Archival Review

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Here's one that has the feel of a heartfelt eulogy for a long cherished pet.


Goodbye Old Friend
by champagne1982©


My old friend who's there
Always,
Lifting me up,
Even when it's you
That's dying.

The black beast grows there,
Cruel payment for love
Offered,
My heart breaks 'cause
You're dying.

Thankyou old friend we're
Mourning,
But yet you haven't,
Even left us yet,
By dying.

I pray that you don't
Journey
Away from here,
Too early to scent
The living.

One last romp through fields,
Autumn
Drifting through the
Berry patches as they
Fade dying.

Pick the fruits of Earth,
Old friend,
Your passage will be
Felt by all who know
Your living.

Innocence is yours,
Your slumber eternally,
Lasting
Peaceful in your going,
Rest old friend..

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So much vivid imagery with so few words in this nature poem.


gossamer wings
by Kaishaku©


gossamer wings
span in silent flight
ride the waves
a circular rise
above radiant earth

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The teasing display from a model of a taut midriff comes to mind; so pleasing to see but mustn't touch.


got all grown up
by smithpeter©


have whiskers
will travel

music still makes me jump
around the house
need a round house
with corners just for bathing

hired toughs
strapping boys and interruption

wait,
what is that around the corner?

the belly exposed ladies of ganged members
waiting

do they have brains
as long as the loins they display?
splay, lay, purloin and bask
just for moments they have no
idea
exist

come right in
make your self at home
enjoy my space

wicked grins prevail

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Now here's a powerful read to get your mind to work this evening.


Gothic
by RisiaSkye©


Wondering
if you want to fuck me
does that make you like him
or him like you
and if you have any idea how much
I hate
when you use that line on me
that bullshit about 'who's your daddy'
You don't know what it does to me
(be a good girl for daddy)
or how it sounds like screams
(be quiet be good be quiet and no and no and no)
in my head or how it makes me wish
I were more than only dead and replaced
hollow and defaced
a living disgrace,
a burial tomb below a waist land
a monument to power
implicitly prescribed for feeling like a man.

But it can't be your fault
because you don't know what I can't show
what I can't say about who
came first and whose blame lasts
and the reasons why I dwell
in the past for nights on end
and night after night seems to
begin with a conversation that
(never happened never happened)
co-created for me the monstrosity that's lived
in my place under the surface
That's where I learned
(it never happened never happened)
not because it would be wrong
to mangle this waste of genetic space
but because there's nothing there
but a liar who puts an uglier
face on a family
of untouchables.


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Now here's a powerful read to get your mind to work this evening.


Gothic
by RisiaSkye©


Wondering
if you want to fuck me
does that make you like him
or him like you
and if you have any idea how much
I hate
when you use that line on me
that bullshit about 'who's your daddy'
You don't know what it does to me
(be a good girl for daddy)
or how it sounds like screams
(be quiet be good be quiet and no and no and no)
in my head or how it makes me wish
I were more than only dead and replaced
hollow and defaced
a living disgrace,
a burial tomb below a waist land
a monument to power
implicitly prescribed for feeling like a man.

But it can't be your fault
because you don't know what I can't show
what I can't say about who
came first and whose blame lasts
and the reasons why I dwell
in the past for nights on end
and night after night seems to
begin with a conversation that
(never happened never happened)
co-created for me the monstrosity that's lived
in my place under the surface
That's where I learned
(it never happened never happened)
not because it would be wrong
to mangle this waste of genetic space
but because there's nothing there
but a liar who puts an uglier
face on a family
of untouchables.


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Glad to see a RisiaSkye poem here in the mix, Leon. She is an amazingly gifted poet, someone that the newer folk here probably haven't heard mentioned. I hope people get a chance to explore her poetry. :)
 
Glad to see a RisiaSkye poem here in the mix, Leon. She is an amazingly gifted poet, someone that the newer folk here probably haven't heard mentioned. I hope people get a chance to explore her poetry. :)

When I first read this one a few days ago I was reminded of a scene from Sylvia, where Sylvia was challenged to recite a poem. As she did so she was repeatedly encouraged to recite it faster and faster and, as she did so, she became louder and her recitation carried greater emotion.

