The Monthly Poetry Challenge, August 2006

[cherries_on_snow]

to whit when left to rest
would lose sparkle and chill
warming to mellow gold
still sweet but soon the bite
of age to add a tang
not found in fruit ripe
picked from the vine
dry and intoxicating to whet
wit and add mischief
to conversation and games
that would do better
in the bedroom but still
played in the boardroom
even if the field is country
club ballroom and players
wear formals shed in the heat
of the volley and sent
to the cleaners for removing
a night of excess and champagne
from the fabric worn once
then handed down to the maid

This reminded me of an Altman movie and his famous uncut sequences that were accomplished through careful choreography and camerawork rather than postproduction editing. The effect is dizzying so quite appropos.

 

[Sex and Death]

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



-----sorry ; )
I promise I will do better next time...

I love this, it's flirtatious and teasing, as befits your name. Although, this poem isn't finished yet. You hide your playfulness behind a big fuzzy ball of yarn! I think you should let it poetically unravel on occasion. : )

I promised snacks...Bistro or Deli Sandwiches for all. For you, for this poem, the HotKittySpank Special, fresh cucumber and wasabi-ginger whip on dill white bread. No dessert until it's finished! : )

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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



I think I was trying hard to make a concrete poem. Or maybe I was concrete in try to make a poem hard.... I am not exactly sure which.

This is fun and limerick-like. Naughty. Tentative. Drop the bold first letters and it'll be fun and lyrical.

Your sandwich, the EAS, cold grilled chicken with a romaine leaf, capers and spicy mole sauce on a crusty roll.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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, this poem is wonderfully wry, witty and dashing. A flashing display of swordsmanship that is only possible because it rests on and is rooted in a depth of poetic knowledge and practice. And as a final unexpected flourish you draw the warm blood of friendship.

The Tzara: priscutto, tomatoes and olive havarti with pesto spread on a Spanish loaf.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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

As I have come to expect, Art, you end up where you began, bookends for a cheeky and good-humored witnessing of your all-too-human foibles and adventures, revealing and obscuring yourself at the same time all the way through. There's always a blemish in the tea-ceremony teapot, ain't there. Despite the blemishes, you make...Art.

The Erotic Trail: almond butter and banana with lavender and clover honey on a soft seven-grain bread.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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...

First, there has never been a more beautiful and effective use of elipses than this, Blue. And, as the elipses suggest, this poem keeps cascading itself worldessly inside me.

I deeply love the use of solitude, as opposed to words such as "aloneness" or "loneliness." That unfolds this poem on a whole new level for me.

This poem brings it all down in the best rainy and blue way possible and leaves me in the ecstatic dreamtime at the bottom of that spilled bottle of solitude. This poem sings the blues.

The BlueRains Plate Special: gently grilled salmon with chives and fennel on seedless rye with chipotle mayo spread accompanied by warm saki and a cold Sapporo. There's a vegetarian version that replaces the salmon with teriyaki-grilled tofu.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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.​

This beautiful and vulnerable poem spirals down into sadness but rises into innocence and hope in its final movement.

I'm in love with "spurned and turned again."

I want to change "rising phoenix like" to "...silently, a phoneix rising, by..."

The last three lines are magical and joyful.

The Tristesse 2: Cold shaved honey roasted turkey breast and extra-thin green apple slices on crustless apple bread spread with whipped walnut cream cheese.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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 the best vampire hunter poem I've ever read! Concrete Blonde meets Bruce Springsteen meets the Doors! This darkly and unapologetically rocks the red-blooded blue-collar house! Everytime I reread the last line I find myself with a cocky grin and throaty chuckle at such a good hard days work satisfyingly accomplished, and a world rid of one more evil vermin.

The cadence and direct efficient word choices push this into sublime.

The Remec: a meatball sub with marinara, fresh chopped basil and oregano leaves and provolone broiled open-face on an Italian loaf. Need I say, with a cold beer?

