Archival Review

[LeBroz]

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And from the man who bumped the threads to spotlight the challenges from 2004, here's a feast of eroticism he composed with Cordelia.


Tasting
by Cordelia©


written with The_Fool


Resilient consequences make for manic fantasies,
so close your eyes and await the candy-floss hurricane.
You can feel the tides lapping away at distant shores,

and distant shores respond in laughter and sweet erosion
of proper posture into some semblance of liquid decadence.
Sugar-sticky, we carry the taste of that storm,

sharing sweetness as we swelter in our heat.
“Let’s make this one sizzle,” is what I would murmur.
Clothing puddles at their feet. Skin on skin makes for great heat,

fattening our desires with high-calorie visions,
Taunted by tastes so sweet. “Darling can I just nibble a little?”
And we fall into the honey-storm’s eye, knowing there is more to come.

Tantalizing taste of sugarsex sears through our souls, timeless.
So we wait out the blizzard with confection-tinged ache,
living out manic fantasies, tasting lust, tasting need, tasting life,
smiling to the world, knowing the delicious consequences.

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[LeBroz]

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I found a couple that didn't make it to average gina's listing. And one that's on the list but has been pulled — but is posted on the thread. So let's tie up these loose ends by tomorrow. Here's the first of two partnered with Cerriwiden.


Disharmony Cocoon*
by Cerriwiden©


She feeds on praise,
plies purple prose.
Error stands in her ways.

She denies them all,
turns favor inward,
heeding conscience' calls
though no one knows
her moments small as dust
lying webbed in corners,
unobserved among uncounted detrius.

Years

that never wash away in tears abide.
Seas of poems still crash ashore.

When storms roil disharmony,
she within the eye is held
unseen, in abject silence.

Alone.

Eerily serene in dreams,
until wakened to lightning,

screams.


*Written with tungtied2u for the Grab a Partner challenge.

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[LeBroz]

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This seems a rather haunting piece, while tomorrow we'll have Tathagata bring down the curtain on this challenge. Enjoy this piece he worked on with Cerriwiden.


On Virtue's Legs*
by Cerriwiden©


Thistles soft as prayer whisper
Return, return.
The tomb begs for the old stories.

Who listens here where once
dandelion seeds rose to sky?
Now excommunicated from sun,
ghost flowers lie,
paved beneath intentions.

Promises, salvation up in arms,
within the breadth of strangers,
and all fall strangled.

Who laments the absent troubadours?
Olympus is shrouded in centuries.
Magicians and madmen lie,
throw shadows on cave walls,
and topsy truth turvy.

The ashen cross
upon your forehead implies
no more than crumbled Crusade dust,
death and smoke.

Who can arise,
stumbling reborn
on virtue's legs?


*Written by Tathagata and Cerriwiden for the "Grab a Partner" challenge on the Poetry Feedback and Discussion forum.

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[LeBroz]

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The final piece here actually appears on the Grab A Partner Challenge thread as a draft version of a collaborative effort between Tathagata and *Catbabe*. The finished product disappeared from Lit's archives when Tath had his submissions purged. Fortunately, this version remains in the Forum, less the title, which I've taken the liberty of tacking on for appearances' sake. We can only hope that this is close to the final version that was submitted.


Woven Words
by Tathagata©


This woven palace of words is framed
in threads of tapestry that trade night
for day and stand flanked by Byzantine towers
of fancy that fade in the face of dawn.

I walk circular stairs of serpentine calls,
climbing into a minaret of the mind, filled
with archaic scents of forgotten language
that reveal perfumed portraits of the past.

Transported by dervish shadows, forced
to dance against the darkness that draws
history into my eyes and hints at secrets
that kiss the softness of the sheerest veil.

I tip teakwood and watch the sand grains
fail to grip the glass ellipse that empties
with satorial indifference into a shifting pile
of time that paves a path into tomorrow.

A path lined with remnants of waiting
words that writhe and wither
seeking only to be rescued, stored, retained
by omipotent eyes that cry real tears.

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[LeBroz]

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Now that was a real pleasure, being able to bring back to the surface all those wonderful poems from that challenge of more than 2½ years ago. But I'm not done yet. Angeline had preceded the Grab A Partner challenge with the Thanksgiving challenge. I've already posted a couple from that challenge, Better Left Unspoken by Belegon and Creation of words by Neonurotic.

Now here are the rest of those wonderful pieces from Angeline's Thanksgiving challenge.


