a companion to 30 in 30

[Guest]

How terrific is this? A neo poem and a promise of at least (you're gonna go the distance, aren't you?) 29 more!

Mebbe. I'd like to since I did it twice last year.
Drat funky muses, that 30/30 thread was supposed to kick their asses.

 

[wildsweetone]

it's so neat writing in the 30/30. a year ago i never would have believed i'd stretch myself to six stanzas. lol okay, they might be sappy, but six. gee whiz.


welcome aboard into your own thread again neo, and 4d and double d and oh grief champ, you've nearly completed a 30/30 run!!!

keep going loser... i'm reading you too you know.

 

[Guest]

411

she said she wanted the 411,
the real real.
he told her
and she flew.

this is why white lies don't hurt nobody,
little annie fetamean whispered seductively,
with drano flavored lip-gloss
and old paper bag teeth.

the real real,
really real,
he liked them both just the same.

Dig this. Especially this:

little annie fetamean whispered seductively,
with drano flavored lip-gloss
and old paper bag teeth.​

More effective than my Pop Rocks.

*


WSO, you're a sucha schweetheart. I want to lick honey off your toes.

 

[wildsweetone]

...
WSO, you're a sucha schweetheart. I want to lick honey off your toes.

would you help me remove my boots first, please?

 

[darkerdreamer]

The fatback is where all the flavors at,
she cuts out the oysters, disregarding
them like so much cartilage.

That is only tasty if you are serving
ham hocks and lima beans;
though we are not.

The pig on the table just writes,
or rather, better said, he steals paychecks,
frauds little old ladies out of their pensions.

Fascinating, fascinating.
I agree, while having cheeks
without the jowls; sautéed in butter
served with portabellos and asparagus.

Obviously, she does not know
her cuts and certainly has no taste.
However, she is my dessert,
crème brûlée and sucks good cock.

Absolutely love it... made my mouth water thinking about the good ol' days of soul food at the ex's house. That last line is the clincher though, taking something good and making it great.

(edit: bonus points for not saying "my crème brûlée")

 

[Guest]

Absolutely love it... made my mouth water thinking about the good ol' days of soul food at the ex's house. That last line is the clincher though, taking something good and making it great.

(edit: bonus points for not saying "my crème brûlée")

Thanks. You're right, "my crème brûlée" would've been too much and definitely would've made me sick writing it. But not much else I write does.

"Consume your anger before it eats you"

 

[loserstyx]

my poor Mini'd been violated and marred
a vandal had struck where it hurts, my car
and my pocket book both lost a chunk.

My wallet lost cash, my Mini lost glass...

Stoopid prick jealous asshole creeps with nothing better to do but smash and wreck a really cool car. <sigh>

my condolences Champaign I know what thats like good luck getting everything fixed

 

[RhymeFairy]

Filler
This poem is here
to hold the place of another.
Time
Time
Time
It runs our lives and slips away,
so there will be no poem today,
however tomorrow you will see,
a true poem where it should be.

I love this slow, easy write. Kinda slices gently to add flavor. Nice pen here my friend.





Keep'm coming everyone. I'm reading and loving it.


... kudos going to Chris.
Wondering why you ------ but that in itself is another write eh ~

 

[4degrees]

damn anna, 2d...your writes today are just so good. i love this stuff.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Seaweed

Carrageen Moss

Fergus scrawled a line
from Mahon on a council
wall. At the heart of the
ridiculous lies the sublime,
British watchtowers wailing
like banshees as Belfast burnt.
His Nike trainers sang Just Do It
as he flew on his Pegasus,
lobbing a molotov at patrolling
coppers. Nero had it easy.

Great write with some amazing images, and the Nike line as well as the one following were too good not to mention.

