Archival Review

[LeBroz]

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Got that hippiedude plug. The illustration was so-so though the poem was far stronger. Added him to do a relook at the few poems I'd passed over; most are further along in the alphabet and we'll see what I uncover.

Jumping around a bit on the E list, here's one with a wicked ending.


What Becomes of a Veil?

by Curiouswife©


In the closet
under a box
next to that old yellow notebook
left over from college days
there
is my hiding place
my soul
my very being
tucked away in the dark
underneath layers of masquerade
there
is who I really am
everything to be known
absolute, in black and white
though graying with dust and time

It’s been 14 years

I’ve never taken him there

Inside, I ache
realization slapping through
he never knew me
all these years
he never wanted to see me
for who I was
only a pretty, trophy bride
now tearing veils and throwing them to wind
the scream bubbles up inside
my writings streak out in a blur
finding strength in each word

I am leaving

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a little piece that spans the globe and covers the eons. Just a mite ambitious and well done too.


Pangaea

by Liar©


I

without san andreas
shivering in the background
an etna candle shaping clouds
we might forget

not even tethered to granite
are we solid, no account for
options on a paper thin
slice of life

so what did we expect?



II

be it oceans seeping in
to drown careless valleys
or blood leaked from seams
for bursting too slow

everything falls apart
into familiar shapes

will you be Africa this time
and have your limbs torn
or will you be Antarctica
and drift into winter?



III

unity bred homogenic trifles
but never a strong enough foundation
to withstand the currents

linked by rock
but not enough to weather
we’ve headed for polyphony

but still
with homogenic trifles



IV

after all those years
i'm still curved
to spoon you

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one that's gritty — a bit stark. Always give a professional woman her due.


Pay Up

by wildsweetone©


Pay Up

Steam curls from a Styrofoam cup
hot chocolate and marshmallows
stir her saliva. The cherry
chequered table is steadied
by folded cardboard shoved
under one leg,
and Steely Dan plays on the jukebox
down the back corner of Becky’s.
A chair screams, metal on concrete,
as an unwashed body shudders
on cold ground in the alley.
A growing red stain surges
to the storm water and a silver stiletto
protrudes from a fat gurgling gut.
She gulps the milky chocolate,
and pockets the rate he owed.


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[LeBroz]

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Short and easy.


memories

by WriterDom©


memories fade
like ripples from a rock
tossed into Harper’s pond
Loves are lost
for whatever reason
and fade into the silent graveyard
of memories better left alone

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[LeBroz]

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Another fine piece built with an economy of words.


Nature

by dorksicle©


The red paint on our deck is now peeling,
And the swing is rotting away on rusty screws.
Chirp, chirp chirp.

Hello, magnificence that was forgotten.
Hello.

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[LeBroz]

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Looking at this one again, I was struck by its appearance as being less an illustrated poem than it is a poem with an illustrated title. Perhaps that was hippiedude's intention all along. Placed in this context, the illustration assumes a lesser significance than a true illustrated poem. Now just focus on the poem itself without judging it on the merits of an illustration.


The River Fugue
by hippiedude©

I am the River Fugue,
bending light, at once
to both reveal and obscure
the life my life conceals.

Sometimes I want for lack of vision,
I am dry and monochromatic,
like a bell that beats the night
with incessant and hollow cry.

Like enlightened Job, I must
“lay my hand on my mouth”,
for I resist truth like sleep,
as though the blood roar silence

in my head would
bid me comfort –
bid me peace –
bid me absolution—

that with just cause I might
twist love by its frayed threads
and mute this poor soul’s
fight with his own bitter end.

At last with the Apostle I too must cry,
"Wretched man that I am.
Who will set me free
from this body of death?"

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one from back in '03, a little chilling piece that really doesn't seem all that cold.


Mind

by Sexi Kitten Lexi©


The blustery winds of January have cooled my heart to stone
I may seem anti-feminine, due to the ice water in my veins,
Or rather, I prefer my sangre-froid, despite my unusually warm hands.

The alone, not lonely, childhood memories of Christmas, candy, and lore
The snow has turned my mind to logic, and my emotions flow nevermore.
Some have found me aloof. Or seemingly superior,
If I involuntarily give you a dirty look, or walk in the other direction,
Fear not, it probably means I like you.

