writing live

[butters]

dis as soc i ation
yet again
mind divorced from body
without pain
thoughts forget they're meant to stay
within this flesh
within this brain
the physi
cali
tee
remains
for now
a measure i don't need
to feel
again

 

[butters]

pre var
i
cay
shun
guilty as charged
no mea-culpa here, though
so sleepy yet
these words will spill forthwith
regardless of my waking will
letting them
escape to play
pursue
peruse

irreverence
ensues

 

[RhymeFairy]

Craving


with slow
wet licks
you

may start

upon
my ankles.
drizzle my
legs with swirly

sin. camp out,
about

my moist mound.
slither up, steal
a taste. tempt
out my hidden

desire, of stolen
moments. milk
my ribs, then rescue
swollen

nipples
from their tight, rosey
realm. partake of
pathways pulsating
near my neck. Nip

nestle

naked, as lips link
lining up bodies
bending
bowing
bawdily braving

this craving to taste,
have. forage
dive into
this craving, called

desire ~



..

 

[butters]

^^delightful word-play

 

[butters]

immaculate


harlem girl in ankle socks
writes on walls
hand on her belly
all because

the radio was turned up high
no-one heard her awful cries
so now whenever the blind man sings
she shuts her eyes and dreams of wings

and somewhere deep
inside its sleep
a rough beast shivers



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

needs to be turned into what it's meant to be. any suggestions?

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Love Song to Harlem

Harlem of the well-sat steps, of the barbecues
in steep parks, I admit I'm done flirting.
There are pictures with my family,
my lover and me dancing at your famous
shrines and temples of joy and jazz.

How rich you are! Building gardens and families
after the fleecings when being black
meant paying twice what folks paid in the rest
of Manhattan. And the landlords busted
blocks with the fear of brown hands which would
shape a place for a multitude. Now, Harlem
you are black but pearled

with others like me who can't resist
being flecks of admiration, who delight
in your Boulevard Ice and watchful mothers.
On Sundays your numerous temples, cathedrals
and storefront churches all hum
with bright, big hats and deeply sung

praise to the glory of God, to the strength
found in the company of brother's and sisters.
I am not your family. But I love you
and I will be there for the dancing.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Powerful

immaculate


harlem girl in ankle socks
writes on walls
hand on her belly
all because

the radio was turned up high
no-one heard her awful cries
so now whenever the blind man sings
she shuts her eyes and dreams of wings

and somewhere deep
inside its sleep
a rough beast shivers



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

needs to be turned into what it's meant to be. any suggestions?

Familiar as I am with American ghettos, this evoked some powerful memories with me from my time years ago as a social worker. The only thing I might add, which should be easy for you with your talent, is a final line with a syllabic masculine ending to give it that added "beastly" edge of the current one.

The first 5 lines riveted me, and then the next line clarified the narrative to its conclusion.

I may be ascribing too much to the title, but I thought of the symbolism of the "Immaculate Conception." It doesn't matter whether one believes in it or not. It's the purity in the young woman in spite of L6.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Familiar as I am with American ghettos, this evoked some powerful memories with me from my time years ago as a social worker. The only thing I might add, which should be easy for you with your talent, is a final line with a syllabic masculine ending to give it that added "beastly" edge of the current one.

The first 5 lines riveted me, and then the next line clarified the narrative to its conclusion.

I may be ascribing too much to the title, but I thought of the symbolism of the "Immaculate Conception." It doesn't matter whether one believes in it or not. It's the purity in the young woman in spite of L6.

I agree. Grabs one within the first few lines. Very emotional and one can just "see" it in their minds eye....

*thumbs up*

 

[butters]

Familiar as I am with American ghettos, this evoked some powerful memories with me from my time years ago as a social worker. The only thing I might add, which should be easy for you with your talent, is a final line with a syllabic masculine ending to give it that added "beastly" edge of the current one.

The first 5 lines riveted me, and then the next line clarified the narrative to its conclusion.

