2023 Poem-A-Week Challenge (Poems Only Thread)

[Simee72]

Brilliant Goddess

 

[29wordsforsnow]

The Villainelle of a Broken Dream

hear, as dreams are made of solid cash,
deep are the pockets, my golden song
see, broken promises turned to ash

where the Atlantic ocean waves crash,
beneath illusion a very strong
fear, as dreams are made, of solid cash

in chains that rattle with every slash
they're wishing for the crack of the thong
be broken, promises turned to ash

'Heaven' on your tongue is a bit rash,
so curse your devils, cause I know wrong
clear as dreams are, made of solid cash

just...equally...free, such a big clash
of an arguing blue and grey throng,
three broken promises turned to ash

the darkness that went into the trash
once again, was never gone for long,
we're, as dreams are made of solid cash
we broken promises turned to, ash



(this one might be more enlightening)

 

[Ambient4190]

sweat glistens on skin
hazy shimmer aloft asphalt
summertimes heartbeat

 

[OtherMan]

This man’s heart has beat through this…
will beat through so much more…
has beat through beating’s heated kiss,
though beaten ass to core.

It’s eaten everything that pains
and swallowed smacking pride
and neatened all the stripes as gains,
as scars to bare not hide.

6/19/23

#38

 

[goddessofglee]

#24

**An art in the making**

I wrote a few paragraphs,
A start, but not the end.
I'll wait patiently,
For the rest to unfold to the end.

This is just the introduction,
A spark, a tiny flame.
It will grow and glow,
Until it's a chef-d'oeuvre.
or maybe a tour de force!

I'll write here every day,
To add a little more.
A word, a phrase, a thought,
To make this poem soar.

The opening is just an onset,
The end is not today.
This is just an opening,
Of a creation in the making.

words dance across the page,
clauses glide on stage.
This is just the midway,
Not the end, but to engage.

I will write here every day,
Just to say that I'm still here.
The opening is just an onset,
The end is not today.

My words are like prancing flames,
high tide along the beach at night.
They are the beginning of something new,
The start of a journey into light.

I wrote a few pages of flowing prose,
A few stanzas of lyrical verse.
But wait patiently, my friend,
This is just my heart, not the end.

My words are like a flowing river,
Ever-changing, ever-new.
They flow from my heart to yours,
A songbird's melody, maybe subdued.

I'm still working on this composition,
crafting each word with care,
the end is not yet in sight,
and the fairest is yet to delight!

 

[Ambient4190]

ice sheen mirrors moon
underneath lakes heartbeat thrums
fighting winters gait

 

[Piscator]

Solastalgia[1]



High blue sky with a gusty west wind

underneath, a mix of hazy grey-white clouds,

smoke from fires out West, more

than half a continent away.

Unusual weather for this time of year

but he unusual is usual these days

just in different ways.

---

[1] solastalgia is the distress produced by environmental change impacting on people while they are directly connected to their home environment.

 

[goddessofglee]

#25

**Clogyrnach girl**

The girl walks through the lonely street,
At 2 am early in the morning,
All alone, her heart filled with fear.

A shadow follows her,
Silent and dark,
Like a predator stalking its prey.

The girl tries to run,
But her feet are leaden,
And the shadow is always there.

She is trapped,
Alone in the darkness,
With the shadow closing in.

She screams,
But no one can hear her,
And the shadow is upon her.

She is lost,
And she will never be found.

**and the end**

 

[OtherMan]

A glowing dusk is taken
as night devours day,
the slowing husk mistaken
as light that might delay

the end of hours in rapture
with back to setting sun…
that bends my will to capture
as to the East I run.

6/21/23

#39

 

[Ashesh9]

Dog
Every dog hates being called ' Bad'
It makes him depressed....sad...
To be called" You're a Good Boy!"
Brings him Glee and Joy!!!
But sometimes his canine nature
Doth him in grip capture
Then he behaves like a real jerk
Bites, growls'n bark
Later he does calm down.....
Shaggy , black'n brown !?
Steeped in remorseful sorrow:
He yelps suddenly" there's always tomorrow!!!"

