Non-erotic poetry (that is, Poetry)

[_Land]

truly following
the correct haiku metre
might justify hush

(your silent (ed) syllables queered the pitch for me a little)
Though your content is far better than my hysteria

Méli

Ah, but silence bites
its syllables wear soft shoes
and dance past your count.

Thanks for hysteria
she lit the hush with spotlight,
then bowed out mid-line.

 

[melimelissa]

Oh but satire wears many a face
some drunk, some divine, some debased.
To mock is an art, not a tantrum, dear friend,
and parody’s punch must land at the end.

You speak of cliché with a scholar’s disdain,
yet dress rebuttals in yesterday’s chain.
History’s threads, when stitched with new flame,
burn louder than those who just curse the frame.

Let Kennedy cough in his chlorine-free sleep,
let fools take their fluoride out with their teeth
we’ll sip irony sharp from chalices cracked,
and duel with quills where dull minds retract.

_Land

You still owe me an apology you graceless excuse of a human being - it's not a tantrum - it is manners!

 

[_Land]

You still owe me an apology you graceless excuse of a human being - it's not a tantrum - it is manners!

Would you prefer that apology in spankings or satire?

 

[melimelissa]

Would you prefer that apology in spankings or satire?

fuck off and die you troll

 

[_Land]

A cliché's well-worn; so I feel
You're unfair and reckless in claims,
Marrying unearthed past to fresh verse,
It's hardly repeating old aims;

If you disagree, then you're wrong: and I'll mock
Baseless tries to do these verses down,
I appreciate that some will knock
Tedious crumpled rags, badly sewn...

Into Kennedy measles - MAGA fools,
Who, cluelessly, forget parody,
Of healthy living, depressing, uncool:
Fluoride loss rots humility...

(In sum)

I equate returned Tudor head* - see
Post axe in hard-worked poetry.

*of STM - see recent press

Méli
----
PS: I reserve the right to be justifiably annoyed at your stupid piss take.
You really do owe me an apology - so grovel in verse that actually scans. if you can
(see my corrections in UC to your lazy scrawled limericks above ) -

All good poetry - even humble limericks - needs attention to detail and proper scansion to be worth setting down, regardless of content.

PPS: I'm not really annoyed - but please think before you piss on others' work in your enthusiasm for decrying rubbish writing.

Méli

So first and foremost, everything I wrote was pure satire.... No real critique not commentary on your writing .... As a matter of fact the original response is somewhat harmonic to your original ! I agreed with your thoughts and liked the poem. I was inspired to respond... I'm sorry

I actually read every single one of your poems.... And have one waiting to post I wrote for you ...

So please forgive me if my satire was taken seriously.

 

[_Land]

When a Poet Makes an Ass of Himself
Land, asshat that he is

I got drunk on rhythm, bold and tight,
Thought every line I dropped was right.
Wore wit like armor, sharp and clean,
And stabbed at silence, cold and mean.

Mistook my volume for a vow,
Chased truth with words I don’t know how.
Wrapped ego in a clever turn,
Lit matches just to watch them burn.

Called it craft—some noble art,
But all I did was miss your heart.
So here I stand with nothing left
But rhyme and breath and self-bereft.

Forgive me not for what I wrote,
But for the pain between each note.


Sorry @melimelissa

 

[WCSGarland]

FLUTTER BY BUTTERFLY

Flutter by, butterfly,
For beauty is thy name.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Survival is thy game.

Flutter by, butterfly,
For life is very free.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Freedom is known by thee.

 

[WCSGarland]

COYOTE

Coyote tries to swallow the moon tonight,
Hoping to steal my sense of sight,
And watches me from beyond my vision,
And fashions my world of indecision.

Coyote grins when I try to speak,
Using my voice and words to sneak,
Behind my back to make me a clown,
One day I will catch and throw him down.

 

[_Land]

COYOTE

Coyote tries to swallow the moon tonight,
Hoping to steal my sense of sight,
And watches me from beyond my vision,
And fashions my world of indecision.

Coyote grins when I try to speak,
Using my voice and words to sneak,
Behind my back to make me a clown,
One day I will catch and throw him down.

Love this WCS!!



Intended or not this is what that inspired,

Meep meep!

Road Runner

You blur-born bastard of sunstroke speed,
you laugh in smoke while I bleed need.
You ain’t got bones, just mirage and nerve
a flick of dust on long brown curve.

