writing live

[Piscator]

Bison buy some but no more
Sherman closed the Great Plains’ store

 

[AahhWhattheHell]

To the audacious prince I said adieu,
but he had quite the view before I blew.

 

[dirtylittlecucker]

You create a scenario
In your head.
Expecting me to hash it all out
For your pleasure.
I have no intent on entertaining
You.
Or It.

 

[Lyricalli]

The ache that bears your name
is a treasure
I keep buried deep enough
so no one would suspect that I carry it
everywhere with me
and shallow enough that I can retrieve it
hold it up to the light
where it gleams and twinkles
a lasting souvenir
not quite as spectacular as the fire
from which it was created
but precious all the same

 

[HarryHill]

..
A long pause as thoughts are gathered,
interrupted, replaced and splattered over virgin white,
like the spread of mycelium up the bird's wing tree,
looking like the splash of the faded wing above landing here.

I suspect it is hen of the woods growing on the great stump;
time will tell as well as gardens set clear and wandering rows,
laid straight once more, tamed as fall releases summers hold.

And now, eating spinach soup canned before the fall,
writing here where my thoughts have always landed,
like that faded wing that called my love.

 

[Piscator]

Vamping

Looking in the mirror
to find that I’m not here
and grown long of tooth
conclude forsooth
Vampire syndrome
has come home
henceforth my fate
immortal relegate​

 

[HarryHill]

..
and, well into the solar hide,
shadows long on small ponds side
dug seedlings, weeds and liar root,
shifted stones of varied weight,
from meh to holy shit.
on this cold November day.

there, in a bright swath of sun,
bent over rock that had long found its home,
freed the capstones of unwanted neighbors,
ligrustrum, leaves and roots.

Numb fingers sought my winter suit,
dug in pockets long and deep,
as needed and as long,
perhaps a little longer.

then, as the light gave away,
ground lost now in permanent shade,
waste left to rake at a later date,
garden fork marking the spot
of the next November day.

 

[todski28]

..
and, well into the solar hide,
shadows long on small ponds side
dug seedlings, weeds and liar root,
shifted stones of varied weight,
from meh to holy shit.
on this cold November day.

there, in a bright swath of sun,
bent over rock that had long found its home,
freed the capstones of unwanted neighbors,
ligrustrum, leaves and roots.

Numb fingers sought my winter suit,
dug in pockets long and deep,
as needed and as long,
perhaps a little longer.

then, as the light gave away,
ground lost now in permanent shade,
waste left to rake at a later date,
garden fork marking the spot
of the next November day.

and so I sit looking at the opposite side of
worlds thinking of tilled earth
sore back from turning rocks
and the humble that nature makes you see
only when your spent years breaking soil
trying to tame enough earth to produce enough
food for you to live on

there's no monetary gain just the pride and sore fingers
and tip my hat, imagined or not
to the work
because picking up that sun of a bitch rock
and getting it out the way is
and always will be the metaphor to live by

 

[Mrtenant]

(1-11/28/21)

The Storm

With a steady rise and fall
The old sailor grips the polished wood
And steers his faithful ship
Across the fierce leaden sky
Split by peals of thunder
Gashed by rivers of lightning

The ferocious storm grips his heart
The tossing ship seems fair to unseat him
Where he'd lie wailing in terror
Certain of his own pending doom
Only to find the kind eyes of his nurse
Who holds him steady in the storm of memory

 

[HarryHill]

and so I sit looking at the opposite side of
worlds thinking of tilled earth
sore back from turning rocks
and the humble that nature makes you see
only when your spent years breaking soil
trying to tame enough earth to produce enough
food for you to live on

there's no monetary gain just the pride and sore fingers
and tip my hat, imagined or not
to the work
because picking up that sun of a bitch rock
and getting it out the way is
and always will be the metaphor to live by

..
We have long history with stones,
you and I, dragging them across the page,
laying them to fit together, artistically or proper.

Face over the pond, glad that it is late fall,
digging ivy from between liner, earth and stone,
alone with thoughts of the oddity of their shape,
resemblance of old life, bones that never were.

The best part of all that work,
all that play to lay something that strikes a cord,
brings a smile, satisfaction with the sight of achievement
tomorrow before begining again.