This poem by Risia seems to naturally carry greater and greater levels of emotion when read aloud, just like that scene from Sylvia.

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A whip wielding, gout suffering Dom — now that's conjuring up quite an image.


Gouts, Maybe gout
by RazzRajen©


Gouts,
when old age creeps in
Taking away the flush of youth
and hobbling is all that is left
will you still care for Me
Take My hand and
place the whip in it

Can that gout cure me of My
inflamed desires
watching that arm raise and fall
repeatedly,
incessant rain pours
washing away His sins

Yet what will show save the next

Leans forward and eats His own
off the tip of hers
...swallows and then takes hers
cuts it off
staunches her flow with His

Hold that pose indefinitely

Are those gouts
..Or shall I say they are gout

They dance, they skirt,
never finish.
where shall it take them
where shall it end
never beginning, never ending
the strains of the shehnai
fills the air.

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Here's a really disturbing scene for you to imagine. Despite the power of its presentation, it could use a bit of tweaking {rhyming really lessens the impact}. And just look at those last two lines and how the impact of 'guilt' has been lessened. One possible modification is to turn them into a single line: "With toxic guilt." In any case, despite its flaws, enjoy this poem's power.


Grace
by Substance©


Grace

They stormed through the door
Armed and dangerous
One guy shouting at all of us,
“All you fuckers hit the floor!”
I quickly obey
I want to see another day

Just stopped in for a quick drink
Never considered, I didn’t think
That there was any risk of danger
As some abusive stranger
Rummages through my pockets
Grabbing my wallet and keys

I turn to look at my personal thief
Foot on my neck fills me with belief
That this is not some hazy dream
The tension is punctured with a scream
Following after the unmistakable blast
A voice shouts again, “Just get the cash!”

It’s over in a matter of minutes
They’re here, then out of this place
I look to my left, shocked to see
A head without a face
Coulda, shoulda, woulda been me
A stream of blood flowing under my feet

Oh, yeah, there
But for some grace go I
Living on each day,
Each day to die
Every second,
Every minute,
Every hour filled
With a toxic dose
Of overwhelming guilt

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A soft poignant wish with which to start the day.


Grace
by bluerains©


I watched, as you gathered
patched up pieces of your
world.
I whispered, "breathe",
knowing all the while
teardrops would drown your
soul with each gasp.
Yet, I clung to the hope
that a faint breeze would
sweep each broken
sliver into the silent
wind of yesterday,
planting your
vision in the eyes
of tomorrow just
so I could walk
in your fields of blue
once more...

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This has a disturbing edge to its portrayal of the dark side of street life.


Gracile Ice
by jthserra©


Icicle fingers, a frozen touch, nipples
rock hard in blue, blue silence
an icy stare, distant, unattached.
Bruises radiate in print-less fans
rice paper and bamboo, a moth
flutters at her throat, a death pollen
a fragrant perfume fading with the heat
her outline chalked on asphalt and ice.

Fire drum flickers a dance of light
shadows gyrate on walls, elongated
stick figures embracing a warm
in moments of flame, or touch, or love.
Unanswered questions, voiceless eyes
the dull red in the darkness seeing all
seeing nothing -- a last gasp, a scream
the steaming blood washed away in blindness.

Began the night in triumph, a look
a motion, an angle of hip and a whisper
the fog of words, a price warming an ear
a nod or not, a pause, a thought
weight of worlds pondered in night breath
the risk, but possibility, a burning core deep.
An end, her name, blotted ink, an alias
and the acrid white of car exhaust.

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Today we'll play a bit with that creation that bugs so many — the English language.


Grammar In The Round...
by Ancient117331©


Forgive me this moment
of simplicity...
the 'dark' was creeping in
at the edges
and the mind
is a terrible thing to let loose
roaming without reign -
as you see...

"Grammar In The Round..."

I have been the object of a pre-position.
Just a dangling participle
to moments of adverbial praise.
A subjective pause,
with obverse flaws
and to many - an objective clause,
taken as if an incomplete phrase
lacking a conjunctive connection
to their adjectival ways.

