The Poetryhole

[Neonurotic]

This is a challenge.

Yup, been awhile since I opened a challenge thread but here's one for you all if you're so inclined to join in. It's not very difficult, nothing like my 30 in 30 thread from years ago. So no cursing my name on this new challenge.

Since this is a porn board, this challenge is called "poetryhole", a play on words of "gloryhole". Instead of placing body part(s) in said hole for pleasure/service, you are to write a poem for the sole satisfaction of who/what you're writing for.

So these are the rules:

• The challenge is to write poem about someone else or to someone else. It can about be a thing, time, place or whatever, as long as it's not about you.
  
• You may do this challenge as many times as you would like.
  
• The poem can be non-erotic or erotic.
  
• You cannot put yourself in the poem unless it's in third person.
  
• One other rule, the poem you write for this challenge must not use the words "I", "me", "mine", "our", "us" or "we".
  
• The most important rule is to have fun!

GOOD LUCK!

 

[Neonurotic]

Mojito

Like rum and mint with a tang of lime;
a sweet kiss sucked and swallowed,
savored until a bitter nothing.
Now what's left is a hangover
and a want that will last forever.

 

[Dangerous Liason]

The whisper soughed across breasts
dew slick from drunken kisses mumbled
like promises of rain against the forest.
Morning tastes of coffee and carbs
to hammer and dent mojito hangovers
bought with candied kisses just last night

 

[respeito]

i posted this on the Playground on the 13th of November. i made a tiny adjustment and removed the original last line because it contained the word "I".

a kiss;
that perfect closure,
starting the day,
ending the night.

simple and stolen,
precious and delicate,
sinfully sweet,
like honey from the comb.

full of passion and rage,
bent and twisted,
like the sheets
that contain sated bodies.

wordless and lingering,
blissful and warm,
radiant -
like summertime.

 

[Neonurotic]

i posted this on the Playground on the 13th of November. i made a tiny adjustment and removed the original last line because it contained the word "I".

That's fine in doing that, never said the poem had to be brand spanking new in the challenge rules. Very hot poem by the way with use of honey and twisted sheets for some great mental images.

 

[WillowedCabin]

These are a few of my favorite things

scissoring
they cut and curl
like ribbon

their boxes
tied up in string

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Bathroom

In the early days he found
she shed her skin at night
and hung it neatly over the tub
to drip the day’s worries away,
long silken legs, toes up
still glossy with her sex,
her breasts became lace-memories
and her hips flimsy gossamer webs
he was already ensnared in.
On his return she would be waiting,
sweetly scented and smiling
from her pillow.

 

[Tzara]

Artemis, in Kitsilano, Bathing

ὁρᾷς τὸν Ἀκτέωνος ἄθλιον μόρον,
ὃν ὠμόσιτοι σκύλακες ἃς ἐθρέψατο
διεσπάσαντο, κρείσσον' ἐν κυναγίαις
Ἀρτέμιδος εἶναι κομπάσαντ', ἐν ὀργάσιν.
—Euripides

In the wavering light of candlelight
all water-sounds seem amplified,

waves kissing her legs like a pier
set in an ocean pulled by moon.

She settles down into the heat,
hair wound up in a turban,

high off neck. Her wineglass
sweats in sympathy,

filming over like the room's mirror
or the blank spectacles

of the man standing rigid in the hallway.
Smiling, she wills him to become stag, but

his sudden horns foul in overhanging branches,
and then he hears the baying of the hounds.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Holy shit that is beautiful.

Great challenge, Neo.

Artemis, in Kitsilano, Bathing

ὁρᾷς τὸν Ἀκτέωνος ἄθλιον μόρον,
ὃν ὠμόσιτοι σκύλακες ἃς ἐθρέψατο
διεσπάσαντο, κρείσσον' ἐν κυναγίαις
Ἀρτέμιδος εἶναι κομπάσαντ', ἐν ὀργάσιν.
—Euripides

In the wavering light of candlelight
all water-sounds seem amplified,

waves kissing her legs like a pier
set in an ocean pulled by moon.

She settles down into the heat,
hair wound up in a turban,

high off neck. Her wineglass
sweats in sympathy,

filming over like the room's mirror
or the blank spectacles

of the man standing rigid in the hallway.
Smiling, she wills him to become stag, but

his sudden horns foul in overhanging branches,
and then he hears the baying of the hounds.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

here soft respite of rise
shadow settles in the lull
between your muscles and rounds
beg for nuzzling between

every step of yours
begs insinuation
because you are a woman
at least on Sundays

you lie sunny side up
you lie sunny side up
because the sun hits evenly
this morning

even though it is 40 outside
you lift the window
naked and unafraid
every morning you are

 

[The_Fool]

He saw her gaze
rest upon him.
Eyes to eyes
then she dropped
her glance.
Minor frown,
almost fear,
played across her face,
diminishing quickly
to studied indifference.
His features had been typical open,
Friendly,
Smiling.
Yet he too frowned,
briefly,
until he recovered.
His smile now slightly wistful,
torn to think that his demeanor
offered something painful
to one so attractive in his eyes.

