Same Title Challenge

[Tathagata]

Well, let's narrow down to the people who have suggested (Après-taunt-age) that maybe they should write three poems instead of the original one...

I didn't suggest anyone else do it
It's more a case of " Oh...you gonna finish that Planters Punch?....Pass it over here then"

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Reasonable quality is a purely subjective term
one mans crap is another mans Bukowski
I have two
I have a house full of relatives and a 5th of tequila
makes concentration difficult

I could dip into the absinth...
but that could produce psychedelic crap

I'll go for 3
but it may take till Sunday for the third

I'll trust you not to pull a Bukowski, and since I don't even know what the final judgment of win/loss will be based on, the competition here is pretty subjective indeed.

I call. Three poems. Lay 'em down whenever. Personally I'm waiting another day or two before I post anything.

And I'll cut you just a teency bit of slack for the house full of relatives. I'm nothing if not generous.

bijou

 

[Sara Crewe]

I didn't suggest anyone else do it
It's more a case of " Oh...you gonna finish that Planters Punch?....Pass it over here then"

That was more of a 'royal' accusatory 'they' in my post. It meant you.

Have fun drinking the punch.

 

[Tathagata]

I'll trust you not to pull a Bukowski, and since I don't even know what the final judgment of win/loss will be based on, the competition here is pretty subjective indeed.

I call. Three poems. Lay 'em down whenever. Personally I'm waiting another day or two before I post anything.

And I'll cut you just a teency bit of slack for the house full of relatives. I'm nothing if not generous.

bijou

so it is written
so shall it be done

 

[Tathagata]

That was more of a 'royal' accusatory 'they' in my post. It meant you.

Have fun drinking the punch.

One does not " drink" Planters Punch
One savors it to the sweltering tribal rhythms of Bob Marley, Steel Pulse, Alton Ellis, Desmond Dekker, and Toots and The Maytals

Then one makes a pilgrimage to the bathroom and sings praises to Jah into the porcelain chalice.

 

[Sara Crewe]

One does not " drink" Planters Punch
One savors it to the sweltering tribal rhythms of Bob Marley, Steel Pulse, Alton Ellis, Desmond Dekker, and Toots and The Maytals

Then one makes a pilgrimage to the bathroom and sings praises to Jah into the porcelain chalice.

Okay, sounds delightful. Can I just watch? I promise not to laugh or point...much.

 

[The_Fool]

I hereby promise will never forgive The Fool for this diabolical challenge. First he watched us all sign on trustingly then he threw out those three words which just do not belong together. I have six poems in one state or another none of which I would show my dog, if I had one.

*sweeps up torn out hair and puts on hat to hide bald spots*

Love you baby.......

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Love you baby.......

Stop grinning.

love you too, dammit

 

[CeriseNoire]

Why oh why did I do this to myself?

Mustlearntoresisitachallenegemustleanrtoresistachallengemustlearnto...

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Why oh why did I do this to myself?

Mustlearntoresisitachallenegemustleanrtoresistachallengemustlearnto...

I'm on the edge of the western world so I can breath a little longer but time's running out. I thing there should be a prize for the worst poem, one of mine'd win for sure.

 

[drown]

I'm on the edge of the western world so I can breath a little longer but time's running out. I thing there should be a prize for the worst poem, one of mine'd win for sure.

damned
if you think
you've got that one
in the bag...

mine....

you'll see.​

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

damned
if you think
you've got that one
in the bag...

mine....

you'll see.​

I guess well have share a nana split then.

 

[CeriseNoire]

Methinks you two will have some competition for worst poem. 17 minutes to go, and it's not looking good.

 

[The_Fool]

I am just going to put up the title on the 28th. Feel free to submit any time after that. I originally had the 31st as a deadline, but I think there are a few that will be posting later than that.

 

[The_Fool]

The title for this Same Title Challenge is:

Spilled Erotic Measure

Feel free to post your work into this thread at anytime. I had previously stated a deadline of the 31st, but some have indicated that they will be unavailable until after the 1st. We we will enjoy them as the come in. Submission to Lit is exclusively the prerogative of each writer.

If you were not on the original list, feel free to offer your submission.

Feel free to offer kudos or throw tomatoes as you see fit, but remember, what goes around comes around.




Good Luck!

Fool

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Do it fast. Like pulling a tooth---

1. Spilled Erotic Measure

I refuse
choose
not to do the obvious
take the Onan road
the shameful spill
the punish perp
the deity who bid
the naughty bits be hid
by leaves and yet
on the other hand he
set the serpent free
my muse, confused,
lost and dazed
in a maze of Thesaurus
succumbed thoroughly
bummed out, no doubt.



