2023 Poem-A-Week Challenge (Poems Only Thread)

[Ashesh9]

Kissinger died
The Khemr Rouge cried
China mourned......
And all those years ago in '71:
Bangladesh burned!!!!!?

 

[Ambient4190]

temple rests
on firm sweater
wrapped chest

strong arms
encircle warmth
and security

true musk
and vetiver
scent

peer upward
grey beard
tickles

then tender
softness press
of lips

lingers

 

[Tzara]

The Seagram Murals

I accepted this assignment with strictly malicious intentions.
I hope to ruin the appetite of every son of a bitch who ever eats in that room.
—Mark Rothko

They are dark, the paintings,
but much of his work
is dark,

amorphous, somewhat
in the way that dread
hovers over us

as we go about our days,
eating and drinking,
fucking and pissing.

But they are also, oddly,
decorous—tasteful
in an understated way

like Danish furniture
or travertine floors.
How would that upset

either the nouveau or vieux
riche, as they delicately
nibble their Muscovy duck

or trout roe? Paintings,
however dark are simply wallpaper,
even if a bit apocalyptic.

Week 49: Poem 1: Total 65

 

[Wonderer67]

Wispy Clouds

Followed me home from work Monday afternoon
Like they were painted on the heavens
Slightly smeared
The most delicate brush strokes of white cloud on deepening blue
I could imagine Bob Ross at work up there

As I completed my journey home
They faded to light orange
And then pink
Along with
Criss crossing contrails
A dying fall sunset

After dinner
I walked laps outside around our patio
Expending pent up energy from my day
And just thinking
Unwinding

It was dark out
But the clouds were still up there
The most faint white wisps against the dark canvas of night
Ghosts

My friends
Following me
Whispering to me
As I walked lap after lap
In the cold December
Evening

54/52

 

[Angeline]

Terzanelle For A Goddess

Diana huntress strong and fast
I've loved you since my childhood,
And though the nighttime sky is vast

I've searched for you as if I could
Espy you stood against the Moon.
I've loved you since my childhood

For though your beauty made men swoon,
I've loved your strength and hoping to
Espy you stood against the Moon

Prepared to shoot an arrow through
The heart of lies and let Truth reign
I've loved your strength and hoping to

Secure in it respite from pain
I've dreamt that you alone can pierce
The heart of lies and let Truth reign

For I am weak but you are fierce,
Diana huntress strong and fast.
I've dreamt what you alone can pierce,
Diana huntress strong and fast.

Week 49, Poem 1, Total 59
Music that inspired my poem

 

[Ambient4190]

LOVE ALL Y'ALL!

Especially those of us who have hung in

the entire year!

(three more weeks in this cold December)

I must pause

to catch my breath and a reset

take first 2024

I'll be around after which to support

my favorite players
​

 

[Tzara]

Elegy for Elizabeth Siddal

Perhaps the child she lost, perhaps neglect,
Her husband having other women friends,
Perhaps the strain the artist's life extends—
Emotions overwrought so that they wreck
One's sense of balanced life and so infect
The mind that feels the distancing of friends—
Is that what led to laudanum? A cleanse,
Acknowledgement she'd failed to connect,
A final purge of her unhappiness,
So like Ophelia drifting in the stream
Before descending to the depths and death.
Did she sing with her last, labored breath
Or did she drift off gently into dream?
Did she hope she finally would be blessed?

Week 50: Poem 1: Total 66


Elizabeth Siddal (originally Siddall) was an artist and poet, but probably best known as an artist's model, a favorite of the Pre-Raphaelite painters. Married to Dante Gabriel Rossetti, she died at 32 from an overdose of laudanum (a mixture of opium and alcohol that served in Victorian times as a painkiller and relaxant). There is some question as to whether her death was a suicide, which is somewhat ironic as perhaps her most famous modeling assignment was as Ophelia in a painting by Sir John Everett Millais.

 

[Ashesh9]

Kahe Manwa Dukh ki chinta kyo satati hain??
Dukh toh Apna Saathi hain.....
Sukh aati hain jaati hain:
Dukh toh apna saathi hain......
Why o Mind dost Thou get disturbed by Sorrow:
Sorrow is our loyal companion.......sigh.
Joy is a Fickle Lover
She cometh et goeth:
But Sorrow faithfully sticks to us....???!

 

[goddessofglee]

№47

The list of undone tasks goes on and on,
sitting high on the shelf,
like a cursed spawn.

Jobs that need to be done,
but left uncompleted,
Pushed far away,
not just postponed, defeated.

The clock ticks,
and time flies by,
but I sit and stare,
or sometimes lie,
telling myself
that I'll start anytime;
but trivial things
seem to catch in my mind, leaving job undone,
although time flies by.

