Darkmaas' Chamber of Coital Horror

[champagne1982]

Well I like to use a food metaphor... Main = stove, Hangout = kitchen table.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

What you got cookin'?

 

[champagne1982]

What you got cookin'?

s'all good

 

[darkmaas]

Hey good lookin'
watcha got cookin'


My arms are tired, my feet so sore
I've been cookin' up a metaphor

Been beatin' those eggs, whippin' some cream
Stand back baby, gotta blow some steam

It's hot by the stove, why's everybody bitch'n
you're welcome to my table but it's in the kitchen


S' all good cookin'
but I'm still lookin'...
... for my Martha Stewart crock pot, fondue forks, a chef's hat in kevlar and some gourmet ingredients to rhyme with slick

::

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Go and stick some of that in the Survivor .... if my brains cells have got to sufffer a rude awakening so have yours

 

[darkmaas]

Survivor ... suffering brain cells ... rude awakening ...

You paint such an attractive picture that I must decline. I shall however enjoy the copious fruits of your labour, especially if you post in time for the Tuesday review.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Wonder what you would make of the vibrator poem?

 

[beetrootjesuit]

Wonder what you would make of the vibrator poem?

It's funny ... no kinda sad ... well actually funny in a pathetic sorta way.

The last post on this thread was four years ago. UYS's feet sticking out from under a piano seems like yesterday. You know your drink has been spiked if you wake up naked on an unfamiliar lawn, missing a few hours ... but four years?

Hi UYS! It may surprise you to know that I'm pleased you still pop in to see who's here and (I hope) dust the ficus.

A lot of poetry happened almost without effort.

Tzara is still posting. 1201 should have a long enough memory. Ang seems to pop in from time to time and there's the infamous Champers (in boots and riding crop). Where the hell is Martha? I see that dumbaas has returned. (Lose the hat baby and pay the back taxes on this joint). Ah, is that our Lady of Lachrymea, Tristesse? Did I see a fleeting foolio?

It's all good.

Do you think the Poet's Hangout is ripe for a revival? UYS has the keys to the bar ...


Get to work. Truncated hexaquintalets. No albatross metaphors and show some respect for Her Majesty. Five points if there is a reference to Prussians or the Blues but not in the same quintalet. Recall that the abiding theme is bad sex (albeit rather loosely interpreted). Until Martha shows her face, no reference to sex with our floral brethren. Chamber pots are perhaps a bit passe (pisse?). Egregious enjambment is always welcome.

Enjoy.

 

[twelveoone]

1201 should have a long enough memory.

what did i forget?

 

[beetrootjesuit]

what did i forget?

Nothing I'm certain. Just seeing who actually looks at, much less plays, the piano.

Waiting for a Truncated Hexaquintalet ...

 

[Angeline]

Nothing I'm certain. Just seeing who actually looks at, much less plays, the piano.

Waiting for a Truncated Hexaquintalet ...

Waiting for an explanation of how to write one. The example I saw you and T-zed (wasn't it?) id in a recent thread is not exactly clarifying it for me.

Thank you, Brother B.

 

[beetrootjesuit]

Waiting for an explanation of how to write one. The example I saw you and T-zed (wasn't it?) id in a recent thread is not exactly clarifying it for me.

Thank you, Brother B.

<puffing up with pride>

Well. Hexaquintalet would seem to be a 6 stanza poem with five lines per stanza. Truncation would imply fewer stanzas. Zero stanzas would meet the criteria but what's the point? I suppose the limerick would be a special case that meets the description but again, why bother? Limerick is so much easier to spell than truncated hexaquintalet.

For those preferring rhyme over reason, AABBA works well. Nothing to say the truncation has to arrive at the end of a stanza. AABBA BBCCB CCDD seems fine enough and could be mistaken for a ... horrors ... sonnet by someone who counts but doesn't pay close attention.

It seems that meter doesn't matter. Content baby.

Clear?

 

[Angeline]

<puffing up with pride>

Well. Hexaquintalet would seem to be a 6 stanza poem with five lines per stanza. Truncation would imply fewer stanzas. Zero stanzas would meet the criteria but what's the point? I suppose the limerick would be a special case that meets the description but again, why bother? Limerick is so much easier to spell than truncated hexaquintalet.

For those preferring rhyme over reason, AABBA works well. Nothing to say the truncation has to arrive at the end of a stanza. AABBA BBCCB CCDD seems fine enough and could be mistaken for a ... horrors ... sonnet by someone who counts but doesn't pay close attention.

It seems that meter doesn't matter. Content baby.

Clear?

Yes, thank you. Truncated is good. I figured the 6X5 part but not how truncating could result in no poem or a limerick or some Frankenpoem, say, a haiku plus a couplet, two sonnets with an extra couplet, etc.

Alas

Meter shoots a meteor streak
silvery contrail dust oblique
a poem that promises the sky
but trails and sputters to comply
my métier must lack technique.

 

[beetrootjesuit]

Yes, thank you. Truncated is good. I figured the 6X5 part but not how truncating could result in no poem or a limerick or some Frankenpoem, say, a haiku plus a couplet, two sonnets with an extra couplet, etc.

Alas

Meter shoots a meteor streak
silvery contrail dust oblique
a poem that promises the sky
but trails and sputters to comply
my métier must lack technique.

Were I not a man of de frock, I might express a love both metaphoric and meteoric in wake of your fine truncated hexaquintalet. It is, to my knowledge, only the second example of the form. Pushing forward the limits of form ... rhyming on the edges of creative endeavour ... gobsmacked, am I.

I shall overlook the unfortunate reference to Frankenpoetry.

What news of the fair Disposa?