 

[Ambient4190]

snout narrow
runt
35 lbs
I could easily
snatch the ball
but I wait
til she gives
willingly

sister a hoss
not what a lady
wants to hear
no chance to
take
ball away
teeth muscles
hold it dear

remember
ones who
came before
lives too short
my treasures
right now
in this moment
play ball morning

 

[Broken_paladin]

Lost in the words of a ballad taken to heart
Lost in a tune we sang from start
Looking for nothing but finding so much
How silly I felt as I longed for your touch
Words that were spoken caused questions but still true
So good my intentions thought best to serve you
Sometimes so absurd the thing that we do
Living with choices when options were few
Smile sweet smile I know this to be true
My life was enriched that day I met you

 

[Wonderer67]

Ditch Lilies

It’s that time of year
Where low-class flowers bloom
Ditch lilies erupt
Orange and yellow
Imaginary fires in the irrigation ditches
Along the road
And by the fence in our back yard
Each flower gets it’s one and only day
That one singular day to strut its stuff

It’s a signal and reminder to me
That my birthday is coming up
And my wife’s birthday, a few days after that
The first day of summer
Is banging on my door
Magic
I remember being a kid
Knowing that school was over
Hazy hot and humid days on the way
A summer of possibility lay ahead
The Califon Carnival looming
A summer of baseball
Fishing
Exploring in the woods
Capturing lighting bugs

Rebecca and I lay naked on our back patio
Taking in the summer
Watching the lilies
Orange bodies, yellow stripes on each petal
They have their one day
To cum
And then wither and die

23/52

 

[goddessofglee]

#26...
show, don't tell

The poet's pen is a mighty wand
That can paint pictures in the reader's mind,
But if it tells, then all the magic's banned,
And all the reader sees are words, not kind.

The poet's skill is to show, not tell,
To paint a scene with words so vivid clear
That the reader feels they're there, in the spell,
And not just reading words on a white page here.

So show, don't tell, dear poet, show your art, Let your words paint pictures in the reader's mind, And let the reader feel they're there, not part Of an audience, but in the story's bind.

In the telling, there's a flaw,
A truth that's hidden from the law.
For when you tell a tale,
The teller's voice doth wail
And all the listener feels
Is what the teller feels.

But if you show, not tell,
The tale will speak itself.
The reader then will see
The truth, not what you say,
And feel the thing you mean
Without a single scream.

So show, not tell, your tale,
And let the reader wail.
For when the reader feels,
The tale will live and heal.
For if you tell, then all the magic's lost, And all the reader sees are words, not art.

 

[Wonderer67]

Day Lily Skirt

We saw The Hives
Eleven years ago to the day
June 22, 2012
One of our first dates

She wore her day lily skirt
White, sexy and short
Fiery orange day lilies
Like little orange explosions

It was a magical summer evening in NYC
Her long legs were sexy
She wore her high heeled Docs
She was the most beautiful woman
I’d ever been with

We drove home
Sweaty and high
On music
Each-other’s energy
And the summer

24/52

https://twitter.com/x/status/1672047514873217027

 

[Mrtenant]

Seven

Seven years ago
Way late at night
Hours of mystery
Seven years ago

There was born
Tall tale of romance
So was our story
There was born

Danced in the storm
With our pleasure
With our pain
Danced in the storm

Become so close
More than we'd know
So many miles away
Become so close

Such different worlds
And yet here we are
Sharing it all from
Such different worlds

One special connection
Makes you blush
Wanting it more
One special connection

To the stars and beyond
How often I've said
How often you've said
To the stars and beyond

 

[butters]

poem #9

after yesterday's rains

dawn's dew thick on white clover
plastic gallon bucket on my arm
my fingers gently pull on berries
that bushes cede easily
fruits plump and blue
after yesterday's rains

beneath leaves
spiders hang in quiet webs
as a curious carpenter bee
returns again and again
like a noisy diesel mower
close to my ear

i ignore touches and tickles
on bare skin
trusting to deep woods
to live up to its hype

june sun climbs
along with harvest's weight
sweat falls on ants, on earth
humidity still high and
skies a blend of pastel hues
cirrus and cumulous
in lazy motion
backdrop to a duet
of fluid harmonies
complexities of two
unseen competitors
seeking to attract

a raucous voice tears their melodies apart—
the land-locked rooster
dreaming of treetops

 

[goddessofglee]

#27

we're conversing in verse,
Two friends, one girl, one guy,
They talk of fun and of time,
Of things that annoy
or make them sigh.

The girl is thwarted,
She's met some people who bored,
The guy is supportive,
He tries to offer some cheer,
But the girl is still down,
She's not having much fun here.

The girl leaves to go out,
She's not eating with boys,
Only girls, she says,
With a teasing smile and a knowing smirk.

The guy is left alone,
He's not sure what to think,
But he knows that he'll miss her,
When she's gone for her thing.

* * *
The girl returned, a frown on her face,
"I've had no fun, no girls, no place,"
The guy replied, "I'm glad you're back,
But what's the matter, what's the crack?"

The guy was sad to hear her say,
That she had not enjoyed herself.
He hoped that things would be better,
When she returned to their online shelf.

I met your Sarah, she's a snob,
She thinks she's better than a heartthrob."
"I met her in the bingo game,
She left after a few rounds, I'd say, it's lame,"
"Yeah, people there are cliquey, I know,
I stopped playing because it wasn't fun,"

"The writer disappeared too,
He left the story, somewhat undone"
"Maybe he got busy in Real Life,
He'll be back, I'm sure, give him some time."