The pile of paper
grows taller each day,
Making me anxious,
without further delay,
but all I can do
is sit there and sigh,

Pent-up frustration
sometimes makes me cry.
My inner voice screams,
telling me to move,
that dilly-dallying will never behoove;
yet I linger,
ignoring every wise word, stubborn and lazy,
like a reluctant bird.

Pending jobs can never be defeated with foregone actions, or crimes repeated.
Only one task at a time can see them to the end,
putting off procrastination,
being in control, my friend.
I say to myself...
but I'm still the same

 

[Ashesh9]

SMAAK!? goes the RoboSpanker......
OWWW yelps the Girl
Paddle impacts Glutes......
Moistly glistens Nether Pearl!!!!!?

 

[goddessofglee]

№48

Oh, where has my poetry gone?
I turned my back,
and it wandered on.
I left it on the desk,
I swear it's true,
But now it's vanished
into thin air,
boo hoo!

I've searched high and low,
under rugs and chairs,
I even asked the cat
with its bewildered stares.
But no luck so far,
I'm starting to despair,

Oh, my precious words,
where did you dare?
I asked my friends, my foes,
and even the milkman,
"Have you seen my poetry? Please, tell me, man!"
But no one had a clue,
no one gave a damn,
Leaving me stranded in this troublesome jam.

Just five more words,
and my work is done,
But my poem is nowhere
to be found, it's gone!
It's time for drastic measures,
I'll try anything,
Maybe it's hiding in the fridge
or under my bling?

I'll keep searching,
never giving up the chase,
It's the art of words
that gives me this goofy face.
For in this eternal quest,
I'll never be a bore,
Till I find my lost poetry
and sing out a loud score!

 

[Tzara]

Near the End of the Marathon,
the Poet Asks for Absolution
and Looks Ahead to the New Year

Our challenge now is nearly ended,
My poems have been hit or miss.
Some others' have been simply splendid,
A few of them inducing bliss.
But I, at least, have been persistent,
Albeit talent nonexistent,
I've written one each week so far
(Though some of them might seem bizarre).
So in my favorite form, Onegin,
Here give my thanks to all of you
Whose kind indulgence lets me strew
This thread with litter without beggin'.
Just two more weeks! And then we'll start
Another test to break one's heart.

Week 50: Poem 2: Total 67

 

[goddessofglee]

№49

As the year winds down to a close,
Our gaze now turns to what's next, what glows;
For soon we'll welcome a leap year anew,
With it, those born on its rare day as few.

Let's gather those special ones for a bash like never before,
Celebrating their uniqueness, giving them an encore.

The year is ending,
soon to be gone,
But new things await,
new chances be won.

2024 leap year approaches,
bringing its joys
Along with leaplings,
its girls and boys.

We'll revel in the rhythm of words, with alliteration and wit,
To make their year unforgettable, and give them a hit.

 

[Ambient4190]

mute
tall
headstones
testament
kinfolks stories or
flesh burned ash poured in rivers sea
streams forgotten over time a choice death rebirth seeks

 

[Wonderer67]

Geminids

I was up at 3:52 anyway
And bundled up
For a look-see
I always liked the night sky

It was not terribly cold
Maybe mid 20s
And walked lap after lap
Around our patio

I looked for my friends
Couldn’t find Orion and his belt
Which I thought was odd
I’d seen him the night before when
I took out the garbage
Now only Venus, where he was
A beacon in the eastern sky

There was the big bear
Ursus Major
All turned around
Not in her usual summer configuration
I found Polaris; my guide

And then I saw my first meteor
A millisecond of blue light

A few laps later I saw another one
Also in the northwest sky
Some had fiery tails
Others barely perceptible

Mid December fireworks
Must’ve seen eight or ten of em
Over half an hour
My mind filled with wonder

I am a wonderer after all

Cold and silent December nights
Can be like magic
I went back inside to bed
With a full heart
And finally fell asleep

55/52

 

[Angeline]

Mountains At Sundown, 2012

The Blue Ridge holds my world
in a a reassuring sprawl
of spikes, dips and curves,
an extreme of green rolling
up and down through
centuries tangled with vines.

Azaleas drape roadsides
and hickory trees droop,
scattering nuts, weapons
for the unwary.

Flowers wink and snicker
in pink and purple dress,
even thick rain clouds come alive,
frowning from a grey distance
to clap yellow over the far drift
of a smokey holler.

When the Sun falls it splashes
lemon and lavender goodnight
to day, good evening fireflies
who appear like magic, floating
on the wings of dusk.