I will certainly remember you,
But in my mind, not in my heart
Because that is how you would have liked it
I can be myself now
You have inspired me

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[LeBroz]

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It's the weekend. Oh, screw the weekend chores — the universe won't grind to a screeching halt. On that note, here's a bit of whimsy that'll fit right in. The rhyming works {for a change} and fits in giving this its touch of humor.


My Day In Quart

by MyOpinion©


My Day in Quart

I was stopped
......along my way
By a policeman
.....who did say
He was behind me
...all the way
From the bar
....past the hay;
(He’d watched my car
Do swerve and sway.)

It has been a length of while
Since my case has come to trial
But I’m not rid of them; or their guile.

I sat in court, all accused
Judge did listen, unamused,
His look was but a little grim
As I squirmed there, in front of him.

Son, just what did you mean by this
The officer says you almost kissed
The side of each road’s growing grass
I take you’re drinking’s done, my lass?

Could it be my mind still fuzz’
Had me said, “Well, listen Cuz’
I have no problems with my drinking,
............but I think my driver does!”

by Opi
1/16/03

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[LeBroz]

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RazzRajen has a rather large body of work here at Lit. Some of his more powerful work is of a D/s or BDSM theme; at times a bit disturbing, though some seem softer, almost romantic. A thought kept tugging at my mind that there is something familiar in his style. Then it hit me that, in a way, his writing feels like the erotic drawings of Aubrey Beardsley (though some of his non-erotic drawings appear to cross that line as well). Sometimes I feel that his D/s or BDSM poems are almost an exaggeration of these subjects. Just give a look at this one that is listed as non-erotic!


BusyBodies, always around
by RazzRajen©


Seminal ladies sitting
in semi-circles
sliding and scandalizing
skits slowly subsiding
scads of smiles
what a wonderful way
to wish well
for All who sat,
came through the long interlude.

Noises voices whimpers
Yes, those moans and cries,
groans and muffled grunts

a bit , she said
He gave her a gag
drool is sexy
at times
and He raised her arms
licked slowly at
the rough stubble
the taste of sheened
sweat
again and again
till she coursed ripples ,
flesh shimmering under
the kliegs and
heaving rasping breaths
slowly subsiding to a
silent hiss,
Done again and well done
By Him.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's another sample from RazzRajen's considerable output. Preserving his formatting was not as formidable a challenge as I at first thought.


Bells Toll
by RazzRajen©


Deep
...............................in the dankest corner
of His heart,
He hears the bells
...............................they are muted
Still He can
hear them
...............................Foreboding
For what it carries
Death knells
of what was
...............................verdant

Smoke filled
canyons,
crags blurred
...............................by mists
Is this how it
ends
or could it be
...............................a beginning?
Hope is eternal
Others will
Come.

Slow beats ,
It’s only His
Thoughts
...............................driving down
the range
Soaring like
an eagle
...............................brief Moment
in the Suns
glory
crashing down
...............................Then in shame;
Never measuring
Up
.a failure in the
...............................final analysis

What is it
they say
Didn't have
...............................courage to
see it through
If only He had
that
...............................Staring down the abyss
stepping off
the edge
A hand in His
...............................floating down
that hand
gone
away
...............................Taken Flight
soaring above
Released
then captured

a salmon
returns to
spawning
...............................grounds
always.
returns
to stay
...............................never to leave

Does a soul
taught to
Look inside
...............................ever forget
the Teacher

Harden your
Mettle
Learn
...............................to be open
take charge
carry forward
never look back.

For why should you?
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[LeBroz]

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Let's just go ahead and review that wonderful year of 2004 and its Grab a Partner challenge. I previously posted Benign Logistics so here are the rest from that memorable year.


Aiming Point
by analyze this©


Joint poetry of annaswirls and Liar.
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Aiming Point

I measure walls
with purple plumb line
snaps on conceding plaster.
Distant urban murmur
and dusted fingers, the only signs
of hours laid like bricks.

Hostess to inertia,
you too would measure dimension
and slide perception on an axis,
plot and coordinate every possible move.

