Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[PatCarrington]

I think "drumroll" is probably spelled solid. I'll check my Webster's.

<edited to add>

yep, it is:

One entry found for drumroll.


Main Entry: drum·roll
Pronunciation: 'dr&m-"rOl
Function: noun
: a roll on a drum or its sound

right, ange.

it either needs to be written as one word (drumroll), or hyphenated (drum-roll), because it's an adjective here. it can't be written as "drum roll".

no?

 

[Angeline]

right, ange.

it either needs to be written as one word (drumroll), or hyphenated (drum-roll), because it's an adjective here. it can't be written as "drum roll".

no?

I'd spell it solid anyway.

ps--no comma after "because" Paidrigh

<runs from thread>

 

[PatCarrington]

I'd spell it solid anyway.

ps--no comma after "because" Paidrigh

<runs from thread>

<chase chase>

who put a comma after "because"?

you spelled the name wrong.

no bushmills for you.

 

[PatCarrington]

.....

 

[Angeline]

<chase chase>

who put a comma after "because"?

you spelled the name wrong.

no bushmills for you.

so sue me.

and I already have some chardonnay.

there is no icon for the face I want to make at you, but assume I wrinkled my nose at you here--------------->

 

[annaswirls]

thank you pat and angeline.

I am not done, just my presence required elsewhere, will be back


Sidekick Camille never seemed to mind playing
both dog and pony, or the petite village idiot
who always winds up on the soft side of the pie.

Pretending to sleep beneath a heap of
tight sequenced bodice and baggy Chaplin pants,
he sees her form move under the blanket of
ragged costumes in sizes of girls past.

As always, requires a drumroll introduction
of his record holding cock that disappears
like dark magic into so many spaces.

Camille knew, despite the choking finger grip
and cruel disregard for dryness
it was good he was here,
where he could only pick up nasty ailments
that she had gotten from him.
These generous gifts
of bugs and the communal wrath of god
to poison their sinful parts
that should never have been close.

Better he sleep here than in the hunting ground
with the local push-up slut.
Dressed like a lady of proper breeding and
with a beg your pardon, Sir
only takes a short drive down the river
where strings loosen, and formalities drop
like panties in the mud.

Opened wide and pre-primed, never
have to struggle with full on plus two fingers.
Easily moving into the encore--
head hanging from passenger door
taking his trick cock down the open throat
no longer surprised by intrusion.

Camille submerges into shallow sleep,
and waits for cramps to signal the inevitable splattering
of cum softened stool and a retch of gin-scented vomit.
Sitting with a bucket between her feet
she empties herself of him from both ends at once

Then shivering, she paints on her best
Marcel Marceau face, holds the hat,
and rolls the drum to announce
the next greatest thing.

 

[Tathagata]

She.

It's always a she isn't it?
Who causes the world to dance
blades to rise, bards to write
and babes to smile
and grasp words
that mean nothing.


She understood.
The profundity of that can't be captured
in a thousand words,
but it can almost be expressed
in two.

Ascending recklessly
you feel each platform a summit
and then...
higher still.

The journey
becomes
the joy.

To have it drawn away,
your marrow with it,
leaves you cavernous and arid.

You are a reed
through which life passes
and makes a hollow moan
at midnight.

I can live
with dreading midnights,
but I wish my heart deaf
to that fucking moan.

 

[flyguy69]

......

 

[flyguy69]

Skyward Eyes

There is no script, no map
to this unbuilt place. Each step
an act of faith
that steel,

not air,

waits underfoot. Wavering
outstretched wire walker leans
into a rarified world
of promises.

Push, I’m here!​

She tests twisted
strands with her sole,
lifts her palms
for balance.

Let anchors fall
from sight; eyes
that seek foundation
dim: it is skyward eyes
that find this dream.

 

[Tathagata]

i am a rumor
a ghost
i exist without benefit
of being seen
I'm passed back and forth
in closeted conversations
and wondered about
during the
in between
moments

ordinary things
cause me to flash
into the real world
your real world
and just as suddenly
i fade to black
scene change
and my stage goes dark

I'm a knick knack in the attic
that you forget to take downstairs
every time
but are comforted knowing
I'm still up there
somewhere

 

[Tathagata]

befriend the dead
welcome stiff azure embraces
from grandpa's tobacco scented coat

rest your cheek
on cool tombstone shoulders
and hush the clicking jaw

familiarize yourself with the dead
the wasted wounded waylaid shadows
of this circus realm

seat them at holiday tables
and pour them the finest whiskeys
cuban cigars and sonatas in G minor

talk with them and listen
as they emote dry memories of times gone
and learn the ragged lessons

ignore the blood, bone, the smell of origin
dark, rotting,mushroom wood
and swamp side miasma

be nice to the dead
someday
they will be your only
companions

 

[Remec]

Here's a piece I've been sort of mulling over and picking at, and thought I'd ask for some observations from the local construction crew <g>

-------------



I throw the dice, leaving it all to Fate,
hoping...just once, Lady Luck will be kind...
when taking risks, it is never too late.