 

[butters]

seasonally
you disappear
into those lightless hollows
beneath the man-whore shallows that
smile and sparkle, frolic and fragment the
you you choose to display

weary of paddling barely ankle-deep
in hostile air that fails to support or buffer
you slip backwards into a cooler embrace
where the waters close over your head
where, maybe, you drowned
long ago

 

[butters]

that frosting on your lips proclaims
a cold nugget
metallic metronome within the pale cage of your ribs
it lies!

for beneath those gold-fingered lips
lie a warm pucker
a ready smile
a southern-spiced heart of gold

 

[butters]

some (including you) denounce
that old brick wall just
inches high but tall enough
to shatter a brittle poet should
his fingers stutter
marbles slip to
scatter every whichway
so

balance is the key!

a key without a lock but hung
about your neck
(no noble noose)
until you brace and take the step
(need to always take that step
put your neck upon the line)
and make a stand
throw your voice into the void
right or wrong
your thoughts alloyed...

sometimes the ground recedes and bravely done
sometimes wings fail beneath the bright wax sun

 

[DeepGreenEyes]

seasonally
you disappear
into those lightless hollows
beneath the man-whore shallows that
smile and sparkle, frolic and fragment the
you you choose to display

weary of paddling barely ankle-deep
in hostile air that fails to support or buffer
you slip backwards into a cooler embrace
where the waters close over your head
where, maybe, you drowned
long ago

This is captivating. Language as fluid as the shallows in the poem.

 

[KatieJones]

Dinner at Tiffany's

A hand reaches across
the table to lift her chin
but her eyes remain down, weighted
and unwilling to be read.

Undaunted, the fingers
tuck one curl behind an ear
pausing against the lobe, leaving
a promise to return before sliding
around to her neck, stroking.

Each one a small wave
in the river running under her skin
that turns the volume of other voices
down and blows out the candlelight
until they sit in their own darkness
constructed within the crowded room
until she looks at him
and they know.

 

[Maria2394]

I truly want to write a poem for your challenge, but I just cannot take my eyes off your AV.

 

[Tzara]

Dinner at Tiffany's...

Very nice, Ms. Jones.

 

[KatieJones]

Thank you. Yours was perfect and I never think that about a poem.

 

[Tzara]

Thank you. Yours was perfect and I never think that about a poem.

Well, thank you, but nothing is perfect, especially me.

 

[Tzara]

Jewelry

I cannot leave even any gem
beneath your pillow,
nor hide one in that cup you use for tea.

To loop a pendant over the mirror
as you shower
and write my love for you in fog

is impossible. You see,
all I can give you is words—
some few precious stones

left on a beach
we will never walk together.
Yet I still write your name in that sand.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Jewelry

I cannot leave even any gem
beneath your pillow,
nor hide one in that cup you use for tea.

To loop a pendant over the mirror
as you shower
and write my love for you in fog

is impossible. You see,
all I can give you is words—
some few precious stones

left on a beach
we will never walk together.
Yet I still write your name in that sand.

This is lovely, wistful, almost sad but it does break the rules.

This is a challenge.

Yup, been awhile since I opened a challenge thread but here's one for you all if you're so inclined to join in. It's not very difficult, nothing like my 30 in 30 thread from years ago. So no cursing my name on this new challenge.

Since this is a porn board, this challenge is called "poetryhole", a play on words of "gloryhole". Instead of placing body part(s) in said hole for pleasure/service, you are to write a poem for the sole satisfaction of who/what you're writing for.

So these are the rules:

• The challenge is to write poem about someone else or to someone else. It can about be a thing, time, place or whatever, as long as it's not about you.
  
• You may do this challenge as many times as you would like.
  
• The poem can be non-erotic or erotic.
  
• You cannot put yourself in the poem unless it's in third person.
  
• One other rule, the poem you write for this challenge must not use the words "I", "me", "mine", "our", "us" or "we".
  
• The most important rule is to have fun!

GOOD LUCK!

 

[Tzara]

This is lovely, wistful, almost sad but it does break the rules.

Oops. Where's that PoetGuy when I need his third-person sensibility?

Note to self: Review the rules before dumping something on a challenge thread.

Revised version, for Tessie:

Jewelry

He cannot leave even any gem
beneath her pillow,
nor hide one in that cup she'll use for tea.

To loop a pendant over the mirror
as she showers
and write his love for her in fog

is impossible. You see,
all he can give her is words—
some semi-precious stones

left on a beach
they will never walk together.
Yet he still writes her name in that sand.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oops. Where's that PoetGuy when I need his third-person sensibility?

Note to self: Review the rules before dumping something on a challenge thread.

Revised version, for Tessie:

Jewelry

He cannot leave even any gem
beneath her pillow,
nor hide one in that cup she'll use for tea.

To loop a pendant over the mirror
as she showers
and write his love for her in fog

is impossible. You see,
all he can give her is words—
some semi-precious stones

left on a beach
they will never walk together.
Yet he still writes her name in that sand.

To hell with the rules, the originl is better.

 

[WillowedCabin]

Katie Bradley's Sea-monkey

Katie Bradley's sea-monkey was not born in Simba skylight
No one played Brahms as it walked down the aisle
And all the shepherds were too busy to stop by.
It did not come with GOP nomination in newly formed fist
but instead raised it high in solidarity, saying,

"Birth is not like parking a car
And my mother has no guestbook nailed to her cervix.
I am nobody's party punch line punching bag
platform to stand on. I'll push you off the diving board
head first into her deepest waters, show you
that in the womb, black and white are irrelevant,
for ultrasounds come in shades of grey.
I will not be born into a world of oppression
I am no tumor to strangle, feed
on another's dreams.
Birth is a tango between two lovers
and you may not have this dance."

Katie Bradley's sea-monkey didn't live very long.
It seppuku slipped on the doctor's scalpel
and they read it's entrails for her future,
only learning that the missing link was all guts, no glory.
And poor Katie, forgotten and bleeding in her stirrups
could not ride off into the sunset.

her smile simpered and C-sectioned
asking
if she could stop
by the pet
shop on the
way home, to
pick up
a canary for her coal mine
as she
loved to hear
them
sing.
____________________________________

*I wrote this for a slam poetry thing-- so, try to imagine it spoken.