Thanksgiving Challenge

[unpredictablebijou]

Hey. I was going to write a cento, Ms. Smarty Pants.

Very cool, though.

Ain't nobody sayin' you can't.
Glad you liked it.

Here's the non-facetious attempt. It may not be as good, but well...

lines 1 and 2: Lorencino, from Will my Sinews Loosen?
line 30: Fool, from Dressed to Kill

While I slip inexorably
through the holes in the structure
of your careful diplomacy
I realize that the message is simple, and old:
you have found a more comfortable version of me,
same hair but combed, same solitude
but eager to be owned.

She does not frighten your mother
or refuse to wear pantyhose. She has
a steady job, normal friends;
her orgasms are manageable
and quiet. You have your guilt in common,
your sports teams,
and your fear of aging alone.
She has appealing tragedies, polite pain.
She requires less equipment
and less complexity.

It isn’t new to me, to have been
the dark cat you visit late
but not the studied creature
with whom you dine and live.
I will belong to your heated, secret dreams
and your nostalgia
as she saunters into the halo.

 

[Unbridled_Passion]

not that they are the best, but my poems are up for grabs, as are my stories!



don't judge. i am a newbie as a poet!

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

not that they are the best, but my poems are up for grabs, as are my stories!
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/members/submissions_view.php

don't judge. i am a newbie as a poet!

I think there's a mistake with your link.

 

[LeBroz]

I think there's a mistake with your link.

I think she grabbed the link to the wrong submission page; if logged in, anyone clicking on the link will be taken to their own submission page. My guess is that it took you to your submission page just like it took me to my submission page; it's a generic link that responds to the user log-in. I think U_P meant to use this link: http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/memberpage.php?uid=779598&page=submissions

.
.

 

[champagne1982]

Ain't nobody sayin' you can't.
Glad you liked it.

Here's the non-facetious attempt. It may not be as good, but well...

lines 1 and 2: Lorencino, from Will my Sinews Loosen?
line 30: Fool, from Dressed to Kill

While I slip inexorably
through the holes in the structure
of your careful diplomacy
I realize that the message is simple, and old:
you have found a more comfortable version of me,
same hair but combed, same solitude
but eager to be owned.

She does not frighten your mother
or refuse to wear pantyhose. She has
a steady job, normal friends;
her orgasms are manageable
and quiet. You have your guilt in common,
your sports teams,
and your fear of aging alone.
She has appealing tragedies, polite pain.
She requires less equipment
and less complexity.

It isn’t new to me, to have been
the dark cat you visit late
but not the studied creature
with whom you dine and live.
I will belong to your heated, secret dreams
and your nostalgia
as she saunters into the halo.

There aren't 30 lines in your poem. Is it supposed to read Line 20 for T_F's contribution?

 

[Angeline]

I have been remiss

in not posting updated links for you. And in the meantime, some really wonderful poems have appeared here. I hope you've all had a chance to read them. Here's an updated list:

Angeline

The_Fool (also here)

mysticmoon (poems in Haiku River and Writing Live threads)

Bronzeage

Tzara

Tristesse 2

Champagne1982

unpredictablebijou

Remec

lorencino

sophieloves

PandoraGlitters

Biffalo_Buff

Unbridled_Passion

If I've forgotten anyone, please let me know and I'll add you.

 

[champagne1982]

Thanks

Words might fill the silence¹
but I would rather hear your breath
as in comfort you sleep,
after we have whispered hopes
and longing against the pillow

we share. All those words we speak
as if our tongues are the host
and tears are the wine of communion
taken at the altar of our union.
Our love absolves us of sin

and sorrow. Our strength
renewed as kisses silence mouths
when we swallow the eucharist
and set down the empty cup
that defines² our redemption.

Dream in this after silence
as I whisper thanks and worship
each unspoken word you breathe.

¹Separately Together by Tristesse2
²Notes found written to... by unpredictablebijou

 

[unpredictablebijou]

There aren't 30 lines in your poem. Is it supposed to read Line 20 for T_F's contribution?

