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I wish to propose a "Subject" poetry contest. Basically, one choses a mental image and asks the others to respond. The winner will chose the next subject? Any takers? The first subject will be:
"a rose petal falls to the floor"
I will set a date when I get response.
As ever loving as ever,
Pen
Neat idea Pen.
This is what I thought of, when I thought of your line...
Morning: in the rose garden
Swish of summer sun;
ache of cold dew drops
in the morning, condensed into the cup
closed tight: a newborn’s fist
pinkly opening. Touch of wing beaten air,
long flicking tongues, and many feet
clinging to a scented promise. Unfurl
now, golden eye, gold as the sun
caught in a white halo; reach out:
long stems and velvet perfume.
Wide open. Breathe in morning air,
bright sunlight, soft-clasping leaf
brief and tremulous, and warm.
Spread your wings; send them tumbling
to the ground: white shower, pooled, a reflection
of life. Spilled from children’s laughing
hands, a path like a finger of light pointing out
towards the gate, and the world beyond.
Fifth, you are a dear for starting this! Beautiful! Bow write poets, write!:)
A petal drifts onto the floor
A single teardrop salty falls
Her sable gown is out the door
I walk through many empty halls
Where ghostly echoes give me pause
The remnants of unanswered calls
I lose my mind without a cause
My inner rebel makes no noise
And bows to the unwritten laws
My inner dancer loses poise
My inner poet's words are terse
Silence rumbling through the noise
And here you see the kind of verse
And here you see my talent waste
As things default and even worse
The rose has wilted in distaste
I found a single hidden flaw
I overlooked in all my haste
For all the charm I ever saw
Was wrapped around a mortal fair
And flesh is red in tooth and claw
The other day I found a hair
A single strand of crimson hue
In ambush underneath the chair
And there it would have hidden too
Untouched, unseen by human view
Except that when I shut the door
I saw a petal hit the floor.
Great idea for a contest Pen. I'm not sure if I can participate. But I'll consider it. I hope this contest takes off.
Wow! These two alone make the contest interesting! I hope more join! :thumbs_up
A gentle petal on my skin, her kiss
drew out of me a shaky, wondering sigh
as lover-mine plucked roses from on high,
and blood-red lips bestowed their heated bliss.
Bent over me with fragrant skin and hair,
all tousled from our recent warm embrace,
she draws a finger 'cross my lips and face.
The sunlight glistens on her body bare.
Then all too soon, the day gives way to night;
too soon the petals fall and lose their blush;
it's gone, all gone; it's vanished in a rush.
And thorns remain, all cold and hard and bright.
Then, lost in shadows dark with cold and rime,
a final petal falls, entrapped in time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, that was definitely a challenge. I'm not completely pleased with this one, but it's past midnight, and so to bed.
:) Russell
thegitksan
Deadline will be October 27, to give time for spooky Halloween poems/ Good luck! Very pleased with the three so far! :thumbs_up
of what use is love now
of what use all your guarantees
I'll love you until forever but
forever has arrived
be it no concern of mine
you'll never return except
in my memories, the last
duty I'll ever owe
anyone, especially
you- the rose petal
drifts to the floor-
what good is love
now
Ephemera
On the side of the trail the other day
a clump of wildflowers waved,
with the points of their dark purple petals
pointing to the early fall sun.
Those are New England asters, I told you,
Nova-angliae, rarer than white or periwinkle.
The supermarket sells them,
Twelve ninety-nine, per pot.
Why don't you pick some, you asked me.
No. They're growing here for a reason.
They're happy where they are,
not like the cultivated store-bought posies,
pricey because of their scarcity
at various seasons of the year.
Their short shelf-life is why they're prized
for their value in romance --
similarly the reason a man buys jewelry,
because even eternal gold is a trifle --
no real use beyond its luster,
lessened by a luminous face.
He values woman’s place, higher than money.
Same with fragile flowers, doomed to wilt.
Unlike love, they won't last, and that’s what
it means when a rose petal falls.
Excellent poetry. One point: the line is a subject, so description is what is important. Including the line is a welcome bonus, but not the important part. Describing what the action of the falling petal makes you feel is the central part of the poem!
Onward poets!:):D
Bright as moon lit lake of light
when evening throws a blazon night
luster shimmering folds apart
then opening to greet the sight
Open, not too far to give away,
your nestled secrets held at bay
and let you sit right where you lay
get on with your pleasured way
but alas, you know whats come must go
and wilt this rose must fade from thought
but not till its last one falls from court
petals strewn - rose bud did fault
Been a long time since i entered one of these poetry contests but heres my contrabution! :D
Lone Rose Weeps
A soft wind blows gently by
Caressing cold forgotten stones,
Pocked with lichen and moss.
Names once known, now faded. Forgotten.
A lone fox, moving around in mist
Tumbles rubble as it passes through
Gap in crumbling wall.
A lone rose, in cracked glass jar,
Droops sadly to the ground
Touching wilted petals
Fallen on the earths damp frosty floor.
Dew resting on end of petals
Cry silent tears, for long forgotten souls.
Leaves and Roses
Softly, softly floating down,
Red and russet, gold and brown,
That last petal letting go,
Soft somehow, supple, flows
To the floor in sync with autumn's twin.
Should I run and grab them both,
Press in pages that I loathe,
Crushed mid those in rosewood casket,
Finest linens cannot mask it,
A leaf, a rose, a tear let go again.
I sit stymied by the day,
Watch them dry and curl away,
I know that you will step on them,
When you come calling on a whim,
Noticing not our colors fading from within.
ampoule, October Ninth, TwoThousandEight
nice! i like that Ampoule!:thumbs_up