 

[annaswirls]

*

There was a time I couldn’t
..... bring myself to believe you
.......... were just another

of the world’s schemes, one more
..... parlor trick, even though
.......... often it seemed like everything

right down to your freckles was plotting
..... to make you more perfect.
.......... There was a time

that did not let on
..... exactly what it was selling,
.......... like a talk show host

working his way up to a moment
..... of sincerity. Who knows,
.......... at a moment like that, one moment

that could have been the rest
..... of all we’d ever need,
.......... if anyone could understand

the difference between a lie
..... and salesmanship, between fear
.......... and hope. And how much

more magnificent life is
..... with a little imagination. I think
.......... I’d abandoned mine

too soon. It must have been
..... confusing to pretend
.......... to love a man

who never pretended at all. Maybe
..... it was the very idea
.......... of love that hooked you, or

the thought that something as large
..... as life was about to make you
.......... a promise, or, more simply,

that you knew you loved something
..... but weren’t sure what,
.......... so you said it was me.

wow wow RainMan, this is excellent, reads as spoken, plain, without the trouble of any trickery or attempts at being too clever, straightforward and with a magnifing scope into eh hem woman. Not all women, but yes, you do have your finger on many of us at our best and worst.


The ending of this reminded me at 16 or 17-- sitting in a life guard chair, the air was the perfect temperature, you know when the wind blows against skin and you feel like you are being touched everywhere all at once and suddenly, I was in love, for no other reason besides it was the most beautiful day history and I was 17 and barely dressed and I said it (yes, I was still watching the pool) and I said it..... "I love.......? I love..... I love...." and I could not fill in the blank. Later that day I wrote the poem,

I loved
and I needed a name for that love,
so I called it "You."


and that was the day I looked across the pool at the jock football guy who for some reason got his lifeguarding certificate? football players are not generally swimmers.... but he was the first one I saw, so I called him you. Never said I loved him but I did kiss him a bit that summer I do not think I inspired any poetry though.

Thanks for taking me back there. Oh the silly beginnings of a silly woman.

 

[TheRainMan]

wow wow RainMan, this is excellent, reads as spoken, plain, without the trouble of any trickery or attempts at being too clever, straightforward and with a magnifing scope into eh hem woman. Not all women, but yes, you do have your finger on many of us at our best and worst.


The ending of this reminded me at 16 or 17-- sitting in a life guard chair, the air was the perfect temperature, you know when the wind blows against skin and you feel like you are being touched everywhere all at once and suddenly, I was in love, for no other reason besides it was the most beautiful day history and I was 17 and barely dressed and I said it (yes, I was still watching the pool) and I said it..... "I love.......? I love..... I love...." and I could not fill in the blank. Later that day I wrote the poem,

I loved
and I needed a name for that love,
so I called it "You."


and that was the day I looked across the pool at the jock football guy who for some reason got his lifeguarding certificate? football players are not generally swimmers.... but he was the first one I saw, so I called him you. Never said I loved him but I did kiss him a bit that summer I do not think I inspired any poetry though.

Thanks for taking me back there. Oh the silly beginnings of a silly woman.

thanks, swirly.

i was going to do a series of these, but i need to drop the 30/30 . . . life calls . . . heading south.

three poems . . . that has to be the shortest, most feeble 30/30 run on record.

 

[vampiredust]

short but excellent, Pat

have a good trip

 

[loserstyx]

na, RM I think I hold that one, I think it was my third or fourth attempt, I only had one 30/30, to my everlasting shame.

and 2d don't you say a damned thing about me starting over again.
The penguins already took care of it.

 

[RhymeFairy]

thanks, swirly.

i was going to do a series of these, but i need to drop the 30/30 . . . life calls . . . heading south.

three poems . . . that has to be the shortest, most feeble 30/30 run on record.

Nah, will have to do some research but I had a two day streak there once. Awww, tha shame. But I dooo enjoy reading you and everyone else.

Thanks Pat for the inspiration. May not seem it but I am trying different paths right now. Who knows I might attemtp the 30/30 again, maybe. *sighs then again I have been so busy as of late. You know how it is. Afraid to try for fear of failure. But tha ride, it's all about tha ride. You my friend have always taken us on a most excellent ride. Thank you ...

