The Monthly Poetry Challenge, August 2006

[Seduceros2]

And the nominee is...

Dawn rises,
soft, red-orange flower
building its way to
blinding fireball,

I drop the bag with
a clang, tools of the
trade are heavy, and head
to the back.
Bed and shower vie for
my attention, but cool water
wins out over soft, comforting
pillows.

Standing in the spray, I
unwind from the night;
even as I watch the
vampire dust spiral down
the drain.

This is a delight! I've never seen such a well wrought anything on the subject of vampires. I read it twice before I realized what the speaker was coming home from, that "vampire dust" was literal, not figurative, and I laughed aloud in surprise. Brilliant. If you submit it, I'll list it in my favorites.

 

[Seduceros2]

What's in a name?

seduceros 2
nothing but a portmanteau
full of velvet wire

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Permission for what, Tristesse?

To post a roast.

 

[wildsweetone]

my apologies for posting this late - my plane flight was cancelled.

wildsweetone

she's as wild as field
flowers in a picasso
palette with marbled
hills growing ungoverned,

as sweet as clover,
sugar suckled from the stem,
absorbed into the skin
and savoured,


as one as a single swallow,
swooping,
climbing,
floating free.

 

[Tzara]

my apologies for posting this late - my plane flight was cancelled.

Welcome back, WSO. You didn't get caught in the "throw away all liquids" fun of a couple days ago, did you? That royally messed up my airport.

 

[wildsweetone]

Welcome back, WSO. You didn't get caught in the "throw away all liquids" fun of a couple days ago, did you? That royally messed up my airport.

thanks love

the royally messed up part of the airport was the international terminal. i travelled domestic and didn't have any problems apart from persuading the pilot that he really could fly quite safely through thick cloud squashed between snow covered mountains (whilst making sure i had a paper bag at my fingertips )

i have a makeup bag that contains more liquid than you could ever imagine... i would have spit tacks had i been told to leave it behind. (i did make sure the trowels were in the big suitcases in the plane's belly though, maybe that helped.)

 

[Sex and Death]

Sex and Death

Death is not the opposite of life,
it is the opposite of sex and birth
and all beginnings of form arising
and forms of your hips and sways
of flesh against my devouring

mouth to mouth emancipation; sex
is not the opposite of death
it is the opposite of separation and loss
and all dualities of form arising
and forms of your parting lips and thighs,

covalences rent, pierced apart
by the light of my consciousness
erected from the zero point of possibility,
the godfield, and in Borneo there are initiates
sacrificed in fire during their first coupling

and shared as a sacrificial meal.


S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

My poem was late. Apologies.

Today, the 15th, begins the feedback and critique phase First International Monthly Poetry Challenge. I'd personally like to thank everyone who's helping to start this thread off -- may it have a long life!

I suggested, as rule of thumb, that we each review two poems for every one we offer. I'm not sure how this is going to work out, so let's see what happens and how this Monthly Poetry Challenge Thread starts to take on a life of its own. I edited the thread title to remove the month and year (don't know how long it take to change).

To deal with who is hosting which month, and other logistical questions, we have this thread: The Monthly Poetry Challenge - Logistics & Reveries.

S&D

 

[champagne1982]

Tzara

I chose for symbol and for joke. The former,
to evoke Dada's daddy Sami R.,

pulling words from crumpled hat
in crowded bar, the crowd aghast

as nouns and verbs are senseless strung
like beads on syntax's string to be a poem.

The joke, though, seems to be on me.
I did not expect the friendly ease

and wry flirtatious charms of
those who've made me a teased aura.

This is a surreal view of a strange name for an excellent poet. I enjoyed the easy rhythm and wry humour of this piece.

I love the near and the internal rhyming you jumble inside this rhythmic ode to your chosen namesake and the other poets you've encountered here. I think the silly skeleton guy found a challenge that has brought out our poetic playfulness and I congratulate you for such a well done poem.

What colour is a teased aura?

 

[champagne1982]

A guilty pleasure once turned
sad by Francois Sagan then
spurned and turned again
saddened once more
but resilient too
refusing to fade silently
rising phoenix like
by adding a two
not blue, green perhaps
but learning.​

Every little girl knows about love. It is only her capacity to suffer because of it that increases. Francoise Sagan, 1935 to 2004.