I may be ascribing too much to the title, but I thought of the symbolism of the "Immaculate Conception." It doesn't matter whether one believes in it or not. It's the purity in the young woman in spite of L6.

thanks, gm you were right about the title, and as for the ending it's what i meant but wasn't even sure if it really belonged or was a part of another poem - especially since before i wrote this, what first came to mind was

and deep within a distant moon
a dark lake shivers

nothing to do with the poem i ended up trying to write. *sigh*

but yeah - the innocence of the girl (which i tried for with scraped knees etc but couldn't get to where i was needing to be) despite the atrocity of the rape; stevie wonder and his 'isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful ... made from love' thing going on, combined with the girl's catholic/religious upbringing =wings=immaculate conception. perhaps 'shudders' works better as the last word? is it still too soft? it would link with the sexuality, the release of the rapist's O as well as hold the tenuous link with the religious side of things 'rough beast slouches'?

I agree. Grabs one within the first few lines. Very emotional and one can just "see" it in their minds eye....

*thumbs up*

why thankyou!

 

[Black13]

Another day at the office
Invoking the lie for which I live
The bitch that sits five cubes away
And laughs, and makes me want to give
The life I lie to keep today

The dream I feed here in my office
2.5 kids and 7 years
Of truth as I sell cigs and dreams
To pencil skirts, living in fear
That what I've bought into now seems
To pale. The bitch laughs in my ear

Then walks into my office
Just one more step and have seat
Just one more button, easing down
Just five more minutes left to eat
What I can taste of you right now
And then the in-laws I must meet
2.5 blocks from my office.

 

[EdBurke]

The origami heart
Folded in
Supplication
Hands,knees
At prayer.

Each crease
Strata
Another shadow
Candles are whispers
In the night

If opened
In the proper sequence
The heart de creases
The message
In creases
And there is love

 

[EdBurke]

by staying in the present,
i become closer to the truth,
to the eternal,
to where i have always wanted to be,
but,
it means there is no past,
no future,
no you,
no me,
it means all there is,
is change,
and a strange sadness,
that has your laugh.

 

[RhymeFairy]

thanks, gm you were right about the title, and as for the ending it's what i meant but wasn't even sure if it really belonged or was a part of another poem - especially since before i wrote this, what first came to mind was

and deep within a distant moon
a dark lake shivers

nothing to do with the poem i ended up trying to write. *sigh*

but yeah - the innocence of the girl (which i tried for with scraped knees etc but couldn't get to where i was needing to be) despite the atrocity of the rape; stevie wonder and his 'isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful ... made from love' thing going on, combined with the girl's catholic/religious upbringing =wings=immaculate conception. perhaps 'shudders' works better as the last word? is it still too soft? it would link with the sexuality, the release of the rapist's O as well as hold the tenuous link with the religious side of things 'rough beast slouches'?



why thankyou!

Your welcome.

Look forward to seeing what u do with this write ~

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Tommy drank most Christmas eves
to douse the firefly tree lights
out of memory

out of the house dragged by twos
so small

the smell of burning pajamas
still flaring

his nostrils as he ordered one more
Jim Beam straight up

 

[EdBurke]

Patient Ginko,
Bearer of a countless jade fans
That fall,golden,
As a goddess shedding her adornments.

Ancient Ginko,
Inarticulate witness
To the parade of renewal,
Lovers who steal away,
To strident evil, black as a widows veil.

Compassionate Ginko
Offers shade and medicine
Welcomes all travelers
Remains impartial
As seasons arise and vanish
This too shall pass

 

[butters]

sometimes i ponder

about the human state-of-being
size is relative, true
but
the inside
the insides of us
bear no relation

we are vast
oceans
deserts
skies
timelines

we are enormous
and complex
simple as an atom
convoluted as theory
restless and calm and hazy allatthesametime

no answers
observations

how do we fit into skins?

 

[butters]

thinking aloud

if we were turned
insides out
it might be
amazing

no-one would know what we looked like though
eyes tucked away inside

but all that insidedness
unbound
we'd necessarily overlap
surely
swim into oneness

would there be gaps?

 

[butters]

bit by the limerick bug
it's not giving cause to feel smug
it's awfully tenacious
and direly rapacious
and feeds on itself like a drug

 

[butters]

Tommy drank most Christmas eves
to douse the firefly tree lights
out of memory

out of the house dragged by twos
so small

the smell of burning pajamas
still flaring

his nostrils as he ordered one more
Jim Beam straight up

i meant to comment before this, but anything i wanted to say sounded facile, to be honest. this is raw - like the burn of the alcohol - because we know the alcohol will never be enough to douse those memories. you managed to make the reader care.