I build cathedrals of plan and fail,
scaffolds of hunger that always derail.
You chirp like god in a feathered flash,
and leave me lost in god-damned splash.

 

[WCSGarland]

Interesting interpretation. Kind of 90 degree tangent, but good just the same.

 

[_Land]

Interesting interpretation. Kind of 90 degree tangent, but good just the same.

I appreciate the original context, but my brain couldn't move past Wiley E stealing the moon to blind the road runner...... I am a bit weird, I know and freely admit this

 

[WCSGarland]

ELEMENT

Silent sits the rock,
Basking in the stillness.
Here comes the water,
Turning rock to sand.
There goes the wind,
Wandering the land.
And fire energetically,
Transforms them all.

Does the moon hear,
The turning of the Earth?
Does the earth taste,
The saltiness of the sea?
Do the planets sound,
Like whistles in the solar wind?
Does the Sun feel,
The cold emptiness of space?

 

[melimelissa]

FLUTTER BY BUTTERFLY

Flutter by, butterfly,
For beauty is thy name.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Survival is thy game.

Flutter by, butterfly,
For life is very free.
Flutter by, butterfly,
Freedom is known by thee.

Flutter-by Butterfly,
Feel no demise,
Or stinking carcass,
Beneath black skies.

Survival is cherished:
Even captives form
A plan, sans merits,
In the sun's warmth;

A plan dusk kills,
Chilled butterfly sighs,
Night rules endless
As the flutter-by dies...

 

[melimelissa]

ELEMENT

Silent sits the rock,
Basking in the stillness.
Here comes the water,
Turning rock to sand.
There goes the wind,
Wandering the land.
And fire energetically,
Transforms them all.

Does the moon hear,
The turning of the Earth?
Does the earth taste,
The saltiness of the sea?
Do the planets sound,
Like whistles in the solar wind?
Does the Sun feel,
The cold emptiness of space?

On the face of it
The moon must have ears,
To hear solar winds
And listen for the tears
As serendipitous romances
Have to fade and die,
Having looked far too long
At the lunar-washed sky

You won't see lunar ears,
Hid by scraggly eons-old hair,
Until it streams forever behind
Rushing winds: and that's where
The moon is arrested.
For listening to those lovers pure,
So perverse and now bested:
Ahh! Lonely solar écouteur.

Méli

 

[_Land]

Migration

A Cento

The sky is full of them
their cries like needles threading the wind
Some fly north, some fly south
none forget the way

You leaned into me as dusk grew feathers
I knew then love is not a nest
it is the flight

The trees are turning and still
your shadow lingers at my door
We do not choose the seasons we return to
We only follow the pull

I carry your name in the hollow of my wing
And when the sky opens again
we rise


Line Sources and Credits:

1. “The sky is full of them” from “The Quietness of the Birds” by Linda Hogan

2. “their cries like needles threading the wind”
adapted from imagery in “Bird” by Pablo Neruda

3. “Some fly north, some fly south” from “Migratory Patterns” by Camille T. Dungy

4. “none forget the way” inspired by “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver

5. “You leaned into me as dusk grew feathers”
adapted from “Love Poem” by Audre Lorde

6. “I knew then love is not a nest / it is the flight” composite adaptation inspired by themes in “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong” by Ocean Vuong and “The Raincoat” by Ada Limón

7. “The trees are turning and still / your shadow lingers at my door” from “October” by Louise Glück

8. “We do not choose the seasons we return to” lightly adapted from the tone and structure of “Meditation at Lagunitas” by Robert Hass

9. “We only follow the pull” from “Field Guide” by Tony Hoagland

10. “I carry your name in the hollow of my wing” inspired by “I Carry Your Heart With Me” by E. E. Cummings and “Famous” by Naomi Shihab Nye

11. “And when the sky opens again / we rise” from “Instructions on Not Giving Up” by Ada Limón

 

[_Land]

At the Clinic

Vinyl gloves.
Stainless tray.
Sterile swab.

Lesions,
three on the shaft,
one ulcerated.
Yellow-gray center.
Raised edges.
No discharge today.

She undresses
from the waist down.
No eye contact.
Speculum in.
Cervix inflamed.
Pus at the os.

Swab. Culture.
Label: C. trachomatis rule-out.
She winces.
Bleeds a little.
Notes: friable tissue.

He complains of burning.
Urethral smear taken.
Gram stain: intracellular diplococci.
Discharge milky, thin.
No lesions observed.