Healing
by average gina©


Though this is a poem that I wrote for the Thanksgiving Challenge, the lines inspired me to seek out something. This is, for those who know me, a very personal struggle that I am going through. Thank you, Remec and WickedEve, for letting me use the your lines for the first and last lines of my poem, respectively.

on my knees,
i thanked God
for you¹
for the gifts
you gave
to me

no price
could ever replace
the way you
touched me
yours sewed
my broken heart
yours dried
my weeping eyes

and now
though you
have departed
you are even
closer
now in my soul
i hold
a handful
of seeded prayers²


¹ in "Words Falter", by Remec ©2004.
² in "Autistic Slumber", by WickedEve ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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Just to show you how fast things change around here, the first poet on the listing, annaswirls, has since pulled her contribution to the challenge, "the second veil". I've already posted one piece from average gina, the next poet on the list. In fact, she has several contributions. Look at how seamless this next piece is with well chosen lines from other poets.


How Dare You
by average gina©


I was sure that I might have you¹
for so much longer
you broke my heart
as you got weaker
how dare you do
what the doctors expected
damn it...
how dare you consider
not being strong enough
to beat the odds
you were suppose to live
you were larger than life
not the other way around
damn it.
i am selfish now
wishing you had endured
wishing you got better
just to touch you
damn it!
could you not
have taken me with you?²


¹ in "Boulevard", by darkmaas ©2003.
² in "Adrift", by BooMerengue ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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They're not all stalkers. Here's one that ought to bring you a little smile as she keeps reusing the first line.


Looking
by average gina©


He just keeps looking at me¹
and I look at him
and turn away.
I look back
and surprised, I find
he just keeps
looking at me
I furrow a brow
"Okay... what now?"
Why does he look like that?
Like he just smelled a rose?
He
just keeps looking
at me
absorbing
soundless
"What!"
Did he just win something?
What is going on
in that head of his?
Dammit!
Defiant, I glare.
He
just
keeps
looking
at
me
And shyly gave a smile
That left my face glowing.²


¹ in "The Judge", by jdgeorge ©2004.
² in "Borders Books", by annaswirls ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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average gina really went to town on this challenge; here's the 4th of her 6 submissions to this challenge. I've peeked ahead at the others on the list and they are quite impressive. The next week promises to be quite a treat.


Perhaps Not Your Touch
by average gina©


I do my best work in bed¹
i'd rather lie prone, knowing better
an urgent bouncing then subdued
witlessly ignorant of my mood
access is licentiously granted
querulous sighs quietly panted
thank you very much
perhaps not your touch
but a breath or a sniff
an odor or a whiff
would be more ideal
like an eight course meal
ending with coffee
and a nice peach cobbler²


¹ in "Dream Eating Ass", by sandspike ©2004.
² in "Healthy Obsession", by The Mutt ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a nice short spirited dedication.


The Last Place
by average gina©


touch me
in a way
I have not felt¹
through skin
to spirit

yes

there

the last place
not consumed
by your soul

relieved
knowing
that together
we will always
fly²


¹ in "Be a Man", by CremeBrule ©2004.
² in "My Heart's Prayer", by champagne1982 ©2002.

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[LeBroz]

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Did you ever have one of those days, weeks, months? Here's average gina's 6th contribution to the challenge, crawling under the covers and wanting the world to just go away.


Trap
by average gina©


I am a woman without reason to comb tangles
from her hair.¹
I'll wake up in the morning, not arising, just to
sit and stare.
I can tell that it is morning only because it's
light outside.
I'll pull the covers over my head as I roll over
on my side.
I now have a television schedule, from soaps to
Doctor Phil
I'll browse the tv guide as dawn turns to dusk on the
window sill.
People don't come by much anymore nor do I listen
for a knock
Eventually I might become hungry, by then it's past
six o'clock.
I'll go into the kitchen for a little food or some
minty tea
Eat, sup, wash dishes, put them up then back to
bed for me.
I've endured another one where the dark goes to light
then to dark
I've cried, I've prayed, I've ached. It seemed subtle
yet so stark.
The day is night. What's come has gone. No rabbit
up my sleeve.
Another sad day of grief within my trap, and soon I'll
have to leave.²


¹ in "It is not tortoise shell", by annaswirls ©2004.
² in "Tears of Desire", by Miss Oatlash ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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Here's a bit of melancholy; not maudlin but still a thoughtful look back. Remember that dictum, "Show, don't tell"? This is an excellent example.


Widow's Thanksgiving
by champagne1982©



She listens close and hears her grandma sigh.¹
Sometimes memories close in
and the blackout shades on the leaded parlour windows
never slide up to let in the sun.

That Aubusson cannot be exposed
for then the light will fade the rose
and who, then, will see the pink curl
of petals as they unfurl?

