It's the Poem-A-Week Challenge Discussion Thread

[Wonderer67]

The source of my wiring of grievances to the cookie gods. My mom used to make these pinwheel pinwheel at chtimastime.

They are painstaking to make… they require a bakers hand. But I try every year to make them… they are refrigerator cookies, and so you have to make the dough, refrigerate them to make them harden up some, then roll them into thin sheets, let them harden again, then take the chocolate and the vanilla ones and roll them up into a roll. Then slice. Mine came in very dry this year.

Inspiration for Festivus poem of airing of grievances.

What they should look like…

https://imgur.com/a/mpcSiJs

How they turned out.

https://imgur.com/a/U5glnDr

 

[Angeline]

There's just a few days left until the 2025 Poem-a-Week challenge concludes. Thank you all for making it a rip-roaring success! You still have time if you want to add poetry before the 2026 challenge starts. I'll unlock the new thread (and the Revise-a-Poem challenge) sometime on 12/29 for anyone who wants to get an early start.

 

[Wonderer67]

Im prolly forcing it to get to 52.

I don’t know if that’s writing discipline or if I’m just mailing it in. Haven’t felt too good about the last couple that I’ve created. They’re ok ish.

To me at least, a poem has to come to me. Or feel interesting or powerful enough to write about.

This doesn’t feel like it.

 

[Angeline]

Im prolly forcing it to get to 52.

I don’t know if that’s writing discipline or if I’m just mailing it in. Haven’t felt too good about the last couple that I’ve created. They’re ok ish.

To me at least, a poem has to come to me. Or feel interesting or powerful enough to write about.

This doesn’t feel like it

Just my opinion but give yourself some time to digest how you feel about these poems you think you're forcing. Maybe it's just my way but I've learned not to trust how I feel about a poem right after I wrote it.

And even if you conclude those poems are not what you want to produce the process is still good because the more you write the more you improve.

Also it's really not about the number, right? You wrote all year: that's a significant accomplishment.

 

[Wonderer67]

Just my opinion but give yourself some time to digest how you feel about these poems you think you're forcing. Maybe it's just my way but I've learned not to trust how I feel about a poem right after I wrote it.

And even if you conclude those poems are not what you want to produce the process is still good because the more you write the more you improve.

Also it's really not about the number, right? You wrote all year: that's a significant accomplishment.

Sound advice, Angeline.

At the very least it may give me some good material for the revision challenge.

 

[42BelowsBack]

Interesting reading. Thank you @Tzara I enjoyed your poem and the links.

Ps this is discussion is akin to giving monkeys a loaded gun.

SF I think, 2026 will involve being heavily inspired by others ideas and craft. Which I see you are already doing.

@Tzara it seems enjoys stylistically laconic poets (among many others). After reading a dictionary definition of laconic, I’m still not sure I understand how to write stylistically laconic poetry. It’s probably something as simple as write to the point. Which takes a lot of skill.

Example: Apparently the following D. H. Lawrence poem is laconic Baby Tortoise (confused, scratching my head or is it my ass)?

Maybe the secret SF is write like a spartan… “Woman fetch my loin cloth, This. Is. Sparta!”

 

[42BelowsBack]

Ps this is discussion is akin to giving monkeys a loaded gun.

SF I think, 2026 will involve being heavily inspired by others ideas and craft. Which I see you are already doing.

@Tzara it seems enjoys stylistically laconic poets (among many others). After reading a dictionary definition of laconic, I’m still not sure I understand how to write stylistically laconic poetry. It’s probably something as simple as write to the point. Which takes a lot of skill.

Example: Apparently the following D. H. Lawrence poem is laconic Baby Tortoise (confused, scratching my head or is it my ass)?

Maybe the secret SF is write like a spartan… “Woman fetch my loin cloth, This. Is. Sparta!”

Ooo Ooo Arh ah I think I’ve got it!

And a List of the so called ten best laconic poems. Laconic poems don’t have…. (have a look and see it for yo self SF).

 

[SmilingLez]

Example: Apparently the following D. H. Lawrence poem is laconic Baby Tortoise (confused, scratching my head or is it my ass)?

Thanks for the link - cool poem.