Yeah duh. Don't know why I did that. Musta been drunk with the Irish boys.
thanks and sorry.

bj

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Thanks

Words might fill the silence1
but I would rather hear your breath
as in comfort you sleep,
after we have whispered hopes
and longing against the pillow

we share. All those words we speak
as if our tongues are the host
and tears are the wine of communion
taken at the altar of our union.
Our love absolves us of sin

and sorrow. Our strength
renewed as kisses silence mouths
when we swallow the eucharist
and set down the empty cup
that defines2 our redemption.

Dream in this after silence
as I whisper thanks and worship
each unspoken word you breathe.

1 Separately Together by Tristesse2
2 Notes found written to... by unpredictablebijou

lovely except...
that line's not in my piece anywhere. Could you be quoting someone else?
wouldn't want someone else to go uncredited.

bj

 

[LeBroz]

lovely except...
that line's not in my piece anywhere. Could you be quoting someone else?
wouldn't want someone else to go uncredited.

bj

That's it bj; I'm cutting you off. No more drinkin' with them Irish gents.

Check this from Notes...:

You used to wish
for liquid or cloth
any soft thing
to fold into yourself
to match the shape
of the space, the empty cup
that defines you
like your own open mouth:
You carry it
to the well, carry it
back. Empty. Drink.



.
.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

That's it bj; I'm cutting you off. No more drinkin' with them Irish gents.

Quite right. Moved to Challenging Discussion thread so as not to crowd this one...

bj

 

[Remec]

(Early, I know, but needed to do it while thinking about it*g*)

Flamescape

Downtown is burning, again;
the flames cannot be seen
from my window, but they

reflect against both sky and
snow-topped ledges--the statuary
hanging off the church at the

Children's Park have gone from
off-white to off-pink while firehoses
do nothing but add fuel to dozens

of rose-hued icicles straining
to reach for the overly solid
ground. Soot has been falling

for hours, like pieces of broken
cloud, and the black air feels
chill on my skin as I watch it

all from what passes for
a balcony. They tell me
every city wears its history,

no surprise, then, that ours
must make us, sooner or
later, wear it as well.


---"the black air feels chill on my skin" from "The Ecstacy" by champagne1982

---"Every city wears its history." from "Autumn in New York" by Angeline

 

[Tathagata]

In the soft nothing of slumber,*
ebb tide sickness
of rational living,
(Do starfish gasp?)
here we count
grains of sand,
make up numbers to represent
the unknown
quantity,
not quality time,
not a love song,
not my eyes reflected
in ice cubes that weep
gin tears in my glass
while I watch the beach.

Her footprints are always there
in the morning.

Still she passes by.
I take this as comfort
able to sustain belief
one more day,
though the sea did not claim her,
the gulls did not start,
the moon did not cast shadows.*


*Moondusted - PandoraGlitters
*30/30 thread - WSO
http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=24783035&postcount=2724

 

[Tzara]

stream:lucy

the leaps
.............the undertow the ¹
current
...........of dream pulls
.....my logy intellect
now into a cold
......................and quiet
....................................pool
to nestle there
...............in mud, my fingers
too stiff to clasp
........the flashing, silvered fish
....that is my memory
..............................of you

..i settle like a stone,
.............................washed
in the river's torpid bed, staring
..patiently
...............through the murk
........for that erosion that is time
to swirl by
.....one last, lost image
...............................where you
..stand nude for me ²

¹ sophieloves, "written while falling asleep"
² The_Fool, "Vlad"

 

[Angeline]

In the river's torpid bed, staring
down days it helps when I hold
my city face in tight bones swallow
brush past and murmur. Nothing
matters when you turn on
the jazz, grab trapeze horns
and swing low so only the tip
of a tickle toe knows. Nothing
no words to explain the empty
whoosh of a car leaving
a plane taking off and silence
in the spaces behind. Nothing
when I say I don't want anything
but your face a pillow space
away, an arm's length, a kiss
between breaths, dreaming
of rose hued icicles, straining.