Another Saturday night, and I sit and wait
until, tired of being left behind,
I throw the dice, leaving it all to Fate.

Sick to death, perhaps from something I ate,
no, not that, it's just in my mind.
When taking risks, it is never too late.

I toss on my jacket, even though it's late,
and down the walk to my car I wind.
I throw the dice, leaving it all to Fate,

___ate
___ind
when taking risks, it is never too late.

Sometimes, it seems, you have nothing but hate
and obsession. It is just what you'll find.
I throw the dice, leaving it all to Fate,
when taking risks, it is never too late

 

[PatCarrington]

.....

 

[flyguy69]

Remec, I don't know how to write form poetry so I am probably not a particularly helpful resource with this. But this seems to be headed for the very fate that keeps me from attempting it. The form forces you to use lines like

I throw the dice, leaving it all to Fate,

which is redundent, and

Sick to death, perhaps from something I ate

which is silly. Free of form you could use the word play that you have so successfully employed before.

My thoughts.

 

[Tathagata]

Everyone needs protection. It’s why
they invented guns, catatonia.
And religion. <---religion as protection has an odd sound to it. I suppose in some aspects it's true but when I think about why religion was created I come first to explanation of the world, and not protection.
Talismans

with all sorts of shapes and shines:
Blue steel that reflects streetlights, <---blue steel...a bit cliche
provides safety for restless fingers.
Far-away eyes glazed like smoked glass. <---what about tying in stained glass instead of smoked?
They are homes. Heavy books with inlaid
golds from heaven. <-----golds = riches or blessings? golds seem to be very materialistic

My amulet is silver,

an oval shield on a chain. Its alchemy
promises me a method of defense
from baser metals, and last rites
approved by the mightiest of masters. < --I like this alot



He
knows I am a pilgrim. I know all about him
and the charming of highways. He carried

people on crossings, even Christ. He died
at Lycia. I don’t know where that is, or how
it feels chest-deep in the baptism
of raging water with the worldweight of God’s
baby on your shoulders. If I let him brush
against my heart long enough, I’ve been told
I’ll find out.

I like the idea of this.
It almost feels as though you are hedging back from religion itself though...an unbeliever in a foxhole as it were.
I think you could add a few more original phrases/ descriptions and make it a much more visual poem.
religion if full of color and symbols so use them
they, in turn, would contrast with the simplicity of the ' silver amulet" and in doing so present the simplicity of the saint as opposed to the grandeur of organized religion
Thus
you could be putting your faith in an " enlightened man" and not the " golds from heaven"

If that's where you wanted to go


Also you would be looking to a "man" for protection and not God.

Please remember..these are just my opinions.

 

[PatCarrington]

I like the idea of this.
It almost feels as though you are hedging back from religion itself though...an unbeliever in a foxhole as it were.
I think you could add a few more original phrases/ descriptions and make it a much more visual poem.
religion if full of color and symbols so use them
they, in turn, would contrast with the simplicity of the ' silver amulet" and in doing so present the simplicity of the saint as opposed to the grandeur of organized religion
Thus
you could be putting your faith in an " enlightened man" and not the " golds from heaven"

If that's where you wanted to go


Also you would be looking to a "man" for protection and not God.

Please remember..these are just my opinions.

thanks tath.

all good points.

it just came out of my sick mind this morning....still very much a work in progress.

i was trying to bounce as much as i could (be it rushed) off the word "alchemy".....i'm still doing that as i rewrite.

this will be back up ( a few times, i'm sure ) -- as it evolves, hopefully for the better.

 

[flyguy69]

Stockyard

This one needs lots of work!

South Omaha settles
about your feet, a viscous
soup of slaughter and poverty
that retards each step; a pleading
stew that wraps your calves
like thick tongues bleating
for market. Tonight

the cattle wear silk, or pseudo-
silk from Brandeis, as they cut
through blue cigarette cones
and turn their big eyes
on the hungry sea about them.
Lashes betray the youth
in their stares as they bounce
on their soles to keep the beer
from sucking them
into a desperate pool

of broken-nosed
dreams. Cud is passed
father to father,
with finger-in-your-scarlet-face promises
of asses turned to burger
before the sky bruises purple.

