Fuck With My Poem

[Lauren Hynde]

Hello, Lit people!

These are a series of PM:s that will do a better job at explaining the objective of this thread than I can...

smithpeter wrote on 06-02-2002 03:41 PM:
Send me another short PM? Tell me what you see if you look out your favorite window.

Lauren.Hynde wrote on 06-02-2002 10:01 AM:
Looking out my favorite window,
I can see myself,
trying to peep inside,
into my lover's bedroom,
watching her peaceful sleep,
bathed by the moonlight pooring in,
through my favorite window.

smithpeter wrote on 06-02-2002 04:53 PM:
better not send me any poems. I might steal them and fuck with them too.

looking out my window
I see myself
peeping in
to my lover's bedroom
spying her fitful sleep
bathed by pouring moonlight
viewed without my window

Lauren.Hynde wrote on 06-02-2002 10:58 AM:
Thank you for fucking with my poem, it looks much better now...

smithpeter wrote on 06-02-2002 05:19 PM:
LOL!!
LH, you should start a thread called, "Fuck With My Poem"

adorn my work with horns and thorns
remove the softness with sand paper
increase my grit and fold it
investigate my creases and expose
the power or weakness that leads to
submission

And here it is...

If you want your poem to be fucked up by the big boys, like I do, post it here. Just don't complain if you don't like the way they end up...

I'll offer myself as the first victim......errrr......subject of analysis:

rewrite this one as you see fit:

I'm In My Shadow by Lauren Hynde ©

 

[Rybka]

I'm Just A Little Fish, But. . .

Why is everyone afraid of rhyming? Why not a first four lines something like:

I am in my shadow,
she does not follow me,
I am just my shadow
a shade I seem to be.

I am sure everyone must have a reason for detesting rhymes, but I don't know what it is.

Rybka

 

[smithpeter]

just kidding

I suspect that way back when Jesus and Ala and Shakespeare were all drinking buddies they all talked in rhyme and so they had to write that way too. The biggest dilemma was when the time came to sign the check in rhyme.

 

[larksaround]

must....you fuck with my poem?
makes want to go hoem
where I live in a doem
near alaska's noem

 

[WickedEve]

Re: I'm Just A Little Fish, But. . .

Why is everyone afraid of rhyming? Why not a first four lines something like:

I am in my shadow,
she does not follow me,
I am just my shadow
a shade I seem to be.

I am sure everyone must have a reason for detesting rhymes, but I don't know what it is.

Rybka

I'm just a little fish
Rhyming is my wish
It is a tasty dish
For this little fish

I love good rhyme! I have quite a few rhyming poems. But when I started doing free verse, I was hooked and reeled in.

Lauren, I've been trying to fuck with your poem, but so far, I've only taken it out to dinner and held its hand.

I'll try to give it a better screw later.


Wicked

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Thank you for fucking my poem. I WANT MORE!!!

Rybka:

I love rhymes! Honestly! I even wrote a couple of sonnets and a pantoum, in these last few weeks...

I just don't think this was a rhyming piece. But I challenge you to make it: take the poem and make it rhyme! Not just the first 4 lines, fuck it up completely and make it all rhyme! I'd love that...


Eve, hun

Take your time, I love slow comfortable screws... And be gentle with me, I never did this before...

 

[JUDO]

Fuckin' With Poetry


Taking Lauren's lead,
I wrote this down and stripped.
Picked a name from the book
then dialed 'em up and tripped -

"Say honey, won't you come?
Won't you come on down?
I'm needin' it now and badly.
I need to dip your crown!"

In five, he was there
Sportin' a thick one quite contained.
Up with shirt and down with pants,
This must of been ordained.

I laid upon my back
With my legs up and out.
I taped the poem right to my chest
And watched him start to doubt.

"It's okay, baby.
Come on and stick it in.
I want you hard and hammerin'
Til my knees can touch my chin."

With a shrug he started jammin'.
I shook from head to toe.
Moanin' loud and talkin' dirt,
I couldn't make him whoa.

I pushed him off still spurtin'.
He shot a sticky goo.
Now read before it runs too bad-
A fuck for you.

