Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[fawnie]

Re: 2nd draft

editing 7/1

growing old with men


I have met them in the morning,
sought them at breakfast
with small talk
and whiskey in Coke cans,
made them drunk.

they worked in department stores
at Christmas, fast-food diners
in summer, school-free,
waved their peeled shirts
like battle flags.

I dressed in pink,
ate licorice,
knew I could rub, look
them through and leave
like a window raindrop, use
them up without questions.

justice
was a polka dot.

I have met them in the afternoon,
lunch menus out,
hungry.
they gripped,
could not be outrun.
years
muscled their legs.

I had turned delicate
since the stumbling days
of braces,
the awkward gangles.
their smiles had schooled,
grown wicked
and wise.

gaps formed
between flirtation and betrayal,
deepened in color,
left their dye, smear
of pistachio red,
opened my ribcage.

the clockmaker
adjusted his watch.

I have met them at the close of day,
in brown,
and there is philosophy
and bent backs,
shawls and kerchiefs.
sand footprints
have been filled, notice given
to foolishness.

though I crave, now and then,
ice cream for supper,
there is a fondness
for vegetables.

and though
I am without dance
and prayers are prayed
to dry dreams,

I have company.



one day in December -new poem....please read.

one scoop or two??

 

[champagne1982]

Lie down with me on this cool grass
look up into the sky.
I'll whisper you a story --

A woman peered up in the night
seeing more than flames
from the fire on her hearth.
As the spark flew up higher than sight
she saw the white milk from Mother's breasts.

Come drift with me on the starlight of time
we'll rest here in Machu Picchu.
Counting with condor's eyes and serpent's scales
how long the spark has lived.

Sighted along a heavenly path, we'll fly
to Ramses' chamber, deep inside the stones.
Viewing the light that proves,
even after Earthly life, we continue.

Hathor promises the floods will come
and Hormus will love the children of Ra
bringing them, swimming, home.

Look north and east where
we will speed along,
to Sumer and ancient kindoms. Lost
in concious memory but written
on ancient stone.

Fables of a nation, gone,
who built a tower high.
Audacity and bitumen would take them
to the sky and there they'd touch the stars.

God is jealous of his domain.
The tower was cast from heaven
and the landing struck confusion evermore,
in the minds of men.

Look up, my love and listen close
to myths that explain the whys and hows
asked of the stars. Everlasting.

Heroes and gods can be found atop the highest
mountain peak, or placed in a goddess'
tapestry to sparkle like jewels
against the black skin of midnight's mistress.

Copernicus bit his tongue and held close
the truth of what he'd found, his prayers
answered, centuries gone, when the world
could bear the news that we are not the center
and the universe does not revolve around mankind.

Galileo's furnace blasted the sand. His hands
polished a lens, to see without doubt, the truth
that lies shrouded in mystery.

The stars will still be there tomorrow
and the spark, shining in your eye,
will confirm my notion, even though we lie
down on the cool grass of eventide, our souls sail
along a starry stream of white milk from Mother's breasts.

 

[Liar]

As a dream in between 10.15
and my Saturday scream.

Central Station.

Ten strapped up,
four brought down,
one in a laughing fit
from taking in too much
of the scenery.

Or maybe just overdosing
on that sweet nectar espesso
provided by sex walking
in a braced grin
and a pale freckle palette
across the counter.

He'll be back there soon
like a window batter fly
for a refill he could live without,
because this day he realised
what he can not live without,

and how to get that out
of it's 7-11 uniform shirt
and run away with it,
and her, forever.

Try to visualise
64 tons of unforginving steel.
Bodies in motion remain,
on screeching wheels,
rain lubricated enough to roll
but not enough
to stop bitching about it.

Four platforms, 221 souls flinch in unison.

Going north, soing south,
right not going nowhere,
to a surreal score of thunderclaps
rolling in form more interresting times.

Rain like an open faucet
leaks something more than mere drops
on boiling aspalt.

Lazy breaks finally respond
and ease their grip,
so we can return to hostile stares...
...and blame one another
for the bloody rain.

