And I personally, thought yours was the best of all.
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And I personally, thought yours was the best of all.
Wow -- there were so many excellent poems written for this topic -- Dark Muse, you certainly had a challenging task. I'm humbled. When I wrote the poem, I hoped to demystify the idea a muse and offer that a muse could be playful, simple, and fun. I'll think of a subject and a line and post them in a day or two.
Congrats to The Comedian! :) May you have inspiration as you define the new round...
Okay, I have the subject and line for next round of competition.
Subject: a shared meal
Line: "the steam rose and then dispersed"
The morning sun dawned clear and bright
The chill was in the air
'Nother day to endure the fight
Extinguishing despair
The yield was taken in the blight
Life seeming so unfair
No morsel in which to delight
No one to even share
The coffee brewing hot and bold
The morning paper served
Real butter melting from its mold
Wealth given undeserved
China, silver, and linens fold
Ham, bacon, meats preserved
Not by a beggar in the cold
These items were observed
Seen from the balcony -- the cursed
A mendicant in dregs
Then the steam rose and then dispersed
From his neck as he begs
Sores that festered long soon to burst
A stench like rotten eggs
Depravity shown at its worst
As he sat on his legs
Compassion streamed from bleeding heart
Love deeming to appear
The riches on the breakfast cart
A gift to be sincere
"Shall I to him a crumb impart?"
Said servant with a sneer
Gazing into a world apart
"Please bring him to eat here!"
So sweet Bien! It touched the cords of my heart. Best of Luck!
Nice initial entry.
What's the deadline, Comedian Sir?
The Ritual of Morning
White snow covered the ground
in the chill mist of early morning,
seeming to dazzle under the touch
of the new born light of dawn.
Without there was no hush
of a stir, yet against the wisps
of blue and white sky, curling
through the fresh pine trees,
a tendril of black smoke rises.
Amid the stillness of solitude
an isolated cabin sat, and through
the soft yellow glow of its windows
a morning scene unfolds.
Spry lean limbs start to unfold
as the youth rises from the warmth
offered within his bed, casting off
blankets to brave the chilly air
as bare feet slap eagerly against the floor,
without hesitation.
With haste he dresses in
anticipation of this moment
the best part of the day,
padding, bare foot down the hall
to emerge within the small kitchen
his eyes turned upon the back of
the older man, and the one he looks
up to most.
Already the smell of coffee lingers
in the air as the steam rose
and then dispersed to carry the enticing
aroma that reassures as the lad
makes his way to the table to take
the place which will always be waiting.
His father always seems to know
when he arrives, no matter how hard the
boy tries to mask the noise of his step
and like clock work in perfect time turns
and lays out breakfast upon the table.
It is a daily ritual, which occurs without
fail, that the boy takes the mug of the
steaming hot black liquid and with practiced
care lifts it to his face and drinks
and like always, without fail his nose
crinkles up and he sits it aside.
"Not yet!" The father says with a twinkle
in his eyes as he smiled. "No, not yet," the
boy confirms with a trace mixture of both
disappointment and relief, it is the boys
belief that there lies within that strong drink
the secret key, and the day he too becomes
a drinker of coffee, he will enter the elusive
rite as manhood.
Hey Auntie! Thanks for reminding me. Let's give it a pinch more than two week from here. Due date April 12.Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
EDIT: excellent entries thus far, lady and gentleman.
Sunday “Din”ner
Commander Mom made official decree:
they all would dine genteelly, en famille.
The Blackberry’s banished from the place
for “Pleasant Conversation” face-to-face.
All afternoon she slaved (she'll have them know.)
“Again with the martyr bit, here we go!”
said Dad, demanding what all this grub cost.
On Sis, the homily that morn’s been lost,
with thoughts of holy loaves and fishes
now wiped away by gripes of dirty dishes.
The course first up was a querulous platter
which bit right back with rumor-fed chatter,
unpaid bills, chores, and studies left undone.
Yet Junior, well aware of the thirst for fun,
the unexpressed hunger for a good joke,
with his fork in his mouth pretended to choke
when Mom lifted off the casserole lid.
The laugh, an early dessert from the kid,
exploded like a burp or something worse,
as the steam rose and then dispersed.
^ This poem is brilliant!
Final Meal
They were all gathered around a trash can fire,
Sharing what little they could beg, borrow, or steal
The steam rose and then dispersed like a ghost
Who knew it would be their last meal?
Since many a scrap of food came from dumpsters and trash
There was death in that pot, although nobody knew
The hunger was upon them from such a long fast
They hurriedly ate just as fast as they could chew
They ate with gusto the little that they had--
The morning dawned upon still bodies seemingly in sleep
The Men of the Bowery now silent and gone
All sorrows past, no more shall they weep
Will they wake in a land where they will hunger no more
There in the beauty of heaven's fair shore...
Pendragon
on our very first night
we ate cold pizza,
drank Mexican beer.
I can see you smiling,
arms around each other
in that little house
on St. Patrick Street.
"We will cook rice."
"We will make fried rice
tomorrow," you said.
I listened, had no idea,
just warm like morphine
or old books, memories,
a faded picture in my mind.
"I got it off the internet,"
you said, laughing
I see you the next day,
standing at the stove,
steaming white rice and
heating oil in a wok
and now I feel love
like I have never felt,
just us two, together.
you turned off the stove,
removing the lid,
you began to stir the rice
while the steam rose
and then dispersed,
floating up to heaven
What superb poetry from everyone! I’m so inspired.
I came up with something but it’s way below your level.
Hope you don't mind...here it is...
Hot Dish
1.
when our eyes
met for the first time
they locked like the
strongest deadbolt
we went to a movie
and left before
it was over
2.
hair flows down
your eyelids flutter
my hand......almost touching
instantly your lips part
you hungry...
3.
the appetizers were
slowly savored but
we almost couldn't wait...
with the main course
the steam rose
and then dispersed
into minute murmurs
it was the
longest dinner
ever
4.
you whisper:
will there be seconds...
I whisper:
what does your gut tell you...
5.
just as in an old movie
I wrote on a matchbook
then I left Room 1105
the door locked itself behind me
Below the rest? ....I don't think so....you write with such passion!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by Haunted