Poetry for killing time

[atmas]

I like to look at you
asleep on your side, face
cradled by down soft pillow.
I like to read
you like a poem, slowly
attending to the detailed
whisps about the eyes
slipping under lids, lips
pursed as if about to kiss.

In this, your nightly cruise,
you take leave
from port of day's
forgotten words meeting
off course to sail along
the sea of dark
through strings of island stars,
at the masthead bearing on
toward sun about to be
uncovered.

I like to see you stir
when into the small
cupped petal of your ear,
my whisper drifts:
touch me, touch me.
I like to watch you rise
as if some foreign tongue
you once spoke came
suddenly back to you, watch
you fix a course across
the sheeted light onto
the continent of my body.

 

[kotori]

Poetry from a killing time

Dulce et Decorum est


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime. --
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs
Bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, --
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

--Wilfrid Owen

 

[atmas]

Full stop. Let's not
do anything. Wait
for what is spreading
underneath the skin,
the limit on this
only how much ripeness
we can stand. Full
stop. Are you
a woman, am I a man,
which one of us is fuller
with the other? Something
in pleasure is just
out of ken, floats
like a lily on a lake
that deepens farther in.

 

[Matthew Craig]

The girl
She fucks
For money
Whore...
I pay

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[atmas]

Vomit. Good night...and write some more.

A tatoo of you
becomes you
on me.

 

[poppy1963]

A tatoo of you
becomes you
on me.

.....

 

[atmas]

polished now
from love's steady
partnership

you feel your way
fluidly
toward warm familiar

destinations
inner pools
unaware

you too
have outgrown
the need for armor

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[poppy1963]

Last Poem for this night

.....

 

[atmas]

Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me
when the memory of the body awakens,
and old desire again runs through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.

Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember...

 

[poppy1963]

Return often and take me,
beloved sensation, return and take me
when the memory of the body awakens,
and old desire again runs through the blood;
when the lips and the skin remember,
and the hands feel as if they touch again.

Return often and take me at night,
when the lips and the skin remember...

*smiles*

good poem!

 

[rengadeirishman]

They are kind of old but here a few are

The blood
it bleeds, my soul itself bleeds, no signs of coagulation. product of my
pain, pain of loves derivation. I turn the pages of my mind, replete with
imperfections, errors, suffering of my own creation. Pain i cannot fight, beyond a blades depth, frantically trying to dig it out, through my razors laceration. theblood, it falls, crimson tears attempting to wash away the years, ive lived in imagination.
to think that ever could i be loved by another, this soul that twists through a nether.The blood washes these pages, attempting to purge the suffering of my history, those arterial tears, become as a rushing stream,
drink it all in, my wasted life, covered in the blood that issues forth from me,
a reminder of my strife. the blood, the blood that gives man life, the blood,
the blood, that covers my pain, in a torrent of scarlet tides. i drain the
blood, to cease, i drain the blood, to please, i drain the blood to become. Empty.

it beats
my heart has been pierced, yet still it beats. my heart has been crushed, yet
still it beats. slow and weak but at a steady rhythm. my heart has been
ripped, yet still it beats. harder and faster gaining strength, a dancing rhythm.
my heart had been broken, but yet it still beats, to the warriors drums.

the crushing
the burden rested on my back, on these on years it did impose. the weight of
sins large and small, and made me crave repose. I came upon a small root in
the path, and my road weary feet did drag, it caught my feet and buried me, like
israels steel in the bosoms of gath. alas the load did fall, and my shoulders
they did fail, and crushed my body beneath it, which once was hardy and hale.
i cannot lift this load again nor carry it once more, i have nothing left but
death, to my happiness restore.

the warrior's song
we sing the songs of war, and the songs that few sing anymore. we love the
battles roar, the fight for glory evermore. We long to spill the blood that
makes the warfields mud. We lust to go to battle and slaughter the foes as cattle.
May the spirits bless us and take us to our rest, as we plunge into eternity
and die the warriors death.

 

[poppy1963]

More Poetry for Killing Time: A Renewed Spirit!

.....

 

[atmas]

When I was asked “why poetry? You are in hardness because of it”

Do you ask me?

Why does the moon emerge?

Why does rain pour?

Why does perfume spread?

I don’t write poetry, she writes me.

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[atmas]

A feeling of distance and longing

that is not akin to pain

and only resembles sorrow

as the mist resembles the rain

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[atmas]

That one is poignant and appealing
Sends me reeling into feeling fogs
And soggy bogs in mists and forests
Beauty comes in reeling words that stream

Time is just the stream I go fishin' in.

 

[poppy1963]

Time is just the stream I go fishin' in.

nods..yup

 

[atmas]

When I could speak I said, Let's walk by the river.
Then I asked, Will you be loving?
I meant to say, "Will you be leaving?"
and then you laughed too.

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[atmas]

In folly's world-wide wind
our shoulders shield from the weather
the calm we now beget together,
like a flame held between hand and hand.

 

[poppy1963]

.....

 

[atmas]

A friendship forges slowly
Through verse and rhyme
A common way of saying
So good this thread is staying.

An intensity of contact
that's always amazing
beyond understanding
how that cool
glows with warm.