Your Grandpapa bought me that
on his return from battlefields
better left in mind
and buried in sacred bits of country

like friends,
souls, journey on,
dust, left behind.
Don't tread here.
Don't stir the air.

Leave these things just like they stand
enshrined fondly where he loved to sit
and read his treasures.

Be happy for the chance
to go out and dance,
assured you'll suffer no harm
and fires, at home, only warm

Don't touch
Don't move
Don't cry
These things I love and am thankful for,
Are not for you to grieve.²


¹ Victorian Amethyst, by The_Fool ©2004
² Tears of Desire, by Miss Oatlash ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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Okay, the original challenge was to use two lines from two poets with them placed as the first and last lines of the new composition. Cordelia takes this challenge further. It's a form poem! A villanelle! And for the uninitiated, the footnotes make it possible to comprehend its unique structure without resorting to poetic notation or technical explanations. Just marvel at her creativity here.


galactic ascension
by Cordelia©


Again to stellar song and cosmic praise, ¹
residing in the star-stuff of your form:
that curve of ardor is for devotion gaze. ²

So speak to me in starlight’s whispered rays,
become the rhythm set by meteor’s storm
again to stellar song and cosmic praise. ¹

With desire’s own topology, we’ll raise
the limits, and the universe transform
that curve of ardor is for devotion gaze. ²

So change the course of comets with a phrase,
a tone, a minor chord. You can perform
again to stellar song and cosmic praise. ¹

Travel at the speed of longing. Phase
and amplitude cannot be uniform:
that curve of ardor is for devotion gaze. ²

With heat to rival fusion’s starry blaze,
bent toward like gravity to warm
again to stellar song and cosmic praise, ¹
that curve of ardor is for devotion gaze. ²



¹ in Hyper Music, by Liar ©2004
² in October Odyssey II, by WickedEve ©2004

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[LeBroz]

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Here's one that didn't appear on average gina's listing, but I found it anyway. She even went and built a title from the two poems supplying the first and last lines. And again, like in so many of these fine poems, it's done so seamlessly.

On Morna's Boulevard
by Cerriwiden©


I watched us flicker then ignite
as if the moon fell from the sky
into our arms, held like a new born
love, all squall and need, bright
with loony hope. We bloomed in day.
Time unfolded flowers, petal palms
cupped warmth, then grown heavy
with the reign of deeds and hours
drooped to a drowse that afternoon,
curled wiser at the edge of gloom,
no less love, but gardens deep
with knowing, fell beneath twilight,
where she fades like sun, dimmer.

Line 1: darkmaas, Boulevard
Line 13: Wicked Eve, Morna's Last Room

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[LeBroz]

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Here's an odd little piece to wrap your mind around. Savor it.


Dimensions Unraveled
by CremeBrule©


Entangled but unattached, ¹
we forgot to knot the woven yarn.
Someone said expect the cold
Easily unraveled, exposed but not torn.


In your pocket,
matches with the cover folded
red tips hidden from
unintended ignition.


And our three dimensions
are squeezed into two,
Catch another look at you
your lips paused in time,
half of these dimensions are mine.
Myopic in this shallow game,
with my eyes closed the view is the same. ²


¹ in " A Poet's Singularity ", by sandspike ©2004.
² in " Can't Sleep II ", by flyguy69 ©2004.

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[LeBroz]

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Wow! An epic familial poem spanning generations in its swift telling. This is poetic art at its finest.


This Sanguine Water
by jd4george©


This Sanguine Water

The old man watched me,
sitting in the tatters of his skin,
brittle as a dying branch,
pale and parched. ¹​

- Angeline​

The blood of my blood enriching the soil
and poisoning the waters…
The blood of my blood flowing…²
and flowing until all that remains
is the hollow whisper of legacies
buried in attic trunks and faded scrapbooks,
the names scrawled in the great family Bible
that sleeps dusty on a shelf upstairs,
parched vellum hidden in gold-trimmed leather.

This river is chronicled there, carefully carved
in old style letters scratched brown in sanguine ink,
captains and lumbermen, beggars and thieves.
I hear the sighs of those daguerreotyped men,
their brittle voices smothered in the chanted
hopes and dreams bequeathed to their children,
who have long since become the blood in my veins,
flowing and flowing until all that remains
is their lives, marked in the lifelines of these hands
that will never hold my own child.

