A Carrie Retrospective

[champagne1982]

Your Glosas are lovely may I choose one for the thread although it's hard to chose?

I would like that very much. Two are from a gunfight with Angeline as moderator... whooooeee.. bijou kicked me arse in that one.

One is for Lauren's glosa class and the other is for the June brides and grads challenge waaay back when T-zed was doing the monthly ones.

So, grab away, any enterprising soul could just search the forum and find these, though. Jus' sayin'.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I would like that very much. Two are from a gunfight with Angeline as moderator... whooooeee.. bijou kicked me arse in that one.

One is for Lauren's glosa class and the other is for the June brides and grads challenge waaay back when T-zed was doing the monthly ones.

So, grab away, any enterprising soul could just search the forum and find these, though. Jus' sayin'.

I know they could but I'd still like at least one there

 

[champagne1982]

I know they could but I'd still like at least one there

well, and you now have my assignment in 2 threads teach... golly you're a whip crack mistress!
:caning:

 

[champagne1982]

mote
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

exerpt from somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by e. e. cummings

glossa
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the sum of all that has come before
no matter how thoroughly we have factored
our equation, one plus one will not reveal

your exquisite control over how we see
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
is charted like the contours on a map
i can read in braille with my caress

and hear when you come close to crumbling
the detail of this atlas whose every page
compels me with the color of its countries,
or the blue of its oceanic depth

only witnessed by the drowning soul
as he gasps in pain of tear-filled lungs; the absolute
wonder that is your ability to resuscitate
rendering death and forever with each breathing

 

[champagne1982]

Jami-san helped me find these treasures from January, 2007.

Deconstructing Fear

Delight me now and every now
with kisses wished against
crumbled mortar that holds
unstable bricks and ties
shaped into walls I call
control. You know better.

Each well-placed tenderness
deconstructs this slick
design of plaster illusion
painted over in multi-colored
layers of ambition and desire
hiding those vulnerable flaws
so carefully denied all but you.

Tear me apart now and again. Use
the salvaged pieces in a new
house meant to shelter two.

 

[champagne1982]

You're such a flirt!

He said I was a bit
of Friday night fluff
to find clung to his coat
sleeve. Dangling off broad
shoulders with fingertips
stroking over his lapels
and promising fiery
contrails over pecs
and nipples as I blow
kisses to fan the flames.

Sipping oily mescal layers
scent and flavour on lips
painted pink with melon
gloss over curled up corners
in a secret smile only
he has a hint at the cause.

No flirt here.

I pull him to me in eager
delight as he tastes
the proffered butterfly
wings fluttering against
his mouth. There is no tease
in my touch as I boldly
scrape nails against the brass
teeth that strain my patience
until I find the pull
and tug free his sexuality.

 

[champagne1982]

Rock and Roll

So, here I sit with my toes a-tappin'
and no, darlin', it ain't just clappin'
when your hands come together
with the beat along with those songs
of do wop diddy and oh my! Aint
she pretty 'nuff to eat? And ya ya ya
mister, I'm sure you know about Peggy
Sue and I just know your girl is leggy
and blonde with a poodle skirt
and crinoline that puts a bounce
in that pony tail flounce; when dancin'
on a moonlit night is absolutely romancin'.
Who said the 'fifties were sedate?

 

[champagne1982]

Leave Your Crutches By The Door

If the magnets shake your sternum loose,
there was something terribly wrong anyway.

Hop up here, hips here. Oops! Move back
a smidgen please. That's great.

Headphones? Rock? Good choice.

Four minutes for the first one.

Wails and hammering... That was Alanis
Morissette singing her anxiety...

Three and a half for this next scan.

Rattle and rumble a steady
hum in both ears and breast. BANG!
And again
the disembodied voice,

Are you okay in there?

Wave and thumbs up.

Good, two more.

Seven interminable minutes each. The thud and smash leaves relief in its wake that this is non-invasive.

Any chance you could say this was a better
result than that ominous popping sound
last week led me to believe?

Raised eyebrow,

Without losing my job?

Pfft.

 

[champagne1982]

Cliché

Don't limit your choices to a single
dish when you can dine at a buffet
there are as many choices
as there are trees in the forest
and one falls no one sees
since it didn't make a sound.

 

[champagne1982]

Dog's Tongue (a companion to Cat's Paw)

Listen to a playful invitation
growled into somnolent lassitude.
Come swim, come swim. The lake
is quicksilver grey and waiting
for us to make a splash.
Eager tail wags gesturing to the cool
escape from city heat and grime.
Drooled ecstacy in a welcome home.
I haven't been this happy
since the last time I saw you!
Humid velvet heat in a joyful kiss,
the dogs' days of summer remind
us to gather on the beach.

 

[champagne1982]

January Tornado

spin me up a new one for another day
full of sexy hip sway swank
and capricious lust claimed comedy
spin me along the windy path
that curves and slips away
and twist me up all through the dark
until I beg for mercy and yield
to thrilling lip pressed kisses
spin me in dance and pray
a Dervish blessing to the wind.

 

[champagne1982]

Fair of Face

No worry shirrs her brow;
high and round, a frontal
lobe presence, forward
thoughts and futuristic
plans to light eyes
from the past, aglow.

A heart smile lifts lips
cornerwise and sheer
delight in life; continued
practice of gentle surety,
content, feminine, mother;
curved smooth and firm.

Pure lives animate features
with love and trials; passage
marked with folds pressed
into place through laughter's
delight and momentary
sorrows' tears; washed away,
leaving a fair countenance.

 

[champagne1982]

Full of Grace

She washes his feet
with her hair
and silent whispers
of understanding
stressed life of demands
that he forgets kindness
(or was it his to remember?)

