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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 6: Today's prompt comes from leanne. "Write about a piece of clothing that was important to you at some time in your life."
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more
Questions?
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As we drove across the mile long bridge she asked me if I was sure.
I wasn't, but I nodded yes because I knew that was what was expected of me.
In the backseat I could not see that she tore it into,
saving part as a memento that I would not see until I was much older.
A light blue blur floated out from her window
falling down to be lost forever into the Red River.
To this day there is still a small part of me,
that wants to drive off each bridge I drive over
chasing my lost baby blanket.
Dale
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
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Jean
Why did you run off with my jeans
and leave me in Room 113?
You left my wallet and the keys
it's cold outside I'm gonna freeze -
why did you run off?
You could have taken everything
and snuck out easily unseen
but I am left to face the breeze
without my pants, so tell me please -
why did you run off?
You took the towels and linens, Jean.
The shower curtains see-through, jeez
this is so embarrassing
they all can see my twig and beans
I'm on my knees, so tell me please -
why did you run off?
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(04-07-2014, 05:35 AM)trueenigma Wrote: Jean
Why did you run off with my jeans
and leave me in Room 113?
You left my wallet and the keys
it's cold outside I'm gonna freeze -
why did you run off?
You could have taken everything
and snuck out easily unseen
but I am left to face the breeze
without my pants, so tell me please -
why did you run off?
You took the towels and linens, Jean.
The shower curtains see-through, jeez
this is so embarrassing
they all can see my twig and beans
I'm on my knees, so tell me please -
why did you run off?
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Second Skin
Six months it took to grow my hair long,
a rough as fuck look to feel I belong,
I needed the clothes, reflections of me,
something grubby and ripped at the knee.
So I waited until my brother got fat,
and took the tight leather from off his back,
his biker boots I saved from the bin,
the cobbler laughed when I took them in.
Steel plated cleats complete with new zips,
he restored the scuffed leather, all was hand stitched,
a nervous how much, for the work he had done,
son I can’t charge you, I've had too much fun.
A bottle of bleach poured over new jeans,
the family bath had never been so clean,
rinsed in cold water to stop them from rotting,
so bleeding tight they stopped me from squatting.
A jumper came next for under the leather,
knitwear from Nan to keep out the weather,
brown wool she bought, so what could I say,
I would have to wear black, some other day.
All on a journey of bikes beer and friends,
forever an image of myself to extend,
caught in the fibers a DNA of my youth,
even the drug squad could use them as proof.
The jumper I kept, its upstairs in the loft,
sometimes I lift the lid from its box,
the first thing I smell is just musty and stale,
then I get cigarettes and a hint of brown ale.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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Sheepskin
Having spent my teenaged years
not eating meat or wearing skins,
those habits quickly disappeared
with gardens grown and venison.
While I was crafting bags and belts
Lorraine and Jules, in new found coolness,
rejected meat and fine tanned pelts,
became our circle's first Jew-Buddhists.
Their matching sheepskin coats were hung
unworn and useless through the year;
accepting one, it shone among
my cheaper threadbare winter gear.
For countless years it kept me warm
through every northeast winter storm.
(good thing for me we're not critiquing these.)
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
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a costume of my wife's and my favorite tie
The Coed and the Professor
She is clad in pleated tartan,
black Mary Janes and bobby sox,
but not heading for the classroom,
so I toss aside my lecture.
A full-fledged college schoolgirl,
her perfumed hair's neatly braided.
She’s not interested in lessons;
has a thing or two to teach me.
At those times she’s feeling naughty,
her long legs begin to fidget.
When that micro-mini rises,
I search pockets for my chap-stick.
She has a well-rounded background,
brilliant white, enriched with ruffles.
I grow anxious for a recess,
my paisley tie flailing wayward.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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The Ass and the Lion an Aesop fable
Once there was an ass who longed to be
respected. Trusted. Feared by those around
him, but alas, he was an ass and so he found
his clownish face and dopey personality
left him as feared and trusted as the flea.
The lion, though, left every hare and hound
cowering in fear or bowing to the ground.
The ass was overcome with jealousy.
One day he wore a tawny lion skin
and strutted all about with royal zeal.
And much to his delight his former kin
bowed or trembled as the ass drew near.
But when a lion passed he brayed with fear.