Without a script or whispered prompts
you too would stare for hours,
measuring time by shadows on the wall

and drill make believe window scenes
to witness world, a void
of plumb line snaps away.


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Written for the Grab A Partner challenge

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[LeBroz]

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The perfect meal capped by the perfect dessert. I've got this strange craving for dessert right now!


After Dinner
by Remec©


A slice of cherry pie and some coffee
dab of ReddiWhip on both
sat on the table, cooling
while on the floor
crusty chocolate sauce and sticky honey
mingled in a sweet echo of
recent satisfaction revisited
after too long a time apart
panting and swollen
tongued, he feasted still
a tangy cream filling
he'd almost forgotten
their perfect concoction
that special dessert
simmering
and delicious.

This was written in tandem with Average Gina with her beginning and writing the odd lines and me writing the even ones.

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[LeBroz]

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The challenge moves on with this softly sensuous romantic tale.


Delayed Voyage Home
by Belegon©


This poem was written by Belegon and BooMerengue as a rotating challenge, with each poet doing one line and then sending it to the other. The storyline was never discussed ahead of time, and it was not edited for content.



Green magic rolls over castle-topped hills
laughing mischievously down to the sea
Silkie-kissed foam drums hammering cliffsides
And the sun poured his gold over thee!

My flame-haired lass awaits my return
Weaving a spell as she roams the land
Searching out a tree to form my mast
for my ship lies limp upon volcanic sands

My sailor is stranded far from my isle
He sails the seven seas from year to year
Yet I hear his call through storm and trial
A spell I'll call to lay aside his fears

My dreams linger on the shores I call home
My spell wafts toward him in wispy smoke
The voice on the wind for my ears alone
My work finished here I reach for my cloak

My shipmates wonder as I cry for more sail
when clouds shaped like gods fists blow the ship 'round
but the motion of keel off sand tells my tale
I crouched on the shale and keened out my song

I stand in the bow as we wave-ride again
Fingers of wind caress me as I dream his return
My hand reaches forward as my love I send
A sail on the horizon causes my body to burn

Days become hours as the nest cries "land ho!"
Minutes become seconds as he splashes to me!
Green magic rolls over castle-topped hills
laughing mischievously down to the sea.

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[LeBroz]

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A darker image presented here, done in rhyme that appears to be not forced.


Garden of Evil
by Miss Oatlash©


This poem was written for the 'Grab A Partner' Poetry Challenge by The Mutt and Miss Oatlash. The Mutt wrote the odd lines and Miss Oatlash wrote the even lines.
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I walk the smoky streets of burning towns.
Around me lie the seared remains of life.
No color, save ash grays and bloodstain browns;
decay surrounds, the stench of fear is rife.

A heedless slog through bones and outstretched hands
that seek my empty soul but dare not touch.
My cinder heart made stone by wars demand.
I lean on you, your strength becomes my crutch.

Your eyes, that never once showed doubt or fear
look down on me, expressionless and void.
They see my plight, yet do not shed a tear,
assuring me of hope I thought destroyed.

A sword, am I, made keen by holy writ;
a mighty blade of steel prepared to fight.
A Christian soldier, safe from satan's pit,
alone amid remains of sacred blight.

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[Angeline]

Thanks for posting these Grab-a-Partner Challenge poems, LeBroz. I had forgotten how good some of them are. Thi was such a great challenge, one worth reviving, imo.

 

[LeBroz]

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An excellent idea there, Ange. Another Grab A Partner Challenge. But who's going to coax Boo to join in the fun. After all, she was a partner for 7 of the 17 poems listed. Or perhaps some of Lit's newer members could prove to be as prolific.

Speaking of Boo, here's one she partnered on with Average Gina that fairly sizzles and is listed as non-erotic. If that's the case, I'm not sure I could survive an erotic piece. The imagery here is intense. For me it conjures up a roadside diner off a hot blacktop strip of road slicing through the red Georgia clay, surrounded by encroaching stands of Georgia pine. Inside, the air conditioner is fighting a losing battle against the heat and humidity, not from outside but from the couple inside playing music and games. Wow!


