30 Poems in 30 Days

[champagne1982]

1-21

Empathy

Talk about feelings people
want to know your pain
and smell the acrid agony
on your breath as heartbreak
bursts from your lungs
all in greedy empathy
they stand by and wait
to hear the joyous shouts
of birth or mating simply
since they live in sterile
happiness and empty woes.

 

[4degrees]

1-21

fuck talk
flowing from the white hot
lustburn of lips swollen
with desire
rolling like so many torrents
of angery rain down
into the gutter

join me in this gutter.

 

[champagne1982]

1-20b

fuck talk
flowing from the white hot
lustburn of lips swollen
with desire
rolling like so many torrents
of angery rain down
into the gutter

join me in this gutter.

I'll fuck talk with you baby
as I wipe the spittle of your tonguey
kisses from my lips with fingers
gloved in mud washed
from the streets
we dance on
into this gutter where we play
once risen from the sewer.

 

[Liar]

1-21

One,
twenty one.

Iconography of angles
assigned to words,
filed into neat piles
of connotation.

What makes this one,
with a barb wire fence to the next?
Why do I say this is not twenty one,
but one and the same text?

We define, us and them,
this and that, ontology in trifles,
meta physics in the space
between words
and pixels.

All that is, is.
All is that which it is.

One poem,
twenty one lines.

Let's play tag.
You're it.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

3.3

it's a good day for Jazz
gray sky rain
beating tempo
Dickenson and Earl Grey
wrapped in down comfort
crack the window
just a bit and listen to the rain fall...

 

[Selena_Kitt]

1:21 Naming Planets

A committee debates
your timeless label
as you take your place behind
shadowy, bitter Pluto
in the galactic hierarchy.
You may not have
the radiant beauty of Venus
or the bloody glow of Mars
or even the senex pull
of Saturn with his rings—
but I hope they do you justice
for history’s sake.
Nothing so vast
should be labeled
2003UB313
for all eternity.

 

[darkmaas]

1-4

In a room
with no windows
a chamber with
no other light
all milk is BLACK

all cats
who never cry
over spilling
of the milk
are BLACK

alabaster skin
warm and soft
against the fur
is BLACK

even virgin brides
wear something borrowed
something BLACK


::

 

[beetrootjesuit]

1-1

I wonder if
I swept up all the shards
from the windows of our life
and stuck them back together
in random patterns
like they did at Coventry
after the bombs had fallen
would it matter?

I’m sure the ghost of Goering
would think the act
a ritual of impotence
but he would like
the statue of St. Michael
hung victorious
over Satan
and I ask myself
if ever I should meet
a devil that I would embrace
would I have the will
to pierce him with the lance?


Coventry

 

[darkmaas]

1-4b

Champagne1982 said:

I'll fuck talk with you baby
as I wipe the spittle of your tonguey
kisses from my lips with fingers
gloved in mud washed
from the streets
we dance on
into this gutter where we play
once risen from the sewer.

So there I was
gutter muttering
to myself
when a randy pair
of elephants
with amourous intent
did fuck talk loud
and pink.

Best make mine a double!

 

[Angeline]

beetrootjesuit forced rag 1-21

Beet root zoot suit
made me write another rag.
It's all moot anyway. Neo said
I gotta write a poem a day
if I wanna stay, but as you see

I'm running out of ideas.

Anyway still here. Be a dear
beet and pluck the veil
from my muse's eyes, ok?
It's friggin freezin here today--
by the way before she left
she said she wants a tan line,
that's fine if only I could join her
maybe south of France? Antibes?
Cap du Somewhere Anywhere
that isn't Maine. Not that I
complain: I made my bed and love
my lover. Nothing's undercover
anymore, it's just the snow
that I abhor, and beets

you can lance the devil, only 37
poems to go: it's all in the diction
don't you know. Saddle up. I'm still
in the collection plate.
Chalk it up to fate
and poetry.

 

[annaswirls]

2-22 Craftsmen of Middle America

It is a three day project
starting with coiled clay
and the two heads
of our Aztec serpent.

We are Mixtec jewellers
of torn newspaper and
diluted glue,
we smooth the plaster flat
with sticky fingers
and plastic brushes.