"I'm going to start a new story,
I'll write it from my standpoint,"
"I think that would be much better,
I think most readers would prefer the latter."

"We'll twist the story into another sphere,
Instead of connecting with him there,"
"We could do another whole story,
Or we could just start with you dumping him."

"Why not a whole new story?
It would be fun to have a blank canvas,"
"I'll start it at the food truck,
On the very next day when I left my luck."

"I'll let you know when it's ready,"
"I hope you have fun," said the guy,
"Sorry, it's not me taking you,"
"I'm not eating anything with boys,"
Said the girl with a teasing laugh.

* eventually*

The girl was finally happy,
She had found a place where she belonged.
The guy was happy too,
He had found a friend to take along.

 

[Tzara]

Semaphore

I sometimes feel
as if I am standing on a tower,

snapping brightly colored flags
into distinct and severe

positions. Every few minutes
I squint into the foggy distance,

hoping for an acquiescent response
or at least an acknowledgement

that my message has been received,
but all I can perceive are clouds,

a few wandering seagulls,
and the muffled sound of the surf,

smoothing the broad beach blank
as a brand-new chalkboard.

Week 25: Poem 1: Total 37

 

[Angeline]

Rainy Day Tanka

Three clouds are weeping:
when Earth receives their bounty
the ground is grateful
and the trees lift graceful leaves,
but stand stoic in silence.


Week 25, Poem 1, Total 31

 

[goddessofglee]

#28

I know you're not alone.
I've seen the way you stare,
I know you have, my dear.
Your eyes upon me, so near.
As if I'm something you own.
I've seen you in the shadows,
I've seen the way your eyes linger,
On my body curves or my hair.
You've watched me quite often!
I know you have,
I've seen you stare.

I've seen the way you lick your lips,
As if you're tasting me.
I've seen the way your heart races,
When I walk by, so close yet free.
You've watched the way I walk,
The way I sway my hips.
You've watched my lips pout,
And smile, and giggle, and sip.

You like the way my legs look
In a skirt, or heels, or tights.
And tease, and drive you wild.
You've watched me flirt, and tease,
And wonder what I'd do if you seized.

But what would you do,
If you caught me, if you knew?
Would you be bold and ask me out?
Or would you run away, without doubt?

I wonder what it is you'd do,
If you caught me, if you knew.
Would you be bold and make a move,
Or would you run away, too?

I wonder what you'd say,
If I were to say to you,
"I know you watch me,
And I like it, too."

I know what I would do,
If I caught you watching me.
I would smile and wink,
And give you a little tease.

I would let you know that I know,
That you've been watching me.
I would let you know that I'm flattered,
And that I'm not afraid to be.

But if you caught me,
If you knew what I'd do,
You'd be surprised, my dear.
I'd smile, and say, "Hello,"
And then I'd walk away from you.

So come on, make your move,
I'm waiting for you.
I know you want to,
So don't be a fool.
* * *

 

[butters]

poem #10

wait, what...?

heat and humidity
my daily whine right now
can't trust my brain
to hold onto a thought
let alone a

 

[OtherMan]

There are
infinite times
when
you
beat
this…

and endlessly times when you won’t.

And eternally times when you greet this…

and bottomless times when you don’t.


So…

the flippity coin’s tipping airborne,

each
sparkle
of light
winks its trace.

Just watch…

silver stars that have been born…

to shine their light all on your face.

5/27/23

#40

 

[butters]

poem #11

expected heat index of 115+ Thursday

summer was never my favourite
of the 4 seasons
it came joint 2nd with spring
but that was back in the U.K
when on a really hot day
—80-85—
i might catch a train
to the beach
half an hour
from concrete to sand
work to lounging in placid waters

now summer is a time to endure
survive the pounding heat
the bathwater air
fans on high
but hair still salty, wet
no beach in sight
June's early greens grow sere
the earth becomes a lightning fractal
even the hardiest weeds thirsty
for storm clouds that skirt us by
delivering flash floods and tornadic destruction
mere miles away

100 suns, his mother feels the cold
sets the window cooler to a balmy 85
and i'm dying
trying to can and bake the produce we have grown
every inch of me slimy, slick
and i can't wait for winter
the hope of snow
because even autumn here
is warm

..................................................
H's mum's 'den' is open to the kitchen and it can get pretty hot in there and i melt like a snow cone on the sun

 

[alwaystheguy1983]

Birds songs and lightening,
Both struck me true
Then it was late night food runs
You were eating for two
Any on this day i cant help think
That I’m not the man i am
If I dont say,
I do
~S.M.~