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

to whit when left to rest
would lose sparkle and chill
warming to mellow gold
still sweet but soon the bite
of age to add a tang
not found in fruit ripe
picked from the vine
dry and intoxicating to whet
wit and add mischief
to conversation and games
that would do better
in the bedroom but still
played in the boardroom
even if the field is country
club ballroom and players
wear formals shed in the heat
of the volley and sent
to the cleaners for removing
a night of excess and champagne
from the fabric worn once
then handed down to the maid

O my! Breasts that defy gravity, flat tummies lacking that sensual swell and girlie giggles are no match for this fine-wined sashaying belle! And she's exquisitely literate, too!

I love the confidence and pride of language and heart in this poem, Champagne. The lower case format makes it tumble as a personally and linguistically self-assured declaration of full-moon femininity. I like.

The Champagne Brunch: salmon pate finger sandwiches and broiled fontina cheese poppettes with a peach tart and a local selection by the sommelier at the approval of the lady at the table. Substitution: shredded barbecue beef brisket, greens with hot sauce and a micro-brew.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

Six sandwiches left to make. Tomorrow it will be. Apologies for my late reviews. I'm totally enjoying this.

S&D

 

[EriAliSaa]

This is fun and limerick-like. Naughty. Tentative. Drop the bold first letters and it'll be fun and lyrical.

Your sandwich, the EAS, cold grilled chicken with a romaine leaf, capers and spicy mole sauce on a crusty roll.

S&D

I don't know what I think about the capers... but other than that that really sounds like my kind of sandwhich.... where can I pick it up again?

 

[Sex and Death]

Grapling in shadows
Grasping in red/black spaces
Dirty silouettes dance
Clumsy, gasping
Rasping whispers
Worlds shrinking into
Hands, mouths,
pulsing, pumping,
Bass rhythms
quickening towards
Dark ecstacy

"Clumsy, gasping rasping whispers..." Gotta love that. It captures the primal chant and rhythm of bodies taking and being taken, being sacrificed to urges. Darkecstacy, you turn this animal sex into an erotic rite.

The backslash has got to go, though. It pitches me right out of your dark dance everytime I read it. I think a simple space would work better.

The Darkecstacy: jamabalaya with hot andouille, blackened grilled shrimp and chicken and red sauce on a grilled po' boy roll sided with black beans and dirty rice. Ain't that nice.

S&D

 

[HotKittySpank]

For you, for this poem, the HotKittySpank Special, fresh cucumber and wasabi-ginger whip on dill white bread. No dessert until it's finished! : )

S&D

you crack me up! i don't know, it may have merited a nice grilled sausage with a bit of kraut and sweet mustard... so sue me.... you had it coming.

 

[Sex and Death]

watching her
walking slowly, yet pilfering
purpose with each step
unkempt hair crazily askew
she dives her fingers into it
impossible to consider
through her ebony tresses;

people stare
at the gesture, at her, aghast
she is not from here
clocked timeless beauty run amok
cotton anger in charcoal eyes
peace straining freedom
not your average gina

Not your average poem! Brings to mind images of of the voodoo godess Oshun. "Pilfering purpose with each step" and "clocked timelss beauty." Beauitful and entrancing. Nothing more attractive than a woman embracing her own inner and outer beauty and sexuality. This poem celebrates that.

The Not-So_Average Gina: grilled eggplant and shredded curry chicken on grilled Moroccan bread with a harissa-style red pepper spread.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

When I look at you
What do you see?
Persnickety puss
Words puffed with glee

Curiosity flying
I pounce in great leaps
Sometimes forgetting
To mind claws and teeth

What is in a name?
Such a silly thing
It does not describe
My inner being

I hide behind lines
Saucy sass biting
Batting my lashes
Catty words cutting

Thin as worn tissue
Fragile as old glass
Artful words kept you
From seeing my cracks

I have sheltered in
This cocoon so long
Searching always for
My way to be strong

Witness emergence
My eyes opened wide
Sweet inspiration
From flowering mind

Craftily care fused
Brilliant shades and hues
Opening fresh wings
Dried under hot view

Learning to fly from
Open hands I leap
Wings throwing rainbows
Thankful at your feet


(my 'name' sucks - hard to be serious with it - so I expanded on the idea - hope that's ok)

This is sweet, courageous and open-hearted, with breaths of playfulness. You have captured and communicated the process of your awakening. I think we're fortunate that you're sharing it.