 

[darkmaas]

Yes, thank you. Truncated is good. I figured the 6X5 part but not how truncating could result in no poem or a limerick or some Frankenpoem, say, a haiku plus a couplet, two sonnets with an extra couplet, etc.

Alas

Meter shoots a meteor streak
silvery contrail dust oblique
a poem that promises the sky
but trails and sputters to comply
my métier must lack technique.

::

I must point out that two sonnets plus couplet would be a hexaquintalet but alas at 30 lines it would not be truncated.

If you need a longer ... er ... template to hang your ode upon, might I suggest the hexaquintalet royale of five hexaquintalets with a plethora of potential interlocking rhyming schemes or even the Imperial Hexaquintalet with 750 lines to tempt one's rhyming dictionary.

Enjoy.

::

 

[Angeline]

Were I not a man of de frock, I might express a love both metaphoric and meteoric in wake of your fine truncated hexaquintalet. It is, to my knowledge, only the second example of the form. Pushing forward the limits of form ... rhyming on the edges of creative endeavour ... gobsmacked, am I.

I shall overlook the unfortunate reference to Frankenpoetry.

What news of the fair Disposa?

I must respectfully disagree that the reference to frankenpoetry is unfortunate. There is an absolute motherlode of it here at Literotica that cries to be acknowledged. New and more terrifying frankenpoems are posted daily. Sometimes even by me. And consider: what better repository for them than a chamber of horrors, coital or otherwise?

Also I thank you for the kind words about my meager hexaquintalet. I'm honored to have written the second-best one ever. Especially since there are only two of them.

Disposa now lives on Kibbutz Ein Gedi, near the western shore of the Dead Sea. I'm not sure she has the internet but I'm having a hard time understanding her these days anyway as she currently prefers Hebrew to French. Quel dommage!

::

I must point out that two sonnets plus couplet would be a hexaquintalet but alas at 30 lines it would not be truncated.

If you need a longer ... er ... template to hang your ode upon, might I suggest the hexaquintalet royale of five hexaquintalets with a plethora of potential interlocking rhyming schemes or even the Imperial Hexaquintalet with 750 lines to tempt one's rhyming dictionary.

Enjoy.

::

You go first.

 

[darkmaas]

Ang wrote:

And consider: what better repository for them than a chamber of horrors, coital or otherwise?

What a though. Coital horror ... gives way to ... poetic horror ... hmmmm ... You aaaare really evil. Just sayin'


However, sex is basically funny and bad sex is, in principal, fodder for ... er ... deeper humour. However bad poetry, even disguised as a sonnet, isn't usually funny.

But then again, there's the cerulean issue. The walls need more than a dusting ... maybe ...

Martha will not be amused.

::

Thanx for the rose BTW but I know my limits ... best make mine a double.

::

 

[todski28]

*careful what you ask for*

Met her at the club, tiny
little thing, we laughed
as I joked My quad was bigger
than her waist, tested it,
My leg was bigger,
she liked the Big men,
silly little thing.

she was kind enough to
come back to mine,
for a roll about on the
bed I had behind a couch
classy broad in a share
house of dudes, didn't mind
so long as she got stewed.

Things proceed in the usual
manner, get naked, get to it
she gets excited, starts to scream
Harder she urges,
what's a man to do but
deliver,
things start to slap,
her screams ring out
she urges
HARDER
ego on the line,
pull out all stops,
ass a blur, hammering her
like a sewing machine,
she wailing and screaming
Start thinking, I am the man
her screams change tone,
I slow my pace to see what
has happened, she lays there
prone, rolls to her side cries.

drive her to the hospital
wait two hours for a doctor
MRI reveals, twisted pelvis
car accident trauma
as long as she lives
chiropractic visits,

Who would have thought a simple fuck
could cause permanently damaged luck?

 

[butters]

 

[todski28]

That was pretty much my reaction!

 

[darkmaas]

Just came by to water the ficus.

Nicely done todski. Makes Martha's trials with garden produce seem sorta ... well ... trivial.

::

 

[todski28]

Just came by to water the ficus.

Nicely done todski. Makes Martha's trials with garden produce seem sorta ... well ... trivial.

::

AT least she can buy another cucumber, harder to purchase a new spine

still yogurt topping has to be a hard one to beat!

 

[butters]

AT least she can buy another cucumber, harder to purchase a new spine

still yogurt topping has to be a hard one to beat!

*coffee splutter*

 

[HarryHill]

*careful what you ask for*

Met her at the club, tiny
little thing, we laughed
as I joked My quad was bigger
than her waist, tested it,
My leg was bigger,
she liked the Big men,
silly little thing.

she was kind enough to
come back to mine,
for a roll about on the
bed I had behind a couch
classy broad in a share
house of dudes, didn't mind
so long as she got stewed.

Things proceed in the usual
manner, get naked, get to it
she gets excited, starts to scream
Harder she urges,
what's a man to do but
deliver,
things start to slap,
her screams ring out
she urges
HARDER
ego on the line,
pull out all stops,
ass a blur, hammering her
like a sewing machine,
she wailing and screaming
Start thinking, I am the man
her screams change tone,
I slow my pace to see what
has happened, she lays there
prone, rolls to her side cries.

drive her to the hospital
wait two hours for a doctor
MRI reveals, twisted pelvis
car accident trauma
as long as she lives
chiropractic visits,

Who would have thought a simple fuck
could cause permanently damaged luck?

Ha!
..
I've picked up the trail of the piano on this page, 4 chortles, and a strange inclination to examine all veggies, tho-roughly, before consumption (cough)
Was Annie's feet protruding out a predicament or a postdicament?