I have added the novel "Bonjour Tristesse" to my reading list. I look forward to seeing what such a clever mind, as this lady had, could produce at the age of 18 no less.

Francoise << feminine form.
Do you need the word silently after fade? Or if you tucked it on a line of its own it would mesh nicely with both the line above and below.
pheonix-like

I, for one, am glad to see your two. Most welcome, and most talented lady. Thanks for your lovely take on your name.

 

[Tzara]

What colour is a teased aura?

Red, of course.

 

[EriAliSaa]

wildsweetone

she's as wild as field
flowers in a picasso
palette with marbled
hills growing ungoverned,

as sweet as clover,
sugar suckled from the stem,
absorbed into the skin
and savoured,


as one as a single swallow,
swooping,
climbing,
floating free.

I really love how you set an enviroment I was a touch distracted by the Picasso flower reference. He did so much with flowers and different styles I was a touch confused by it.... well I am blonde, I am always confused

At any ate are you familar with Joseph Stella at all? He has a piece called Flowers, Italy that I would picture as wild... you might like it as well.... seeing how much visual stuff you like to do.

Sorry that is the biggest image of it I could find googling.

Other than the mild distraction I loved this.

 

[EriAliSaa]

My Erotic Trail


My Erotic Trail
twists and turns
like an unpaved
country road.

Veiled by trees
that border the woods
filled with many tales
like a sheet
with a story
in it's print.

Revealing my tail
in the Art
of making love
on nights, I travel not
but as I look
into my past
I see
My Erotic Trail

All that metaphor and enuendo, Art I do believe you are a bit of a tease. From one tease to another I loved it

 

[wildsweetone]

thanks Erin for your comments. they're appreciated.

comments:

Tristesse2

A guilty pleasure once turned
sad by Francois Sagan then
spurned and turned again
saddened once more
but resilient too
refusing to fade silently
rising phoenix like
by adding a two
not blue, green perhaps
but learning.

The only thing that seemed might be written differently for more impact is line 7. How about 'a rising phoenix'? Does that give better impact?

EriAliSaa

Slap!
painful blow that stings a crossed my
ass, sparking the lustful surge in the
nerves, that makes my
Kitty Hot

'painful blow that stings across my'