 

[RhymeFairy]

I come here
after years of wandering
years of wanting

needing
desperately

to be here.
to write out
my life, to
tell of love
life,
kids
memories

but I stayed
away. Indifferent to friends
my writing famliy,

my love

of words and the music
which

of which, carried me away.
This is where

I belong
where life is
memories wrapped with warm
love. That camp side fire
that circles my heart and brings
peace of mind. Brings peace

throughout my soul ~



...

 

[RhymeFairy]

life sends people

like kids playing softball
one catches what flies by then
throws it away, hoping
for a better hit ...



...

 

[PandoraGlitters]

i meant to comment before this, but anything i wanted to say sounded facile, to be honest. this is raw - like the burn of the alcohol - because we know the alcohol will never be enough to douse those memories. you managed to make the reader care.

Thank you, Chip. I felt the same way about your Harlem poem though wondered if it might better be set in East New York. Harlem is pretty peaceful these days.

 

[butters]

Thank you, Chip. I felt the same way about your Harlem poem though wondered if it might better be set in East New York. Harlem is pretty peaceful these days.

hey, dora x

thing is, it was meant to be harlem 'back then', circa stevie wonder's 'isn't she lovely'... i don't know how to convey it though, except changing the title maybe, or adding a year tag. *sighs* with work, decorating, and teenaged boys i seem to have so little time to get my head into writing mode. whinge whinge...

 

[greenmountaineer]

hey, dora x

thing is, it was meant to be harlem 'back then', circa stevie wonder's 'isn't she lovely'... i don't know how to convey it though, except changing the title maybe, or adding a year tag. *sighs* with work, decorating, and teenaged boys i seem to have so little time to get my head into writing mode. whinge whinge...

Interesting perspectives that raise a question for me. How does a poet tweak an iconic reference that doesn't translate the same with different generations of readers? I got the image of Harlem intended right away because I remember it differently in the sixties and seventies than Pandora does which is more contemporary. Furthermore, an even different image surfaces during the "Harlem Renaissance" times of Langston Hughes.

The "blind man" may have been that link, but I confess I didn't think of Stevie Wonder until Chip pointed it out, even though I like his music. That may say more about my impatience as a reader, but it wasn't as suggestive to me as the recollections I have of Harlem of 40+ years ago.

One of my favorite poems, "September 1, 1939," by Auden also comes to mind. Although I didn't experience WW II directly, its aftermath greatly influenced my development as a young boy. I wonder if my 17 year old daughter, who likes poetry, would feel the same about the poem.

 

[butters]

Interesting perspectives that raise a question for me. How does a poet tweak an iconic reference that doesn't translate the same with different generations of readers? I got the image of Harlem intended right away because I remember it differently in the sixties and seventies than Pandora does which is more contemporary. Furthermore, an even different image surfaces during the "Harlem Renaissance" times of Langston Hughes.

The "blind man" may have been that link, but I confess I didn't think of Stevie Wonder until Chip pointed it out, even though I like his music. That may say more about my impatience as a reader, but it wasn't as suggestive to me as the recollections I have of Harlem of 40+ years ago.

One of my favorite poems, "September 1, 1939," by Auden also comes to mind. Although I didn't experience WW II directly, its aftermath greatly influenced my development as a young boy. I wonder if my 17 year old daughter, who likes poetry, would feel the same about the poem.

i'm wondering if a link to stevie wonder singing 'isn't she lovely', above or below the poem might help in my case... 1976

overall, though, gm - it's a question that could drive you nuts: a writer might be able to ferret out means to accomplish such a thing if writing for generations gone by, but for those to come? is it even the task of the writer to write outside of their era rather than attempt to address their own contemporary issues/people? some poets achieve this, no doubt, as we've all read those apparently timeless pieces that are as relevant now as they were when first written. maybe it's because those particular ones don't specify era but speak directly to human nature - something which really doesn't seem to change from one century to the next and, for me, this is one of the reasons shakespeare and byron still read/translate to modernity the way they do.