old poems

[Senna Jawa]

Small rooms always do. Maybe he could paint the walls white and set up some mirrors.

Then no need to waste all that paint.

 

[Senna Jawa]

In My Double Polarity
by JUDO ©

As seagulls drift lazily amidst the warm westerly
Behind tinted green my blues drift under a coral sea,
Lying naked baked by solarity in my double polarity.

The wind lingers while it molds its fingers along me gingerly
Rife with opportunity, aflame with lust and unmoved by temptation
Behind tinted green my blues drift under a coral sea.

[...]

The first stanza is fine, nice. The second one is poor.

contaminated
by nakedangelina ©

She has soaked and scrubbed,
lathered, rinsed and repeated
under a scalding stream in
her immaculate white shower.
She has brushed and flossed,
swallowed antiseptic spray,
cleansed, sterilized and disinfected
over stark pristine countertops.
She has bleed and she has cried,
begged, cursed and berated
in her sanctified self damning
isolation, still she is not clean.

Interesting, good poem. Has only minor problems. "immaculate" is weak. I am also a bit suspicious about "pristine". In both cases we have poetically impotent shortcuts. Finally the ending is not quite rigth. The meaning is not precise. In place of "is" in the last line you could have the precise "feel", except that it doesn't sound right. The negation is the guilty party. The poem could end strongly with:

        in her sanctified self damning
        isolation, and she still feels dirty.

Now it's much better, now it's good.

Regards,

 

[WickedEve]

Okay, I finished the new poems for today and now I'll mention an older one. Actually, I'd like to mention a poet. I haven't seen anything new from her in a while, but you won't be disappointed if you reader her older work. I like the way Bronte handles erotica. Here's an example:

Confessions of a Librarian
by Bronte ©

So you say you like a smart girl
One that you can appreciate
for her mind.

This mind lies
between the sheets
of Bronte and Yeats
and everything sensual
before, after
or perfectly intervening

I would love for you
to say something
under the breath of my dress
searching
with longest lingo
as I stretch upon highest step

Would you give me a hand
dearest man
this ladder is a bit rickety

Steady me
as I touch
those books
in silent corner
where no one ever goes
telling by the perfect shelving

That clever corner
where both mind and body
melt in allusion tome

Would you slide your reach
right up the middle of pure silk
where secret ink weeps
from the pages of my book

Would you shush me
as I moaned

Whisper to me
how you would descry me
if I'd just step down
a little farther

Reaching
then pulling
then speaking
in deepest recital
your private verse

into my aisle of hush
where it is so hard
for me to be quiet

 

[Cordelia]

As an excuse to finally sit down, I decided to spin some poems. Here are the ones I chose to share.

~~~~~~~
Non-erotic poems:

This Is My Skin by pita © (01/14/02)

This is my skin
It’s what I keep my body in

Covered with hair
Tiny hairs everywhere

Tiny hairs on my arms
On my toes

In my ears and
Under my nose



This is my heart
My very best part

It beats with a happy sound

It beats real neat and the beats repeat
It makes my blood go around



This is my liver
It’s the part that makes me shiver

What it does exactly
I do not know

I’m just glad it doesn’t show



This is my butt, cracked but not broken
It’s the part of my body about which little is spoken

I am not exactly sure if I like this poem, or even if I consider it "good." But it made me grin, and that is enough of a recommendation for the dreary day I've had.
~~~~~~~

And I was happy to rediscover this wonderful erotic poem!

Production Values by Angeline © (03/07/03)

forget the deadline
man your script is fine
format divine
and I'm content
with your substance

take off your jacket
let me dust your spine
read each character
and tag your file
in four colors

then after we check
your blue lines

you'll be more than
ok to roll press.