interesting accrostic.

~~~

Tzara, i enjoyed your poem. i like the internal rhyming and alliteration you've used. i also like the tale and i think your aura was born teased.

HotKittySpank, i'll look forward to your next poem. this one was a tad short for me. see my thoughts on your second poem, below

MET, this was quite clever. i had to re-read when you switched the forest images in my mind to a sheet of paper.

Liar, why didn't you? it's fun. i'll look forward to reading your entry for next month's challenge.

Mr Fool, where's yours???

bluerains, you sure made those blues felt.

Remec, interesting imagery and i loved the last lines.

champagne, RainMan told me once what this form was and my memory is failing me... is it 'stretch poetry'? i love the form and i love your poem. great imagery, great tale. very clever.

darkecstacy, nice poem is there any reason you capitalised the first letter of each line?

average gina, my favourite line 'cotton anger in charcoal eyes' because it really makes me think about that image.

HotKittySpank, my favourite line 'wings throwing rainbows', again, because i like the image.

Seduceros2, short and interesting. 'velvet wire' intrigues.

wildsweetone, girl you sure need to learn how to write poetry! sorry, it shows that i did not spend enough time with this challenge. bad girl!

Sex&Death, you did it again. you made me learn a new word. lol love it! and, i also love your poem. i find it incredible how you've managed to show the intrinsic entwining of sex and death. (yeah i did say entwining, bad me.) but i think i'll need another month of reading this many times to get everything you are saying. layers and levels and all that. awesome!

and thank you too S&D for organising and setting up this challenge. it's a great idea and i can't wait until the next challenge.

 

[HotKittySpank]

ahhh... so this is like being a kid in a candy store. Every piece has it's own alluring colors and distinctive flavor that beckon me to savor it, and beg for more.

I am no poet, I just play one on t.v. ; ) so, please accept my appologies ahead of time for my fumbling attempts to 'critique' - I always hated this part in art school too! crap!

I really liked Average Gina's little walk down the road. I found myself looking for her, hidden behind her wild hair - love luscious locks lovey - and the cotton-to-eye line was my fav. No more hiding - nothing average about ya!

I also enjoyed reading Remec's end of day, although I did not pick-up the part about him being a vampire, i just imagined you dumping your tool-belt, covered in saw dust, aching slow toward the shower. anyway, liked the last line best, swirling is a great word, fun to say as you think of the image of your feet around the drain... BTW - what is an AD&D name? is that some sort of roll-playing thing?

I enjoyed Tristesse2's poem. You made me feeeeel it in you and that was a delicious treat. Especially enjoyed the end, 'not blue green perhaps but learning'... feeling your green very much so : )

I had to read Sex&Death's poem several times as well. Then, I had to read about molecular attraction on the internet : ) ... making me learn and think, again... that is always a good thing. Lordy, the ending was great! goosebumps!

AND, last but never least, my favorite blonde giving me the warm fuzzies for using my silly handle! I loved it : ) BIG hugs!

ok, I think that was a good start, yes? And though I have no suggestions on how to make your poems better, I truly enjoyed them all. This was great fun. Can't wait to load up on more candy next time 'round.

--hks

 

[EriAliSaa]

Silly me! I thought we were only supposed to do 2 per poem we sumbitted. I guess I will do more reveiws First a couple of responses:

AND, last but never least, my favorite blonde giving me the warm fuzzies for using my silly handle! I loved it : ) BIG hugs!

--hks

:giggles: I never say no to hugs I am just glad you liked it, being that I used your handle. I had a montage of nicknames I was working on just never came together and got a little muddled. Maybe I will try again later

'painful blow that stings across my'

interesting accrostic.

:laughs: Leave it to me to try to make concrete and make acrosticistity instead (how is that for inventing words? )

S&D you made me dizzy. I admit it is not a state I am unfamilar with. So many conflicting images.... an overwhelming barrage of them. Left me gasping for breath. That was the intent I think.

HKS you made me laugh with the first one.... right when I needed it too. Your second looks like you intentionally jumbled your thoughts and glimses to hide.... something. You have an interesting way of writing. You open a window to show people what is inside then close the drapes before allowing a good look. I think you show a lot of your personality in your writing, but do so guardly. Or I could have taken a few to many psyche classes


bluerains that was rather dark for a tranquail sounding name. But the water only looks tranquail doesn't it? It can be so violent under the surface.

Remec you captured the gloom of the night shift existence so well in just a few lines. That was really great. I wonder if you can do the same with the loss felt when waking in the afternoon or early evening. I am glad I don't do nightshifts anymore.... well sorta don't....

That is all I have any real insight to.... if it is actually insight.

 

[average gina]

Sex and Death

Death is not the opposite of life,
it is the opposite of sex and birth
and all beginnings of form arising
and forms of your hips and sways
of flesh against my devouring

mouth to mouth emancipation; sex
is not the opposite of death
it is the opposite of separation and loss
and all dualities of form arising
and forms of your parting lips and thighs,

covalences rent, pierced apart
by the light of my consciousness
erected from the zero point of possibility,
the godfield, and in Borneo there are initiates
