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Lauren.Hynde said:I never heard of Lit having removed parts of a poem before (except Rybka's pics and respective captions), so I assume you put the explanation in the notes section, and not in the body of the poem, where you should.
Resubmit the poem and include the explanation as if it was part of the poem, but put it in italics (using <i> and </i>), for example.
To resubmit the poem, do the same as to submit one for the first time, but title it "Letters from Native America - EDIT" and say this is an edited version of "Letters from Native America" in the notes section.
Off to take a cold shower
...
but it's sex.
isn't it?
isn't it?
not the poetry of gravity
falling things and smiles
long jowls and short,
tall ladies and short males?
it's her eyes
her swept back brow
that hair a moment ago
but must be swept back
again to make sure,
I assume
as I leave the shoppe of convenience
Other men's faces pop up
in the wrap-around glass
like july fourth flare-spatter
on a flat calm lake.
I don't mind, really they are
earnest inner-city
stickball kids staring
while a natural
shows them a pitch no one
has seen before.
Where is the man to match me
to take the blame and treat me properly?
Is there a man in the world who has not offended a woman?
Isn't there one tenor in the world who isn't stupid?
Isn't there a leading man somewhere
who knows how to treat a diva?
Cordelia said:
Here are my picks:
Ant-Hill by RazzRajen
Love the final lines...
As always, remember to read and give feedback.
Cordelia
Angeline said:
Thank you for the mention of my little poem, Ange, and a very big thank you for understanding and helping the people on your side of the pond to find this fascinating poet (or these fascinating poets, to be exact) and person (pessoa).Angeline said:My pick of the day is Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) by the very lovely Lauren.Hynde
Fernando Pessoa is, arguably, Portugal's greatest poet and is, arguably, (by Lauren and Angeline, at least) one of the greatest poets of the twentieth century. Lauren pays her countryman tribute in this wonderful illustrated poem that both says and shows something of Pessoa's quixotic nature, seen in his creation of separate "heteronyms," or different poet personalities. Pessoa and his three "fellow" poets each had a unique writing style and even critiqued each others' poems! Enjoy Lauren's fine effort and discover Fernando Pessoa. And remember--Portugal is not just about gorgeous young genius girls and soccer, yknow. There's other stuff there, too.
Lauren.Hynde said:The summer is here, for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, and it looks like it's going to be a scorching hot one, from where I'm standing. Or sitting: I don't really like to type standing.
I'm not in one of my happy-happy-joy-joy days, though, so it's possible that I missed one or two poems worth mentioning. If you find them, please feel free to share.
As it is, the only poem I thought worthwhile was
Cumslut and the Margarita Villain
by Maria2394 ©
mainly because of things like
[...]
He was inventing the G-spot I never had.
Fine tuning it like a sixties era muscle car,
with two Holly carbs,
more than four hundred horse power
and not a lick of brakes.
[...]
Now I have competition,
an appliance of all things,
and now I know how men must feel
when they find their woman's
other lover beneath the sheets,
still warm and wet, batteries worn out
an hour after they made love
and he came,
and she said she did...
[...]
and
[...]
His microscopic cells became part of me
body and mind,
part of my skin,
my hair, my lashes
He tried to convince me
what a monster he was,
but if he had seen
the images
of his drunken sperm,
drowning in lime juice
immobile from crushed ice
making me want more,
making me smile,
he would have been the one afraid.
I truly appreciate the mention of my evil little poem thingy... I actually was afraid to post it....(if you could have heard me laughing when I wrote it....my kids must think I'm crazy
thanks again,
maria
Oh, Bartender?...
another, please
-------------------------------------------------
Enjoy.
I see her on the bus
almost every day,
We have been reading
the same book for nearly ever
repeating mile
At home I tickle her crossed
ankles, over and over
turning her pages
creating a slight breeze
Novel times, interesting,
The passage and views
passing across windows
Not sex and violence,
merely, "cheesecake and ketchup"
We recite, looking up,
at each other graceful listener
turning turns
She's got me scissored
on the rattling entry hatch
of the overloaded general electric
washing machine,
...
blue-collar-jogger
sucks in his gut as if
belly-shirt-babe with her six pack abs
will notice
thin hips ride above tanned calves
spandex-girl
glides past hand-holding walkers
in lust
...
A mouth full of burnt coffee
again
I’m drinking it with milk this time
which doesn't make it taste any less
like something fire left behind
I didn’t even bother with sugar this time
I Just swallow the burning drug
And laugh as my eyes tear
Is this why I missed the Saturday morning cartoons ?
Why I’m an adult ?
wind whipped
no wave welcome
after put
outside our tolerance
raised in container,
the rumor of real sun
now drenches our cellulosic
poor pores
this poem, this connection
with palau is meant to save
our solemn Christian values,
our sores,
he is the mouthpiece of our plight
he is unaware as a condom
he is hiding in his fright-
come save us,
his house plants
placed today
in direct sunlight
june, 2003, plants of palau
amaryllis Jane and Beth
wal-mart palm Sindy
bitter stubbed tomato stem Stanislaw