Lovers' Quilt Poetry Challenge

darkmaas

Literotica Guru
Joined
Jul 4, 2002
Posts
1,000
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Violetta: I don’t think I get it.

darkmaas: Let me explain. All the poems posted will be about lovers.

V: Yeah but what’s with the quilt? You aren’t exactly the warm and cuddly type.

d: Well, like a quilt, all the pieces have to fit together. Each poem should match or contrast with the other poems around it. Maybe steal a line or take a theme and link it with another poem or turn the whole thing on its head. Or better still, link together two previous poems. Use your imagination.

V: You mean the poem has to be more than just be about lovers.

d: Of course. “Lovers” are just the subject matter.

V: A lot of the poets around here don’t read instructions very closely. What if someone just posts a poem about lovers-under-quilts then leaves?

d: Then the really talented poets will have to fill in the gaps and tie it in with the rest. Or they can just yell from the sidelines and embarrass the offending poet into filling in the gaps

V: Well, I dunno. This is Literotica. We could be awash in body fluids.

d: Oh I doubt it. Just as likely to be awash in Hallmark. Anyway, haven’t you been complaining about the lack of humidity since I turned on the furnace?

V: What if the “Spank-me” types come and hijack the thread?

d: As long as they bring “Spank-me” lovers’ poems, who cares?

V: Every time they come ‘round, I seem to end up losing half my petals.

d: Gives you a tousled, post-coital look. Very becoming.

V: You humans are so weird… So who goes first?

d: The first poem is the easiest because there are no other pieces it should fit, so I’ll go first.

V: Well don’t be getting all dark and Byronic on us … and leave Her Majesty out of the conversation … are you listening … ?



.
 
When neon lights
awake to play
downtown streets
lively up

lowlife
highlife
rub shoulders
and lovers
though oblivious
seem to need
their darkness
spiked with colour
 
Violetta: That’s a pretty mundane poem. So you, like, just made that up on the spur of the moment?

darkmaas: Actually no. It’s been gathering dust on my hard drive for a while.

V: I see. This thread is just an excuse to empty your hard drive. How do expect poets to want to play if that’s your game?

d: Do I see the word “Critic” in the title? It doesn’t matter. It’s only the starting point. Metaphoric bait.

V: So what happens now?

d: We wait and see who bites.

V: You mean just sit here?

d: It’s called lurking. Fun for all ages.

V: If I was human I don’t think I would be peeing myself with excitement.
… Do you really think messy petals make me look … er … hot?


.
 
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darkmaas said:
When neon lights
awake to play
downtown streets
lively up

lowlife
highlife
rub shoulders
and lovers
though oblivious
seem to need
their darkness
spiked with colour

spiked with colour,
colour rainbows that wade
through dark streets to settle
against wet concrete walls
where lovers lean
and hide in half-shadow
sharing a passion doubled
in neon framed windows.
Their unspoken language shouts
of desire and dream
like a pantomimed first act
of enchantment
where everything seems
fantastical
and yet possible.
 
Last edited:
darkmaas said:
When neon lights
awake to play
downtown streets
lively up

lowlife
highlife
rub shoulders
and lovers
though oblivious
seem to need
their darkness
spiked with colour

lowlife, highlife
all life submerged
in his eyes oblivious
to the falling the depths
are spiked with anenome
kisses and the blue
sheets a tangled sea
of forgetfulness
drowning the
exquisite little death
of aquatic immersion
and the gull gasps
that flutter
in the wake
 
Love conquers all things
dark and cold the bruised
crescent of the lilac moon
leaves stars to fall untended
brittle in the lovers eyes
refelecting thoughts of skin
on skin, hair tumbled she leans
in smiling a kiss
a promise.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
.

Lovers, oblivious, seem to need
their darkness
thinking shyness theirs alone
as they*
hide in half-shadow
sharing a passion doubled
by sinful heat spiked
with anenome kisses;
a siren's song
belying the low life,
the poison seeping from
the cracks of vows broken,
while above them the

crescent of the lilac moon
leaves stars to fall untended
sizzling, searing,
before they reach
this cold unnurturing earth.