It hardens while we sleep
and after breakfast
we peel the skin cast
from the clay and prepare
the torquoise mosaic of encrusted
construction paper scales.

~~~

I know this is not finished, just the skeleton upon which a real poem will be grown

 

[wildsweetone]

1:21

.
.

Blurred Print

Rain falls straight down in the city,
lands on cars and umbrellas, creating
a thrashing panther tail that flicks
at the sidewalk and steals
its way south. The water fall soaks
them as they run, dodging
puddles and pushcarts, wood
pushers and Joe’s hot dog
stand. Splats on yellow cabs,
tall buildings and trash can lids
that line the street. Blurs the print
on the front page that declares
flooding is the fault of global
warming.
.
.

 

[Guest]

1 - 21 Offender

A notice came in the mail today
brought an evil stench
a little closer

It followed, trailing after
couldn't escape
the mugshot
the cold look staring back

I tried to seal off the cracks
but there is no denying it
it curled under the door

It stinks, can't cover it
or hide it
There's nothing
I can do about it

Just wait, re-offend
and see what happens
it won't be only me
it will be everyone
all who live around you

nothing gets neighbors
together than watches
real threats
vigilantes dig holes

Shit can be rid of
disposed, when its
buried six feet deep

 

[Man Ray]

1 - 21

A villanelle for a Fair Damozel...

To love this woman is the sweetest kind of bliss,
Making love to her is my proud masculine duty!
All day and all night long her lips I yearn to kiss.

When we’re apart I know that something is sadly amiss,
I’d much rather have her with me acting all Lady Snooty!
To love this woman is the sweetest kind of bliss.

If I’m not gazing into her eyes I’m staring into an abyss,
But when we are together life becomes rather fruity!
All day and all night long her lips I yearn to kiss.

So lovely to laugh and giggle with this sexy miss,
Hearing her squeal, my hands on her inviting booty!
To love this woman is the sweetest kind of bliss.

I’ll proudly proclaim that no other girl as lovely exists,
To announce her loveliness is my daily civic duty!
All day and all night long her lips I yearn to kiss.

Until you see an angel you may have to endure my parti pris,
Because until you see her you won’t believe her beauty!
To love this woman is the sweetest kind of bliss,
All day and all night long her lips I yearn to kiss.

​

 

[sandspike]

Cuervo 1-22

Cuervo poem

 

[Selena_Kitt]

1:22 Starvin'

Can’t give a starvin’ girl
raw meat right away—
not when she’s been pickin’ bones.
Hungry baby-bird mouth,
greedy cluck-and-crow,
don’t mean she’s ready.
Easy-does-it-baby morsels,
tender bitty nibbles,
a slow and sticky suck.
Girl thinks she knows—
she wants it now.
You know better.
Catch her up and give her
one mouthful at a time,
until her dog-hungry belly
and rattle-boned body
can meet that appetite—
then, you can feed her craving,
and let that laid-away
trickling of your love
now flood her eager mouth.

 

[4degrees]

1-22

untamed, unassigned
a name or place within
watch from behind as
it all begins, again
my beautiful friend
spent time never ends
as i let this bastard planet
feed on perfection
aligned affection with
radiation glares and laser
like stares, humane euthenasia
and unfounded fears
a mass worm hole suicide
disguised and smiling while
eating chocolate cyanide.

 

[beetrootjesuit]

1-2

Angeline wrote:

... Be a dear
beet and pluck the veil
from my muse's eyes, ok?
It's friggin freezin here today--
by the way before she left
she said she wants a tan line,
that's fine if only I could join her
maybe south of France? Antibes?
Cap du Somewhere Anywhere
that isn't Maine...

Maine isn't all that bad
another twenty winters
and you'll almost be
Canadian.

I met your muse
in Nice.
She was with
la jolie belle
madamoiselle
D'Esposa
who claims that she's from Jersey
(the island not the state)
and is, I fear,
leading your muse
astray.

Alas ere one
could whisper
"menage a trois"
I was defrocked
and I pronounce
her tan line
worth the sin.

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

~

such is the weight
leave it and run
into the sun
laughing....





<it is my adaptation of a quote from Nietchze, just to keep it real >

 

[Liar]

1-22

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e394/mi_liar/raytoshine.jpg

(pic by wso)

 

[annaswirls]

1-23 Fedora Calado

Fedora Calado

I curtsey you bow
without tipping your hat.
Do you not notice it is out of season?

Designed to warn away or welcome winter
when we should now fare thee well
old man gone and your cold bone buttons.

Greens are pushing through last year's
leaves to see if it is safe to come home.

You tip your hat, I nod,
Pray tell, Sir do you not think
a nice Panama would suit you well?
Sun-soaked toquilla straw
to encourage the length of our days
into summer.

Black wool itch and sweat.
Come, come take off that hat
it is safe to come home.

 

[darkmaas]

1-5

My bathtub has horizons
that are close
like mountains
contain an inland sea
warm and safe
we are loath to venture
beyond the white enamel
where there is only
cold nakedness


::

 

[Guest]

1 - 22 Switch

Role reversal
wicked half grin
she loves power play
controlling the how and the when

Doubt if anyone could say
she's a lady, nothing like one
sporting her strap-on

Double-headed silicon hammer
smacks my ass
she fucks like a man

It's her favorite game
some days, it's mine
The devil goes with the pressure
without it, I come easy

 

[Angeline]

Divinity's Nervous Breakdown 1-22

The shepherd of the desert
drives a Mazda. The voices of heaven
have failed him so he listens
to Billie Holiday, Solomon Burke.
He builds a low-watt shrine
and curses its artificial light,
blesses his lost flock
with disposable sacraments:
blood of beer, body of eggroll.

God and man are bound
not in clay,
but Play-dough's mismatched eyes
and uneven limbs baked
to a modern compromise
that hangs unnoticed
in the spare bedroom closet
beseeching dust.

The shepherd of the desert
weeps for the venerated tablets
of stone chopped to pebbles,
sold only on QVC. The time
which is worshipped ticks
on an uncaring wrist
and the phone rings
unanswered.

 

[MissBri]