Room 4:
Anal warts—cauliflower clusters
around perianal fold.
Biopsy taken.
Cryo scheduled.

Room 7:
HIV follow-up.
CD4 dropped.
Kaposi's spot noted
on left cheekbone.
Purple. Flat.
Photo logged.

Autoclave running.
Sharps in container.
Paper gowns in trash.

Prescriptions:
Azithromycin 1g, stat.
Ceftriaxone IM, gluteal.
Follow-up in 2 weeks.
Abstain until cleared.

They all leave
without touching
the condom bowl.

 

[Ash999]

3rd Test@Lord's
==============

The other evening@Lord★ s'
As Sir Jaddu negotiated ....
Treacherous inswing and quiet Ffords......
A fascinated World watched.. th....the gripping contest
In era of 6-'s and Insta Gratification... .
Of IPL and Premature Ejaculation.........
There still remains
A dedicated audience4Concentration....
Grit and patience.....
For 1 Run per over Tests
Hard fought Contests...
Where Win or Lose
U R Honoured
As the Noble Enemy
Who fought Hard....
Thus concludes this
Humble bard

 

[WCSGarland]

GRAVEDIGGER'S FOLLY

The morning was as clear as a fragmented mirror,
The trees, grass, and sky were as one,
The Sun hid in fear behind clouds,
The gray fog danced in delight.

Meanwhile, I tried to obscure my beckoning terror,
My tools gleamed in the half-dark morn.

But time is gold,
And I commenced the dig,
Glancing from side to side,
Watching for nothing yet feeling something.

And all the while, conscious of the leaden sound,
Of shovel biting ground.

 

[WCSGarland]

GNOME

I met a little gnome,
Who whispered in my ear,
He told me of a treasure,
Hidden in a tree,
Thereupon I asked him,
To show me where it was,
We traveled quite a distance,
Through the thorny brush,
And if I’m not mistaken,
Several figure eights,
Where then he did crouch,
Afore a jump across a rock,
And then it got confusing,
The gyrations he did take,
Which I followed every one,
The best that I could,
It must have been a sight,
The squirrels were watching me,
At last we did arrive,
Where he had me gather,
Seven dragon hatchlings,
From a branch up high,
So now I'm very popular,
When someone needs a fire.

 

[BiDave1962]

My heart cannot contain,

The love I feel for you,

To try might be in vain,

But there is naught for me to do.



So I stand here eyes awater,

Trembling with the thought,

That the world’s most perfect daughter,

Thinks I am what she sought.



I want to spend my life,

I want to keep things right,

I want our love to last,

I want to hold you tight.



We may not be wealthy or great,

But that doesn’t worried me much,

I just want you for my mate,

I want to live for your touch.



Our minds compliment and reside,

In a world we have given life,

There is no else to stand beside,

Can you imagine yourself my wife?



I want to spend my life,

I want to keep things right,

I want our love to last,

I want to hold you tight.



With you I can stand the night,

And find comfort all through the day,

What’s wrong I can make right,

Find strength to continue to play.



I want to spend my life,

I want to keep things right,

I want our love to last,

I want to hold you tight.

 

[BiDave1962]

They sucker you with sweetness and with money and with fame,
They drink up from your lifeblood without even knowing your name,
They tell you soothing lies with words you must believe,
But all the while they full intend to make you cry and grieve.

The devils talk and talk and yet never say a thing,
The words of devils find you and leave behind a sting.

Devils hide in plain sight and they ride within your wake,
To torture mind and body and attempt your soul to take,
The devils take your voice and use it for their evil goals,
Gobbling up the young and old and poisoning their souls.

The devils talk and talk and yet never say a thing,
The words of devils find you and leave behind a sting.



Warnings come in many forms so please listen to mine,
If you do there is a chance that somehow you’ll be fine,
Heed not words of devils for their nature is to lie,
They seek to live within you but without you they will die!

The devils talk and talk and yet never say a thing,
The words of devils find you and leave behind a sting.

Beware, beware, beware the Words of Devils!

 

[BiDave1962]

She carries a sword, she carries a gun,
She kills without mercy, She thinks it’s fun.
The world has ended, and yet it persists,
So she goes out hunting,
For whatever still exists.

She’s the Queen,
She’s the best,
She’s the bomb,
Queen of the survivalists.