The killing floor is a Pollack
canvas of the sap of boys
hoisted on pikes of grown-up
bravado. In this emphasemic
circus Benny curls
his gloved thumbs
on the rope that keeps his uncles
at bay, and binds him to a boy

he learns to hate. He flares
his nostrils and squeezes violence
from his pores, clamps fear
in his gut with a silicone
sneer. He hates the eyebrows,
the ballpoint tattoo, the cross
that boy makes with his fist. Tonight

the poison of this place will rain
like blows and plastic cups
on that boy, and Benny will lift
his father’s arms in triumph.

But Monday he will skip
school, unable to muster the hatred
to face those swollen eyes
in English class. He will flee
the scrutiny of daylight
and hang in lowing fear
of the stockyard’s dark windows.

 

[PatCarrington]

fly

it may need work, but it deserves it.

don't abandon that one. it's the real thing.

 

[PatCarrington]

.....

 

[Tathagata]

Everyone needs protection. It’s why
they invented guns, catatonia.
And religions. Talismans

with all sorts of shapes and shines:
Blue steel reflecting streetlights provides
safety for restless fingers. Far-away eyes
glazed like stained glass are iron homes.
Heavy bibles inlaid with the lead of doubt
reach to the philosopher’s stone.

My amulet hangs loose, an oval shield
on thin chain. Its alchemy promises
a method of defense from baser metals,
and last rites approved by the mightiest
of masters. Is it a man or god

who shelters me with such small silver?
He knows I am a pilgrim. And I know all
about him and the charming of highways.
How he carried people at crossings, even

Christ. He died at Lycia. I don’t know where
that is, or how it feels to be chest-deep
in a baptism of raging water, the worldweight
of God’s child on your shoulders. If I let him
brush against my heart long enough,
I’ve been told I’ll find out.

The first two verses don't measure up to the rest of the poem.
Those last 3 are powerful. I don't think I'd change anything at this point...but it depends on what you do with the beginning. .
Lead of doubt is better than gold, far away eyes...if you could get it to one word it might be a smoother read...Unseeing, unresponsive, lifeless, ..
and I still say blue steel is beneath you...so to speak

 

[Tathagata]

Befriend the dead.
Welcome stiff azure embraces
from grandpa's tobacco scented coat.

Rest your cheek
on cool tombstone shoulders
and hush the clicking jaw.

Familiarize yourself with the dead,
the wasted wounded waylaid shadows
of this circus realm.

Seat them at holiday tables
and pour them the finest whiskeys,
cuban cigars and sonatas in G minor.

Talk with them and listen,
as they dredge up dessicated memories of times gone,
and learn their ragged lessons.

Ignore the blood, bone, smell of origin,
dark,rotting mushroom wood ,
and swamp side miasma.

Adore the dead for
someday
they will be your only
companions.

 

[BooMerengue]

Befriend the dead.
Welcome stiff azure embraces
from grandpa's tobacco scented coat.

Rest your cheek
on cool tombstone shoulders
and hush the clicking jaw.

Familiarize yourself with the dead,
the wasted wounded waylaid shadows
of this circus realm.

Seat them at holiday tables
and pour them the finest whiskeys,
cuban cigars and sonatas in G minor.

Talk with them and listen,
as they dredge up dessicated memories of times gone,
and learn their ragged lessons.

Ignore the blood, bone, smell of origin,
dark,rotting mushroom wood ,
and swamp side miasma.

Adore the dead for
someday
they will be your only
companions.

Tath she said timidly...I liked this right away. Except for the word 'azure'. Azure makes me think of summer skies and balmy beaches. I see why you want blue... and I can see the blue... but is there another 'blue' word that might work better? Maybe not even a blue word. musty? no... it's already tobacco scented. hmmm. Wintery?

I went to rhymezone and that didn't help. sorry

just MHO.

 

[Tathagata]

Tath she said timidly...I liked this right away. Except for the word 'azure'. Azure makes me think of summer skies and balmy beaches. I see why you want blue... and I can see the blue... but is there another 'blue' word that might work better? Maybe not even a blue word. musty? no... it's already tobacco scented. hmmm. Wintery?

I went to rhymezone and that didn't help. sorry

just MHO.

I just liked the way azure and embraces sounded together
i considered cobalt and indigo..
what do you think of either of those?
I also wanted to avoid it sounding "cold" they are embraces to be welcomed

 

[BooMerengue]

I just liked the way azure and embraces sounded together
i considered cobalt and indigo..
what do you think of either of those?
I also wanted to avoid it sounding "cold" they are embraces to be welcomed

I think indigo is better. It says dark, aged, deep...yeahhh.....

but you had 'stiff' there... I thought you were lookin for ways to describe someone already dead. My bad...

 

[duckiesmut]

I just liked the way azure and embraces sounded together
i considered cobalt and indigo..
what do you think of either of those?
I also wanted to avoid it sounding "cold" they are embraces to be welcomed

I love the way 'indigo embraces' flows together. Just my two cents.