the enigma

[twelveoone]

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enigma

which one?
eminem

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I've seen the Enigma machine at Bletchley park which is near me if that helps

 

[EroticOrogeny]

If not just the word in general,
for me it would either be the WW II code machine and its solution by Allied computers
or the Elgar work.

 

[bflagsst]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4jb12Un0yX4

 

[twelveoone]

seven notes the music thing
unless of course you bend the string
of all the colours crimson is the king
hey, bill take out the cymbals
clutters up the high end
I need that for overtones

 

[butters]

seven notes the music thing
unless of course you bend the string
of all the colours crimson is the king
hey, bill take out the cymbals
clutters up the high end
I need that for overtones

seven veils to make string theory limbo to the beat
all hail the crimson - i know a King when i read one
and don't forget to tip.
all symbolic, shambolic on your high
hat
gin 'n' tonic

 

[Angeline]

It is an enigma
a golden enigma
an enigma wrapped in a riddle
an enigma folded like origami
inside the riddle in my pocket
it is quiet
the enigma
is asleep

but the riddle is watching
It holds the enigma as if
it were fetus or infant to be
protected. It holds it
as if you might forget
the enigma and the gold
which holds more value
than the stylish but empty
riddle. The cave of the riddle
is flickering and inside
the enigma casts shadows
as it sleeps patiently
in the slow beat lingering
in the measure
of sleep.

 

[butters]

It is an enigma
a golden enigma
an enigma wrapped in a riddle
an enigma folded like origami
inside the riddle in my pocket
it is quiet
the enigma
is asleep

but the riddle is watching
It holds the enigma as if
it were fetus or infant to be
protected. It holds it
as if you might forget
the enigma and the gold
which holds more value
than the stylish but empty
riddle. The cave of the riddle
is flickering and inside
the enigma casts shadows
as it sleeps patiently
in the slow beat lingering
in the measure
of sleep.

ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!

The cave of the riddle
is flickering and inside
the enigma casts shadows
as it sleeps



me likee

 

[Angeline]

ooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!

The cave of the riddle
is flickering and inside
the enigma casts shadows
as it sleeps



me likee

It was fun to write.

 

[fridayam]

seven notes the music thing
unless of course you bend the string
of all the colours crimson is the king
hey, bill take out the cymbals
clutters up the high end
I need that for overtones

Would that be Bill Buford?

 

[twelveoone]

Would that be Bill Buford?

yes
it would be

 

[twelveoone]

Poetic Elements

Never write with GOLD in mind
often turns to LEAD
strange bit of Alchemy.
Write with TIN instead.

HELIUM...mañana

 

[Angeline]

Helium makes my
poem squeak and
hold its breath

it speaks in a
little voice a
munchkin of a

poem tiny its
legs and hurried
beat frisky and

runs runs runs
out of air.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Hotter than any hell fire
and burns twice as fast,
softer than satin
stronger than steel.
Forgets she bent the bumper
always remembers
what you said
six months ago.
The enigma that is
Woman.

 

[Angeline]

Spring you old
enigma shy, mild
as rain at morning
peeping the ground
greenly prospering
wind fresh out
of edge and ice
melting, blushed
to tears.

Winter in arrears
is cashing its last
check. The birds
know best singing
to the bees
one season dropping
to its knees
another set
to blooming on
the vine.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Her burning kiss remains on his lips,
The suggestion of some exotic spice,
Her touch still lingers, a tingle on his skin,
The erotic memory
Stirring him to public adjustment.

Her figure appears ahead of him unexpectedly
Only to turn, under his earnest hand,
To embarrassment, a stranger and
He hears her taunting laughter.

No way to retrace the traces
Or call to hear her voice, no way
To reclaim the anonymous uncanny night.
She will remain an enigma unless
The stranger turns
And it’s her.

 

[vrosej10]

The Queanbeyan Enigma

you come into the pub each tuesday
wearing a polka dot hat, tartan shoes
you drink alone, poke fun at yourself
once after sex you told me you don't like men
then next day you rolled the football team
you walk a ferret on a leash, a couple of geese too
your swear you lived in Queanbeyan before
but everyone I go to say you're lying
though you've got old photos​

 

[twelveoone]

When I see a tree diseased
in drastic need of surgery

limbless under azure
cloud highways

 

[twelveoone]

Fuck all that
Who put the screw in the machine
Things are coming out
Just a little too obscene

Obscure the dirt
Abjure the hurt
Objurgate the verb
Interrogate the word

Till the great god ptah comes back again, spits
and makes the desert bloom.

but not him

 

[twelveoone]

Prose Poetry (so-called)

Mutable Boundaries: on Prose Poetry

The Fallacy of Prose Poetry: an Extension of Eliot’s "Reflections on Vers Libre"

just posting some links. if anyone what to take it serious.

as here, and now, it's not.

 

[twelveoone]

vers libre

vers libre to me means, do what you want, just be prepared to work your balls off, take the consequences, and don't listen to jackasses. the paradox inherent in this once you work your balls off, now you don't have them and you join the jackasses.

All forms where invented by someone, they were modified. Turco was not divinely inspired by God. It is a guide. So when Frost screws around with a fixed form, Yeats creates, vers libre? Don't know, nor do I care.

You either work, or you don't.
It either works, or it doesn't.

Fuck the crusaders,

 

[butters]

links bookmarked for reading properly...

*thanks the powers that be i have no balls to lose*


*brays*

 

[twelveoone]

links bookmarked for reading properly...

*thanks the powers that be i have no balls to lose*


*brays*

you women are screwing up my tired metaphors

 

[Epmd607]

Mutable Boundaries: on Prose Poetry

The Fallacy of Prose Poetry: an Extension of Eliot’s "Reflections on Vers Libre"

just posting some links. if anyone what to take it serious.

as here, and now, it's not.

Prose and Verse aren't binaries, but they're certainly in opposition and have a sickly overlap. Lazy, mundane, everyday nothing nothing kinda prose dressed up as artful verse in A Season in Hell vs. the typical journal entry submitted to Literotica.

There's a difference between
prose poised as poetry and prose-poetry
that anyone reading this passage
can breath easy in identifying.

 

[twelveoone]

Prose and Verse aren't binaries, but they're certainly in opposition and have a sickly overlap. Lazy, mundane, everyday nothing nothing kinda prose dressed up as artful verse in A Season in Hell vs. the typical journal entry submitted to Literotica.

There's a difference between
prose poised as poetry and prose-poetry
that anyone reading this passage
can breath easy in identifying.

I know that, my suggestion is that sometimes you suggest to the writer a way to improve, via comment. I have left a few.