old poems

[Lauren Hynde]

A couple of days ago I was thinking about the new poems thread and how I haven't been reading that many poems except the ones in the new poetry list. That made me wonder about how many good pieces must be lying around burried under the 5400 Erotic and 5675 Non-Erotic Poetry blocks.

My idea was to have an 'old poems' thread, that could work the same way the 'new poems' does. For example, using the 'story spinner' as many times as necessary to find at least one good, mention-worthy poem every day in each of the 2 major categories.

I think we should assign someone to each day, like in the 'new poems', but that doesn't mean others can't jump in and recommend something, either using the spinner or not. Maybe we can keep the same day assignments, but that's up to each of you. I'm doing both threads on Saturday.

And like in the new poems thread, let's try to keep the extemporaneus chat to a minimum.

-------------------------------------------------
In My Double Polarity
by JUDO ©

As seagulls drift lazily amidst the warm westerly
Behind tinted green my blues drift under a coral sea,
Lying naked baked by solarity in my double polarity.

The wind lingers while it molds its fingers along me gingerly
Rife with opportunity, aflame with lust and unmoved by temptation
Behind tinted green my blues drift under a coral sea.

[...]

If memory serves me right, this was Judo's first terzanelle. I'm glad the spinner took me there, it's a wonderful example of erotism and poetic form.

-------------------------------------------------
contaminated
by nakedangelina ©

She has soaked and scrubbed,
lathered, rinsed and repeated
under a scalding stream in
her immaculate white shower.
She has brushed and flossed,
swallowed antiseptic spray,
cleansed, sterilized and disinfected
over stark pristine countertops.
She has bleed and she has cried,
begged, cursed and berated
in her sanctified self damning
isolation, still she is not clean.

Nakedangelina has been one of my favourite authors ever since I first got here, and this is exactly the sort of poem I was talking about. How did this get past us?

-------------------------------------------------

 

[Angeline]

I'm In

on this idea, which I think is a great one. However, I'd prefer to do mine on a day other than my new poems review day--the thought of doing 'old poems' after having to read and choose reviews for a score or more of new poems is daunting.

Anyone wanna switch days?


And Lauren, excellent selections! Most of us here know our JUDO doll is a gifted poet, but it's good to recall that my unclothed sister is very very much worth reading as well.

 

[KillerMuffin]

Sounds like a good idea to me. I'll swap ya days, Angeline. Do we have time parameters? How "young" can the poems be?

 

[Senna Jawa]

"A Mother's Nightmare" by Svenskaflicka

My idea was to have an 'old poems' thread

Great idea, Lauren. Let's get this thread going. I hope it is ok to revive any poem, with or without random spinning.

I've seen several poems by Svenskaflicka swooshing by my leading poem on the top reads list. They went by real fast. Especially

    A Mother's Nightmare

This poem gets over 100 reads per day! And on this occasion for a good reason. It is an unassuming charming, great small piece, accompanied by a cute, very girlish drawing. Have fun, read it!

Regards,

 

[Angeline]

Swap

ok girlfriend you got Friday; I'll do the old poems Monday.

Thanks!

 

[OT]

I don't think I can commit to a particular day, but I can commit to "a day".

In many ways it a more daunting task than the New Poems thingy. It's a much more difficult to find a poem that you like, as opposed to picking the best from a small sample.

Rather than random, I was thinking something along the lines of Sesame Street's "this week is brought to you by the letter "M" -- methodically working through the list.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

The method isn't important, just as long as we get to read some good poems.

 

[karmadog]

I'm sure that most of you have read this, but I really like it, and it won't kill you to read it again, so here's Dogwood.

I've always felt that smithpeter should have listed this one as erotic. I'm also pretty sure that he doesn't like this poem as much as I do.

 

[Guest]

no dog
i do like it as much
it is close to me
like a thing that i could touch

hey, could a laser pointer and a mirror be used in shooting pool?
(pardon the extraneous conversation)

 

[Guest]

grey/gray

one could turn out to be one I actually know.
this was one poet that made me consider
poetry as more than a romp

corazon

Northwest I

In the light, I see the silver glint of stubble like fish scales flashing. Then the tickle-scrape, the heat underneath, and the impossible softness of your lips as they part at the space between my breasts.

Slow rocking in the cedar branches - the wind - and the whole earth seems to ache, to open wide, parting in answer to my spreading fingers, the sky unpainted and bare with one stripe of thundercloud; the paleness of my thighs in the tall, dark grass.

Your work-worn hands and the thousand lines across the palms caress; open and close in a tender gesture of stroking and soothing. There ... and there ... expert motion against the softness and the hardness that is love.

Nearby, a lapping, an inlet that sucks the shore, that ebbs and flows with the moon, flowing and feeding the great open ocean. And you ride just above the surface of me, barely touching my skin, light as the air that moves the trees.

It is the quick intake of breath, the sudden slap of the water's surface being broken - the interruption of rhythm. The arch of my back and your two grey eyes closing above me, the same grey as the sky.