Mac the spike-collared tabby,
my friendly goth neighbor,
slips across the porch
mewing hello and rubs my legs.
I rock and creak, search the sky
for Diana's arrows.


Week 50, Poem 1, Total 60

 

[29wordsforsnow]

The Ghost of Rome*

The tiger called Tiber hunts across the plain of Rome
evening on its back, clouds in its belly, the sun sinks
below the last cloud alive, it turns and twists and sings
of the melancholy here in the Mediterranean exile.
Another bend, rise and fall, eyes only for the next
and still, that sudden symphony in full motion stuns
onlookers muted on shores and streets. Like the night
the dancers sink as a blanket over twigs and leaves.
Gone to haunt the morning.

*read an article about the million of starlings that invade Rome each winter and fascinate, and sometimes scare, people with their flight choreography.

 

[Tzara]

Poem in Which a Social Introvert Vents
about His Personal Anxieties Concerning
Late December Group Activities

The holidays: that time of year
that's filled with family and cheer
and kisses under mistletoe
and too much rain and too much snow,
drunks hanging from the chandelier.

At times I want to disappear.
Too many parties seem to blear
into a whirling vertigo—
the holidays!

But lest it seem that I besmear
festivities at which I sneer,
when all is said and done I go
to parties with some cheap Bordeaux
because, I guess, I shouldn't fear
the holidays.

Week 51: Poem 1: Total 68

 

[goddessofglee]

№50

Out around vigorously we thrive and roam,
searching for a place to call our home,
Where we can let our hair down and be free,
And find the company that fills us with glee.
Come along and let's see,
If we can find a place where we can be,

With people who are kind and true,
And where the drinks flow like apple cider, pear and strawberries too.
Let's mingle around quite easily,
and let go of all our worries and anxiety,

And embrace the joy that's in the air,
As we meet new people, who become our friends rare.

Who'd be who, I don't know,
But that's the beauty of life, you know,
We can find new connections in the most unexpected places,
And in each other's company, we find new graces.
So let's all get together and set free,
Our inhibitions and our worries, you'll see,
And create memories that'll last forevermore,
And in each other's company, we'll find what we've been searching for.

in a hurry to complete the 52 weeks challenge;
to be ready to indulge, in the New Year's plunge!

(this is my 201st post)

 

[Ashesh9]

As the year winds down.......
No topics can be found
By poor untalented me....
To write Poetry:
O Muse....I miss Thee!!!!?

 

[Ashesh9]

Israel- Hamas conflict, inadvertantly..
Strengthens Putin's hands.
As Oil Tankers attacked in Red Sea
Gulf Oil demand tanks.....
Russian Oil demand soars:
Meanwhile in USA:
Putin's pal Trump snarls'n roars.......

 

[29wordsforsnow]

I saw a muse walking down the old port's road
in the misty morning, in the Poet's last shirt
she asked for an old man with a tardy boat
inspiration in her front pocket, feet full of dirt
rushed over cobblestones awash with glee
loose locks stormed through the windless day
her quest, catch me the vastness of the sea
but one wild-eyed drunkard hemming her way.

 

[Ashesh9]

Zelensky did not bait Putin
But Hamas provoked Binyamin....
Drones down rain.....
In Ukraine
Kids doth die
In Gaza Palestine
Nation fights Terrorism :
Both Sides suffer Great Pain
Autocratic Megalomaniacs
Make Great Gain......
Smouldering Fires all round Global Terrain
In Sarajevo student killed Crown Prince
Austro- Hungariain....
Earth suffers Punishment:
Peace is a Casualty in main.....
Amidst Dark Bitter Clouds
One Silver Lining doth remain
Thrice Blessed Colorado Court:
Doth Donald Restrain!!!!!!

 

[Ashesh9]

I did not strictly
Weekly Poetry spout...
My brain suffered Rheumatism
My Pen was afflicted with Gout
But on certain Days
Multiple Poems did my Mind
Shoot Out!!!!!

 

[Angeline]

But Beautiful

Maybe winter is the best time
for jazz, let it wrap me in a blue
haze of lush round notes
to soften the blow of red shard
memory, you bringing green
into the house, bringing cold
windy blasts furred with balsam,

laughter and delight standing
the tree by the window, unwinding
lights, shining too
in the flecks in your eyes,
love nestled like birds
in the branches, the Charlie Brown
ornament, the tiny coffee mugs
hanging side by side,
fire crackling
and good warm scents
in the world we built together.

It's beautiful but hard
to muse on: gratitude blunted
by the fleeting nature of joy
and yet the pain lingers
so sweetly, perhaps that
is the secret gift of blues.



Week 51, Poem 1, Total 61