2. Spieled Erotic Measure

Alone and lonely in the circling light,
he consults his notes, smoothes his brow
and peers out beyond the darkness.
“Now?”
Spattered applause perhaps
encouragement is unwise,
dangerous even but he is off,
eyes unfocused, toes curling.
“Sir Ego Libido” someone whispers
little too loud,
if he hears he doesn’t miss a beat.
Using words we never knew
could sound this way,
they silence us at once,
make us close our eyes for visions
none of us can share.



3. Spilled Erotic Measure

Shady plane trees and tables
with icy jugs of sangria and good company
hugging this harlequin bark,
the aching blue sky darkening
towards night as the guitars come out.

We hear the night hawks’ call
above the dusty leaves,
then the first chords silence us all.
Expectation ripples through the air,
an electric breeze and she is here
poised on toes, hands above her mantilla
before her staccato stamp.

Her body is liquid, flowing in shapes
she creates at will and we are captured
in her sinuous movement
and the spilled erotic measure
of the six strings.

Phew! Where's the scotch?

 

[CeriseNoire]

Oh, goodness. Those were three darn good poems. Better get this over with before I read more and lose my nerve.

Spilled Erotic Measure

You never miss a beat
smooth smiles
carefully calculated

Always perfect timing
rhythm kept
nary a note wasted

Predictable strokes
on familiar keys
coax cries on cue

Yet I pluck your strings
or finger your flute
and without fail,
you spill out of tempo

 

[sophieloves]

i'll come back later today to offer some thoughts about the great pieces already here, but i'm short of thinking time right now. well, here goes (my heart's beating so fast with nerves, lol)



spilled erotic measure


can i pleasure
others
with words that spill a
measure of my worth?
birth
sin-sensualities as easily as
mother pours brown-golden tea in
to the waiting cups,
their bone-white, opened 'O's so eager to be filled?
will i tease and leave the reader
to bring their own additions to this blend -
milk or sugar sweetening their end?

this, too, i must consider:
should i pour my words with care -
each word a treasure -
or dare to stain the linen cloth
with spilled erotic measure?

 

[sophieloves]

just had to say, Tristesse? wow, this rocks:

Expectation ripples through the air,
an electric breeze and she is here

 

[Liar]

Well, here's my cliché-fest. Read n weep.



Spilled Erotic Measure

Just add water,
stir gently,
watch it rise
under heat
until it has nowhere to go
but over the top.

Watch it run
down the sides
to sizzle on impact.

With patience,
fan off the fire,
whisper it cool,
and extract the reward.

Golden, so sweet,
a little charred at the edges,
a little spilt to cinder,

but with a softer core
than moderate measures
or controlled flame
can render.

 

[bluerains]

Spilled Erotic Measure

She’’ll dip you in her bottle of sin,
twirtling its potion to spilled erotic,
measure up your lengthy straw,
bend tip to rim
and then,
sip slowly...

_______________________________
blue'spage.

 

[sophieloves]

dipped in her bottle of sin! cool

 

[sophieloves]

whisper it cool



oh. that is so original! and very sensual- the words even feel good to speak!

 

[Tathagata]

posted in the order they were written:

1:

I sank and arose.
A beatific cleft
developed,
the clamoring voices
on the road to Elysium
gave direction,
encouragement,
in a brutish tongue
then fell back,
adjusted,
matching my stride.
Torn between
accomplishment and arrival,
I withdrew,
leaving my
devotional intentions
on the belly of the beast.

2:
There was a perverse lad of leisure
Whose goal was prolonging of pleasure
He’d rub mystical liniment
On his mythical filament
Slowed spilling his erotic measure


3:
You remain,
though seemingly butchered.
Spatter patterns of lipstick,
that color peculiar to you,
candy apple,
it’s shell a hard waxen sheen
of willingness
and gutter indulgence.

Pooled by the computer chair,
dark admissions,
rimmed in shame,
excitement,
spoken aloud
only once or twice,
while hips jerked and thighs
soft and luxuriant as
sweet milk,
twitched with a lustful palsy.

I removed the memories,
the niceties,
long ago,
like digging grapes
from a Jell-O mold,
you were plucked out from my head
and discarded.


But the flesh of us,
those things that went beyond
where either of us intended to go,
hang as grizzled trophies,
meat drying in the sun.
The words
in all their obscene and unholy starkness
make my world a crime scene.
There is no way to eliminate
words.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oh, goodness. Those were three darn good poems. Better get this over with before I read more and lose my nerve.

Spilled Erotic Measure

You never miss a beat....

.....you spill out of tempo

Les double entendres merveilleux! (was an R left out of "stokes?) Great stuff!


P.S. Not really but thanks for your kind words