 

[aiyia]

This thread, it is just for discussion
So don't bring poetic percussion
Violators we'll beat
And badly mistreat
inflicting a massive concussion

 

[Angeline]

THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT SOON: i admit it. Suck on it bitch.

I made up a fake English accent in my SAID, poem. No English Farmer, Englishman or English King would ever laud the caber under a Scotsman’s kilt. I was momentarily horny because of @Angeline use of the word ‘pornographic’ in a poem. It’s the way angeline uses it. Check it out. I was inspired.

Are you sure it was my poem and not this guy?

 

[aiyia]

The source of my wiring of grievances to the cookie gods. My mom used to make these pinwheel pinwheel at chtimastime.

They are painstaking to make… they require a bakers hand. But I try every year to make them… they are refrigerator cookies, and so you have to make the dough, refrigerate them to make them harden up some, then roll them into thin sheets, let them harden again, then take the chocolate and the vanilla ones and roll them up into a roll. Then slice. Mine came in very dry this year.

Inspiration for Festivus poem of airing of grievances.

What they should look like…

https://imgur.com/a/mpcSiJs

How they turned out.

https://imgur.com/a/U5glnDr

I like yours better, they look friendlier and homemade and contain more love

 

[aiyia]

I saw a t-shirt that said:

SENTENCE FRAGMENT

 

[aiyia]

Well actually it was

SENTENCE
FRAGMENT

 

[Wonderer67]

I like yours better, they look friendlier and homemade and contain more love

Thank you!

They were the worst ones and fall off.

 

[aiyia]

Well actually it was

SENTENCE
FRAGMENT

And she wasn't wearing a bra so you could see her nipples

 

[SmilingLez]

I decided to take my homage to rhyme and turn it into a story format (i.e. paragraphs, the rhyme unchanged). The premise being time is not linear and I set the scene thusly

Jayne and Debbie Across Time

Description: A story told in rhyme and time

I have always been fascinated by the idea that time doesn’t always move in a straight line. What if the same two lesbians found each other in different times? Three moments with Jayne and Debbie - the 1960s, the digital age of kink, and a long-term BDSM/TPE dynamic. Each life explores how trust, power, and consent shape a timeless connection. (Not a "stroker".)


Life 1: Summer of Love - 1960s, San Francisco

Imagine a moment where freedom is not just a word, but a breathing entity. Where the boundaries of love stretch beyond societal constraints, and two lesbians find each other in the raw, unfiltered landscape of personal revolution.


Life 2: Digital Intimacy - Networked Desire

In an age where connection is both everywhere and nowhere, intimacy becomes a carefully negotiated dance. Technology transforms how we meet, how we communicate, and how we surrender. Yet the fundamental human need for genuine connection remains unchanged


Life 3: Decades of Negotiated Passion - Evolved Relationship

Power is not taken, but offered. Trust is not a simple transaction, but a living, breathing architecture that two people construct together. Some bonds transcend time, growing more intricate and more nuanced with each shared breath.


It will be interesting if Literotica approves it and how the readers in the lesbian sex category will react

 

[Angeline]

For SpermFactory in celebration of his latest poem

 

[Stephie02]

№1 of 52

The Unspoken Duel

He said, “I’d like to do something to you.”
I said, “And if I don’t approve of your advances?”

He smiled, “I’ve never failed.”
I replied, “You’ve never met my kind.”

He laughed softly, “I’ve met every kind there is.”
I answered, “Then you’ve met reflections, not depths.
Surface water flatters the sky,
but the sea keeps her secrets.”

He murmured, “You sound dangerous.”
I breathed, “Only to those who confuse touch
with permission.”

He leaned closer, “I like a challenge.”
I said quietly, “Then learn restraint.
Desire grows wiser
when left to wait.”

He observed, “You speak like fire, yet sit in calm.”
I smiled, “The fire is beneath the calm.
It listens—
it knows the language of trembling skin.”

He whispered, “You make contradictions sound divine.”
I replied, “Not divine,
just human enough to ache beautifully.”

He muttered, “You’re difficult.”
I returned, “I’m deliberate.
You chase storms;
I move clouds.”

He said, “You tempt me.”
I answered, “Temptation is what happens
when the mind forgets its manners.”