All but one,
who drains with a grimace
his espresso coffee mug
and heads briskly back,
to buy another

and another
and another

until she agrees
to go out with him,
maybe even falling
for the Tinseltown
happy ending legends.

 

[annaswirls]

playing with my archives 1999


I want fresh fruit
delivered to my door
every morning
by someone with strong hands
to rub my feet while I eat peaches
and never worry about
juice on my shirt

I want someone
to make me fresh
salad for lunch

I want mail
with handwriting on the envelope
and a stamp
that has been licked

I want a drink
that goes right to my head
and stays there

 

[Tathagata]

2nd

.....

 

[annaswirls]

key of G (oop I edited again)

I always played his acoustic
upside down
and left handed
since first I picked it up,
teaching myself
pink floyd and bob marley intros
playing them over and over

he told me
south paws still take it
top to bottom
showed me beatles cover to prove it
I refused to agree

it was not the first of my
intentional goof giggly
girl thing drove him crazy

but it was too late
already had figured out
"wish you were here"
and "redemption song"

and the callous was in place
by the time you caught me
dyslexic and determined
to make a scene

~for my brother, who beat most of my annoying habits right out of me~

okay usually with squigglies and tickle torture

 

[Tathagata]

3rd

.....

 

[tarablackwood22]

2nd draft w/edits

--

 

[Tathagata]

4th

.....

 

[fawnie]

dark magic

 

[champagne1982]

Originally posted by champagne1982
Lie down with me on this cool grass
look up into the sky.
I'll whisper you a story --

A woman peered up in the night
seeing more than flames
from the fire on her hearth.
As the spark flew up higher than sight
she saw the white milk from Mother's breasts.

Come drift with me on the starlight of time
we'll rest here in Machu Picchu.
Counting with condor's eyes and serpent's scales
how long the spark has lived.

Sighted along a heavenly path, we'll fly
to Ramses' chamber, deep inside the stones.
Viewing the light that proves,
even after Earthly life, we continue.

Hathor promises the floods will come
and Hormus will love the children of Ra
bringing them, swimming, home.

Look north and east where
we will speed along,
to Sumer and ancient kindoms. Lost
in concious memory but written
on ancient stone.

Fables of a nation, gone,
who built a tower high.
Audacity and bitumen would take them
to the sky and there they'd touch the stars.

God is jealous of his domain.
The tower was cast from heaven
and the landing struck confusion evermore,
in the minds of men.

Look up, my love and listen close
to myths that explain the whys and hows
asked of the stars. Everlasting.

Heroes and gods can be found atop the highest
mountain peak, or placed in a goddess'
tapestry to sparkle like jewels
against the black skin of midnight's mistress.

Copernicus bit his tongue and held close
the truth of what he'd found, his prayers
answered, centuries gone, when the world
could bear the news that we are not the center
and the universe does not revolve around mankind.

Galileo's furnace blasted the sand. His hands
polished a lens, to see without doubt, the truth
that lies shrouded in mystery.

The stars will still be there tomorrow
and the spark, shining in your eye,
will confirm my notion, even though we lie
down on the cool grass of eventide, our souls sail
along a starry stream of white milk from Mother's breasts.

edit July 3..
Lie down with me on cool grass,
look up into the sky.
I'll whisper you a story --

A woman peered through the night
seeing more than flames
at the fire on her hearth.
A spark flew up higher than sight lost,
along a stream of milk, from Gaia's breasts.

Come drift with me in starlit time
we'll rest in Machu Pichu,
counting how long the spark has lived
with our condor's eyes and serpent's scales

Straight, on a heavenly path, we'll fly
to Ramses' chamber, deep inside the stones.
Hathor promises the floods will come
to save the children of Ra
bringing them, swimming, home.

Look north and east, we'll speed to Sumer
and antiquity's kindoms, hidden from conscious
memory but striking sparks on ancient stone.
Fables of a nation, who built a tower high.
Audacity and bitumen would take them
to the sky and there, they'd touch the stars.

God is jealous of his domain,
the stars His sentinels.
Vanity's tower was cast from heaven
and the landing sparked confusion,
in the minds of men.