These hands now the dying branch of the family
of immigrant carpenters… the quiet, solemn folk
who stepped from the Fortune onto promised soil
and planted this future four hundred years ago.
The life source of this sanguine water, flowing
and flowing until all that remains
are blossomed fields where the blood of my blood
was once a river, and the rich soil was
the New World promise of fathers and children.
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They felled their history onto each generation,
from Goodie Nurse roped chained and hung
in Salem, to the silence of Giles Corey,
his will still singing silent from beneath the stones,
piled one by one until their faith crushed him.
This sanguine water remembers them, flowing
and flowing until all that remains
is the pale knowledge that their river ends
in my tattered skin that now cradles their blood.

This knotted strength of generations, twisted and tightened
into the burl wood of my grandfather’s hands,
as he shaped and smoothed wood, sanding promise
that was silenced by fate just a surely as the stroke
that muted his words, hence I never heard him speak.
From father, to daughter, to this son, his storied blood
flowing and flowing until all that remains
are the solemn faces in faded photographs, names soon
forgotten and lost to the children I never had.

This sanguine water, blood of my blood,
has become the eulogies spoken over their graves,
the words hewn and cleaved into memories, flowing
and flowing until all that remains
are the expectant smiles of my brother’s daughters.
Our family name now misty water in their veins,
for he has no sons, no child to craft more legacy.
Still, for all those men before me, I pray that one day
this blood of my blood somehow enriches the soil, and
blossoms like miles of flowers opening at once.³




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¹From Angeline’s ”The Nightingale”, ©2004
²From Average Gina’s ”I Screamed at Humanity”, ©2004
³From Angeline’s ”Memory Like Skin”, ©2004

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[LeBroz]

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Interesting emotional contrasts in the prose — sipping vs. eating lips — makes for an urge to read it again and again. In fact, it just seems to have a number of emotional contrasts throughout which make it a compelling read. NOTE: The underlined text appears in the original with a strikeout, however, the HTML code for strikeout doesn't work here.


Berlin - Los Angeles
by Lauren Hynde©




Quickened pace betrays my careful plans¹
and a shiver crawls up my spine. I ought to have gone back, retraced my steps.

Awake at 9:32
A warm bath
A light dress, it's summer
Out the door at 9:53
Down eight flights of stairs, the lift is broken
Out the door at 9:55

I ought to have gone back to the corner bakery and to another strawberry pie,
and miss the 10:05 train, the Brandenburg Gate, the night walk along the Spree.

And by now I'd be home, in our bed, sipping your lips and gliding down the surface of your naked body, tasting your skin, inebriated by the soft scent of your sex, the subdued song of your heartbeat.

But then the smoke, the melody, the overwhelming sense of possibility.

Even so, if only I had ordered my own drink,
if only I had steered the conversation back to the strum of the bass,
if only I had smiled and said goodnight instead of ever noticing the exact shade of light the rising sun makes against the ceiling of a 3rd floor in Friedrichstraβe,
if only,
I wouldn't be here now on this train station 50
kilometres north of Frankfurt, mentally writing to you.

But things, baby, things
have a perspective in Berlin and another in our hearts.
And everything is as easy as waiting
for the next train and finding the night in any
forgotten corner of a city.

I have a bowie knife and a pistol.

I will steal until the end of the world
just to find you. I will undoubtedly catch
the direct plane to L.A. and stand in the middle of the avenue
underneath the giant billboard of the movie theatre
where Providence was last shown.

I won't drink white wine until that day.

I'll eat your lips until they bleed.
I won't be arrested. I'll keep an extra bullet, concealed.

It will be at 5:45. It's your posterity.

Mine.

I'll untie me
from your cerebellum.²



¹ in "By Night's Sweet Darkness" by JUDO ©2003
² in "Still" by Cordelia ©2004

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[Angeline]

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Interesting emotional contrasts in the prose — sipping vs. eating lips — makes for an urge to read it again and again. In fact, it just seems to have a number of emotional contrasts throughout which make it a compelling read. NOTE: The underlined text appears in the original with a strikeout, however, the HTML code for strikeout doesn't work here.


Berlin - Los Angeles
by Lauren Hynde©




Quickened pace betrays my careful plans¹
and a shiver crawls up my spine. I ought to have gone back, retraced my steps.

<snip>

Thanks for this one, LeBroz. Sometimes I forget just how good some of these poems are. Lauren is amazing.

 

[WickedEve]

Hey, Mr. Broz
Did you ever include this poem by foehn? Maybe I've mentioned it before. I can't remember.

Hanna Loves Horses
by foehn©

This is about my Hanna. Even if it wasn't, to me, it's still a fabulous poem. Read Reltne's comment. I think he says it all.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Hey, Mr. Broz
Did you ever include this poem by foehn? Maybe I've mentioned it before. I can't remember.