He claimed, “I can read you.”
I told him, “Then read the silence
between my words—
that’s where the pulse hides.”

He said, “You sound untouchable.”
I replied, “You mistake distance for mystery.
What you reach for isn’t me—
it’s your own longing,
wearing my outline.”

He murmured, “You’re unlike anyone I’ve met.”
I said, “That’s because I’m not meant to be met.
Only sensed—
like heat that lingers
after a hand has gone.”

He whispered, “You twist meaning.”
I breathed, “I unwrap it.
You came to conquer,
but language conquers quietly.”

He protested, “Words don’t wound.”
I said softly, “No.
They only reveal
where you’ve already bled.”

He fell silent.
The space between us thickened—
like air before rain.

I leaned closer and murmured,
“Now you see—
desire isn’t about taking.
It’s about recognition,
the echo of yourself
in another’s calm refusal.”

He looked at me, lost.
I smiled faintly,
“Some victories prefer silence.
They live in stillness,
and end
where wanting does not.”

An Afterthought

And when he left,
the air still held his question—
a fragile thing,
like smoke deciding
which way to disappear.

And I—
I gathered my quiet around me,
not as armor,
but as warmth.
Some nights,
the echo of his wanting
still trembles through my calm—
and I let it.
Because even restraint
has its pulse.

This is amazing and beautiful

 

[Stephie02]

Sunrise hits.
You’re beside me.
Warm. Awake. Real.

Coffee steams between us.
Fingers brush by accident.
Neither pulls away.

The room stays still,
the world does not,
this moment - ours.

You say, "stay."
Not dramatic.
Just certain.

Breath stutters.
Heat teases my cheeks.
I can't look away.

Us.
Still here.
Still together.

Hold me close.
Forehead to mine.
Hearts aligned.

Stay like this.
No promises.
Just us.

Beautiful

 

[SmilingLez]

I am throwing down the gauntlet and challenging every poet. I've started a Acrostic poetry thread to get our creative juices flowing. Anyone up for it?

 

[SmilingLez]

Oh how fucked am I? Does text speak count? Mehaha, create your own, my interactive acrostic.

F
u
C

That's the beauty of being a poet.

Special
Folks
See
Strings

 

[calmlikeabomb]

FYI

Until mid February or thereabouts,
Winters make me numb, have no doubts,
My poems will focus on the damm cold,
Shivering as I type this, feeling so old.

My duvet, fluffy, is my refuge,
I'm made for Summers and rainy deluge,
Can't even jack off, such is my plight,
My fluffy duvet is my sole delight.

If I could give my duvet a name,
Lisa, my second love, the one who I blame,
Together on Lit, a story we wrote,
A decade ago, now, I bore you all with bloat.

 

[42BelowsBack]

The poetry Holy trinity, Read, Write, Give Feedback.

I have started a non Lit poem, poet Read Suggest Thread.

Kim Addonizio What Do Woman Want?
an @Angeline read suggest.

Men be warned. This is a great poem written by a skillful poet. My inner caveman came away realizing: Feminism is a woman in a red dress.

Jayne Cortez, I remember
an @Angeline read suggest.

This poem is a clinic on erotic writing. It’s so deftly slippery it’s delicious. And, an ending I didn’t see coming. Now why do I feel like I’m writing more on men misunderstanding woman? It’s The Power Of Poetry

 

[Angeline]

The poetry Holy trinity, Read, Write, Give Feedback.

I have started a non Lit poem, poet Read Suggest Thread.

Kim Addonizio What Do Woman Want?
an @Angeline read suggest.

Men be warned. This is a great poem written by a skillful poet. My inner caveman came away realizing: Feminism is a woman in a red dress.

Jayne Cortez, I remember
an @Angeline read suggest.

This poem is a clinic on erotic writing. It’s so deftly slippery it’s delicious. And an ending I didn’t see coming.

42 my friend thanks for the thread and the acknowledgement.

I love both those poems. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone's recommendations!

 

[Waeponwifestre]

I wrote this and posted it elsewhere a few weeks ago about the original version of Tennyson’s The Lady of Shalott (1832), which I just posted in the other thread. Hopefully you all enjoy reading my thoughts about it.

