Challenge: Five Poems in Five Days.

[Tzara]

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.....

 

[loststar]

2

surface sublime

you are not a pacifier
though I love to suck on you
I will not scream if you are taken away
I do not depend

delight in the light life you shine
shall never claim you as my own
love to share you
to let your smile do as it will

love when you share it with me
when your eyes drink mine
when your mind focuses on me
when your lips capture mine

I hope I can keep my poison from settling
let it slide off your indestructible skin
keep it light, surface sublime
no deep wounds from deep words

want to share the best of me
to take fast rides, laugh lightly
to let the bodies enjoy
to smile

 

[sassynyc]

4

A'arab Zaraq link

They ascended in fury, spewing forth
from a sulphuric gaping maw
A portal to other-worldly darkness
that shades this world with plight

Sailing on black wings of havoc
meant to cloak mankind in shadow
This is where the wheat is separated
from the chaff

For the ravens have only arisen
to obliterate this, the digit of completion
among the ten divine

Sloughed off, are these dead leaves
lest they hinder eternal growth
in the tree of life

 

[nickdelight]

2

Value of a Ruby Gem

A ruby nestled ‘neath velvet cushions,
Kept in an ivory vessel.
Suspended within an airy chamber.
Breathe deep,
Feel it rise, feel it fall.

Reveal it, to gain affection.
Hide it, so it’s not broken,
Give it, to the wrong person,
Have it touched,
In a night of throaty passion.
Feel it flutter, feel it call.

What a gem you hold?
Coloured crimson, not gold.
Its value,
Worthless
Without feeling it
At all.

 

[loststar]

3

hands run over me
tweaking nipples
wrapping knees
rubbing tenderness
you like what you see
of course you do
its wonderful to be me

 

[Tzara]

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.....

 

[sassynyc]

5

Rorschach 1 link

Marbled slate lends stretched hands
to the dusted fade, of creamed terra cotta
Betwixt, lies the glow, of universal fire
Luminous color transfused, beautifully
bled and married in suspension

The interruption of everything, at work
in nocturnal plumes. Midnight wings unfurl
like wisps of ebony smoke. Brazen beauty
of a beast of discriminate palate.
A thing that feasts only, on light and love.
It has come to procure the sun.

 

[nickdelight]

3

The Chords She Plucked

You girl with the bright brown eyes
And plaits of thick brown hair

With words you ignited the fire in my veins
And your eyes struck the chords of my soul.

Daggers are not as sharp as your kiss
And suns do not burn so fiercely.

So kiss me girl and let me burn
At least to cool my ardour.

Strike my chords and I’ll sing
In breathy panting phrases.

 

[loststar]

4

Tears come freely
as I prove my skill
over and over again
over
is it over again
close another night
seal another bond
happiness
splashes
down my honesty
poured the poison in
to let the poison out
bleed it out
raise it high
stretch out of stale
open wet eyes
at the end of a happy night

 

[Tzara]

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.....

 

[nickdelight]

4

Michelia

At a humble shrine outside the city,
it was there you taught me.

The shrine's natural beauty caught my eye
with its trailing vines of pristine white jasmine,
vibrant purple orchids nestled in the surrounding trees,
and the enlightened lotus, gliding serenely above murky waters,
the small central figure
seated forever
With palms pressed together,
and head bowed
inviting contemplation.

Yet it was your perfume,
sugar cane sweet and peppery musk,
that imparted a noble truth.

It was you who taught me of the different aspects of beauty,
You who could not compare in looks to
the cuteness of jasmine,
the suggestiveness of orchid,
or the profound glory of the lotus.

 

[loststar]

5

intoxication
drunk on attention
swirls around me
smile my appreciation
swept free
passion rolling
cant hide pleasure
under the touch
gather around
drunk on more
laughter colors as we feed one another
you her I him him she he
us
all of us
celebrate life
pleasure and laughter generously shared
another round of intoxication

 

[Tzara]

.....

 

[nickdelight]

5

Washing Her Hands

Her fingers slide slowly through the silk folds of the moist towelette
it smells clean,
the soft scent of musk soap;
the weak viscous liquid teased out of the folds
snake down the length of her slender fingers and hands in shinning strands,
a palm reader would smirk knowingly at the new lines crossing her palms.
She slides her fingers more vigorously through the oozing folds
with the added friction the sound of suction and selfish squishing;
bubbles group together in light dabs of foam
form at the knuckles and sides.
Her hands are almost clean,
faster and faster she rubs
until her hands are washed in the towelette's liquid,
between her fingers sticky strands of foam,
the air is filled with the scent of musky soap
and she is awash with the wholesome feeling of cleanliness.

