December Contest: Poll 3

[The Poets]

There are seven poems in this thread. Please vote for the one poem you like best. Voting in this poll will be open until midnight, Pacific Standard time on December 20, 2007. There will be a total of three polls. Make sure you vote once in each of the three polls.

If you have any questions pm The Poets or post your conversations about this contest in the Challenging Discussion thread.

Thanks to all who participate and good luck!

 

[The Poets]

Poem 15

by ebonytreat

I gave my self into submission to KindSir
in the month of December.
cold nights and warm afternoons filled
with delight.
he is my master and commands my
pleasure, my needs.
i knew what i wanted to gift my self with
this month.
i wanted to give myself the freedom of
His collar.
tied up, on bended knee, a
fire roars, i sweat.
trickles of heat and desire run wet
down a tense spine.
waiting for the first sting, anticipation,
muscles tremble.
as the first hand falls upon my
tingling flesh, i look up.
the first snow of December has
fallen

 

[The Poets]

Poem 16

December
by l8bloom​

Snow
curves the hills
into paraffin
cheeks of a corpse.
Lifeless,

you think. You think
you know.

There’s another way.

Stubble of corn refuses to grow,
bristles like the trying twelve-year-old
wailing Never!

She hasn’t let you go.

The land isn’t flat, but the pair of pale slopes
aren’t enough. She thinks God
doesn’t hear her plead.
If She had, where are they?

There’s another way – Nature’s way.
Too small for us to see,
we often disbelieve.
We think Her forces are dead, or too slow.

Pain blizzards my brain,
proof of Her mighty plow.
Armies kneel before Her now.
She can lay waste to a nation.

She’ll choose the time
of bloom.

 

[The Poets]

Poem 17

by Mari_Akiko

December
whines at the window
a cold wind

I feel your warm hands
longing to touch me

 

[The Poets]

Poem 18

December Reflections by KR

Disrobing mind of vocational garments
slipping into silvery thoughts
reflective as the zither-shaped pond
Coy as the koi
beneath a watery cloak of willow leaves
turned golden by the pallid light
Do koi dream in hibernation
while the year's last moon dies
and my chill fingers cry
for my lover's warm lips?
Reflections have form and shape
but no substance
like thoughts and emotions
they ripple and fade
Changeling world
the season of annihilation has come
and I will pass it in the gazebo
wearing only a robe of light
'til the dawn of my beloved's return

 

[The Poets]

Poem 19

Wintry Terrains by Five_Eight

1.
December fields
grieving
under
a binary star
like a woman tired
of men

2.
Bewitched by
an extinct bird perched
on her soft thigh,
her thick red hair
a crimson waterfall
that bleeds tears
to nourish
a Pterodactyl

3.
Butterflies canceling
rewards, in nether winter mornings,
but the hereafter still
overlaps into her yesterday
where snow white swards
unfold

Night coughing stars into her hair,
her smile fades with her coiffure
but her dress remains
unrumpled,
don't listen for trains
while making love in the afternoon,
once I tried

4.
"What's on your mind at Yuletime?"
asked the
dagger of Damocles,
its shiny point
leering at my
fragile groin

5.
Linen whispers,
moaning wood
and sporadic Time
knocks again
at the doorway of my altar,
she couldn't believe my best lies
but settled for a rusted truth

6.
Wretched Time will not move when urged
nor will it be intimidated by winter's daughters
with vacant eyes and frosted limbs
and those who urge Time
feel their chains clutching the earth,
waiting to suck these offenders
into a whirlpool
that reeks of sulphur and sweat
but takes on Hell's beauty
like a fence between
lawns
or a bridge slicing the waters
apart in a single
metallic gesture

7.
Poised on a wisp of mist
in the center of the night
with no answer to shield off
the approaching freeze,
such a shame
Utopians bear,
I can be no witness
for they can be not victims

Clinging to a thread
dangling over noon's pools
where no menace
discloses its ghastly face,
only those
who gape like fools
across plentiful valleys and
I can be no killer
for they think not like targets

They think over and beyond
while we tread below,
but is that why

8.
No face and no facts,
a mere scheme that rushes into the light
blindly,
living as a wounded boar
in a forest of Christmas trees

9.
What does your fancy desire?
An eternal monument
which cannot be vanquished
by December winds
until the hordes
swallow your grandfather
clock?

10.
When I reached the end
of the road
I realized why
I was so quick
to avoid all the shortcuts,
strange discretion,
an alleyway full of forked tongues

11.
Thinking of a Christmas
adventure
but the reality
had drained out of it
leaving an empty bubble
in its wake
when I was 9-years-old

12.
Glassy eye
recording
on straight slick paper
seconds
of posed glances
in front
of the new car,
never gams
or breasts

13.
They changed the sirens
in the tower today
so the new whistles
would not
send a spasm
through the north pole
and
the mayor complained,
too

14.
Shoulders quaking, leaning over a hill
with the clouds spitting hail on top of me
where I smile slyly at the animals.
Don't forsake me, o false joy,
bowman, quench my arrow thirst,
my Arrow shirt,
such thought lends me anonymity,
soothing me
and the life I've chosen,
my future unfrozen

15.
From so far away
her rather rural, but
magnetic, face
attracted me
until I couldn't see
beyond her green eyes
that glistened like backyard sex
on D-Day,
but I could've sworn
it was last winter

16.
Don't misunderstand my appearance
here,
my honest motive was to fly
away,
anyway
my wings are late
from the cleaners

17.
My mind violated its curfew
escaped over a membrane wall
and fled the flee of the fugitive
into the unknown
only to discover
its leash whipping in the air
behind it and home base
infinities away in the direction of mid-winter
so on nervous hands and feet
it scrambled about
like a runaway subway
at rush hour and the police
arrested it
locked it up
but my mind got away
leaving behind a lesson for its captors

My mind and I
had a good laugh
over it
later

 

[The Poets]

Poem 20

December by PandoraGlitters

She is the youngest daughter. Don’t be fooled
by the frosting in her hair; that is just the evidence of the baker’s love,
his floury handprints still carried on her back.
She is the king’s meekest daughter, the one he gave nothing
but his affection, the one whose inheritance remains intact.

She comes slow, walking alone, trailing her cloak in the snow,
catching a twig in the trim as boot heels puncture
the crust beneath powder. Her tracks are filled again
by the sweep of that train, pulling powder into the crevices
of her legacy. She craves invisibility, but wherever she steps
she hears trumpets. All the fuss exhausts her.
Still it is with good cheer that she lays down,
an angel in the snow bank.

She gets her wish as the year rolls over
on top of her and snores himself awake.

 

[The Poets]

Poem 21

It came in on a hallowed breath by Liar

It came in on a hallowed breath,
a late moon howl to ice capped stars,
the promise of a painless death.
A moment's pause before the night
in silver blue and lying white,
a minute that was truly ours.

It slithered under leaves that fell
as grey as granite's solid grip
by cover of a late dusk spell,
to soothe your trembling fingers still,
to help your glowing warrior will
surrender to an ice storm's grip.

It came in on a hallowed gale,
the last of many quiet prayer
for those who into spring prevail.
I laid my peace beside your head
and held my breath as silence bled
your warmth into December air.

 

[The Poets]

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