And so for this MTB challenge we are writing as per the poetry form devised by Karan Naidu, which he called a Parallelogram de Crystalline (apparently dedicated to his soulmate, Crystal Rose)
Poetry Rules: Despite the titular length it is quite simple and short!
• 12 lines in total (each Capitalised but without punctuation) • 4 verses • 3 lines per verse • syllable count per verse 3,6,9 • unrhymed
Poetry Theme: the beauty of a (real or imaginary) lover as compared with and described in images of nature. (Crystalline literally means very clear or bright, therefore, keep the complementary images crisp.)
From the platform it’s dark wooden planks Weathered by the footsteps of those who have taken these very steps To stand where I stand I look out and look up. Not straight up for that would be too much But to the horizon above the people Boisterous, a nervous energy runs through the crowd They wait for a performance. A spectacle. Lay out your soul for us to judge. We want your blood. I take a deep breath, as though my last. The announcer speaks, laying out my accomplishments or is it my sins I block out the words and prepare. “ … And he shall be hanged by the neck until dead.” The noose goes over my head. I’ve done my best
The trap falls open I lay my head to the side And breathe my last breath
A president looks over the country To the west the fires of an orange glow like the setting sun Blaze in glory a final testament to a dead piece of paper Cold in his heart, ice in his veins, he calls their names Oorah! Let them march. The boots echo on the streets of stars The news anchor speaks into a microphone He blocks out the words. “ … And the Constitution …” The noose hangs above his head. He did his worst.
The trap fell open We laid our heads to the side ‘... the right of the people To peaceably assemble …’
This is from a prompt from dVerse: What I’d like us to do is to write a poem that conjures a view (whether from our travels or everyday life, whether from desire or experience) that is colored by the emotion of the moment. I could not help but see the actions taken towards the protest in Los Angeles as a view that is very much colored by the emotion of the moment. Also I can’t help but think that moment up on the gallows the view would not be colored by the emotion of the moment; but not necessarily in the way one would think. The two, in my mind, marry well together. I hope you enjoyed.
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I long to hear her pant the beat to our dance Her moans the melody of our romance I long to pant with her a chorus in our duet's lust In and out deep breaths we take as our bodies magic make Pant with me my love as we make make harmonious love Breath In Breath Out
A collection of poems from seductive and spicy to thoughtful and observant. Poems from the AuthorStew blog and from across the Internet are gathered together in this collection. There’s something just for you. Get a taste of AuthorStew’s poetry with A Taste of Stew!
Where do we go from here? You go your way and I go mine Or continue together Tied together until the end of time No matter the storms or sunny weather
Perhaps it’s best if we part We had our fun, it was sweet But all things end A challenge we can't defeat Our hearts will break and rend
Is it fate or our choice That determines love's road ahead Are we tied to Eros’ written script The gods have decided what is said? From the weave of time are our feelings ripped?
Can we work this out? If we figure what this is Is it love, infatuation or just a comfy sit Are the feelings hers or his We’ll just take what they are and where they fit
Where do we go from here? I’m not sure where it is I want to be happy in the end Be on our own or hers and his Maybe it’s best if you are just a friend.
You’ve been intimate, you’ve had a relationship, you’ve fallen in love … What’s next? After All is Said . . . 30 poems about what comes next. What happens after … Read these poems that get to the heart of what comes After All has been Said http://books2read.com/u/3Jo61B
Our little spot. Away from the crowds, the vacationers, those on holiday and the lifeguards at work. Let’s go to the seaside means she can go without clothes, inhibitions. Display the beauty of Aphrodite; without the yapping of the hounds from Hades.
For me
It means I must go, for there is no denying her, and suffer in feigned indifference. Her radiance is why I hide my eyes. Behind dark, shades. I hide my eyes and my emotions.
“You never get excited for me,” she says, her lower lip sticking out.
I raise my eyebrow, though not what she wants raised. Nor, what has raised before.
“I beg your pardon.”
And even more I beseech. If you knew the thoughts that raise at the sight of you, what emotions bubble up from within from the mere mention of your name.
“A woman has expectations. Oh, I know we are just friends but really a little,” she wiggles her delicate fingers, “twinge would do a girl’s ego a world of good.”
Oh! Such stabs of the dagger straight to the heart, wielded so effortlessly in such a cursory manner. To be just friends. Ouch! Let me staunch my wound before I so much as twinge dear friend.
“A twinge,” I say with as much disdain as a friend can give, “is precisely why we go here to the seaside. It is not just your nakedness that remains out of sight. It is my own.”
If only there were other spots upon where our nakedness might be together. Twinges there would be. No, full blown rumbles would roil across the land, the earth would move, seas would roll. Oh but what a twinge would do for your ego, my full sprouted admiration would bathe you in adoration.
“Let’s go. The sun’s going behind the clouds. You can see the sky changing color,” she says, already gathering her things. Eager to dress and go.