This is one of my favorite erotic poems. The spinner must have wanted to refresh my memory about it, because it was the second poem spun. (The first one contained the line "visions in my mind," I read no further.)
~~~~~~~

Happy reading.



Cordelia

 

[Angeline]

Production Values

Thank you dear Cordie. As I wrote it, I was torn between dirty snickering and horror that I've worked in the publishing field far too long, lol.

 

[Angeline]

Old Stuff

So I spun the spinny thing, over and over. Ad--as they say--nauseum. I spun many times looking fruitlessly for poems I'd like to recommend. I spun so much I was ready for Rumplestilkskin to walk in and ask "Where's the gold, babe?"

Well, the heck with *that*. There are already old poems at Lit I know I like enough to recommend. Hell, I wrote some of them, lol. Anyway, without further dithering here are a few of my favorites.



Arms by smithpeter

This poem is just so well done; it reminds me of Pablo Neruda's Elementary Odes. "Envelopes that don't require wetting" is an amazing metaphor.


Gentle men of word and tent stake pounding or construction.
Tall building sky scraping shoulders.
To me the arms enclose and welcome.
Envelopes that don't require wetting.
Self adhesive exterior organs connected to minds
that need licking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In memory of Naomi by RisiaSkye

RisiaSkye is a poet who can move me; she is powerful with words. This is a long poem and worth every minute of your time. It's gut-wrenching and--I suspect--the story of more silenced women of a certain generation than many of us can imagine.

I got the house but I lost the children
and I still don't know anyone here
One day men came to talk to me and said "Naomi, you need to rest" and I was so tired I agreed
and they took me to a bed and paralyzed me with
Thorazine and Haldol and my loving children
were ashamed
to tell anyone who their mother was
and I couldn't move
to tell anyone to leave me alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the cities of the city by Senna Jawa

He'll probably give me a hard time for picking it because it's so long,but too bad Senna, I love this poem. It's insightful and poignant, but most of all it's very very funny. Read it.

we went to the restaurant late
we ate and drank and paid and...
we went to the piano bar the guy
knew two
of the russian songs i named
a few more drinks and i explain
the workings of america
the colorful churchcutting grassgoing color
minorities and bums italians blacks south
americans and who knows who else
who make america bearable if not exciting
and the church goers grass cutters wasps
who work and keep america going but boring and then
a clean polite guy two barstools away from me
introduces himself as representing that boring majority
i sober up and feel like an ass
i end up singing anyway
in english
my own lyrics:

bu-
tterfly time was
nice
but
didn't buy
much now
yooo
put me down
'cos mine
bu-
tterfly time is gone
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mystery Lost by daisie

Finally, a poem that has never really gotten its due here--a lovely sleeper of a poem by my pal daisy, who is so talented, and who here takes a memory-laden walk from innocence to experience and back again.

It's mystery you've lost.
You've read the books
perfected technique;
you know every inch of man or woman
or both.

But remember back then
when, under his warm, starched white
button-down dress shirt
behind the tie where your hand crept
during the slow dance
when you couldn't imagine the consequences
of opening a button and sliding inside.

Remember, girls?


ok lauren, i did it. now i get to sleep, lol.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Old Stuff

the cities of the city by Senna Jawa

He'll probably give me a hard time for picking it because it's so long,

Why, Angeline? Thank you, I am happy that you like this poem. I won't give you a hard time, I will give you the trivia time!

Long poems often feel long. I hope that it is not so in the case of my long pieces. You do get some goodies. Two cities are mentioned, one casually, and the action takes place in the other one. There are 7 characters plus (casually) some women (possibly administrative assistants) and managers. Four of the 7 characters are main.

The action takes place in a significant way in six closed compartments (three of which are vehicles).

The poem consists of seven parts (0)-(6), 23 stanzas and 156 lines (without counting the empty lines). Two stanzas have only one line each. The longest two stanzas have 18 and 14 lines. The average number of lines per stanza is 6.78.  The longest two of the seven parts have 48 and 44 lines. On average the number of stanzas per part is 3.3 and of lines per part: 22.3.

The poem was posted on September 20, 2002. It scored 191 "reads". During its 230 days on Literotica it was read .83 times per day (less than once). That's pretty poor but Eve manages to get still way less reads. Unbelievable. I'll have to check Eve's page to see her secret myself.

In its better days the poem had two votes, both 5, one by Angeline I believe. These days the cities... has still two votes but they average 3.5 Angeline's vote was considered by Literotica a fraud. And so were the votes of many of you on other occasions.

I have on Literotica another, about equally long poem but nobody cares (despite its 373 reads). It has only one vote, and it is the bottom 1.00. I would mercilessly provide you with all the trivia but I got tired myself, lucky you.

Thank you, Angeline, and best regards everybody,

            Senna Jawa

