|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:05 am
[[Laverne will have a mini-collection of her decent poetry here. 3nodding ]]
Contents as of now: Not that much, really. sweatdrop
Wha-?
Back to Fishing
Irises Wild
This is Titled
Blown-out Insides
cellular
Slanguage and Cigaretiquette
I guess I should have a profile, too, but my life ain't that cool.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:06 am
Wha-? as written for the DeviantART Litmas contest. Not exactly great, but fun. Just like berry 7-up plus.
Turkey smoke was the stuff
that wafted over from the neighbors,
those real 'people'
who 'celebrate' and have 'fun.'
The had lights to make their house
a sillhouette: it was ugly on its own.
Santa should stop there,
or so it was apparent.
On a rating from Oh to Ooh Ahh,
it gets an Oooh.
As for the tree that blocks their window,
it looks like it should be the start
of a multicolored forest fire.
On the other, there is
a group of people huddled around
the television in this house,
the home on the street
that manages without living up
to the Skittles motto,
and all of us are
watching ex-hobbits squeal.
"Christmas? What's
Christmas, precious?"
One of the red-and-green shapes
looks like Star Wars-
but they all do, anyways.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:08 am
Back to Fishing as edited by my OP/L friends and very much a loved poem by meself
This is the part
where you're the fish
and I'm the -erman.
She talked the interface
into rippling hold
with the un-girl on the line
after I caught the receiver
in this oversized butterfly net.
She reminds me so much
of waterfalls and whistles,
even though I suggest that I remember
she's only the woman behind
our robotic scarlet curtain.
She said one was for help,
and two for assistance;
I pressed both and hung up.
You're off the hook.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:11 am
Irises Wild was written and edited for Discourse's sunset project, at which I failed but still like the poem- the hotwheels bit is dedicated to armorfelix
"Honey," she said,
irises wild,
"we've only got
the rest of the day."
Her attitude gave hypothermia
like an icy Hotwheels.
They could afford
to miss their effects.
The sky light rolled
slowly down to meet them.
"Baby," she said,
boring into the blankets
with her feisty stare,
"we've got one last hour."
They were satisfied with
their final secular time-waster.
Reddish heights sprang
as their idol touched down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:13 am
This is Titled was just a random thing I found in my head as I finished reading an oxxidation.2- note it's two, not four- critique. if I can I'll find Aehlea's- or was it Almea's- idea about it
Fingersnapping ridicule
is the only thing to take
the foresight away.
I have seen the scene
and the sightof the site
and followed forest paths
to a worker's oasis, just to
dirty my knees and lips
for a shepherd's decomposture,
as I heard the herd bleating
in unison.
Jeer to the upbeat sounds
of funeral hymns.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:15 am
Blown-out Insides is my very first good poem that I wrote thanks to Samael- now Ardimurti- and Glip who gave me the beginning idea when the first stanza was only three lines
Her ribs tingle on the inside
when the metal and the bone
collaborate for health
that refuses to exist.
She's supposed to order something subtle
to run around the hills she's got,
not this backless fabric. So I
tell her she was overcharged
and she snored at me.
Four pupils tell me just to wait,
that she looks like a
godly whore after three days of
straight work. Then
they handed me cardboard
to support the tar lining:
'will work for lungs'.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 12, 2005 5:16 am
cellular is still mainly uncritiqued but I like it. it's my most recent right now
Trill defines ring,
which in turn defines phone.
Yes, I've registered
that there's even electricity
running in my house;
I don't appreciate
you wasting it.
It's eating at my drums.
Telephones are so last decade,
let alone so loudly vandalistic.
This week I'm
pampering myself.
It's wait wait wait wait wait wait-
beep-
no message.
I know the pattern
out of blatant repetition.
My attention isn't caught
by a buzzing blank.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2005 10:49 am
Oliviated, Because When You're Just A Boy The Chance Is Slim That You Can Lie Down And Be Felicitated or Sarahnaded is a funny title, don't you think
The wedding arch was,
as she announced,
perfect in ways no man could make.
Don't dirty the two dollar cotton.
Custom-made, said the grapevine
while it was only two inches long,
just for the bride's surprise.
She was waiting on the groom,
who was living up to his title
as the boy combed through the rat's nest.
Olivia, the to-be-wed;
Olivia, who had the keys to his house,
always just in case,
never hesitated.
Man enough charm to forge a bracelet
and hang from every link.
She was his subordinate,
and he was hers,
and the groom could lie down and
hammer off the diamond finger.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2006 12:48 pm
LaverneTerres Back to Fishing as edited by my OP/L friends and very much a loved poem by meself This is the part where you're the fish and I'm the -erman. She talked the interface into rippling hold with the un-girl on the line after I caught the receiver in this oversized butterfly net. She reminds me so much of waterfalls and whistles, even though I suggest that I remember she's only the woman behind our robotic scarlet curtain. She said one was for help, and two for assistance; I pressed both and hung up. You're off the hook.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2006 12:54 pm
LaverneTerres Wha-? as written for the DeviantART Litmas contest. Not exactly great, but fun. Just like berry 7-up plus.Turkey smoke was the stuff I like this first line. It = pretty.that wafted over from the neighbors, those real 'people' who 'celebrate' and have 'fun.' However, the rest of the stanza just feels so lacking. It's a telling, rather than showing. And the quotations only add to that outsider feel.The had lights to make their house I assume you mean "they". whee a sillhouette: it was ugly on its own. I like the image of the sillhouette, but the "it was ugly on its own" is just so plain. It doesn't bring the image of false beauty that it should. Also, I think the colon should be a semi-colon, though I'm not sure.Santa should stop there, or so it was apparent. This line is extremely awkward. If I were you, I would get rid of it, and write a new line that better echoes the mood and hope the reader gets from the previous line.On a rating from Oh to Ooh Ahh, "Rating" should be "scale".it gets an Oooh. Teehee. xd I likey.As for the tree that blocks their window, it looks like it should be the start of a multicolored forest fire. Lurvely.On the other, there is On the other what? Awkward line break here, too.a group of people huddled around the television in this house, Great image. Right away, you get an image of a family who manages with less.the home on the street that manages without living up to the Skittles motto, heart and all of us are watching ex-hobbits squeal. confused Where'd "hobbits" come from? It just jumps out at you."Christmas? What's Christmas, precious?" I like the connection between this and the last line, but once again, it's just a random allusion that pops out of nowhere.One of the red-and-green shapes looks like Star Wars- How'd we get from LOTR to Star Wars?but they all do, anyways. This last line just falls unbelievably flat. If you go to the OP/L, I'm sure you can find a poem on the first page that contains this same line.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jan 20, 2006 3:03 pm
Slanguage and Cigaretiquette which was really fun
He said chickadee,
'cause that's what they've been
calling me.
The chick with the car
and her very own language;
with rehab for sophistication.
Behind their backs, gang hangers
rewrite official business men's
term papers,
and their leader woman
cavorts to the conversation tones.
But I still give slang to the new boys,
the ones I meet, who
offer a smoke ever-why time.
I, ever-why time, convince
it's too much of a decision
to pick a cigarette.
He stuck around
after his initiation smoke,
trying to let this slanguage
slip into his fog.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