When the mutated beasts,
Are scratching the gate,
When the other survivors,
Wanna decide her fate,

She just doesn’t flinch,
She just doesn’t blink,
She knows how to fight,
She knows what to think.

She’s the Queen,
She’s the best,
She’s the bomb,
Queen of the survivalists.

Her bunker is smokin’,
And I don’t mean with fire,
Her supplies are the greatest,
Her spirit is higher.

How well she survives,
Is on her own shoulders,
And when she escapes,
She gets a little bit older.

She’s the Queen,
She’s the best,
She’s the bomb,
Queen of the survivalists.

She’s the Queen,
She’s the best,
She’s the bomb,
Queen of the survivalists.

 

[_Land]

Moments of Impermanence
(A collection of forty-one poems)
By Bear Sage

Morning dew
on overnight webs
threads jeweled
for a moment
then gone

Crocus pushes
through thawed soil
the bloom
trembles
before the wind

A child’s breath
on the cold glass
stays longer
than
his footsteps

Petal confetti
on wedding shoes
crushed
into spring
like promises

Rain pools
in a robin’s footprint
then lifts
into
sky again

The last plum
on the branch
loosens
without
farewell

Lilac perfume
lingers
on the hem
of someone
departing

Picnic blanket
left in the grass
the sun
folds it
into memory

Sunburn
on her shoulder
peels
like a page
never written

Lemonade
sweating
on the windowsill
forgotten
by dusk

Steam rising
from jasmine tea
curls into silence
then
nothing

A bee
drunken with nectar
collides
with a dandelion
already gone

The moon
touched the lake
then drifted
out of
itself

The kite
caught
on telephone wire
fluttered
then fell

Paper cranes
on the windowsill
folded in hope
faded
to ivory

Sunflowers
facing west
bowed
by something
more than wind

Chalk lines
on the sidewalk
after rain
still whisper
the child who drew them

Candlelight
in a chapel at dusk
flickers
before
being memory

The fireflies
blinked
like they never
meant
to be believed

Wind chimes
sang
to no one
but the ghost
of summer

First snow
on a crow’s back
vanishes
without
a sound

Frosted panes
frame
the withering orchard
still
it bore sweetness

The mitten
left on a fencepost
filled
with last week’s
snow

Pine needles
in her boots
long after
the hike
was done

His voice
on a voicemail
still warm
with the day
he left

She braided my hair
in the hallway light
by morning
the scent of her hands
was gone

Ashes
in the urn
whisper
what bones
once carried

The mirror
held
her face
longer
than he did

Two cups
on the counter
only one
still
steaming

The note
on the pillow
creased
where
she once lived

The swing
rocking
with no one
in it
yet

Photographs
in a drawer
curling
like leaves
never pressed

Her earrings
in the sink
shimmered
with the last
yes

Shoelaces
untied
still hold
the shape
of running

Laughter
echoing
from the stairwell
doesn’t
come back

A scarf
slipped
from her shoulders
onto the night
without pause

The bench
still warm
after she left
knows
what goodbye means

The journal
closed
mid-sentence
but full
of her voice

Snowmelt
seeping
into last year’s soil
returns
as silence

The clock
keeps ticking
as if
what was said
can be undone

A single light
in the upstairs window
goes dark
before
the stars arrive
~~~
We do not choose
what disappears
only how we
tend
what remains

Every vanished moment
blooms again
in the ache
that says
I saw it

This is the cost
of being witness,
to love
what leaves
and let it leave

 

[WCSGarland]

LIGHTNING

super-luminary lines
momentary fragmentary
white-hot crazy string
stitching up the clouds
tightening up the sky
until the edges overflow
and splatter on the ground

 

[WCSGarland]

(acrostic form)

NO MORE

What? a barren field, unbroken white,
Hasn't had any disturbance.
It doesn't care, and might actually prefer it.
The colorlessness burns its way into my soul.
Every time i shut my eyes, inspiration disappears.

Perfection here mocks my existence.
All of it screams at me, tauntingly, hauntingly, saying...
Go ahead, do something about me, what are you waiting for?
Echoes of the past 15 years come scrabbling up my spine.

Not this time, though, for i am up to the challenge!
Oracles would happily die, to feel this rush of power...

My essence coalesces, my mind becomes a juggernaut,
Onward rushing, thoughts conspiring to break the silence,
Rise up my nearly broken spirit, like a phoenix, rise...
Enter words onto this page, that it be white no more.