PS. The text of the poem has a typo, which I spotted a long time ago but the editing process is so clumsy that in the case of such a long poem I just gave up on the correction. Line:

    i thought Gary i knew you

has "t" missing

 

[Senna Jawa]

"the cities..."-- trivia completed

I will give you the trivia time!

[...] There are 7 characters plus (casually) some women (possibly administrative assistants) and managers. Four of the 7 characters are main.

Actually, there are 8 individual characters and three crowds (two of which are mentioned above).

And, as you could see it from Angeline's quote, my poem also contains a small song, which I made up years earlier, before the poem. Of course my song is jazz. No, I am not going to record it for Literotica, I had enough feedback in that restaurant.

Regards,

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Today I rediscovered this amazing poem almost by accident. In my opinion, one of just pet's best.

Freedom
by just pet ©

the ties that bind are not physical
no ropes or metal sedate my limbs
with connection so strong
separated only by air
i feel You with every moment
i am keenly aware
of the tendrils of Your love
wrapped round my heart
in complex lacings
inseparable from the vessels
that bring blood to every cell
of the body that waits for You
if i struggle to free myself
from the secure depth of your devotion
they bind tighter and tighter
cutting deeply into delicate tissue
heartbeat arrested in emptiness
breathing rendered impossible
without You orchestrating every inhalation
timing every exhalation to match yours
i lose my will
now so inextricably intertwined with Yours
to struggle for independence
and separation
bring pain
crushing burning stangling pain
total surrender to You
victorious submission
brings comfort
peace
and easy breath
hot blood now circulating freely
in exquisite patterns of obedience
being under Your lock and key
brings the greatest freedom of all


-------------------------------------------------
Who could ever forget sp's "dangerously jagged fries"?

Complete Excerpts
by 03sp ©

bluish red
human hair,
lady fingers,
buried lady knuckles
and thumbs up to
mischief deep,

That's not blood, it's ketchup.
No, it's blood.
my lady
cut her lady finger
pouring condiment over
patty of beef laying
next to dangerously jagged fries

 

[Guest]

thank an L. H. today

well, how appropriately appropriate

 

[Senna Jawa]

Today I rediscovered this amazing poem almost by accident. In my opinion, one of just pet's best.

Freedom
by just pet ©

the ties that bind are not physical
[...]

A hopeless text, pityful junk.

 

[Guest]

A hopeless text, pityful junk.

remind me not to invite you to my next polite party

 

[Senna Jawa]

remind me not to invite you to my next polite party

No need to. It would be beneath me to attend it.

You, petersmith=03sp, and politeness--give me a break. And don't confuse your pathetic snottiness with good manners.

 

[Angeline]

Lauren's thread

deserves better than insult hurling. I'm posting poems.

Here is an excerpt from my favorite funny erotic poem by one of my favorite poets and uh dogs.

The Hallmark Quickie by karmadog

I lifted her skirt emboldened by scotch.
and found pantyhose with a reinforced crotch.
But what’s made by Man may be unmade by me.
With a rip, an entrance to a hole much sweeter.
I turned her around to admire her globes
She bent at the waist and I gave each a smack
The foreplay completed, I sought out her crack.

Flesh slapping flesh drew eyes from the dumpster.
Tiny whiskers atwitter each time I humped her
Unnoticed they watched and washed filthy faces
then returned to their meal of free beer and bar food.
Round the corner drove a pickup maybe a Dodge.
But Mary and I, we continued to fuck
What could I do? Waddle away like a duck?

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Lauren's thread

deserves better than insult hurling. I'm posting poems.

Far from it. Just that I even have bothered with him was an undeserved honor, not an insult, to snotty SP.

Here is an excerpt from my favorite funny erotic poem by one of my favorite poets and uh dogs.

The Hallmark Quickie by karmadog

I lifted her skirt emboldened by scotch.
...

I wish KD were more active in poetry. I always found this piece funny and very well written. He writes poems rarely but well. Others may try five hundred times and not once up to any artistic standard. Cruel but true, that's life.

 

[Angeline]

Originally posted by Angeline
deserves better than insult hurling. I'm posting poems.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Far from it. Just that I even have bothered with him was an undeserved honor, not an insult, to snotty SP.
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here is an excerpt from my favorite funny erotic poem by one of my favorite poets and uh dogs.

The Hallmark Quickie by karmadog

I lifted her skirt emboldened by scotch.
...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wish KD were more active in poetry. I always found this piece funny and very well written. He writes poems rarely but well. Others may try five hundred times and not once up to any artistic standard. Cruel but true, that's life.

No. It is not life. It is an opinion--yours--and it is one I don't share, as you know. Now here is another opinion: please let this go, and do not make this site an uncomfortable place for me or others to be.

 

[Senna Jawa]

[...] please let this go, and do not make this site an uncomfortable place for me or others to be.

Look Angeline, SmithPeter has farted too close to me, so I said that it stinks. But you had no business to comment. Blaim yourself.

