Late Night Poetry Thread

[SOteric]

I stood in the doorway
for the longest time
after you left
looking at the night
listening to the night
feeling the cold
against the warmth of my body
feeling your touch
ripening on my body

It would have been too easy
to welcome you inside me
succumb to the rhythm
of waves washing over me

As much as that would be
it wouldn't be enough

I would never know
who
was on the other side
of your skin.

[VelmaD]

1. Oh god...

that's lovely and evocative.

[SOteric]

5. Sssshhhh...

Someone will think this is another 'writer ego thread.'

-And thanks.

[nothingshocksmeanymore]

2. I hate when you do late night poetry

:evilgrin:

[SOteric]

3. No you don't.

[nothingshocksmeanymore]

4. OK

You caught me...read us another story....got more?

[rbnyc]

6. after you left

after you left
your touch
the warmth of my body
listening
for the longest time
I stood

doorway looking
cold feeling
the night

ripening on my body

It would have been too easy
to welcome you
succumb to
rhythm
waves
washing

it wouldn't be enough

on the other side of skin
I would never know who

[SOteric]

7. This is from a poetry challenge:

The sponsors give you a set of words and phrases and you have to fit them all into your work.

The Morning After

The morning after
I turn lazily in bed
snuggling under covers
that so recently enveloped you.

I seem to take forever
to open my eyes,
not wanting to see the empty place
you left behind.

I bury my nose
in pillows, hide in linens
to catch a lingering scent of you...

I pull back the sheets
and smile tenderly at the traces of hair
you left...the dark curly evidence
scattered everywhere.

The morning after
I lose myself in the night before
hugging myself, caressing me---
though not as well as you do,
dreaming still, of nights to come.

[VelmaD]

8. you're killing me...

I lived that poem almost exactly one year ago with the first guy I slept with after my break-up with my evil-ex. Long story.

"I bury my nose
in pillows, hide in linens
to catch a lingering scent of you..."

*sigh*

[Insider]

9. late night indeed

way out of town
deep underground
dark all around
sooo wore down

troubles compound
(refuse to expound)
a new low is found

but the heart still pounds
that steady sound
thus begins the rebound

[rbnyc]

10. I love that! (nt)

[Insider]

13. thanks rb

this is fun, ain't it?

[scottcsmith]

11. Okay, here's one

I can't think of one off the top of my head, so here's one I wrote a couple of years ago:

Left in this place once again,
cold in this darkness so I can pretend
that the light which I crave is in your hands.
So close to my face I can feel the sting of your breath.
Each time you touch me brings forth a quick and painful death;
And I want so much more.

I crave this emptiness brought forth through your actions,
broken but still standing here
You look to me as a distraction
And you damn me 100 different ways.

What is there to hold onto, now that you've cut off my hands?
What is there to be a part of, when I can barely stand?

But each time that I feel you,
I cry and beg for more.
I plead for release outside your door.
And I cannot be saved,
There's no turning back,
No other place to be --
I await your attack.

[SOteric]

12. Ouch. It's a pity pain is so eloquent in language.

Well done.

[rbnyc]

14. All the lyrics from my first CD

sandwich

i can't see the idiot for the child.
underneath the ice cream
i hide it, clean. i'm fat and mean
and like a diamond, i see girls go blind.

here's all i can do at the same time:
i can eat and smoke and drink
with only two hands, one in my pants.
idiot. baby. eating all the time.

what i hide i see. stay and make me.
i see it.
i stay. i make.
whenever i come to you, i think that
i didn't need that sandwich.

idiot. baby. eating all the time.
like a diamond, i see girls go blind.

r. bouchard


bread pudding

open your mouth.
i'll fall on your teeth.
i'll fall on your teeth.
i'll fall on your teeth.

run why don't you
like there's anyone
who wants to follow
when you go there.

just a baby with a big one.
just a baby with a big one.
and when we do, you say don't look at me.


r. bouchard & a. carlson



fault

a series of dilating rods chokes me for breakfast.
i get dressed. i poke around. i try things. i feel so sick.
you make me want to run. you catch me, make me want to.

and goes upstairs and into bed and feels around.
and underscores. overeats.
forget about it. all that dress is for taking off.
and underscores. overheats.

i can take on any job i can go to in my pajamas.
hell, i'll take two. take to my grave,
like a natural, all that matters, any lover who can stand
the smell. hell, he likes it.
i smile. i'm a natural in my pajamas.
hell, i'll take two.

r. bouchard


next to nothing

wait. wait.
wait for my other face.
my bones, nobody knows me.
televisions.
blue light on a child.
a wolf in the kitchen.
wait. wait.
nothing. next to nothing
where the trees are
and the grass waits.
my eye has a dark room, black.
the sun is an apple, a leaf
a hole of stars.
wind down.
window.

r. bouchard & d. romanelli


decomposition

the boys are all flowers caught fire at a glance.
everything i lick turns to dust.
i've got decomposition touch. so what.