I’ve been drawn to Tennyson and wanted to read more Arthuriana, and there’s a painting I really love based on this poem, so I wanted to start with “The Lady of Shallot” There’s another version that Tennyson wrote later that changed the ending to be more about unrequited love as opposed to the protagonist’s (Elaine of Astolat) agency and pursuit of freedom so here is the original.

So right off the bat this probably kinda looks like what most people think of when they think of stuffy old poetry. It’s in pretty strict iambic meter, there’s end rhymes, the language is kinda archaic, he does the thing a lot of older poets did where they’ll contract words to fit in the meter. It’s not gonna be everyone’s idea of a fun read but I dont mind that stuff and actually really enjoy formalism. The more I learn and practice art the more I feel like contstraints of form and style force you to make creative choices you may not have been drawn to at first, and over time I really feel like paying attention to it has made me better with language and music overall. But it can be kinda cheesy and honestly I’m not a huge fan of the way this poem begins. Part 1 I find mostly boring, the imagery is kinda pretty sometimes but it feels mostly rote. The second stanza has something that interested me when I read it though.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

All of a sudden this sounds more like a prison than anything else and I like how it recontextualizes a lot of the pretty imagery preceding it. A gilded cage is still a cage.

Part 2 is where we find out that she’s cursed, and this section has something lines in it I really love. Some of it is just kind of setting up the conflict and there’s a lot of imagery of the goings on she watches while she weaves all the time, and Tennyson writes

“She lives with little joy or fear.”

That’s not a super complex line, there really isn’t much going on, but when you think about that, it’s pretty bleak. That’s how being in major depressive episodes always felt to me. Just nothing, it’s not even bad most of the time just feels devoid of everything that makes being human worth it.

Or when the moon was overhead
Came two young lovers lately wed;
'I am half sick of shadows,' said
The Lady of Shalott.

The end of the second part I really love. “I am half sick of shadows” is a pretty powerful line again. It’s where she regains her agency in the story. And I dunno, with the preceding imagery of two young lovers in the moonlight and the way it just rolls off the tongue I think it’s one of the more memorable lines in the poem.

We get some Lancelot shit next and honestly he’s kind of a fuckboy so this is the weakest section for me except the last stanza

She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro' the room
She saw the water-flower bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
'The curse is come upon me,' cried
The Lady of Shalott.

The repetition in sounds as she rejects eternally weaving in favor of something else, and knowing that in doing so she’s lost something forever, this is another great part of the poem imo. At the same time you get the sense that while she knows she’s cursed she’s also become a whole new person, and this happens in the space of 9 lines. And you just see this through her actions and the contrast with the weaving imagery she’s always had through till this point.

Up to here there’s been some parts I enjoyed and I do appreciate a lot of the adherence to form and stuff Tennyson uses, but I think the last part of this poem is the strongest part overall. The first three stanzas of this part all read magically imo, the imagery of the scenery passing by in the wind is great. Amazingly though; I think every consecutive stanza just gets better and better in this part. The writing I think is at its best here, but also just the imagery chosen, picturing this woman dying and falling apart in a storm but singing all the while because she finally gets to be part of the world just really sticks with me. I’m sure when Alfred wrote this in the 1830s he didn’t expect some queer on the internet to be like “omg she’s just like me fr fr” but like I feel like it’s just impossible not to relate to that symbolism as an openly trans person.

A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,

These lines I just wanted to say are hella goth and deadcold is a ridiculous word

The ending four lines are just the perfect end though, and honestly fuck you Tennyson for changing this to be about fuckboy shit.

'The web was woven curiously,
The charm is broken utterly,
Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
The Lady of Shalott.'

What a great way to end. Tragic yeah, but she finally gets to be free and meet the world she’s been stuck out of and go up to the townsfolk and say (in a sense, she is dead at this point)

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
The Lady of Shalott.

Overall I think Tennyson has other stuff that’s better written and more interesting from a poetics standpoint, but I just really love the whole (ORIGINAL VERSION) story of The Lady of Shalott and her quest to be one with a world she’s always been set apart from. The drive and determination to say “This is I” in the face of death is just so powerful and feels endlessly relevant as an openly queer person in the USA - and I think it’s endlessly fascinating how in looking at past artwork we derive new and powerful meanings based on our current times.