In general, it is simpler not to add gasoline (or should I say angeline) to fire. Some people, and it's not your case Angeline, love to do it because it makes them feel "important". You do it due to your poor judgement; BTW, remember that your nonsense protest against getting rid of Saddam? That was poor judgement too.

 

[Senna Jawa]

[...]

I forgot to mention (and that's your fault too )--your "Time Zone" sounds like a true top 40 rock song. And the graphics is great too. If you can then let each next clock be ahead of the previous one (let it show somewhat later time), and it will be still better.

Are you offering this "Tiome Zone" graphics to other poets to have their poems in it?

BTW, when you judge poems you cannot go by friends and loyalties to friends. You have to be loyal to poetry only or you pay artistically (you mess up your brain or if you prefer more romantic terms: you mess up your artistic instinct, your feel for poetry). Nothing is free.

 

[Angeline]

Senna, whatever my judgment or business is, it is mine, not yours. Whether you think my judgment is poor or not I have as much right to post as you or anyone, and I'll accept responsibility for my judgment. You have now "farted" as you so delicately put it, too close to me. And your point about "gasoline," a crude extension of your metaphor, is absolutely correct. I am not and never have been one to sit quietly on the sidelines. If I were, I would not have defended you in the past.

You told me in a recent email not to respond publically to rants, but really you leave me no choice. You are a very intelligent man, so it surprises me that you cannot see the inherent double standard in your offense at sp's "snottiness," but not how offensive it is for you to publically call someone else's poetry "pitiful junk."

As I've said before, an opinion is one thing, but to express it so cruelly and tactlessly is simply meanspirited, senna. Exactly how does your doing that further anyone's understanding of poetry?

And I'm glad you like Time Zone, but that doesn't change the way I feel--something, may I add, that I presumably know more about than you. If you want to discuss this further, please pm or email me. I don't want to continue this in Lauren's thread, and I won't.

 

[Senna Jawa]

You told me in a recent email not to respond publically to rants,

Please, refrain from making any references whatsoever to our private correspondence.

[...] but really you leave me no choice.

You're very wrong, double and triple wrong. But that's your choice.

[...]you cannot see the inherent double standard in your offense at sp's "snottiness," but not how offensive it is for you to publically call someone else's poetry "pitiful junk."

I have commented strictly on a poem. Snotty SmithPeter 03sp took liberty to be rude to me as a person. (BTW, my opinion about the poem was not tactless etc., it was adequate and precise).

 

[Guest]

.

 

[Guest]

written standing up

.

 

[WickedEve]

Snotty and farting, I love you anyway, sp. SJ, you're being a real shit to my best friend. We're here to talk poetry, not act like we're in preschool. I do agree with you to some extent. That was not pet's best work. I've read some of her poems that were much better, but I don't think it's pitiful junk. It's simply not your cup of tea, and to you it may be junk, but what good does it do to state it publicly.


Okay, let's get back to poetry now that I feel all important. Hey, why hasn't anyone mentioned my older poems? I have, at least, a few good ones. Two? One?

 

[Senna Jawa]

SJ, you're being a real shit to my best friend.

It was not the first time that your snotty friend was "real shit" and snotty to me. This time I had enough.

I do agree with you to some extent. That was not pet's best work.[...] it may be junk, but what good does it do to state it publicly.

The work was posted publicly and it was open to public praise and critique. An objective, precise, adequate opinions have value to the author and to the other aspiring poets. The wishy washy statements do not, they are counterproductive, they promote mediocrity..

Okay, let's get back to poetry now that I feel all important. Hey, why hasn't anyone mentioned my older poems? I have, at least, a few good ones. Two? One?

It was not in the spinner, it's all about probability. Post ten thousand pieces and you will have a better chance. Or do what your "best friend" did above, post your poem about a stalled fake medalion yourself.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

I hadn't read this poem before, but it made me glad I decided to look for something special today.

Once Surrounded
by smithpeter ©

there is movement
between admirers
often noticed,
or ignored
by polite public

there is a fluid stance
below table
not unlike tasting
as public dance,
shared forks, finger dabbing
eye closing creams

[...]

-------------------------------------------------
Just for you, Eve. I remembered this one from elsewhere.

Final Concerns
by WickedEve ©

Will Mother choose my final dress?
She knows black is appropriate
and slimming.
I hope the gray will be touched up
and lines around my mouth smoothed.
Leave my glasses elsewhere
than on my face.
And don't let Aunt Sally sing.
She could wake the dead.

-------------------------------------------------
Senna, if wishy washy statements don't have any value to the authors, are counterproductive and promote mediocrity, you'll have to share with the world someday what do "pitiful junk" "comments" do for anyone, other than make them think the author of these comments is a bitter person whose opinions should be ignored.