Am I also supposed to have a deadline? Let's make it April 15th.
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Am I also supposed to have a deadline? Let's make it April 15th.
I don't often look in on this thread so I missed this glorious poem! How magnificently you weave together the quotidian, the sacred and the inchoate sexual.Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
is like one of those moments in a chaste Victorian novel when one suspects that something erotic is about to take place - or is it one's concupiscent imagination?Quote:
the chestnut of her eyes met mine,
the gold of the crucifix across her chest
glowed in the candle light
and she entered.
Harp Strings
My bones
~vibrate~
like the
harp strings
beneath your
fingers stroke.
Is it:
my soul
-or-
my body
you play?
with those
sweet
melodies
that still
linger
in my
dreams....
:lol: Thanks. Actually I think I learned this from you and your poems.Quote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
The Guitar Teacher
He taught me to play
When I was a boy
I didn't know many chords
But he said I was ready
Sink or swim methods
Taught me all I know
Playing by ear
To the beat of my own drummer
Now he's old and feeble
His hair almost gone
But I feel his presence
Each time I play guitar
Pendragon
thick spicy Scilian pizza
a nun hands me a Scilian coin and
God's hand reaches out to
touch my fingers;
clots of people stroll through the night
their nightengale voices raised in song
a magnificent robust chicken
and wine, and bullets in the night;
the maze of streets do
not cure my wanderlust
and on every street corner
this song with a sweet ache
wanders like a stag into
the forest, like a fawn into my heart
Guantanamera
guajira, Guantanamera
Qimissung
When I First Heard the Blues
a man on Bourbon St.
sweating, plays guitar,
an old Gibson plugged
into a Marshall amp
glass slide on frets
and turned up so loud
I thought we would all
vibrate off the ground
descant
plastic descant
splashed in piss of disinfectant
New Dance
There's a fast parade of colours,
we struggle to find a groove.
So a change forms in the rhythm,
beginning to bust a move.
A sea of silhouettes,
as people move their feet.
Now we'll spend the night dancing,
to this new-found, funky beat.
Clutching the phrase
Monk left out for me
I slip into dreams,
Misterioso
Without further ado, while all the entries were really good (there is something to a short minimalist poem that brings out the best in everyone) I will award the winning poem to Billl.
What I was looking for is for the poem to be suggestive of possibilities unmentioned. I think that's what separated Billl's poem a tad from the rest.Quote:
Originally Posted by billl
Billl, you can pick the next subject. :)
YEAH! I stumbled upon these contests, then had some fun searching my memories for musical moments that had some kind of 'thing' happening--and then hammered some sudden words into shape. Rare poem for me these days, so quite fortunate to be a winner. Thanks, Virgil, the check is in the mail.
Next topic: PARTNERS
Deadline: May 1st, (a Saturday), at noon.
Two to Tango
Limbs entangled
rhythm flows
move
counter-move
come hither-not
games
gliding across
the floor.
Stolen
touches
to the music's
beat
step
step
turn
step
Together
pulled-apart
friction
created.
Flashing eyes
flashing smiles
flashing gold
caught in lamplight
colors twirl
and blur.
Two souls
two bodies
moving
as one
in cat
and mouse
flirtation.
Whoa! Definitely meant to be read ALOUD, Dark Muse. Lots we can do reading that one...
Wow. Suggestive writing at its best - let the reader's imagination flux and flow.
This is one I wrote long ago in my monochrome youth but perhaps it fits the bill :
GADGET
My hand can cover you (so);
the little hair, warm,
scented like lips.
My fingers close, gently,
bend to touch your damp flesh –
the smooth hollowed belly above,
my grip slowly caressing,
untethering your passion,
the hand-shake.