Same Title Challenge - Redux
- Thread starter The_Fool
- Start date
The_Fool
smiling for the camera
- Joined
- Jan 14, 2003
- Posts
- 17,755
Angeline said:It's not just *any* boob. It's *Lauren's* boob. It not only speaks; it speaks seven languages. God only knows what else it can do.
So, Fool, enjoying your thread hijack by out of control poet chicks? lol
I want some of what you guys have been drinkin' and if you won't share with me, share with Cordelia. She has a wonderful back, but maybe she will turn around and add to the present discussion....
lickmyboot
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
- Posts
- 223
LOL
This is why I love Lit. You made me laugh so hard I scared the dog!
I think all of our poems should be about Lauren's international boobs!
This is why I love Lit. You made me laugh so hard I scared the dog!
I think all of our poems should be about Lauren's international boobs!
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,174
Ok, last year I wrote a Christmas poem about Lauren's boob and Eve's lube--why not again...
2002 Lit Poets' Christmas
It was sometime around Christmas on the poetry board
We were mulling around in our usual state of discord
Of course we were stirring, as you all are aware
Arguing about poems, whining, blowing hot air
But the poems were nestled all snug in the threads
As visions of book contracts danced in our heads
And I in my reindeer nose and Lauren with that boob
Were about to gift wrap Wicked Eve’s Christmas lube
When outside the board there arose such a clatter
That we clicked back at once to see what was the matter
And thus off we scampered quickly dropping Eve’s lube
Lauren slipped (for the record she does have another boob)
And we ran into karmadog who we saw bark and point
Well he did after he put down the beer and the joint
But then what to our six amazed eyes did appear
But an old pickup truck that was loaded with gear
The truck wasn’t special just a rusty two seater
But behind its wheel sat our old pal Smithpeter!
And it screeched to a halt then the poet jumped out
And raced into the board to see who was about
“Hello JUDO, hi OT, now Homer, now Lick,
Hello Rybka, hi_Land, Beth I heard you were sick!
How’s my thread doing, did anyone forget it?
It’s called Passion Suddenly: if you post, do not edit!
Then back to his truck Smithpeter did run
To unpack what looked like a big sack of fun
A bagful of muse from a drawerful of socks
Some photos, ideas, silly things like pet rocks
But first he went off for a hike through a thread
to return with a thoughtful look, scratching his head
Saying I’ve got some things to share if you agree
They fell in my truck from this sleigh above me
up in the sky with reindeer---and the thing is
it was driven by a guy almost as big as Mingus.
And with that he handed out gifts like a suitor
The first one to Lauren--a working computer!
And saying that this one was dropped by Prancer
he handed Karmadog a new belly dancer
And Ange some Prez tunes, JUDO a new board
Happy safe faces for the _Land/Beth’s horde
Clear moonlit nights on the lake for Ms. Kat
For all of us just what we most want and that
He said is all I believe except for something
For dear Wicked Eve and that oh good gracious
Is not here but at [new url goes here
]! And taking her hand helped her into the truck
Then started it up with a creak, squeak and buck
And they waved as the truck disappeared from our site
Calling Merry Christmas dear poets:
Write, Write Write!
Let's do it as a group poem this year, ok? We'll all write. I'll start a thread.
The first splash into the entry pool
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I have decided to post a poem I wrote for this challenge. So while you all prepare your graceful swan dives into the entry pool, here I come, bounding off the board, attempting a cannonball (but probably producing more of a belly flop)
Don't kill me...my Mistress made me do it.
D A Stone
Elaborate Décolletage
Soft light reflected in the sheen of sweat on her flesh
As we dance, of her perfume I detect a hint
Bending closer to the pulsing in her neck, daring
To drown in the sweet scent as I take a deep breath
Eyes moving along the edge of a neckline plunging
Edged in hand crafted, pure white lace
Breasts straining for release from the lace
So that they may press against the bare flesh
Of the partner's chest where his shirt is plunging
Giving the woman the barest hint
Of his desire as he draws in that deep breath
And considering if he is truly that daring
Would drowning in her enticing scent be daring
As he imagines the treasures held back by the lace
Watching intently the movement as she draws each breath
Tantalized by the movement of light and shadows over her flesh
The quickening of her pulse in her neck giving a hint
That into further depths of desire she is plunging
If the music ended now would she stop plunging
Would he lose his chance to show his daring
Would the pulse slow, making him doubt the hint
That was promised by the scent from between the river of lace
Barely covering the soft flesh
That moved with each intake of breath
Gathering her courage and taking a deep breath
Pushing aside the neckline plunging
Freeing from their restraints the scented flesh
Showing that she of the two dancers is the more daring
Unfastening with deft fingers the buttons at the bottom of the lace
Her naked breast a bold statement instead of a subtle hint
Surprised at her, as her rapid pulse at her neck is no longer a hint
Eyes taking in the landscape of her bosom rising with her every breath
No longer restrained by the river of lace
Into the depths of his own desire now plunging
Abashed that is was she who was the more daring
Peeling away the shirt covering his own flesh
Warm scented flesh was his first hint
That he should be daring and take that deep breath
Into desire to be plunging sharing the treasures behind the lace
Call me a glutton for punishment, but I have decided to post a poem I wrote for this challenge. So while you all prepare your graceful swan dives into the entry pool, here I come, bounding off the board, attempting a cannonball (but probably producing more of a belly flop)
Don't kill me...my Mistress made me do it.