r. bouchard


damage control

if you try to rescue that child, she may say, why are you bothering?
you can't drag a dead dog on a leash.
what, do you love me or something?
you may even be ashamed and then you know that you are her.
I don't blame you if you don't take it from me.
i know i treated you like a whore.
but aren't you glad for that special perspective?
the deeper one end, the richer the other.
i loved you then, and i love you now, better.
if i could see you i would set you up.

r. bouchard.


shock therapy survivor

couldn't stand to see her twisting up her hair like a shock therapy surviver.
i threw her down the stairs.
all she ever taught me anyway was how to put off work.
i threw her down the stairs.
the cruelest thing i ever did. i can't even imagine the strength it took
to lose me.
maybe i'll go get her. but, oh, the time it takes to work.
maybe i'll go get her, but, oh, the time.
time gets sparse in a staircase. if i'm climbing down, i am blessed.

r. bouchard


the letters

count all the times he told her.
count all the ways he said he.
count every letter in the word.

on saturday
he's coming.
ask her.
she saw the letters.

on saturday
he's coming.
ask her, she saw
she saw
she saw the letters.
the letters.

count all the times he told her.
count all the ways he said he.
count every letter in the word.

r. bouchard
©1999 R. Bouchard. All Rights Reserved.

[SOteric]

15. Awesome!

[rbnyc]

16. Thanks!

Thanks for starting this thread too. I enjoy your stuff and seeing other people's new and old works too.

[Insider]

18. saving this thread, for sure

fav: damage control

thanks for sharing

[rbnyc]

22. OMG, that makes me feel great.

I'm so much happier now than when I came in here. I had the have-to-get-up-early-and-spend=the-whole-day-with-the-in-laws-blues.

;-)

[populistmom]

17. Okay

PRISON

How did my joys
Become a prison?
Soul gone
Heart isolated
Longing to feel
Alive
But the cages
Too strong
What a long sentence
I've given myself

(I'm not generally this depressing of a writer and it was written awhile ago, but most are too private otherwise to post. Much rather have most people, not all though, see my disgruntled side than my vulnerable mushy side.)

[SOteric]

21. I can understand that.

It takes a strange kind of courage to hand your most tender longings to an anonymous public.

Good stuff, though. The flow seems as stifled as the sentiment it expresses. That kind of lyric unity is hard to acheive.

[populistmom]

27. You're right

No flow- harsh and sharp. It's how I felt when I wrote it.

[scottcsmith]

19. A little OT poetry

I'm sure most real poets know of the horrible poetry.com site, and the "contests" they hold. Any poem can be selected as a "finalist" to appear in one of their spendy anthologies. Apparently the only criteria is that the poem is a certain number of lines. Here's the horrible, horrible poem I wrote (on purpose) that was selected as a "finalist" in their bogus contest:

Homeless Can Cry

See the homeless man cry,
he has no home
and that makes him cry.
Cry, cry, cry!
Oh how sad his life is.
He keeps his life in a bag
and the bag has lots of holes
so everything gets wet.
When someone gives him a dollar
he buys booze
and pours it over his head in rage
"I'm a man of dignity!" he cries
as he pours more booze over his head.

And the very popular "Blue Sky."

Blue Sky

How it Shines
Darkness or Light
It's Clearly Mine
Oh Blue Sky
You are very colorful
Go to the bar and
Have a double fill
of Gin.
Blue Sky,
Blue Sky,
I wish you were mine
Like the air and the sea
And the dog with the fleas
I love my Blue Sky
Until it's Black.

[SOteric]

24. *LOL*

Poetry.com *snicker*

The poetic qualities of a double fill of gin, however, are no mocking matter.

[Insider]

20. poetry lite tonight for insider

(this is therapeutic right now)

one skyward glance
bright, starry dance
bent-knee stance
petition chance

pause... trance...

cash advance.

;-)

[rbnyc]

23. I want to make songs out of your poems.

Can I just rob you? It's so hard for me to come up with words sometimes.

;-)

[Insider]

25. help yourself

and check your pm :-)

[Gore1FL]

26. Limericks

The once was a governor named George
Who beat Gore by votes he did forge.
Then in 2004
He was shown to the door
By the voters he tried to disgorge

There was was a bastard called Shrub
Who belonged to a right-wing boys club
His family he says
Was honorable in all ways
As his daughters got drunk in a Pub

The once was a Dick named Cheney
Who was appointed to be the V.P.
He had a bad heart
They installed a "crash cart"
When it fails he lights up like a tree.

There once was an A.G. named John
Who lost to a dead man who won.
And now every day
He prays to the NRA
Proving his religious beliefs are a con.

There once was a dumb bitch named Norton
Who oil companies were a'courtin
Because in her views
Carabou are bad news
Because Republicans they ain't supportin'

There once was a bald guy named Ari
Whose lies were offensive and scary
He once told the press
That Clinton Left a mess
When asked for proof he could produce nary.

There once was a Court, quite Supreme
Who installed a right leaning regime
But much to their fright
The Democrats did unite
And ended their sick fascist dream.

There once was a nazi named Rush
Whose arguments were all filled with slush
He ate more each day
'til a ton he did weigh
Now both truth and most chairs he does crush.