 

[Mrtenant]

(2-11/29/21)

How did I know what to create
A penstroke, a brushstroke
A supple twist of the wrist
Until the creation finds life
All on its own
Creates itself
Through me
Inventified

 

[Piscator]

Looking in the mirror
to find that I’m not here
and grown long of tooth
thus, conclude forsooth
Vampire syndrome
has come home
henceforth my fate
immortal relegate

 

[Mrtenant]

(3- 11/30/21)

Unto Darkness

Her footfalls were whispers
Across the smooth oaken floor
Soft candlelight gleaming
From the melted sallow taper

Following him into the night
Consumed by her soulful hunger
Aching intensely for that release
Even as she adores her bondage

Peering over his shoulder
With a suspicious glare
Thick full lips worked into a snarl
Daring her to travel his dark road

His bruising kisses
Scratching beard
Hands in her hair
Gripping her tight

Crushing her to him
Helpless in her desire
Falling ever falling
Deeper under his spell

Wearing his mark
A creature of the night
Laughing lustily
As she is taken






(A little strange even for me, but there it is)

 

[HarryHill]

..
Must be erotic, Smithpeter? I've failed you so many times, so
I'll try to repay you with smut of one line; not as easy as first thought.

When our eyes met her nipples hardened under the sheer top.

 

[RoperTrace]

. .

 

[Rockymtnman]

The dimple in her back
Right near her ass
Has shallowed some
But the treasure below
Still holds wonder

 

[Mrtenant]

(4-12/01/21)

Monument

Standing before that ancient oak
Tracing fingertips along its wound
Turned gray with age and weather
Carved letters telling the tale

JS + CS enclosed by a heart
Who they were I can only guess
What were their names
How long ago were they here

Did they hike these trails often
In the coolness of Spring or Fall
Holding hands, talking, laughing
Sharing warm hugs and tender kisses

Did they gaze at the stars
And wonder at the eternity of love
Did they share a Summer swim
At the nearby crystal clear lake

Take long roadtrips together
To some far point on the map
Long walks on the beach
Hot sand between their toes

Did they share holidays together
Singing songs and drinking cocoa
Delight in myriad Christmas lights
Family gatherings and too much food

I imagine their poetry written
Long and thoughtfully
Shared with nervousness
Creating dreams together

How they must have danced
Long and slow, tender and close
Or with a sexy energy
To some fast latin beat

Did they get married, have children
Grow old together, deepen their love
Or did they separate
Their love but a whimsy of youth

Whatever their tale
This tree and its carving
Remain a monument to their love
And now also in this poem

 

[Remec]

1

Well, there it is

I was drawn in by
her looks, totally shallow,
I know, but as we talked
and got to the point of knowing
one another, I thought
we might have something more
than just physicality;

Then she asked what I thought about
sucking and nibbling on her,
I figured those more-than-pencil-eraser
nipples would be quite tasty between lips
or teeth,
but she was talking about her toes;

Why not?
Right?

 

[Mrtenant]

(5-12/02/21)

Studio

The studio chatter dies
As the subject steps forward
Surrounding lights dim
Focus is now on him
His piercing blue eyes
Gleam amidst long lashes
Chiseled jawline and clear skin
Perfect teeth and strong lips
Whose kisses she longs for
Oh-that just slipped out
Tall of stature and so young
Sweeping broad shoulders
Those heroic arms and hands
Those strong hands in her hair
Shaking her head of the image
Deep chest tapering down down
Into his flat tight abdomen
Ridged and contoured
Just like in her dreams
Her hands gliding across
Sliding down to his hips
Startled back to class
Goosebumps rise
Her sex flashes to life
A brushstroke then two
He is exquisite
His cock, soft, thick, perfect
Licking her lips, tasting
Framed by muscular thighs
Matching long calves
And clean feet she would kiss
Her brushstrokes quicken
As her sex throbs and throbs
The things she would do
And let him do to her
He turns and his back
Muscular and broad
With a lite gleam of sweat
Curving down to meet
His perfect muscular buttocks
To grip him there as he thrusts..
No! The class-it is the final!
A quick glance around
The other women squirm and sigh
Shaking her head at such a test

 

[Remec]

2

Visiting Time

So many things to miss
in settling down for the night
in my old apartment;
was technically my current one,
since I was lead on the lease
and paid the rent every month,
but that's just one of the details
you don't think about when
becoming separated.

