not sure how many words

[The_Frank_Black]

junkie

She has perfect veins.
Her map to hell is snug
beneath pale skin and
she knows it.

 

[TheRainMan]

trying to decide on a lead poem

...........

 

[Tzara]

.

We Don’t...

I see the class valedictorian is back.




Good poem, Master P.

 

[Tzara]

.....

 

[TheRainMan]

. . .




Good poem, Master P.

thanks, Seattle.

i like yours, too. it's solid and honest. i think your poetry is that (when you eschew form, of course ).

 

[Tzara]

thanks, Seattle.

i like yours, too. it's solid and honest. i think your poetry is that (when you eschew form, of course ).

Well, thanks, but it wasn't, really (honest, that is). Just a trope with a phony title. Why it's now up on the rack in the Poetry Garage.

You just keep getting better, though. You have a portrait in the attic or something? Or a new book coming out? Or an award I don't know about (besides that Matt Clark thingie, for which congratulations are due)?

I'd tip a brew to you, doctor, 'cept I'm mostly drinking wine, these days.

And, hell. Form is fun, goddammit. You always were too serious.

 

[champagne1982]

Year 2101 -

A century will not silence
these voices. Alone,
bereft of comfort in maternal
arms; instead, restless
beneath cooled ashes
of stones and steel.

Think of them tomorrow
and another and on; until, tomorrow
is a hundred years since innocence
lie burnt and twisted in sacrifice
to a once gentler god.

This hundred's gone away
since some humans
smiled and conceived of pain;
horrible deeds inflict;
and, the warriors rest in solitude
believing they find comfort
in the arms of virgins.

 

[TheRainMan]

Well, thanks, but it wasn't, really (honest, that is). Just a trope with a phony title. Why it's now up on the rack in the Poetry Garage.

You just keep getting better, though. You have a portrait in the attic or something? Or a new book coming out? Or an award I don't know about (besides that Matt Clark thingie, for which congratulations are due)?

I'd tip a brew to you, doctor, 'cept I'm mostly drinking wine, these days.

And, hell. Form is fun, goddammit. You always were too serious.

I think it was very honest writing. When I said ‘honest,’ I didn’t mean it was non-fiction. That makes no difference. I meant it used language honestly—without pretense or affectation or trickery.

Thanks for the compliment, and the congrats. I’m putting a manuscript together now, a large one. Been kinda lazy with that. It’s about time to knock on the door at Copper Canyon and Graywolf and BOA, et al, see if they answer.

Serious? Hell, I am serious about so few things, poetry seems like a good thing to take seriously. Keeps me from wasting time when I write.

 

[TheRainMan]

Year 2101 -

A century will not silence . . .

nice to read your writing again, Champ.

i missed it.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I have a question about titles and there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to ask. Can I use as a title the first line of a 'saying' which probably means nothing to you over there but is;
Red sky at night is a shepherd's delight
Red sky in the morning is a sailor's warning

 

[EroticOrogeny]

I have a question about titles and there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to ask. Can I use as a title the first line of a 'saying' which probably means nothing to you over there but is;
Red sky at night is a shepherd's delight
Red sky in the morning is a sailor's warning

I've heard that (but with sailor as subject in both) over here.
Seems like I've heard it with 'is a' replaced by presumably a hyphen.
I don't see a problem with using either as a title
(on Lit may have to watch the length - seems somewhat short -
'Norbert, Knight of Endless Nights' was OK, but
'Norbert, Knight of Neverending Nights' was too big).

Looking forward to a poem about either or both.

 

[Tzara]

I think it was very honest writing. When I said ‘honest,’ I didn’t mean it was non-fiction. That makes no difference. I meant it used language honestly—without pretense or affectation or trickery.

I think that's why the title made me so angry. My titles normally suck and I was trying to write a better one and wrote it in a way I would never speak.

Why it seems dishonest to me.

Thanks for the compliment, and the congrats. I’m putting a manuscript together now, a large one. Been kinda lazy with that. It’s about time to knock on the door at Copper Canyon and Graywolf and BOA, et al, see if they answer.

Alice James Books do really attractive editions. You might want to look at them as well.

Serious? Hell, I am serious about so few things, poetry seems like a good thing to take seriously. Keeps me from wasting time when I write.

This year has been so unpleasantly, unrelentingly Serious that I long for any activity that keeps my mind off of it.

See? 'Splains the different attitude.

Be well, sir. Good luck with the manuscript.

 

[Tzara]

I have a question about titles and there doesn't seem to be anywhere else to ask. Can I use as a title the first line of a 'saying' which probably means nothing to you over there but is;
Red sky at night is a shepherd's delight
Red sky in the morning is a sailor's warning

You can title a poem anything you want. Swipe titles from other poets, if you want to; titles (at least in the USA) aren't protected by copyright.

And, like EO, I've normally heard that as

Red sky at night is sailor's delight.
Red sky in morning, though, sailor take warning.​

If you want an especially long title, use something short as the official Literotica title and put the full title in bold above your poem. I think most people would understand that that is the complete title.

 

[champagne1982]

You can title a poem anything you want. Swipe titles from other poets, if you want to; titles (at least in the USA) aren't protected by copyright.