The lion ate him as his noon time meal.
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(04-07-2014, 01:16 PM)milo Wrote: The Ass and the Lion an Aesop fable
Once there was an ass who longed to be
respected. Trusted. Feared by those around
him, but alas, he was an ass and so he found
his clownish face and dopey personality
left him as feared and trusted as the flea.
The lion, though, left every hare and hound
cowering in fear or bowing to the ground.
The ass was overcome with jealousy.
One day he wore a tawny lion skin
and strutted all about with royal zeal.
And much to his delight his former kin
bowed or trembled as the ass drew near.
But when a lion passed he brayed with fear.
The lion ate him as his noon time meal.
Nice sonnet, milo. Love the subtle but powerful variation in three and seven. And the way that seven connects to twelve. And of course the allegory.
A bit of a stretch to get back to the d rhyme but somehow it makes the last line even funnier and come out of nowhere, so I think it works petty well here.
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No title as yet (A luc Bat)
Threadbare from years of wear,
the focussed, round eyed stares back then
at twelve, eleven, ten,
were well beyond my ken. Knotted
at the midriff, dotted
with dirt, all had spotted the pert
rosebuds piercing my shirt - A blue
check, cheese cloth top. They hurt
to touch, and when they grew,
summer sweats dripped like dew. A cool
breeze and new term schedule
enforced some new school rules. A grey
uniform for Monday. A bra
for training those risqué roses. Care
free in my stout footwear;
blue check tied over hair, foursquare.
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(04-07-2014, 02:56 PM)trueenigma Wrote: (04-07-2014, 01:16 PM)milo Wrote: The Ass and the Lion an Aesop fable
Once there was an ass who longed to be
respected. Trusted. Feared by those around
him, but alas, he was an ass and so he found
his clownish face and dopey personality
left him as feared and trusted as the flea.
The lion, though, left every hare and hound
cowering in fear or bowing to the ground.
The ass was overcome with jealousy.
One day he wore a tawny lion skin
and strutted all about with royal zeal.
And much to his delight his former kin
bowed or trembled as the ass drew near.
But when a lion passed he brayed with fear.
The lion ate him as his noon time meal.
Nice sonnet, milo. Love the subtle but powerful variation in three and seven. And the way that seven connects to twelve. And of course the allegory.
A bit of a stretch to get back to the d rhyme but somehow it makes the last line even funnier and come out of nowhere, so I think it works petty well here.
Thanks. Post-NaPM it would need a little smoothing but I feel good just getting them down. Day 6 and I feel like I ran a marathon already.
(04-07-2014, 01:29 AM)Erthona Wrote: As we drove across the mile long bridge she asked me if I was sure.
I wasn't, but I nodded yes because I knew that was what was expected of me.
In the backseat I could not see that she tore it into,
saving part as a memento that I would not see until I was much older.
A light blue blur floated out from her window
falling down to be lost forever into the Red River.
To this day there is still a small part of me,
that wants to drive off each bridge I drive over
chasing my lost baby blanket.
Dale
This just happened last year?
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Well yeah, I'm only five!
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
Posts: 426
Threads: 41
Joined: Feb 2013
I wanted her to think of me
and in my teenage pain
entrusted it with that one plea.
She spent her summer by the sea
nine letters later, August came
but she returned… hands empty.
She'd lost my soft orange hoodie
but said she held no blame--
California stole that part of me.
Not really worth posting--or reading--but just going along with the game. ;p
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
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(04-07-2014, 11:26 PM)justcloudy Wrote: I wanted her to think of me
and in my teenage pain
entrusted it with that one plea.
She spent her summer by the sea
nine letters later, August came
but she returned… hands empty.
She'd lost my soft orange hoodie
but said she held no blame--
California stole that part of me.
Not really worth posting--or reading--but just going along with the game. ;p
I just noticed you snuck this one in. i think it has some promising parts.
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Well then you see more than me milo! Thanks for the encouragement.
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
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Bury me in my dressing gown-
the white one with the stains.
That’ll do me nicely for I
never did take pains
with how I dressed while
I was alive, and surely when I’m dead
God won’t think me under-dressed
or think I’ve just got out of bed.
It’s an earthly kind of a heavenly robe
(which I have yet to get)
so bury me in my dressing gown
promise you will not forget.
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