D A Stone
Elaborate Décolletage
Soft light reflected in the sheen of sweat on her flesh
As we dance, of her perfume I detect a hint
Bending closer to the pulsing in her neck, daring
To drown in the sweet scent as I take a deep breath
Eyes moving along the edge of a neckline plunging
Edged in hand crafted, pure white lace
Breasts straining for release from the lace
So that they may press against the bare flesh
Of the partner's chest where his shirt is plunging
Giving the woman the barest hint
Of his desire as he draws in that deep breath
And considering if he is truly that daring
Would drowning in her enticing scent be daring
As he imagines the treasures held back by the lace
Watching intently the movement as she draws each breath
Tantalized by the movement of light and shadows over her flesh
The quickening of her pulse in her neck giving a hint
That into further depths of desire she is plunging
If the music ended now would she stop plunging
Would he lose his chance to show his daring
Would the pulse slow, making him doubt the hint
That was promised by the scent from between the river of lace
Barely covering the soft flesh
That moved with each intake of breath
Gathering her courage and taking a deep breath
Pushing aside the neckline plunging
Freeing from their restraints the scented flesh
Showing that she of the two dancers is the more daring
Unfastening with deft fingers the buttons at the bottom of the lace
Her naked breast a bold statement instead of a subtle hint
Surprised at her, as her rapid pulse at her neck is no longer a hint
Eyes taking in the landscape of her bosom rising with her every breath
No longer restrained by the river of lace
Into the depths of his own desire now plunging
Abashed that is was she who was the more daring
Peeling away the shirt covering his own flesh
Warm scented flesh was his first hint
That he should be daring and take that deep breath
Into desire to be plunging sharing the treasures behind the lace
OK...call me stupid
Ok.. call me stupid (waiting for the deafening echo of all forum readers hollering stupid at once to die). Are poems for this challenge supposed to be submitted through the submission process or just posted to the thread?
Other questions that have come to my mind since posting my feeble offering to this thread:
1. Is my poem so bad that it stunned all of you into shocked silence?
2. Has my attempt at a poem resulted in a collective coma for all of the real poets here?
3. If noone else posts a poem, does that mean that I win by default?
Inquiring minds want to know.
D A Stone
P.S. For the humor impaired, the three questions are intended to be funny. (I know, I know...don't quit my day job.)
Ok.. call me stupid (waiting for the deafening echo of all forum readers hollering stupid at once to die). Are poems for this challenge supposed to be submitted through the submission process or just posted to the thread?
Other questions that have come to my mind since posting my feeble offering to this thread:
1. Is my poem so bad that it stunned all of you into shocked silence?
2. Has my attempt at a poem resulted in a collective coma for all of the real poets here?
3. If noone else posts a poem, does that mean that I win by default?
Inquiring minds want to know.
D A Stone
P.S. For the humor impaired, the three questions are intended to be funny. (I know, I know...don't quit my day job.)
Angeline
Poet Chick
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2002
- Posts
- 27,174
Well I'm not going to call you stupid for not intuiting the way it has been done in the past.
The idea with the same title challenge is that we all post through submissions so all appear as new poems on the same day. The date is chosen by the challenge issuer--in this case, Fool calls for 11/24 posts, so we submit on the 23rd.
However, what you did is fine, too. And there's no "winner." We just see the different ways we interpret the title. It's fun.
Lauren Hynde
Hitched
- Joined
- Apr 11, 2002
- Posts
- 21,061
Just post it sometime during the 23rd. After 8AM of 23rd and 2AM of 24th should be safe for us.Linbido said:
Icingsugar
peas o kayk
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2003
- Posts
- 2,051
Thanks DM for posting that remark and bumpin the thread up to my attention level, I actually forgot about this. Going to go and think long and hard about cleavage... and see what comes up...
/Ice
/Ice
Icingsugar
peas o kayk
- Joined
- Aug 31, 2003
- Posts
- 2,051
Work scmork. I've been pondering cleavage.
And it worked! Well, I'll just post the little bugger tomorrow then, and you'll see.
And it worked! Well, I'll just post the little bugger tomorrow then, and you'll see.
G
Guest
Guest
I hate throwing leftovers away.
I missed the boat - sick. So, I'm throwing this out here. Bear in mind - I must have been sickening for what ailed me.
Elaborate Décolletage
Washing with care, she shampoos her hair
knowing that he’d want to smell it.
Piling it up with a pin here and there,
discretely, so he couldn’t tell it.
She carefully chooses her un-gartered hose,
her half-cup, her panties - a thong.
She picks out a dress she knows will impress
Feeling she just can’t go wrong
The neckline is low as dress necklines go
But she feels it is tasteful enough.
The mirrors all show her internal glow
She’s revealing just the right stuff
Pinching and jostling and settling the girls
She opens her jewellery case
Choosing a necklace, a long string of pearls
She holds them up under her face.
He sits on the bed and, shaking his head
says. “Isn’t that just a bit silly.”
You don’t need those beads, go naked instead
I think it’s called gilding the lily.”
I missed the boat - sick. So, I'm throwing this out here. Bear in mind - I must have been sickening for what ailed me.
Elaborate Décolletage
Washing with care, she shampoos her hair
knowing that he’d want to smell it.
Piling it up with a pin here and there,
discretely, so he couldn’t tell it.
She carefully chooses her un-gartered hose,
her half-cup, her panties - a thong.
She picks out a dress she knows will impress
Feeling she just can’t go wrong
The neckline is low as dress necklines go
But she feels it is tasteful enough.
The mirrors all show her internal glow
She’s revealing just the right stuff
Pinching and jostling and settling the girls
She opens her jewellery case
Choosing a necklace, a long string of pearls
She holds them up under her face.
He sits on the bed and, shaking his head
says. “Isn’t that just a bit silly.”
You don’t need those beads, go naked instead
I think it’s called gilding the lily.”
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