 

[RhymeFairy]

Storm

Temper flew from his chest,
from his eyes,
from the tips of his fingers
that gripped the leather belt,
swung it through the air
until the crack of lightening
lit her bare legs.
His anger rumbled on,
another strike welted skin.
And then it was over.
Cloud cleared from his mind
and he moved beyond her blue eyes.

This is one of those poems that just strikes a chord every time ! I cannot believe I missed it the other day ... great visuals and wording here Sweets. This one will stick to me alllllll day, Hope everything goes/went well on your trip.

 

[Guest]

How terrific is this? A neo poem and a promise of at least (you're gonna go the distance, aren't you?) 29 more!

Nope. I lost Internet last night.

And with that, failed attempt, I'm not going to pick it up again until the Summer term. I go to school full-time, full-time work, and then full-time daddy-o (my oldest turned terrrible two last month), so I'm too full for 30/30 this time around.


[/piss poor excuse]

 

[champagne1982]

Nope. I lost Internet last night.

And with that, failed attempt, I'm not going to pick it up again until the Summer term. I go to school full-time, full-time work, and then full-time daddy-o (my oldest turned terrrible two last month), so I'm too full for 30/30 this time around.


[/piss poor excuse]

LOL still the sexiest pisser on the board

 

[Tzara]

No, Polly Doesn't Want A Damned Cracker

Nice finish, Champie, to a good run. Ahem, I would make it Polly Doesn't Want Your Goddam Cracker, though. Just a suggestion. From a boy. Mouth filled with curse words. That kinda thing.

Nevermind. Good run.

 

[champagne1982]

Dear Bill,

re: Your cracker.

It's too explosive to go too deep into it all. I'd rather nibble round the edges than try to tear a piece off that goddam thing. Just sayin'. Anywhooo... The day you finally are sincere, your offer will come all too soon and I'll be left with too much cream and a soggy cracker.

Love and affection,
Herman, aka Polly


eta: p.s. Thanks dahling

 

[Tzara]

Dear Bill,

re: Your cracker.

It's too explosive to go too deep into it all. I'd rather nibble round the edges than try to tear a piece off that goddam thing. Just sayin'. Anywhooo... The day you finally are sincere, your offer will come all too soon and I'll be left with too much cream and a soggy cracker.

Love and affection,
Herman, aka Polly


eta: p.s. Thanks dahling

I cream too soon after you nibble?! And, what? I cracker? I'm soggy?!!

Oh, be still my stallion heart! Thank God, I never am sincere.

It is my only talent—evasiveness.



Uh, what's your address again?

 

[champagne1982]

Uh, what's your address again?

You can reach me at

Herman Parrot,
123 Perch Place,
Crackerville, Yokelhoma.​

 

[RhymeFairy]

Dear Bill,

re: Your cracker.

It's too explosive to go too deep into it all. I'd rather nibble round the edges than try to tear a piece off that goddam thing. Just sayin'. Anywhooo... The day you finally are sincere, your offer will come all too soon and I'll be left with too much cream and a soggy cracker.

Love and affection,
Herman, aka Polly


eta: p.s. Thanks dahling

this, grins*

 

[RhymeFairy]

Mother's Day

For Someone

Daffodils by the windowsill
droop, feeling an empty space
in their stems where something
used to be. Windscreen wipers,

sheets of newspapers, imitate
this action, feeling their stomachs
for what might have been there.
And men everywhere do the same,

stroking their bellies for what was
there once. Clouds pregnant
with afternoon rain say nothing
as they pass crowds shopping

in the cold. They release fistfulls
of undeveloped memories, waiting
for us to catch them in the folds
of our umbrellas. We will cradle them

in the evening, listening to their
cooing before shaking off the droplets,
wandering in the morning why
everything feels lighter than yesterday.

very poignant, love love love
that last stanza ...

 

[darkerdreamer]

Wow, those were two great poems yesterday. Good writes you two!