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Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.
Topic 11: Write a poem inspired by edges (of any kind).
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more
(Prompt suggested by Danny--thank you)
Questions?
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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I expect to see some very edgy poems...
I'll see myself out, sorry
assholery not intended .
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high end couture
the city surrounds me
with beautiful people,
dressed for sport, for success,
for love or rebellion.
choose what you want, it´s available.
it´s desirable
to be where they are are,
smiling and happily
adorning the malls
and their windows,
which turned into screens.
paradise is flat.
the walls are predominant still
and just cutting the edge
off the vertical view.
...
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squatter's fuel
an axe
which my father
bought,
an axe which sings
and sinks itself
into the flesh
of rotten houses --
a business
which will never
end, an art
which will mean
something only when i'm
dead,
and the pyre burns
that my children set.
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Catapedaphobia
your balcony on the fourteenth floor
it's a glorious May morning
of birdsong and sun
I'm out for a cigarette
with my back pressed against
the sliding door
a neighbor leans over his railing
taking it all in:
Mrs. Kitz hobbling to her car
in her jangling jewelry
the little toy dogs
wiggling at the delight
of empty bladders
the pretty little black girl
from the fifth floor
in tiny tooth-white shorts
the crude outline of a jumper
the kids have drawn
in sidewalk chalk
outside the lobby
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No, I won't be stopping,
been one of those days, too long
and I think I can taste blood.
Can't afford to be late, again.
Plans been made and laid,
and a man's got to meet his obligations.
No, it's like I said,
just passing through, looking
for a little something
to take the edge off.
What's your name?
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(04-11-2018, 03:14 PM)cloud Wrote: I expect to see some very edgy poems...
I'll see myself out, sorry
I was thinking more noun than adjective but that's fine. The prompt I enjoyed the most was from a few years back (I think Leanne suggested it) Write a poem inspired by rubber.
Clearly, we could have seen a lot of contraception-related pieces--but I wrote something I NEVER would have thought of without the prompt. I'm still not sure where I'll go with this one. I'll try something in a few hours when my schedule opens up.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Vision’s Edge
Razor boundary of ocean,
teeth of mountain,
edge of desert plain—
nonexistent circle which
seems to enclose our world
but our view defines.
Horizon line whose only true
reality is on our retinas
(and that inverted)
yet with simple tools—
clock, compass, sextant—
and a star locates us perfectly.
 Non-practicing atheist
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Edging
I often remember
When I buried my face
Deep into your neck
To hide from your eyes
You were my dummy
Was I, to you?
The youth of my dignity
pushing ever so often
But not too much
And yet
the final thrust
Always came too soon
assholery not intended .
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This is an experiment
All you have to do is press a button.
Except each time the screams get louder
And louder
And won't stop until you stop.
But please, this is an experiment
So don't stop until we tell you.
You don't believe me
But you will kill him
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
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Threads: 231
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Edge
He stepped through a cloud of smoke
his long hair, tight curls, hung like a hippy
over his shoulders.
His pale green army surplus coat
alway smelled of petulia oil,
he wore it like a smile.
His house keys were in a bowl
on the hall table
next to a note from his mother,
reminding him to lock up.
The bowl always rocked
when something went into it
because of the uneven decoupage
that was spreading itself across
different pieces of furniture.
The hall table watched him step through the smoke,
it listened to him as he said he was going to bed.
It even tried to catch him as he tumbled
backwards down the stairs.
His house keys were still in the bowl
as his mother pushed open the door.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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(04-12-2018, 06:23 AM)Keith Wrote: Edge
damn, that´s vivid. i´m left wondering for reasons, the dope, the worn smile, the note, the table listening instead, the unlocked door...
...
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The Threshold
In the end, the orange ball will glaze the sky
on the final wet dark of morning. You will stare
at an open door that no one else can see, light
peeking beneath the crack, as the dwindling shadow
of your body will recede like water into parched earth.
Your voice will lose its rasp and bubble up
like a fountain. Your last words are that I must
forgive myself, something you could never do in life.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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(04-12-2018, 01:41 AM)Todd Wrote: (04-11-2018, 03:14 PM)cloud Wrote: I expect to see some very edgy poems...
I'll see myself out, sorry
I was thinking more noun than adjective but that's fine. The prompt I enjoyed the most was from a few years back (I think Leanne suggested it) Write a poem inspired by rubber.
Clearly, we could have seen a lot of contraception-related pieces--but I wrote something I NEVER would have thought of without the prompt. I'm still not sure where I'll go with this one. I'll try something in a few hours when my schedule opens up. Damn you, I remember that, now I've got to find the prompt, to reread your poem, I liked that one too, I think I wrote about trees.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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Bravo, bravo people.
How boring would this earth be if there were not people who put your own work to shame
assholery not intended .
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Regret
To teeter
between the choice
of which way
to guide yourself
is inevitable.
When you do fall,
the thud is louder
than shooting stars,
but heard by no one else.
Time is the best editor.
just mercedes
Unregistered
Edging closer
Piss-yellow clouds
crowd the grey sky,
reflect in the gun-metal lake.
The tell-tail hangs straight.
We drift silently towards
dead trees clustered
on a bluff above
a rocky shoreline,
withered sedge,
a solitary watcher.
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Nice works guys. I was curious how your imaginations would fire 
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Job 38:11
The earth isn’t flat, but I can understand
the terror of not knowing
where the limits stand.
Stopping or being stopped
from falling off that edge
is the kindness of a parent─
“ This far you may come, and no farther.”
Hawking believed we choose
a cosmology that relieves our fears.
Choose your opiate:
edges or no.
Chopra says that the secret to accepting
the idea of infinity lies in the circle;
we’re always at the center─
never finished, just re-invented,
never too far from home.
(04-12-2018, 06:12 AM)CRNDLSM Wrote: This is an experiment
All you have to do is press a button.
Except each time the screams get louder
And louder
And won't stop until you stop.
But please, this is an experiment
So don't stop until we tell you.
You don't believe me
But you will kill him
I've read about this experiment. Scary as hell.
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Joined: Jun 2011
Birmingham
It shattered and the shards flew wide
to lodge in cloth, in wood, in flesh
where once we laughed by fireside
it shattered and the shards flew wide
and God would call it justified
to cleanse the world and start afresh
it shattered and the shards flew wide
to lodge in cloth, in wood, in flesh
It could be worse
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