Poetry Circle... (subject)

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Unwanted Perseverence

The old man stretches deeply,
And winces at the pain.
It seems there's always more of it,
Around this time of year.

He gazes out the window,
At snow drifts on the pane,
And at her cold and empty seat,
And wishes she was here.

All his friends are gone now.
He wants for them in vain.
No children had his wife and he.
His eyes welled up with tears.

No festive smells came from his stove.
No wreaths or candy canes.
Only he and his empty home,
Nothing left for him is here.

If only he could be with her,
He'd open up a vein,
And let his life bleed out of him.
The dark could claim his fear.

But that he knows he cannot do.
She wouldn't want that way.
Someday he'll join her after life.
Till then, he'll persevere.

[flaggwalkstheline]

I wake up in the morning half-asleep
Convinced that the sound of police sirens is the sound of air-raid sirens
And when I realize that its just another petty criminal and not the big one
I'm dissapointed

[Jon]

"And when I realize that its just another petty criminal and not the big one."

I like this line!

[Jon]

My mouth wrapped around it
Speared on a fork
Warm steak
Dead cow
Burned to not resemble its' original form as much as possible
I lick the salt and meat juice off lips
I wonder if this similar to the way a cannibal has oral sex
Swallowing flesh
If I had more self control
I would be a vegetarian
But I don't
So I remain a guilty carnivore

This is why I am a fan of your works. The confidence to use humor but a true poet in general.

[Jon]

A man in a suit I don’t even know

here's one of those lines which for some reason resound in the reader's head and stay with him for ever

Funny...as the writer "faint sounds of shovled Earth" struck me more...so final.

going through this thread and reading all the stuff "before my time".

I was most struck by the line " Am I no longer a proper noun?"
I thought this was genius.
Am I now only a "body", and not a "Jon" or "Jerry" or "Jeremy"?
Very insightful.
I thought the fact that it was made a question was excellent as well.
Instead of "I am no longer a proper noun."
This lends credibility to the bewilderment of death. Seems death is a surprise to the deceased.
Also, as a question, it seems to abstractly reinforce the idea that the dead have no control, even enough to make a statement.

I just read this. Thank you!

Shoot me a PM sometime. About anything.

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Any more "winter" thoughts or can we give this thread a bump?

[flaggwalkstheline]

can we pick a new topic yet?
if so I would like to volunteer one:
Fingertips

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Pesky Prints
Traitorous little ridges,
Betraying me with every thing I touch,
Been with me since birth,
And yet, no loyalty.
Better to burn them off
Then do the time for the crime.

[flaggwalkstheline]

My hands
Only know how to to do simple things
And I think its a shame the way
My fingertips like to touch everything they come near like little bloodhounds
Yet still can't play the piano

[alinda]

In my dreams we're holding hands
our fingers dancing in the dark,
in small circles around and then
we're off... like a run in the park.

[BlainetheMono]

Shiny eyes
and kissing lips
thoughts of you lead to
reaching fingertips

a knowing look
a playful touch
your silly face always
gives away the hunch

tonight I'll be your Superman
and I'll stop that speeding train
you could be my damsel in distress
you could be my Lois Lane

[CaptainTrips]

Macabre
I've always loved that word
with a sound quick and cutting like the blade
of executioner's ax,slicing through the
soft flesh at the nape of the neck
It comes from the lips with smoothness like
hemlock sliding down your throat.
Thw word brings to mind the heart beating under
the flooorboards
or
the sound of the raven saying, "Nevermore".
It's been used in modern times to describe
imaginary fiends with names like Freddy and Jason
but also real likfe fiends with names like Dahmer,Gayce, and Manson, proving that it's
not things that go bump in the night we should
be afraid of, it's the evil in men's souls.

[AlishaRiley]

My hands
Only know how to to do simple things
And I think its a shame the way
My fingertips like to touch everything they come near like little bloodhounds
Yet still can't play the piano

This is lovely.

[Frunobulax]

I'm having a heart attack...I don't understand you, I just don't understand you...
I kid I kid. I could just type out They Might Be Giants songs (IE the great Fingertips)...but I digress.

_
Pads of ridged fleshy appendages feel blindly in a bag
Pull out the knife from my back
Insert it again into my ribs
Pull out and extrude my duodenum
Pull the knife out of my side
Replace with a thorn
Chips on my shoulders weigh me down on my northern passage
Fleshy pads with ridges caress your face gently and you put the knife back into the holster
And your fingertips feel like acid
Beautiful and caustic
Burn away the years of
Burned away the years
Take the knife and put it back in my back
Back where it should be
I like the feeling

[Odetta]

great poems, everyone!

[Jon]

My hands
Only know how to to do simple things
And I think its a shame the way
My fingertips like to touch everything they come near like little bloodhounds
Yet still can't play the piano

"like little bloodhounds"

It's lines like this that make me your fan!

[Jon]

Near

Tickle the ivory

Caress the ebony

Oh what a multicultural mistress have I

An awesome G-string

With her top propped up

A glass bowl near by

Where she guards my fingers’ tips.

[Odetta]

New subject...


blood

[Nerak]

Blood

The heat
The fire
The warmth
The vividness
The desire
The blood

[Odetta]

I likey!

[Jon]

The Dance



A stare across the crowded dance floor

A shy smile and a turn away, repeat anticipated

Confidence being amassed by both, nerves frazzled to the core

Who will make the first move in this dance of diffidence?

Slowly, she drifts to his side of the room

Her gown flowing across the dance floor

At his side now he can smell her perfume

“Care to dance?” asks he

With one quick motion, she grasps and bites his wrist

Suckling on his blood, she pauses, looks up

Her face in his, her lips and chin; red. Pain causing him to list

She says “No dice baby, you’re not my type.”

[ladysai]

smell salt on the wind
hear cymbals crashing in waves
watch sun's waterplay
feel the vastness of Earth's time
the sea surges in our blood

[Odetta]

[Gaberax]

Blood

I can hear you
Throbbing in my ears
Sluicing through your tangled circuit
Coursing in familiar channels
Your Sisyphean task
Delivering payloads
Of fresh oxygen
To ravenous, grateful lungs
Feeding and cleaning cells
Performing recurring maintenance checks
An intimate housemother
Refreshing, repairing, rejecting, renewing
A presupposing samsara
Effected with enlightened precision
Set to the sound
Of a measured beat

[BROWNINGS CHILDE]

Wow Gabe, I really like this one alot. Have you gotten the writing bug recently or what?