You will fade as I grow older, your would-be child-bride, but still I'll permit my senses to wander and recall smoke-scented skin, the upward sweep of a dark hairline, the longing of time and waiting, the nearness of the northwest.

 

[Angeline]

Hmmmmm

Ok, so I gave it a try. I spun and I got

Bedtime Prayer by NaughtyMike

God is great
God is a genius
Let us thank him
For my penis.

Amen

Maybe I should try again.

 

[OT]

Re: Hmmmmm

Ok, so I gave it a try. I spun and I got

Bedtime Prayer by NaughtyMike

God is great
God is a genius
Let us thank him
For my penis.

Amen

Maybe I should try again.

Would it be inappropriate to comment that it's the little things in life that count ...

(Actually, I liked it. It made me laugh, which can be one of the characteristics of a good poem.)

 

[Angeline]

April 21

My entries for the week:

Eve the temptress by Endlessly

Slide over me over and over and over
While the ridge of your ear falls to the siege of my tongue
Like a battering ram between muscled thighs
Defile my temple
My breasts taste like apples from Eden
And you know you want a bite..
Tear me from holiness with your sighs

This poem is not bad at all, I thought--and I, like our resident fish, have a tough time finding examples of well-written erotic poetry. Yes, it could stand an edit, but this writer has a good sense of the music of language. The poem has some very good metaphoric stuff happening, good wordplay, and a pretty interesting sustained religious metaphor. After reading this, I wandered through Endlessly's submissions and found some decent stuff--give her poems a chance: she has writ some very evocative erotic poetry.



Salute! by KatPurrs

It sits unzipped at the foot of the bed
one sleeve out, giving a collapsed, chenille salute,
a resigned good bye to the tryst.

Folded vestiges of time spent
doing little else, save embracing each other,
and the never enough hours,
wait for the task of adornment once more.

Honoring its symbolism,
relishing the memories,
denying harsh reality,
I decide.

Unpacking can wait.

First spin out I got a winner! This delicious little slice-of-life comes from our pal KatPurrs, whose poetry is well worth your attention. It occurred to me that this effort includes a great example of what separates poets from the rest of the populace: the sleeve of a robe that lays discarded on a bed becomes a salute to the tryst that just ended.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Do we have time parameters? How "young" can the poems be?

I think we should leave that to the criterion of each person. For example: I was looking for an erotic poem, just now, and chance took me to silken_dreammaid's poetry motions, which was posted earlier this month. I really enjoyed this poem, and remember it being mentioned in the new poems thread, so I kept looking for something fresher (or not, depending on the prespective). But for those of you who don't know it, follow the link. It's worth it.

-------------------------------------------------
Cure for headache
by silken_dreammaid ©

An old wive's tale, you said.
Let's try it out and see
if this will help your head.

Feeling too groggy to decline
I nodded, sure, anything
that might work is fine.

[...]

Obviously, it was fate that silken_dreammaid would get her mention here today. If you like a twist of humour with you erotica (no pun intended), this is a good place to start looking.

-------------------------------------------------
Brother Blue
by RisiaSkye ©

Sixty years of that life, just playin' hard--
went from tailfins and ducktails, baby,
right up through electric cars.
From dive bars down in the Delta
rose the Grandfather Superstar.
The years go quick and the scene has changed,
but the Mississippi poet-preacher's blues?
Well, they always stay the same.

[...]

I remember recomending this poem when it was first posted, over six months ago. I said: a must-read poem. It was true then, and it still is now.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Everyone thinks this is a good idea, but I don't see you posting any good findings from Literotica's crypt.

Eve, OT, Cordie, Muffie... Where are your selections?

-------------------------------------------------
before fury
by smithpeter ©

[...]

Have you noticed most things change?
Have you noticed that it does not matter,
Matter is here for us,
Matter is your flesh and it's happy smile.
Matter is your thought, it's deep scheme.

[...]

A bit of smithpeter to make you tingle.

-------------------------------------------------
[close your eyes...]
by Senna Jawa ©

   close your eyes    listen
the whole san jose downtown
      in my small bedroom

A Senna haiku can make you tingle too.

 

[Angeline]

I remember reading that smithpeter poem when he posted it--it's a winner! as is the senna poem, though his bedroom sounds awfully crowded.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Small rooms always do. Maybe he could paint the walls white and set up some mirrors.

 

[KillerMuffin]

Dang it, I forgot. What a perfect excuse to avoid homework, too. I gotta run here pretty soon, but I'll put some up later this evening anyway.

 

[Angeline]

Maybe he could paint the walls white and set up some mirrors.

Look out senna--Lauren wants to redecorate!

Well my day is Monday, but I spun anywho and I got:

An Evisceration of Convenience by just pet who is, IMHO. one of the best poets on the site. Excellent idea you had, Ms. Hynde.