* my voice

.
 
When neon lights
awake to play
downtown streets
lively up
and sometimes
hearts begin a back beat,
in the back street
where lovers lean
and hide in half-shadow
sharing a passion doubled

folded kitty-corner
like an envelope,
then sealed with anenome
kisses and the blue
waves washing
clean those New Orleans
beaches with the riptides
calling to the unsuspecting
couples self absorbed

self adored and oblivious
to the night air.
Dark and cold the bruised
crecsent of the lilac moon
leaves stars to fall untended

in this autumn of our meeting. Warmth
of fresh love seeping from
the cracks of vows broken,

drifting on the currents
of our passion in the night.
 
darkmaas: See, it's working.

Violetta: You are right, but they've made your starter poem look really lame.

d: Always the critic.

V: And no one has ruffled my petals yet. This lurking isn't exactly filling my hours with excitement .... if it weren't for that stupid banana icon I'd be wilting from boredom.

d: Ah but read the poems. One even has a rainbow of colour.

V: You know I only see in pink and white ...



.
 
darkmaas said:
darkmaas: See, it's working.

Violetta: You are right, but they've made your starter poem look really lame.

d: Always the critic.

V: And no one has ruffled my petals yet. This lurking isn't exactly filling my hours with excitement .... if it weren't for that stupid banana icon I'd be wilting from boredom.

d: Ah but read the poems. One even has a rainbow of colour.

V: You know I only see in pink and white ...



.


Does the rest of the d'mass household know about you and Violetta? Just wondering...

:nana: <----------- for V
 
Ange said:
Does the rest of the d'mass household know about you and Violetta? Just wondering...

But of course. Do you not talk to your plants?
 
Boo:

As I said before, I've never known a cat to have any sense of poetry. That one looks like he's had a bit too much catnip. Hmm...
 
darkmaas said:
Boo:

As I said before, I've never known a cat to have any sense of poetry. That one looks like he's had a bit too much catnip. Hmm...

Trust me, D'... One can never have too much catnip. Never.
 
darkmaas said:
Ange said:

But of course. Do you not talk to your plants?


No, but only because I can't bear listening to them weep. Plants like eagleyez; they roll over and play dead for me. :cool:
 
Angeline said:
No, but only because I can't bear listening to them weep. Plants like eagleyez; they roll over and play dead for me. :cool:

How can you feel at home in the universe and sing with the stars, if you can't talk with your African Violets?
 
Just diddling...

When neon lights
spiked with colour
rub shoulders
(on) downtown streets
lowlife
highlife
awake to play
and lovers
seem to need
(to) live(en) up
their darkness
though oblivious
(to) neon lights

:cool:
 
BooMerengue said:
How can you feel at home in the universe and sing with the stars, if you can't talk with your African Violets?

Another burden to bear. :eek:

:heart:
 
Can we place any poems about lovers here, or do they have to be linked to a previously posted poem?

Never mind. I see. They have to connect. Ok. Gotcha.
 
Last edited:
BooMerengue said:
Just diddling...

When neon lights
spiked with colour
rub shoulders
(on) downtown streets
lowlife
highlife
awake to play
and lovers
seem to need
(to) live(en) up
their darkness
though oblivious
(to) neon lights

:cool:


i love it when you diddle.

:kiss:
 
darkmaas said:
When neon lights
awake to play
downtown streets
lively up

lowlife
highlife
rub shoulders
and lovers
though oblivious
seem to need
their darkness
spiked with colour




do u attend happy hours, dim bars
u thrived on double drinks in single bars
small talks, big laughs, truths at the glass bottom
and the feel of sinking to the bottom

i hear u married, have a bunch of kids
you work part time and play full time with kids
u'r proud of your husband, he's not like me
but then nobody is truly like me

i attend happy hours in dim bars
i sing on double drinks in single bars
small truths, big laughs, dimes at the glass bottom
and the fear of sinking to the bottom



Regards,
Senna jawa​
 
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