line 1: Tzara, Stream:Lucy
line 17: Remec, Flamescape

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Sadistic Seduction

I’ll set the bait
1 straight hooks barbed with
ill intent meant to catch and hold
bent to bite and sting
make you sing and tell your tale
there is no mystery 2 in my life
and I will know yours
we’ll meet in town
whine over chardonnay
confess over coffee and cake
you will 3 indulge me and comply
make me cry with your story
laugh at your life’s mistakes
tell secrets you never knew were there
you’ll drain the cup then leave me empty
4 after too long a time apart
you will need my ear
my sympathetic care and
join me once again in
the mutual pain.


1 from fixation by The_Fool ©
2 from Collectively by Angeline ©
3 from Indulge Me by bronzeage ©
4 from After Dinner by Remec ©

 

[Angeline]

Excellent poems, you poets. You have until midnight (PST) to meet the challenge, if you haven't done so yet. Tomorrow morning the thread gets unstuck.

 

[Tzara]

Excellent poems, you poets. You have until midnight (PST) to meet the challenge, if you haven't done so yet. Tomorrow morning the thread gets unstuck.

I hope sometime tomorrow your Av gets changed, lady.

Turkey has never been so unappetizing.

 

[Angeline]

I hope sometime tomorrow your Av gets changed, lady.

Turkey has never been so unappetizing.

hehe. I promise to change it sometime tomorrow. It is awful, isn't it?

 

[Tzara]

hehe. I promise to change it sometime tomorrow. It is awful, isn't it?

It looks like an African fertility figure (where the hell is Eve when I need her?) in a 50s bikini. Annette Funicello crossed with Acua'ba, or something.

Cue The Chantays or Ladysmith Black Mambazo. One or the other.

Or, like, both.

 

[Angeline]

It looks like an African fertility figure (where the hell is Eve when I need her?) in a 50s bikini. Annette Funicello crossed with Acua'ba, or something.

Cue The Chantays or Ladysmith Black Mambazo. One or the other.

Or, like, both.

I love both of them, especially Ladysmith Black Mambazo (which I always mispronnounce as Manzambo lol), but I got changed anyway.

 

[Tzara]

I love both of them, especially Ladysmith Black Mambazo (which I always mispronnounce as Manzambo lol), but I got changed anyway.

OK, I give up.

I thought at first that AV was maybe Patti Boyd/Harrison/Clapton/etc. Then Cynthia Lennon. Or even Nico, on a good day. Marianne Faithfull? Nuh uh, as far as Google can tell.

Who is that 60s chick?

Oh, look. It's the Kinks. <--Distraction

Does this mean I have to write another poem before midnight? I hope not.

 

[Angeline]

OK, I give up.

I thought at first that AV was maybe Patti Boyd/Harrison/Clapton/etc. Then Cynthia Lennon. Or even Nico, on a good day. Marianne Faithfull? Nuh uh, as far as Google can tell.

Who is that 60s chick?

Oh, look. It's the Kinks. <--Distraction

Does this mean I have to write another poem before midnight? I hope not.

Yuh huh ,Marianne.

 

[Tzara]

Yuh huh ,Marianne.

Oh, good. I am not complete dolt then. Only partial dolt. I'm OK with that, having dealt with it most o' me life.

Happy Thursday, 60s chick. And yer mate as well. That food sounded good.

No, I am not showing up for dinner. It's a bit of a drive.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Serpentine

Line 1 from Crush by Unpredictablebijou and line 17 from Goblet by Tzara

Your feather, your flint and steel
flaunt hubris like an access tag.
You fly past all the guards,
demons that I've conjured
to troll bridges connecting
skin to soul. So easily

you charm my sinew
until my belly scripts seduction
on sand, prayers to talons

offering everything: my soft meat
and sun-warmed blood. Yes!
I submit to the grab and spool
from your claw as we lift

into night wind. I rattle
the ballad of my death, joined
by your predator cry
and out sings a pure sweet tone.