The Poetry Thread

[BrookR1]

Summer ride


The muse unbuttoned my shirt
as I rode through suburbia.

And I stared at a woman
on her bicycle
and admired her soft hips
and strong thighs.

She passed A sparrow
that landed on the street
to take a sip of water
from the gutter.

A car chased the sparrow away.
Probably the same one
that hit the possum
a mile back.

The bugs were marksmen
and shot me in the tongue
no less than
5 times that day.

It gets harder to spit
as you get older. It might
just be the unbearable heat
or all of that vinegar
I drink.

The crows kept me company
when they weren't
fighting over
a McDonald's wrapper.

And I wonder if
they're capable of seeing
the beauty in the clouds
or the green on the hills.
Would they be willing
to share their secret
with me?

I rode a long way that day
and never did find
my final destination.
So I rode my bike back home
and I'll probably try it again
tomorrow.

 

[Lectorcito]

Did you write it yourself?

I like the style: its simplicity makes it intense.

 

[Lectorcito]

I am going to copy one of my favorite poems of the English language:

it may not always be so; and i say

it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another's,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

e.e. cummings

 

[erasmus]

tanka

monochrome panda,
where are your brilliant hues,
coat of rainbows?
have you sat too placidly,
for too long, munched thoughtfully?

 

[dj_mocok]

Coffee.
Black.
Now.

 

[BrookR1]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lectorcito /img/forum/go_quote.gif Did you write it yourself? I like the style: its simplicity makes it intense.

Yes...it's mine. I dabble. I'm saving the good stuff for when (if) this thread ever takes off.

 

[FallenAngel]

One of my favourite (yes, I can spell, I'm in Canada) poems, this is by Philip Larkin:

This be the verse

They ***** you up, your mom and dad
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were *****ed up in their turn
By fools in old-stylen hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can
And don't have any kids yourself.

 

[FallenAngel]

On a more personal note, this is one of mine, unpublished of course

Never Alone

The sun has set, the day has ended.
Enduring are the children of the night,
Who sing their songs as bravely as the mute
Their fears residing as a candle in the dead of night
Bright eyes forever watching over us.

 

[Lazarus Short]

Here is one of my own. It began with a poetry press ad: submit your poem! get published!! Being the devious person that I am, I decided then and there to write the very WORST poem I could, submit it, and see the reception. In the end, I wrote a "prank" version which I submitted, they [well, duh] looooooved it, and would happily publish it if I only bought their hardbound gilt edged edition for $49.95. I declined... In the meantime, I decided it had potential, thus this semi-serious version:

Pass the Millstone, Please

a bad beginning, and it gets no better
too much time looking out the window in the wall
also, the window in your head - "No libido for you!"
too young to die, but too old to die young
youth speaks, and middle age begins to measure
the things you can reach, those you can't grasp
you'll be scribbling doggerel and spitting blood

Walt Whitman's brain (splat!) on the floor
one less to be weighed for dubious statistics
the voice dead of all that electric verse
a rose falls - is there an echo? is there??
sip tea while koans and syllogisms slug it out
on the silk road, and maybe remember:
Schrodinger's Cat doesn't care if WE live or die

Laz

 

[BrookR1]

Great stuff. I was also published once by National Library of Poetry and then was asked to buy their $60 volume. ppffffhhhhtttttt that.

Here's a simple list poem:

Ham Sandwich

Soft French Bread
Unbleached white flour
Water, salt, dough conditioner,
and ascorbic acid.

Cheese
Cultured, pasteurized
milk from cow number
1012388439,
special cheese culture,
salt, and miscellaneous
enzymes scraped from
some anonymous
petri dishes.

Ham
Cured with water,
salt, sugar,
potassium fu**ing lactate,
sodium phosphates (to prevent rotting
of the pig meat),
sodium dia… diacetate,
a sprinkle of sodium erythorbate(for flavor),
and for the hell of it,
a little sodium nitrite.

Expires 9/27/2009
No refrigeration necessary.