 

[Tzara]

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[Tzara]

33

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[Tzara]

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[Tzara]

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[Tzara]

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[Eluard]

The decimal expansion of Now

For Constance

I offer you Anhydrous Heliotrope and you
counter by insisting that
no child should be named that
or Algonquin.
(I can hear you snap this out like a tarot
card faced up on a table --- that card
for the Clouseau of Wands.)

The Greyhounds all sleep in New York
and no one crosses the plain states
now like they did before.
The wheat would sing then
through a leaky transistor
its painful song
of the home unfastened
hook-and-eye-like from the
aspic of boredom.
Dust stung the eyes with sewn-salt.
Pa slapped his hat against his thigh.
Now an image of a beheading
grows out of the salted
country
and children hang from
cherry trees, not laughing, not
playing, just still.

The swine are painted with care with wishes
like some memory of a bloodied god
in the swill of winter.
It is reborn every year but with
a different face, a
more burnt inside. The birds
that spill from its
rib cage are older but no wiser ---
they have no memory.
Thoth tears the lace of sunlight
through eye-holes
and the world is haunted by ligatures
of mad desires,
all flushed from the drama
from which one did not
die.





. .

*Sigh* Yet another person cajoled into a challenge by that combinatorial fiend Tzara.

 

[Eluard]

n/3

Black Vesper's Pageants

The clouds are dragonish, melon-fierce.
Underneath it all
one remnant's idea of love
has been turned into a topological map ---
like Beck's map of the London Underground:
distances suppressed for the
stations of the two crosses: the first
and the double cross.
Yet another fights evil
by being at every step defeated by it.

And then there is the one

who lay at the edge of the
cold Winter sea, tearless,
saying: I am crying.
The sea replied: I am the sun.

I also am crying.



. .

 

[Eluard]

n/5

Your Presence

From this cauldron of days
you are the steam
that rises ---
a perfect shape
swimming up
through the stairwell
of hours.
With you I climb

and with you
I do not notice that we cast
no shadows.
What shadow, I ask you,
could this ease cast,
this odd familiar ease
that you give
that makes me stronger?

Close up like the flower
and I will
open you ---
bend to the water
and I will drink you.

If you lie on the table
of hunger
I will devour the shadows
that have famished you.
Only your fragrance
is hidden
from me
and I search the crevices
of your body
for the stream
that will carry me
to the hour
of your living mouth.



. .

 

[Eluard]

n/7

Ideograph

This sky that holds you at the edge of itself
is a blue Gorgon.
Leaning toward a trellis of light
that stands on the rim

of your wide eye, your mouth is agape
but still you trace
perspective back to the source
where the white seed
crams fragments of death into spaces.
This spell will soon abandon
its common husk

and shake you through
with what unequal force
bends your face to the mirror

and you will turn ceramic
in this pointed stillness.
Facing the sun your head hangs back,
stiffening your rag doll hair ---

the day is enlarging,
and the only choice that remains now
is in what you will choose to destroy you.



. .

 

[clock1]

Haiku

Since I have a much greater chance of keeping the computer running for 4 more days I'll play this game and leave the 30/30 for better equipment.

Haiku

She told me she wrote
poetry
yet was not at all
a poet

She told me that she
read my eyes
to find the
poet
who lived inside

she wrote me
love poems and letters
an occasional
Haiku

"I am through using
fossil fuels for traveling
let's have sex instead"

"sex ultimately
leads to discussing birds and
bees who would not fly"

I told her I wrote
contemplative thoughts
ideas in prose
or poetry
as an amusement to me

Though my haiku
of entertainment
never shines out through
my eyes
it merely serves conveniently
a cloaking device
for lies

"often in our wildest dreams
we speak of true love
I agree about the sex"

 

[clock1]

5 in 5 #2

Just in case anyone in addition (2=2=4) me is reading this:


The computer died today,
vindicating my faith
in playing for five
leaving 30/30
someone else's vision

I played Jesus
laid hands upon
and this collection
of bits and bytes
hardware holding software
(in warm embrace)
was born again

Yeah!
I cite the miricle
of computation
and praise the as yet
unborn laptop
while typing as furiously as
(anything is) possible
before I crash again.