Heating Up
by BooMerengue©


with Average Gina

Melting cubes the only sound
across the smoky, beer-stale room
jittery fingers chain smoke
amber liquid fogs bleary eyes

she turns; screen door creaks open
steamy air surrounds her allure
girlfriend slides her a knowing grin
smirking, Steam saunters to the jukebox

Muddy Waters moans his aches
pelvises slowly grind their urges
pulsing with a jukejoint throb
sex sweats a humid fervor

Seeing her wrapped in an aura of lust
girlfriend raises a shot glass
winks as the Steam rises
suckling another piece of ice.

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[LeBroz]

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And here's today's birthday boy playing doctor with Boo.


Housecall
by Remec©


It was just the sniffles
at least that's what he thought
...head, ears, nose, throat...
he kept kissing and kissing and kissing

spreading sickness without
even a hanky tween her and his mouth!
She didn't make the connection
She thought he was a Doctor

Which he was, but not of medicine;
Hackles rose as she stared at him
and at the clothes he'd talked her out of
his teeth gleamed as he smiled

Bright and dazzling and oh-so-feral,
pushing weakly at his chest she swoons
trying to escape his unyielding embrace
but finally,sweetly, swooning to oblivion!

This was written in tandem with BooMerengue with me writing the odd lines, and BooMerengue writing the even ones.

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[LeBroz]

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A little love play for a couple as each stand, from the other, across the room.


Indigo Eyes
by irishcatsmeow©


The following poem was written by BooMerengue and irishcatsmeow as part of the Grab a Partner Challenge. Boo wrote the odd numbered lines and irish wrote the even numbered lines.



Indigo eyes glance shyly as he picks up his guitar
ready to strum a love-gone-wrong tune.
His voice slides right off the side of the mountain
bouncing into her veins, a rubber ball gone awry.

In the darkened bar she stands as if compelled
to test electrical sparks emanating from his eyes.
Her body moves marionette like to each plucked string
drawing him into her as only imagination's bubble can.

The plaintive wail of his guitar strikes her heart,
pierces the pillars of solitary indifference
and touches a place that til now was walled in stone.
Trembling, she embraces her epiphany, waiting

as his eyes finally lift to her swaying abandon.
Her dancing mesmerizes, her aura captivates;
the dance hall falls away and as the guitar sings
two lone souls entwine in the magical night.

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[LeBroz]

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If you chose to turn this into a five day weekend, by this morning you're sure to be a wreck. Haven't been seeing any little green fairies now, have we? Just look at what they can do.


L'amore le Absinthe'
by BooMerengue©


with Tathagata

With anise breath she blew a kiss
to the balcony above
he answered with that tiny smile
that spake of the moon and love

Crossing slowly to the little cafe
she ordered another cup
he watched her willowly winsome walking
what images conjured up

she sipped her glass of lethal brew
and beckoned to his grin
Ah she dances with La fée verte
his hand massaged his chin

Her pulse it raced, her heart beat fast
as she felt his eyes upon her
He wondered how to have her heart
and still preserve her honor

Throwing caution to the winds she
recrossed the sleepy street
where with the help of greenish fairies
he swept her off her feet

a secret smile she hid from him
as she hung onto his neck
he was torn between the age old choice
to pillage or protect

she answered all his doubts and fears
when she handed him a drink
who would have thought a glass of green
would put him in the pink

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[LeBroz]

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For those who care about such things, the odd-numbered lines are the creation of postobitum; the even-numbered lines come from Flyguy69.


Leatherbound
by postobitum©


*Written with Flyguy69*


Apocrypha mellowed vellum
curls a jagged life into a handheld epic
of failed magics and door-to-door mages,
hands and hearts callused by the burn
and twisting blades of cruel fortune.
Silver brows knit over chapters,
paper-skinned fingers reaching for a past
that dawned lambent with foretold birth,
contentedly pregnant with promise and virtue.
Gravid tales are scribed in bloodlines,
withered vines of desultory ventures etched
and stretched from root to budding flower.
And what is the meaning, the purpose?
Who prunes this hardbound text,
what witness to chapters stark and placid
decides; this one is Gospel?

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[LeBroz]

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Love? Sounds more like lust going wild here. A take-off on Girls Gone Wild perhaps?