The past - tense
began with this - progression
of a future -
perfect
yet still indicative
of a coming contraction...
and still remains.

Chris Twyford
Ancient117331
04/14/2005

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Here's another satirical piece aimed at those mistakes that too often flourish in some writing. The last line makes its point.


Grammar Police
by Tongue lasher©


Look out
its (no apostrophe)
the 'grammer' police

Their cumming too get you
with they're friends
the mis-spellers

I, wonder, if, the, pronunciation, squad's (lol) will,
be, hear, to.




and people say it doesn't matter to write properly?

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I think that today, on what would have been his birthday, we ought to remember a dear departed friend.


The Cellar Door
by Rybka©

rybka_thecellardoor.jpg




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A little light hearted irreverance from our departed friend. I suspect he would like to be remembered in a similar vein.


Hokey Pokey
by Reltne©


Composer of the "Hokey Pokey" dead at 93.





Into the coffin
first they put his left foot . . .
then trouble began​

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Don't know what the hell this means — you figure it out — but it sure conveys the gritty feel of salt underfoot.


Grains
by smithpeter©


I have salt
It is in tiny white packets
It makes a pleasing sound
when shaken and stepped on

It obeys one of my many
Number One rules:
no matter what,
no screaming,
till I say, "go"

Where even a tiny
bag of salty salt
will scream on command.
That is the gated community
for me


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I don't know about this being described as an old bag. Inner vitality trumps the package any day of the week.


Grains
by Sander Roscoe Wolff©


This old woman’s body,
With bones and hair
Thinning, with
Stones forming, and
Mind going, still
Pulses with an
Undeniable energy.

A bag of sand,
Punctured at the bottom,
Still retains a few grains
Even when the flow
Grows slow.

Can these few grains of
Life sustain this
Caricature of the
Me I know?

Or should I
Simply
Let them go?

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The sensory experience in this poem that most strikes me is its rather tactile feel, even though the only directly obvious feel mentioned is the "syrup sticky menu."


grains in basket
by SeattleRain©


you loved a poet once
your tongue is muscle
you tell me these things

as we move without worry
of oil based paints
and products
washing clean under water

selecting fabric and color
like breakfast at a diner
syrup sticky menu
finger touches choice
forest green, animal prints,
blue ink, tiny stitching

I follow close behind
like Ruth
or Naomi?
picking up your scattered grains
hungry for the spill

knowing now I did not marry the wrong man
if I'd have married the right one
I would never have met you

is there anything else to say?

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Let's take a break from thought provoking or even depressing poems for this little bit of humor. You'll never look at a wedding the same way.


Gran's thoughts at the Wedding
by ishtat©


The first line of each stanza is taken from the beginning of the "Form of Solemnization of Matrimony" in the Book of Common Prayer.

"Dearly Beloved".
Such a lovely greeting,
I do like this vicar,
much better than Mr Soames, hopeless he was,
She says it like she means it.
It's good to be Dearly Beloved,
even by a lady vicar

"We are gathered together here".
Well, all the family's here
that's an achievement.
Quarrelsome lot,
I'd expect them all at a funeral,
The dead encourage expectations.
Sorry Lord, shouldn't have thought that.

"In the sight of God"
He'll see a relieved mother,
A confused father,
and a bridesmaid,
already eyeing up the best man, Ben isn't it
Sorry again Lord but she is, really, the hussy,
my granddaughter, in church too, and you are all seeing.

"And in the face of this congregation"
Why was she invited, the bitch
And him too. I bet he's half drunk already.
Still, takes all sorts,
my John looks handsome, like his father, fatter though,
and Angela's so pretty,
but still drooling over that Ben

"To join this man and this Woman"
He looks a bit wet, an accountant,
only child though and a father rolling in cash.
Diane looks lovely, lucky girl, not showing yet,
been around the traps a bit,
she'll settle down.
Hope they 're ok, like me and Jack.

"In Holy Matrimony"
My Jack was holy, a holy terror sometimes,
but he was so lovely, so wanted me,
especially the way he…Oh Lord, sorry again Lord ,
I shouldn't be thinking such things, at my age.
I'll be good and pray, and do something for them.