Look up and listen to myths answering
the questions asked the stars.
Heroes and gods living, immortal,
atop the highest mountain peak,
or placed in a goddess' tapestry to sparkle,
against midnight's mistress' skin.

Copernicus bit his tongue and held close
the the spark of truth he'd found. His prayers
answered, centuries gone, when the world
could bear the news that we are not the center
and the universe does not revolve around mankind.

Galileo's furnace blasted sand. His hands
polished a lens, the grinding sparking stardust.
Mankind could see, without doubt, the truth
still remained shrouded in mystery.

The stars will still be there tomorrow
and the spark, shining in your eye,
confirms my notion, even though we lie
down on cool grass, our souls sail
along a stream of milk, from Gaia's breasts.

 

[echoes_s]

at a friend's house, can't stay

a new twist...

wear is the warmth?

same situation
but clipped with
pruned callousness

shit and men in
the same breath,
manure for shrubs

and for the first time
as i severed
a stump

a clod of leftovers
natural rot
leaving it's fruit

and greens
to scattered ash
not caring if it rained

and my best friend's son just punched me for swearing
what a sweetheart

 

[fawnie]

1st draft

 

[fawnie]

1st draft

 

[annaswirls]

Help! I need the right word!

I am reworking some poems I wrote in some sort of delerium a few months ago--

I am looking for a word replacement

"Over the banks of the Macoby,
roots hang loose from soil
like the fringe of the fifteen year old
shower curtain, inherited....."

okay when someone dies you inherit things, what do you call it when the divorce leaves you with something (especially something that you do not really want to have?)


errrrr

is there such a word?]

I know custody refers to kids
what about curtains and houses?

Help me oh kings and queens of vocabulary! I lose a piece of mine with every bob the freaking builder cartoon


anna

 

[KatPurrs]

acquired?

Kat ~

 

[lipsticksunset1984]

Anna --

how about SPOILS with an adjective in front.....

silly spoils.....sterile spoils.....barren spoils.....worthless spoils...... inane spoils ?????

 

[lipsticksunset1984]

2nd draft

-

 

[tungtied2u]

Re: Help! I need the right word!

I am reworking some poems I wrote in some sort of delerium a few months ago--

I am looking for a word replacement

"Over the banks of the Macoby,
roots hang loose from soil
like the fringe of the fifteen year old
shower curtain, inherited....."

okay when someone dies you inherit things, what do you call it when the divorce leaves you with something (especially something that you do not really want to have?)


errrrr

is there such a word?]

I know custody refers to kids
what about curtains and houses?

Help me oh kings and queens of vocabulary! I lose a piece of mine with every bob the freaking builder cartoon


anna

how about detritus?- a sediment left afterearth is ground down

 

[annaswirls]

thanks! I will post the finished version soon as I get my ass in gear and write it~

 

[fawnie]

oceans apart

 

[fawnie]

3rd draft

 

[Angeline]

Like any Wednesday
driving and polite
smiles and real people
in there past the gulf
of daily but it's hard
to be seen there

where we all wear
our masks of fine
and time is the second
hand time is needing
someone else's
money just to eat
you can't eat poems

my father would say
you can't eat books
and I would gladly
nourish only my soul
if I could
if I could

 

[fawnie]

final draft

 

[echoes_s]

stripping the kitchen
bare of ornaments,
sconces, flowers
candles, apple scented
family and silly
nick knacks

grabbing ladders
leaving chairs, tearing
down lights,
grabbing brush
armed with paint
now starts the beginning
of a new face

in the back room lay
11 gallons of paint
assorted colors
from sapphire blue
to coral peach, almost
rustic in shadows

dusty pink with
burgundy, sage fern
to a candlestick cream
white washed green
puffy blue with a hint
of sparkled snow

dolphin and roses
merlock and dragons
the constellation
large moon
faeries, gnomes
on mushrooms

an additional winnie the pooh
roo, tiger, piglet,
hare, and owl too
Christopher Anderson
and a couple
yu-gi-oh heros
scattered here and there