 

[Mrtenant]

(6-12/03/21)

Winter's Night

Respite on the back patio
The breeze wafts through
Branches of trees clatter
Against the border fence
A faraway owl hoots
The dark of night deepens
Moonless, filled with stars
Glowing embers brighten
With a draw on the cigar
Rich tobacco smoke rings
Float, expand, and disappear
Sip of iced scotch whiskey
Warming my bones
In the cool Winter's night
Cigar tip glows and smokes
Amber liquid heat swirls
It is enough

 

[Remec]

3 - 12/4/21

Stimulus

New discoveries can be
surprising,
that's part of what makes it
new, right?
So I go over to Rae Anne's,
her tramp of a sister left
her with no one to watch
the apartment, let alone to
sit for poor little Minke,
and she calls me;
what are exes good for besides
emergency house/pet sitting,
y'know?
And it was a nice evening,
she has a better tv than me,
Minke was having fun getting reaquainted,
then I stepped back to take a leak
and found a bottle of my usual cologne
sitting atop the medicine cabinet,
Curiosity will prolly be the end of me, I know,
but now I walked the place seeing what
else of mine never made it
out the door,
Mostly odds and ends, a few things we'd bought
together, nothing really, until I found
that old shirt from one of the Who's farewell tours,
tucked between her pillows,
smelling of that cologne,
and covering her current B.O.B.,
That was the surprise.
I've been accused of being both Pahlov
and his dog from time to time,
this was the first time I've been
Pahlov's bell.

 

[HarryHill]

..
The Last Gravel Road

I'd forgotten about it, out of sight out of mind, right?
Covid put a severe damping on wandering the county,
much less the state.
Run to town, shop, return home where the nearest neighbor is a quarter mile away down our long driveway. Safe again from bare faced morons.

The fields down by the river were planted in soy beans,
green all summer in the rich earth of the bottom land.
Long weeks into fall they sat dry and brown, desiccated.
I had thought them forgotten, abandoned.
So it was not a great surprise on the drive back yesterday to see what looked like smoke below as we topped a hill above the fields; it wasn't smoke.

Great machines pulled equally great harvesters; clouds of windblown chaff drifted over the river as we drove down from hill top to hill top.

I met them today on a trip back, slow beasts returning to their homes, taking most of the two lane. I waited on the shoulder for the passage of those and their handlers, thinking about how she rolled me around the bed last night and her last words before I drifted off to sleep. "Love is a mouth full of lube."

There was no hurry to head back after my purchase, loiter behind the caravan as it made its ass numbingly slow way to some destination far beyond my desire to discover. I drove around the hills of the river valley, across the flat lands to the south, past homes that had sprung up like weeds along the twisted roads of my youth to where a one lane gravel road offered a path between two close hills.

Great trees covered the V with me in the center, leaf blown this time of year, a ravine to the left as I traveled down the steep road, hoping there were no travelers upbound to let me test the unseen earth below. a mile down hill the spring fed stream crossed the road, just a gravel bed for a ford, another not far away just before blacktop began again.

I think about that last gravel road. where squirrels bound across with no fear of becoming road kill like their kin in other places, and I pray it is never paved.

 

[Mrtenant]

(7-12/04/21)

Endless Night

Standing on the fromt doorstep
Looking into the night sky
Bazillion stars all around
Quiet, eerie, way way late
Just like in years gone past
Working third shift
How many nights
Just like this one
Years of it
Every night
Three in the morning
Feeling the world catch its breath
Ready for the next thing
Nothing else feels like the night
Against the open sky
Its always the same night
Mysterious wondrous
Anything could happen
It's when the freaks come out
Or so I've been told
Showing themselves on the cameras
That are everywhere
Drawing on my smoke
Still tasting the night
Endless night
There he is again
Walking past
Tall, hunched over
Never looking back
Or saying anything
Vanishes into the night
Endless darkness and stars
One colossal night
Finishing my smoke
Haven't worked a night shift
In decades
It's still the same night
Where did he come from?
At three in the morning
There is no escaping it
I'm caught
How I love the depth of night
Inexplicable

 

[champagne1982]

1/30 - Dec 5, 2021

That Look

from your brilliantly lash-fringed blues
sent a bass note down to my core
made me want to stand
and run my hands down my curves
and draw your attention
to the dress I wore and even more
importantly to the smooth evidence
of the panties I didn't

But then the drummer took over
the back beat rhythms and my eyes
strayed from yours to his hands
holding those sticks in such a way
I wanted to feel him do round my wrist
as he pulled me close to swallow sighs
that should only be heard in bed.

I felt your fingers beat the strings
in time to the drummer pedalling
the foot rock as my hips rolled
a melody to the urging of your song
and whispered
Fuck me baby, all night long.
Fuck me together and we'll write
it down in 12/8 time