Hanna Loves Horses
by foehn©

This is about my Hanna. Even if it wasn't, to me, it's still a fabulous poem. Read Reltne's comment. I think he says it all.

It's sad he stopped submitting in early 2005. His works need more exposure.

Cat Notices The Shy's Throat for instance.

 

[Angeline]

It's sad he stopped submitting in early 2005. His works need more exposure.

Cat Notices The Shy's Throat for instance.

Yes. I'd forgotten him and how good he was. Here's another wonderful one.

 

[LeBroz]

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Okay, okay! Requests duly noted. But please remember that I've only gone through the C's; since then I've covered illustrated poems, those with the little

{which I haven't finished}, and those two impressive challenges from 2004.

I've looked over foehn's list and see that Constellations made it here. But of the 4 I've covered so far, I don't know how I missed including Cat or A Winter Equality, an oversight I will correct.

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[LeBroz]

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Just look at that title. Do soaps make it into Liar's domain?!


The Jung And The Restless
by Liar©


Provide percussion to get things started¹
barter for pressure, build-up, playact
bring on the stabber, oscillate subsonics

where no mnemonics will last
longer than a butterfly's breath
breathless on those backbeats

deliver the juice over red brick sirens
crackling styrofoam hollow hearts
across an ocean of chanting bodies

it's the night of a million sore feet
where finally the dwellers of Luther
can rediscover their reasons

in pagan harmonies mauled
through shaman audio physics
tangible as the blood we taste

like a thunderclap redemption
a daybreak for shackled spirits
almost as whipped through air²

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¹ in "Steam Pipe" by eagleyez ©2004
² in "Just a little" by echoes_s ©2004

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[LeBroz]

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A little fulfilling eros to bring satisfaction to thousands of couples as their long separation is ended.


Fullfillment
by LilDarlin©


Just tell me How you want me
Tell me what you want¹
I am here waiting
Punch drunk with our love

Endlessly we share
Time consumes
Shielding us within
Awaiting that day
Hearts fixed
upon that hour

Darling you are mine
Always will be
Rubbing souls
Locked securely away
Hiding till that second

Drink from my lips
Suck every drop
Taste me

Hunger for my touch
Pulsating over you
Painting your shaft
Seizing your control

Sense my warmth
Dancing across you
Swirling on your hardness
Lustfully carrying us on

Demand my wantonness
Worshipping you
Capture eternity
Forever bound

Take my devotion
Swallow my essence
Thrust thru abandonment
Seize me whole

Hear my moans
Gripping bodies
Whirling overboard
Tipping the earth

Feel the sky
Blasting of juices
Fistfuls of devotion
Shuffling bodies

There upon the clouds
Hurled beyond time
Splattered eons
Staggered minds

I was with you,
my darling
Did you hear me
Did you feel me
I was right
there²


¹ in "You Said 'Everything'", by CremeBrule ©2004.
² in "A Certain Kind of Magic", by flyguy69 ©2004.

Special thanks to these poets for there poems, and gift.

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[LeBroz]

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As I read this I suddenly got this craving for some fruit; sometimes the stomach trumps either brain.


Let Me Take You Down
by Miss Oatlash©


Sweetness upon my lips

A ripe berry
covered with fresh
whipped cream

Succulent
juices dripping
from her chin

More cream
trickles between her thighs
as she picks tender
red strawberries
from fields of forever

she eats every single one she picks


First Line from "Just A Lil Taste" by LilDarlin
Last line from "black raspberry" by annaswirls

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[LeBroz]

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She paints a chilling portrait here, as her heart's warmed by a chill breeze.


My Fate
by postobitum©


As I make my waves in the frosty bed, I listen.¹
An uneasy wind is waking,
conjuring ghosts and men to the battle field,
sapping stregnth from the last desperately clinging leaves,
feeding voraciously upon wounded weakened souls.
Ill-fated hell gusts howling the night,
whisking breath from the babes in their swaddling,
curdling ardor in sweet wedding beds.
Sweeping fast and low and horrible,
a churning grist mill of bedlam
loosed into quietly slumbering innocents.

An ancient leviathan in time,
this tasteless spector on my chapped lips,
molding me in ice and frigid heat,
taking me again for the momentary mistress,
an empty brazen shell receptive.
Urging it's cold caress through my brittle locks,
chill unsubstantial fingers licking, whispering teeth
driving all cover and protection away in it's wake.
Possessing me, turning me, leaving me broken anew,
for I am it's snow maiden,
an icy heart that sunning never warms.²



¹ in "My January Man On The Moon" by average gina ©2004.
² in "To Roxanne, on her Birthday" by The Mutt ©2004.

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