Aphrodite seeking restitution for her desecrated temples
from self embracing priests
leading ovine armies blinded by hot incandescence,
their childish fists blocking guarded ears
shouting down their Mothers' version

Embraceries lewdly clothed in gilded glass integrity
keen to unborn bleatings
echoing in imagined future rooms of worship
with sugar frosted windows
crusted shut by inspired convenience

 

[Angeline]

And what the heck, did it again and--voila--another great one, The Motorcyclist by jazm

One evening, while sitting lost in thought
beside a small fire
under summer constellations,
I heard a motorcyclist racing on
a far-off country road
as if pursuing
something of great importance.

What could it be?
Why does he rush into the dark
with such intensity?

Could I be losing some fleet thing of value
as I sit motionless
beside this dying fire,
musing on
the swift descent of night?

 

[OT]

I don't see you posting any good findings from Literotica's crypt.

multiple choice excuse:

a. the spinner is evil
b. I suck at spinning
c. my reading muse is (still) in a sour mood
d. all of the above

After about a bazillion spins, I found this one:
(I like it without reason -- which is oft times best)

When I was a ghost
Without family
Duty
I could waltz into a 7-11 and come out with the essentials
Two chili dogs Fritos and
And an Olde English 40
Hidden in the pockets of my shabbiness
To be scarfed behind a dumpster or
Under a bridge with the other homeless
The hopeless
Winos
Hustlers or worse
Who were just as concerned about surviving as I was
And may possibly strangle me in the night
For my sleeping bag
Belt or
Even the last few sips from my near empty bottle

read the rest here:
When I was a Ghost by tmt

 

[Cordelia]

new old poems

I thought I'd give the spinners a try.

It is so difficult to find good erotic poems, but I know there are some out there, so I decided to be persistent.

I spat tea all over my monitor when this came up.

~~~~~~~
I Wish I Was by Rybka © (8/11/02)

I wish I was. .

killer whale
breathes through hole on top of head
10 inch tongue

~~~~~~~
And I must admit it wasn't easy stumbling across a good poem in this category today.

But I finally found this.

~~~~~~~
Driveby by lickmyboot © (10/05/02)

The faded silk scarf
wrapped tightly around your head--
your beauty tucked in like a sleepy child
I'm watching your hands
strangely perched on the wheel
like cautious birds
Dark, round shades curiously conceal
your age and eyes
I think you've narrowly escaped
a run-in with your dead lover's wife
hiding behind graveyard trees
You, with your white finger tapping
slightly against the sun.
~~~~~~~

Good stuff.


Cordelia

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Oh, I remember Lick's poem. Wonderful selection, Cord.

 

[Angeline]

This is fun!

I gave the erotic poem spinner a try. It took me 14 damn spins through a minefield of yikes kinda poems, but then--

Touch Me by RedScully, a Lit poet I've always liked. Click and read the whole thing--graphic schmaphic, this poem is sexy.

I caressed your hair,
Cupped your cheek once.
Let careless forefinger
Deliberately stray to your wrist,
Rub once, twice
In the dark concert hall.
Grabbed your shirtfront,
Pulled you to me
Lips to lips
Tongue to tongue.

I reach out to you.

Farewells mean
Hugs frozen in a moment.
Can’t hang together
Too long,
Eyes upon us.
Squeeze tight, but quick.
Say nothing.

Touch is everything

~~~~~

And another nonerotic first spin success for me--a beautifully bittersweet poem from our own dear GP. I've written a few versions of this story myself.

A House Divided by guilty pleasure

Our love, once strong,
Grew weak, neglected and ignored.
We were not looking,
Had turned away.

Lives evolve in time and
Chemistry precipitates the preordained.
The tangle of our careless words,
Exploding in fluorescence
As our egos clashed,
Harsh words
That spoke of a divided house.

 

[Angeline]

4/28

Erotic

Window of Opportunity by David B

My accidental eyes
followed the fiery light
that wandered into her room
and fastened upon her shape
with benevolent precision.
Her form and features
were magnetized,
and she knew it,
ready to launch magic
to a stranger's eyes.

She stood within
the lush stillness
to gather her horizon

This poem, like the Energizer Bunny, goes on and on and on and. . .you get the idea. Its author could have broken it into a four-part poem and fared much better. So why am I recommending it? Because this guy can write--what he has is, IMHO, really good in terms of imagery and metaphor, great word choices, too. And it's easy to lose sight of all that because of the overall length. If he does break it into more digestible pieces, it will be clear how good it is.



Nonerotic

As Old As by tmt

I am not this old man
The song of youth still
Plays in my skull my heart my
Bones ache
Eyes blur
After long day working
Hard to keep them open and
Sometimes I nod off
To the late news or Letterman just like
My dad did when I was a boy

Ahhhh tmt. This guy seems to have left our midst, and what a shame. I adore the way he writes--think he has a real gift. This poem strikes the balance between resignation and wistful regret and even conveys the poet’s maturing understanding of his father. Altogether poignant and lovely. Read all tmt’s poems if you can. They are so good.