Love Gone Wild
by BooMerengue©


with Lazarus

The sun shone down like a blanket of fire
warming them both in their passioned embrace
hearts pounding rhythms of untamed desire
damp skin touching skin; silk touching lace

fingertips trembling so gently they laid
hearts racing, desire, passion burning inside
his smile broke her heart as she tenderly played
her eyes saw inside him, all innocent and wide

In physical union they found neutral ground
passion winning over the fear and mistrust
Their bodies danced fevered around and around
passion changing their fear; filling with lust

The hearts that once were joined in innocence
now pushed them with passion towards a mutual goal
Aches ground them together in an explosion of lust
Two souls once broken now sin has made whole

Gently they parted with eyes full of tears
their rationalizations of the lines they just crossed
Their release erasing all guilt and fear
a smile crossed his lips, opportunity taken, not lost.

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[LeBroz]

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Now here's an erotic poem that's not an anatomy lesson, as usually happens, no matter how the organs are named or described.


Passion's Fervor
by ReBeLBeLLe©


This is a poem written in collaboration with my girlfriend, NoOtherName. It was in response to the 'Challenge: Grab A Partner' thread in the Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum. You can visit this thread here, https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=293289&perpage=25&pagenumber=1
If seen correctly the lines written by me will be italicized and those by NoOtherName will not be.


At first sight of her my heart jumps
Left speechless by my muted gasp
A smile from her and my pulse races
My eyes join hers in fervent grasp

One small touch brings me to my knees
Trembling unconstrained
Quivering I reach out to her
My need can't be contained

I press my body close to hers
Our hearts race in anticipation
Chills chasing down my spine
Igniting exhilaration

My lips find hers
We melt together
Passion sparks our flame
In convulsive bursting fervor

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one you can really enjoy, as it's not what it seems.


Steel Seduction
by BooMerengue©


with flyguy69

Imagination flares as she pictures
who could be hidden in the steamy room;
gray spectre, wrapped in rolling mist.
His breath uncoils in vaporous tongues
chilling her as it touches her and yet
moving her to step closer; to reach out
with fingers of trembling foam, to find
in the pliant fog his hardness, jutting
towards her like a ship's prow
moving purposefully through the fog.
Slicked palm slides over bone, curls
on moist skin. She raises her blade
leaning back on the cold tile and
with eyes glittering hands it to him
Jaw set firm he tests the edge, draws
steel on skin, and clears whiskers from his cheek.

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[LeBroz]

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Not having played in the playground at the time of this submission, was the mystery of the duo ever revealed to the other players?


Sunset's Fall
by Poetic Collaboration©



Day surrendered savagely, clawed the sky with crimson nails
left vermillion gouges on the deep'ning dusk
and slipped into Night's embrace. Impetuous lover
with indigo hair, let it fall silently
from crowded mouth, swallow sunset's despair.
To lose the sun is to gain the moon, find solace
in these velvet limbs, cinched on waist;
pressed, wet, against that penumbral cloud, 'twixt Venus
and her star-struck suitor. In shadow find honest love.
Naked want licks at the flame, the struggle
between ebon anonymity and blazing revelation
fought in the gloaming, to be won with moonlight.
Entrust to blind fingers a compass, magnetic --
ever drawing onward, only to finish where begun.
Sheath your fears, wild-eyed mistress. Draw to your breast
this evening love, that we may wake together in the dawn.


this is a challenge response poem

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[LeBroz]

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The title here gives it away, a tale told in the vein of Miss Mitchell's epic.


Tara Redux
by BooMerengue©


with Reltne


In dove grey velvet she stood in the door
a building storm in the high summer sky
another glance told her he hadn't come
no lad to catch her out with tales told wry

She wound her way upstairs to empty room
and fell on top the bed with angry sigh
as lightning flashed beyond the leaded pane
her well laid plans she watched the wind whisk by

'Twas once so easy to beguile and charm
a joy of time when she was young and spry
but years that passed have heightened her desire
for many things she might yet get to try

She wrapped her cloak of lonely tighter round her
the gnawing sense of weary to belie
tomorrow's sun would shine on other matters
tonight it was enough to simply cry

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