And after the service I'll introduce Angela to young Ben.


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Such an inspirational poem — next month let us all put on our own displays to the accompaniment of the July 4 fireworks displays.


grand display
by smithpeter©


seems like one of those poems
when the fireworks just finished
or have not started

we went for a drink or the toilet
never returned to soft lawn in July
to bend neck ooooing

we went down on our knees
got sloppy
gurgled in each others juice

near the water, onlookers
saw two shows
reflections extinguished

we went for more conversation
hair pulling
incineration, like chain-smokes
only more breathless

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Sweet praises for the drink of the gods — wine.


Grapes
by oregon_gal©


Beautifully earthen,
Growing from small hard green fruits,
Summers sweet days
Warmly emerging
Its perfectly rounded clusters.
Scarlet red,
Skin so smooth,
Almost human;
Breast like,
Hanging in their gravity
Laden in heavy nectar

I will Sheppard them,
These succulent orbs
Gently cradled in my hands,
Until they give themselves
To the heart wood of the oak.
Ripened flavor transformed,
Indescribable,
Sensuously,
.Bursting forth
.....Its liquid seduction

Loving vines
Turn in the fall from
Summer’s green
To whisper hues of gold
And blushing red,
Leaves briefly grace the hillside
Then fall
.Tenderly drifting
.To kiss the dry earth
.......Returning home


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Of course, should she be highly allergic to roses, the outcome might not be that which had been planned.


gratitude
by smithpeter©


there would be roses in your arms
hung on your door knobs all around
in trees with seasonal flower
and up to neck in sand

thornless perfect blossoms
several tender words of solemn aim
to your heart as target,
gratitude is contagious

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Read this aloud and feel its strong vibrant life.


Grapevine
by Remec©


Music begins,
.....building slowly,
......pulsating;
.....................strident;
Forcing me to the floor,
Setting off memories and dreams.
I am lost in the words,
...................the emotions,
Nothing exists
......but the feeling;
...............pure energy;
Fueling,
......Releasing,
...........Kicking off new thoughts
......................................desires
......................................fantasies
Never realized,
not to be realized,
stifled by a life of too many cares,
..............................too few loves;
Empathy to the nth degree.

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He's done it again — sent me off on another journey through Google.


Graustark
by jthserra©


Graustark

Neon sheens on soaring glass,
the din of lights pulse a rhyme,
a rhythmic dance of color
reflects in breathless words.

Night arches as a rainbow
in a shadow on a heartless moon,
a self-sustaining silhouette, perception
surrenders to dreams of possibility.

In the rain, the narcissistic arrogance
of washed out academia cloud a
brilliance, as the side is darkened,
but not tarnished, in the stormy winds.

Legendary city, once vibrant, oozes
an endless flow of lifeblood into puddles,
truth and lies desiccate, forever staining
the streets in congealing verse.


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Go on and have some fun with this anatomy lesson.


Gray Anatomy
by Toward A Word©


what troubles you pilgrim?
is it your wandering eye?
with your head in the clouds
the days must just blow by

your eyes look ahead
but your gaze is turned in
less concerned with your path
than where you could have been

your blood's almost boiling
your pressure's off-chart
but what can you expect
from a dislocated heart?

and what's that expression
atop your weak chin
is that a cockeyed smile
or a shit-eating grin?

you shoulder your burdens
though you've mentioned enough
a lifetime of curveballs
weakened your rotator cuff

just look at the callouses
on your idle hands
perhaps someone else
has been making your plans

and this organ right here
it's suspiciously clean
it appears that too often,
you've vented your spleen

take a rest, lonesome pilgrim
assign the first watch
to the seeing-eye dog
attached to your crotch

close your red blood-lust eyes
until a new day
take off the track shoes
from your feet of clay

say a prayer with me now
soul and body be healed
before your lips and your fate
are both sealed


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What do you call an aging haiku? Sorry, couldn't resist. Here is this punchline looking for its straight line.


grayku
by Senna Jawa©




fleas
get skis
my head's graying​







wlodzimierz holsztynski ©
1995-10-17


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