And, like EO, I've normally heard that as

Red sky at night is sailor's delight.
Red sky in morning, though, sailor take warning.​

If you want an especially long title, use something short as the official Literotica title and put the full title in bold above your poem. I think most people would understand that that is the complete title.

This is very dependant on which way the wind blows...

Could also be:

Rainbows at dawn, best heed this warning
Rainbows at dusk, brings beauty in morning.

This means that the clouds are to the west and will generally bring rain but clouds in the east means the weather is past and only fair skies await.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Red sky at night means the shepherd's hut is on fire! sorry musn't be flippant

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Just thinking on it I wonder if I learnt my version because my father was a shepherd and we also lived by the sea so it covered both eventualities

 

[EroticOrogeny]

This is very dependant on which way the wind blows...

Could also be:

Rainbows at dawn, best heed this warning
Rainbows at dusk, brings beauty in morning.

This means that the clouds are to the west and will generally bring rain but clouds in the east means the weather is past and only fair skies await.

Almost all of us are in latitudes of the Prevailing Westerlies, some of us also in Trade Wind areas, and few in Polar Easterlies

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Thanks guys just found out I got an 'E' for it now I am all a flutter!

 

[TheRainMan]

Thanks guys just found out I got an 'E' for it now I am all a flutter!

congratulations.

nice poem.

 

[Angeline]

congratulations.

nice poem.

Wot you said.

 

[TheRainMan]

. . .

Alice James Books do really attractive editions. You might want to look at them as well.

This year has been so unpleasantly, unrelentingly Serious that I long for any activity that keeps my mind off of it.

See? 'Splains the different attitude.

Be well, sir. Good luck with the manuscript.

thanks for the Alice James lead, B. and i do hope that unrelenting Serious stuff gets off your back.

you be well too. it's the only way to be.

 

[TheRainMan]

Wot you said.

hi, you.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

congratulations.

nice poem.

Wot you said.

huggles to both

 

[eagleyez]

She was in trouble,
up above a torrent, steamrolled by the silver sheet
down the boulder field, granite leaps we traverse- to the
side hill-underbrush, while Sequioia and Doug Fir dance higher up.
Then There's that wave, wave hello to the
Tumultuous beauty, she plans to scoure you clean.
Shes in trouble.

Silvers and Brownies hide their silver
In the back flows of the torrent.
Trees drip a smelling salt of greenest atmosphere,
I breath it in and swell at the middlle, breath slow and
Easy.
But shes in trouble.

Now I been in trouble my own self just this past, recently gone by,
Watching ball games, comedy is best, weather jazz hit or miss.
But as things mysteriously go,
I come out the other side in a nick of time,
And now she is in trouble.

Above tree line, dry rock top circled by lakes.
We wash down the boulder drop, hang loose and roll,
You'll make it that way.

Come to smallest of lakes, atop the viewfinder outcrop,
360 degrees of vision,
Toss shale stones easily over the length of the lake.
Here, we will sit and stay here.
She looked troubled yet managed a shy smile.

From hence trouble meets trouble,
And decides it only is what it is,
Like Alpine rain come up sudden.
Gone again quickly.

dont fight it,
take a bath and get right out
to dry.

It went along and the waterdrop slows and
Lupin and wild Bayberry splash across the accidental homestead.

we talked, we walked, we counted meteors, we blew chrystal breath.

And in the morning, trouble had gotten too close to the waterwell and fell
In. and we did not notice it gone.

2 dry chords, up then down,
fingernails make the connection
and simple stories whisper down the line.

The dust of the West, come riding through from New Orleans,
Further east to the tree land at Appilachicola,
South to Cedar Key, east thru Archer...
That way.

She's got her memory hung out on a line to dry.
She's not in trouble,
And I surmise how easy that was as I fly like a kite,
Getting clean and transparent.

I sense a perrenial wild Rosemary, forever deciding to live again and again.
Chapparal to scruff my knees and legs,
Looking for squaw wood amd dry thisles,
As night takes a deep breath
And sits comfortably on a ledge face
Up against a tree.

 

[some_poet]

I always wanted to be George Sand

Toads in pocket she could climb
the tree 1,2,3 fast as brother, fearless.

I wanted freedom to evolve from tight tied and feathered
gown to top hat, triple tiered cravat, waist coat.
Force. My face painted on Tarot cards, stretched canvas.
Left-bank lovers packed tight into pipe, strike them up,
breathe fire until all goes cold. Tap stale ashes
and exhale the tale of love; love imagined love
everlasting love before the butterfly
pinned to the board. Unbound, artist on arm
we wave the poet goodbye. Never had courage to
wear the trousers outside. My Aurore, my George, my scandals,
hidden. I always wanted to tend to red and white Camillas,
black candle curls tucked under a beaded bonnet,
my laugh, too loud, biting your shoulder while offering my neck;

creating and being re-created impromptu to pen, byline to brush,
feeding the screenplay. We feed our selves mouth to tail,
mouth to tail, consume and are consumed whole
until the taste of tail tongue on tail loses it's bite,
time again to write.