranger.
Mom always said not to
take rides from strangers,
or candy,
or talk to them,
pretty much don't have anything
to do with strangers,
except help them when they
need it.
Mom was big on the whole
Good Samaritan thing.
But, it had been a long day,
it was raining off and on
(more on than off, though)
and when that big, pink Caddy
pulled up alongside the curb,
I think I would have done
almost anything for a ride,
even without the driver's
low-end wealthy,
high-maintenance MILF,
look.
She beckoned me over and
even through the window and
six inches of space, I could smell
the apple scent of her shampoo,
hear the low bass faux-porno
soundtrack coming through her speakers,
and I was utterly entranced,
"Get in," she told me, and I
was through the door and lounging on
real leather, pressing myself into the
cushioning of the seat as she
pulled back into traffic.
A short ride to a mostly empty
parking garage led to a much,
much, longer one a top a different
sort of leathery surface, breathing in
those apples right up close,
and tasting nothing but the flavor of
her mouth, lips, and tongue as we
kissed almost the whole time
we fucked.
Mom grounded me for being
late that day, would have been worse
if she knew I had been
getting to know a
stranger.
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