There's so much heart and depth here. I was considering your word and phrasing choices and I couldn't quite figure out was crinkling my nose. But then I began to read this as if I were reading a book to my little ones and your poem opened up and became clear to me. There is a coupling of innocence and maturity here. Beautiful.

And you get dessert for the phrase "persnickety puss" alone!

The Persnickety Puss Plate: grilled mahi tuna slad with cilantro pesto mayo on marbled rye cut into a butterfly silohuette and garnished with leaf lettuce and a tomato slice. For dessert, a scoop of all natural vanilla bean ice cream partnered with spicy pineapple salsa.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

seduceros 2
nothing but a portmanteau
full of velvet wire

This sutra keeps opening inward, again and again, like a word fractal! Love it!

I learned that a "portmanteau" is French leather bag designed to carry ("porter") coats ("mantles"). And" portmanteau " is also a word used in lingusitics to mean a word that combines the sounds and meanings of two or more words.

"Velvet wire" is an amazing poetically paradoxical phrase that evokes dark and erotic images (binding wire covered in dark velvet) hidden in and disguised by the image of a common piece of luggage. The suggestion of somehting darkly erotic hidden in somehting commonplace echos the phrase "nothing but." "Velvet wire" also brings to mind a blending of the music of Lou Reed's Warhol-influenced Velvet Underground and the Duchamp-influenced English punk band Wire.

You, sir, if a sir you be, are a cunning linguist.

The Seduceros: deli-thin chorizo and jamon serrano ham with Mediterranean greens and roasted red peppers drizzled with extra virgin olive oil infused with crushed dried herbs in an olive and basil encrusted Spanish pita. This sandwich is plated with a wedge of rosemary-infused Manchego cheese.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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.

Wow, sweet and sensual, and certainly wild, and all coming together into one beautiful image. I love the communion of these images. And I must be spoiled, because I have come to expect such beauty from your poems. There's an effortlessness and a simplicity here that leaves me with a worldess gasp.

I love the sublte mix of nature and sexuality/sensuality: "hills growing ungoverened," "suckled from the stem," "a single swallow."

My sole suggestions is to explore whether the comparisons could be done as something besides similies, without using "like" or "as," i.e., "she's a field of wildflowers." or "she is one single swallow..."

The Wildsweetone: Honey cured ham and cayenne spiced turkey with chives, wild mushrooms and truffle mayonnaise on whole wheat honey bread served with a bowl of toheroa soup.

S&D

 

[Sex and Death]

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.

I love the vulnerable autobiography of this poem, and the fairy-tale filter exposes your innocent yearning heart. You weave words beautifully, like spinning gold from straw.

The backslahed suffix and pronoun splits break the spell for me a little too much. Maybe simply say "prince or princess" and "him or her?" Or perhaps single or multiple words that capture both genders would work?

The Cherries On Snow: Plump sweet chicken breast salad with walnuts, cherries and fennel, leaf lettuce and sweet vidalia mayo on apple raisin bread. For a vegetarian option, the chicken breast can be replaced with light-soy grilled portobello mushroom pieces.

S&D

 

[wildsweetone]

Wow, sweet and sensual, and certainly wild, and all coming together into one beautiful image. I love the communion of these images. And I must be spoiled, because I have come to expect such beauty from your poems. There's an effortlessness and a simplicity here that leaves me with a worldess gasp.

I love the sublte mix of nature and sexuality/sensuality: "hills growing ungoverened," "suckled form the stem," "a single swallow."

My sole suggestions is to explore whether the comparisons could be done as something besides similies, without using "like" or "as," i.e., "she's a field of wildflowers." or "she is one single swallow..."

The Wildsweetone: Honey cured ham and cayenne spiced turkey with chives, wild mushrooms and truffle mayonnaise on whole wheat honey bread served with a bowl of toheroa soup.

S&D

you're exactly right, and i intend rewriting. thank you for taking the time to comment dear, your thoughts are much appreciated.

i must find somewhere that serves up this meal. it sounds stunningly delicious. thank you.