 

[Lady_J]

I am my shadow,
I have no solid self,
I live in shaded darkness
And not within my skin.
The core of what I once was
reaches towards the day,
and now I try to seek my soul
but find a deeper shadow.
I dream of the tangible possiblities
If self met self in light.
But I follow my dark form,
'round in life and in death
trying to join two halves
and remaining on the cusp
of finding my true self.

 

[Zircon]

WoooHoooo

Lauren, this is my 300th post, and it is going to be in your thread. Thank you for letting me 'fuck' in here...hehehe

I am my shadow,
We never part.
For I am my own master;
He is without doubt a lark.
Shadow of me that crawls unseen
Through every crevasse and crack,
Though the shadow is attached to me
Forlorn the way the shadow is quite drab.
My whole world happens in following me
And I pretend that I am the core.
All these pretending is getting to be a bore,
While the whole is laughing gleefully.
I do all I can to join my shadow and me:
He is not helping much.
Instead, we fight and laugh,
And in the end, we just have lunch.

 

[Ancient117331]

May I?

Lauren,

I read yours aloud and this is what I 'heard' -

"I Am My Shadow..."

I am my shadow.
I follow the lead
of who i'm not.
Hiding from the light -
all the others see...
not really the me I am.

I am but a shade -
a ghostly me...
dragged since birth,
lead haltingly -
along all these paths...
so very many, many paths...
without wish - without hope.

I want to 'be',
I really do -
but don't know how
to join what I'm not
with who I am
and now... likely never will.

I await, watch,
stand back and hide,
slip and slide -
and dream...
while the 'other' me
continues to be
the me they see -
and I...
I just fade away
with the approach of night.

.................
Hope you don't mind.

Chris Twyford
Ancient117331

 

[JUDO]

Thx Lauren

Now posted...Fuckin' With Poetry


- Judo

 

[Senna Jawa]

    moon through transparent me at the window
    lights my lover's bedroom floor
    and on the bright sheets
    yes me sleeping like a baby
    and my thigs and hips and tits
    crying out
    where is my lover?!


Hm, this reminds me of my two old short poems.

Regards,

 

[WickedEve]

Dark Shadows

Dark shadows crawl over stolid rock walls,
seeking, seeking, seeking
the mad woman of pig hollow.

Shape shifting along trodden ground,
creeping, creeping, creeping
in eerie light of surly morrow.

She's made her bread,
and baked her bed.
To logic, she pays no heed.
But of ornery shadows
makes sure she knows.
She is a mad woman indeed.

Dark shadows through boarded window slats,
peeking, peeking, peeking,
spy her chanting in white granule ring.

Shadows at the keyhole, under the door,
seeping, seeping, seeping,
coming to get her, the poor mad thing.

She's made her bread,
and baked her bed.
To logic, she pays no heed.
But to ornery shadows
makes sure she knows.
She is a mad woman indeed.


Wicked Eve

 

[Senna Jawa]

ooph

Nah, the last two lines in my variation were a fuck-up.
Again:




        moon through transparent me at the window
        lights my lover's bedroom floor
        and on the bright sheets
        yes me sleeping like a baby
        and my thigs and hips and tits



(I thought I posted it last night. I am sure that I only saw the Preview, forgot to click on "Submit Reply". Frsustrating. Happens to me all the time. Lucky you ).

Regards,

 

[Lauren Hynde]

I'm very pleased with all of you

This orgy is going very well, doint you think?

I'm not feeling well today and it's very late, but as soon as I'm physicaly capable I'll start fucking with some of your replies... In the mean time, you can keep fucking around or someone else can come forward and give us something new to work with. Any takers?

 

[WickedEve]

I offer this poem for a good fucking.

Rum Rush
by WickedEve ©

"Whore" drips from my tongue
as I exhale my identity.

I'm plastered on three sheets
of rum patterns; amber designs
intoxicate my vision.

Nails rake through the golden haze.
My fingers, drunken goddesses,
erect heady peaks.

My breath exhilarates
the sober threads of my world.
I rise up and scream, "Yes, I'm your whore!"

An empty bottle crashes. I am shards
of ecstasy. You pick up the pieces
and lay me flat on wrinkled chaos.