And thus ends our day at the seaside. Two figures, twisted in the sun, naked before each other, blinded eyes that see nothing beneath skin. Mouths that speak one to the other yet never get to the heart of the matter. No hearts can be shown. What I would give to clothe you in pretty words of truth. Yet I fear the exposure.
“This was fun. I’m so glad we have our own little seaside spot,” she says.
“Our own little spot to shed our inhibitions and be free,” I agree. I don’t even choke on the irony.
This is a prompt from dVerse: For today’s prompt, let’s take a trip to the beach. Choose one of the paintings that follow. [see the painting at the top of the post] Tell us a story (in poem form) about your day at the beach, through the details of the painting.
I chose the painting at the top of the post Figures at the Seaside. I chose to do something different in that I did a prose poem for this prompt. It came to me as I looked at it and it just seemed to say ‘Day at the nude beach’, ‘Twisted’, ‘Figures together but not connecting’. I hoped to create that within the prose poem. To be honest, I’m not sure if this worked for the prompt but it’s what came out. Hope you enjoy!
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Why do we struggle to be who we are? Our true face to show, I see you and you see me Beneath the mask, filtered for your acceptance Lies the truth upon which I base all my lies You are you and I am I Why do I struggle to be who I am? Is it some traumatic even from my past Perhaps some hidden desire to be the you Who was pleased with me It should not be so hard to be who I already am Yet I struggle more with that than living in the mask
A Taste of Stew A collection of poems from seductive and spicy to thoughtful and observant. 39 poems from the AuthorStew blog and scattered across the Internet gathered in this collection. We’re sure there is something within this collection to delight you. Read A Taste of Stew and see what you’re missing.
It seems quite absurd the rain falling down Instead of needing the sun to be out Inspiring rainbows to come around Insisting that the colors come about
Taming lions and bears Taking ruby colored shoes The sun will come out shares Tuscan red headed orphan blues
Aim for the sky and you’ll hit the stars Ask the questions why and you’ll answer them all Another astronaut in a rocketship on their way to mars Arriving in the spring and leaving by the fall
It seems quite absurd searching for a rainbow Instead of standing in the rain Inspired by a pot of gold’s glow Insisting that we do it all again
This was a prompt from dVerse to write a Trolaan poem.
Trolaan, created by Valerie Peterson Brown, is a poem consisting of 4 quatrains. Each quatrain begins with the same letter. The rhyme scheme is abab for each quatrain.
Starting with the second stanza you use the second letter of the first line of the first stanza to write the second each line beginning with that letter.
On the third stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the second stanza and write the third each line beginning with that letter.
On the fourth stanza you will use the second letter on the first line of the third stanza and write the fourth each line beginning with that letter. Source
This is how it ends, nothing like how it began Time has turned the page, The sage left with nothing to say I walk away, crossing a border An artificial line across a very real divide Never to turn back and see your eyes looking my way
It began rough but smooth seas calmed our waves Blessed with bounteous apathy We looked within Fun mirrors, Distorted images of the world outside Called us beautiful Star spangled, blinded by the light, we walked Into the stormy sea Drowned in our iniquity
What happened? Orange and red hues blinded us Our lack of luxuries Caused us to grasp at straws Build our house on a strawman’s lies We cried fake tears when he blew it down Sharpened our knives Ready to cut ourselves, a new deal.
Now we stand I’m not standing for that Ten toes down Down and out At a bridge we can’t cross Bridges burned in the night On opposite sides of the river Right Left Wrong Walking away In opposite directions
See you on the other side.
Submitting this for open link night at dVerse and the anthology.
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“Jenkins Band/Orphan Band (Harlem)” The New York Public Library Digital Collections.
The evening quiet as a mouse praying in a church I slip into the night The wings of the bat its latest meal in search Whisper to me dark tidings My heart will jump and give a lurch As we hunt sinners this evening
This is a poem from a prompt from dVerse: “Today we are finding different ways of being quiet at the Poets Pub, so make sure your 44-word poem contains some form of the word quiet.“
I’m not a horror movie person so I’ve not seen the movie Sinners but I’ve heard plenty about it. I thought quiet worked well with it. Hope you enjoy.
So we have arrived A estas alturas And have come of age A estas alturas At this place and time A estas alturas To this single space
Was it by His hand? ¿Divina providencia? Or perhaps fate? No. Divina providencia. That guided us to this land; God’s country. Divina providencia.
How was I to know? Un inocente She shouldn’t have been there Un inocente It’s not my fault I swear Un inocente She’ll get better Un inocente
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury We have come to this place To hand down judgement Innocent or guilty
Divina providencia, un inocente A estas altura o Para siempre
This was from a dVerse prompt: Use one (or more) of the italicized Spanish words from the Cisneros poem above and incorporate it into your own original poem. I chose to use the words/phrases a estas altura, divina providencia and un inocente. I hope you enjoyed!
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