sacrificed in fire during their first coupling

and shared as a sacrificial meal.


S&D

And this is the reason I don't dare attempt to call myself a poet that often.

I've been reading this for twenty minutes and, in doing so, feel like I'm playing
with an etch-a-sketch. The picture is clear, and just when I think I've gone
deeper, that silvery stuff shakes my vision.

I mean death is the opposite of life and it isn't. Dayum. I feel like I've been
sucker-punched on those lines alone. This sucker bobs and weaves.

Maybe I'll learn to have deeper opinions on stuff like this, too.

Lookie! Banana Dancers!

 

[average gina]

Tzara

I chose for symbol and for joke. The former,
to evoke Dada's daddy Sami R.,

pulling words from crumpled hat
in crowded bar, the crowd aghast

as nouns and verbs are senseless strung
like beads on syntax's string to be a poem.

The joke, though, seems to be on me.
I did not expect the friendly ease

and wry flirtatious charms of
those who've made me a teased aura.

Tzara, I will never look at your name the same way again. "Like beads on syntax's string" sounds so smooth and slippery. I see the words dropping next to each other on the string. Good times.

 

[average gina]

My Erotic Trail


My Erotic Trail
twists and turns
like an unpaved
country road.

Veiled by trees
that border the woods
filled with many tales
like a sheet
with a story
in it's print.

Revealing my tail
in the Art
of making love
on nights, I travel not
but as I look
into my past
I see
My Erotic Trail

Okay, I hope I'm not insulting you by saying this is the kind of poet I am, Tail. So "blue collar" if you know what I mean. You just get this. I feel like I'm riding a bike on this poem. It's so clear and warm to me.

Again, I'm no pro at critiquing. I guess that's why I rarely do it. My point of view is so elementary to me. Anyway, my poop is pooped so I'm going to read and sleep with the hopes that I do not sleep and read.

Adorable.

 

[average gina]

Thanks for the compliments. This is what I was describing. Or more like this.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Sorry this was super late

When the ever after
was never
after I knew and could not excuse
the shallow nature of his love,
I froze. The classical laboratory
fast froze rose. Garden variety
divorcee.

And it seemed like I wouldn't even need
a tower. Tundra worked nicely
up so far a prince/ss would have to travel mooseback
and what could lure him/her? Northern
Lights too unreliable, and it sure couldn't be the fair
weather. The only lure
my own modest promise, sweet
brief pleasure made sweeter by the chill
drawing the sugar up just under
the skin.

Or maybe I just like talking about nipples.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

review

HotKittySpank

well fuck-a-doodle-do
what's a girl to do?
with a name like this
you know I was bad
and had to take my licks

a limerick smile <grinin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EriAliSaa....


HotKittySpank L

Slap!
painful blow that stings a crossed my
ass, sparking the lustful surge in the
nerves, that makes my
Kitty Hot

bigrin' (~_*)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

blue... blew me away... nice write!

tess... I didn't get your poem, but I been meaning to ask if you'll send me your poem... "small white bones", since you removed it from your list ???

average gina... your poem made me smile (~_*)

wild... your sweet as your poetry <grin

cherries on snow... it is all in the imagery <bigrin

 

[Remec]

Fastening wet eyes on
cascading blue rains
while drinking the blues
from a bottle of brut.

Both should make me high
reaching for the sky,
yet, solitude need only
spill to the
ground to drown...

My commentaries are a little behind, but I figured...heck, ain't the end of the month, right? *g*

Anyways, the first to catch my thoughts was this one. The image in my mind of a solitary figure sitting at sunset with their bottle and a light mist in the air trying its hardest to become rain...which, naturally, is just my impression, but it was very vivid both the first time I read it and just now on rereading.

 

[Remec]

A guilty pleasure once turned
sad by Francois Sagan then
spurned and turned again
saddened once more
but resilient too
refusing to fade silently
rising phoenix like
by adding a two
not blue, green perhaps
but learning.​

*sigh*
And I learn so much just reading and perusing the way some of y'all put things together such that, even without knowing the fullness of the allusions being referenced in the poem, I still come away with the light sorrow that the name implies.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Sex and Death

Death is not the opposite of life,
it is the opposite of sex and birth
and all beginnings of form arising
and forms of your hips and sways
of flesh against my devouring

mouth to mouth emancipation; sex
is not the opposite of death
it is the opposite of separation and loss
and all dualities of form arising
and forms of your parting lips and thighs,

covalences rent, pierced apart
by the light of my consciousness
erected from the zero point of possibility,
the godfield, and in Borneo there are initiates
sacrificed in fire during their first coupling

and shared as a sacrificial meal.


S&D

I love this, S&D, because of its complexity and beauty. I got a bit stuck on the covalences image because this was the melding point, I felt, between the stanza on death and the stanza on sex but the first image I'm seeing here is tearing apart electrons (piercing them apart) by the light of your consciousness. That's profound, but I had a tough time picturing what you meant here, except that piercing electrons does reinforce the zero point of possibility. I suppose I probably just don't know enough about covalences.

I really loved how you defined sex and death in this poem. Thank you for the chance to read it and for the challenge.