Her acceptance won't allow
this to matter in her world
of quiet gifts of comfort
and warm forgiveness
of the hurts he never notices
he's bestowed on her heart
the disdain he's handed
to her thoughts.

She stands behind
and to the right
his strength he doesn't
recognize or value
but she knows how far
he has to fall and will
be there to catch him.

 

[champagne1982]

Child of Woe

Born in sorrow he suffers
hardship never known
in the land of mediocre
studies and average
exhaustion merely
touches normal while his
suffering drags him
into sleep like death
like prebirth
like nothing
nothing more than more
mountains for Wednesday's
boy to cry over
Wednesday's tears.

 

[champagne1982]

Thursday's Wanderer

Step out of bounds
just to test how far
ties stretch, fingers

clutch. Until the taut
leash breaks and sets
free all those ways
your feet want to walk.

Miles to go before goals
are even apparent. To rush
is to miss delights
hidden a little farther
off the path, but explore.

Seek these mysteries
that lengthen the travel
but ultimately shorten
the distance you must go.

 

[champagne1982]

Loving Care

He always holds his arms wide
ready as a refuge in chaos,
a kind word amidst argument.

He soothes nerves scoured raw
with careful hands softened
by patience and his wisdom

offers a clean handkerchief
held out to one who has nothing,
without thought of reward.

Friday's child may have little
to call his own but what's his,
will find its way into what's
someone else's treasured joy.

 

[champagne1982]

Tough Life

Every morsel counted as if her eyes
could not see through hot anguish.
What stings more, sweat or tears?
No time for leisure or regrets.
Just move on, work hard for a meal,
for a roof, even, for a living.
Keep smiling for a meagre stipend;
someday your labour will pay well.

 

[champagne1982]

Illusions On The 17th Floor

Last night we danced on a floor
of swirling lights that shimmered
as the world continued on its way
painting neon psychedelia

on a black velvet canvas like Elvis
grinding pelvis against that dark
curtain you pressed me tight with palms,
flattened and breasts, hard, on glass.

Long exhales leaving steam
trails against that wall; so high
I feel I'm soaring over the world
with wings spread and you,

my pilot guide, easing me over
the landscape and cutting
the atmosphere, leaving nothing
but heat behind. I climb and yet
you urge me higher, to the stall

then back into your arms,
captured in your skill and brought
safe to my senses where I plead
for you to stay and take me again.

 

[champagne1982]

Me, Feeling Sorry For Myself

I hate to hurt like this.
It's been so long
since each movement
roused a new agony
each flex awoke pain.

I hate to hurt like this,
but I know there is more
much more and there's no
stopping it, there's nothing
I can do. So I wait. Pain,

being subjective, can only
be as bad as you let it
get, but I hate knowing
it's going to hurt like this.

 

[champagne1982]

Demi-Gods (From The Loins Of Adam)

There must be faith to accept abundant
sensation as affirmation of awareness.
How else to take in stride the wayward
strikes of luck and fortune? Faith hovers
over existence -- to starve if we don't reap
what's sown, to thirst if we neglect the well,
to be alone if we don't seek company. Faith
comes with experience, a lesson learned
rather than of rote, a surety resting in sight
of the results of the least of our actions.
Is it faith when we sleep in certainty
of sunrise or is it arrogance that we have
confirmed Earth's spin through science?
I don't have an answer, but I know truth.

 

[champagne1982]

Totentanz

Oh Jolly Roger, a sailor once, famed upon the Main,
you walk the boards and flash your ugly grimace of black pain
and set us drift in a cypress boat with sails of rough cotton
and clutching wind with bony fingers and memories all forgotten.

Come celebrate la danse macabre. In suits of gabardine and silk,
the pantless dead, we mourn the solace of mother's arms, her milk
a fantasy's memory of taste and scent traced faint upon our face,
dimpled, chubby knuckles flexed against nurture's loving grace.

Arms flailed akimbo as we kept moving along that willow wisp's way
never to fall off the path as the wicked charm pushed us to sway
towards the shore of a lake, dark as the void we're taught to fear
and yet we pranced the skeleton's dance as the ferryman drew near.

Sorrow waits those who fight the surge of waves toward Sheol's beach,
in death, let go your grasp on love as dreams and life float out of reach.

 

[champagne1982]

To Be Taken With Coffee

I open my mouth and you serve me
a taste of exotic, wrapped inside
a sprinkle of bitter umber
and sugared marzipan blossoms.
Melting truffled delights
over tastebuds, jaded by too much
elegance and pretense. The will
to savour every nuance and suggestion
had been soaked out of this palate
until you came along and taught
me the art of flavour once again.

 

[champagne1982]

Years And Years

I wish I knew how long forever
takes, since I'd like to spend
my lifetime learning the infinite
ways we touch each others always.

I imagine my forever is without end.
You see, I can't picture my life
any other way, without these powerful
forever lessons to teach, to learn.

If I only knew how long always
will be, I'll be happy knowing
I'll live as long as our forever.

 

[champagne1982]

The Harvester

Out to glean in the heat
of noon. Your song
shall bless a generous
lord who leaves
the seeds behind.
Flail the stalks
that lie on the floor.
Thresh in rythmic
pounding. Goad the ox
round and round
then lift the wheat
up off the ground
and winnow.
Sweat off your brow
salting the daily bread

 

[champagne1982]

Newspeak

I know it won't sit well with some
if I were to delve into politically
incorrectedness. They'd open mouths
in hollow O's of shock and hiss
aghast at these indiscretions.
But she is blonde and can't speak
and his family's from Punjab.