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NaPM April 11 2016
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04-11-2016, 10:34 AM
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 10: Write a LIST poem. Form : any Line requirements: 8 lines or more Questions?
04-11-2016, 11:39 AM
List your joint assets, he said.
Small weatherboard house, the half acre of land it stands on, fenced, mortgage free. Hyundai sedan, red, reasonable condition, roo bars, registered in NSW. Licence to pump water from the river issued by NSW Land and Property Management Authority. Household items including: fridge, stove, washing machine, vacuum cleaner, flat screen colour TV, two double beds, cupboards and dressers, dining room table and chairs, lounge suite, large coffee table, rugs, pictures, linen, cooking utensils, crockery and cutlery, pots and pans. Wood-burning slow combustion fire and flue. Indoor plants. Three large bookcases and contents including poetry and gardening collections. Large garden shed and workshop with lawnmower, wheelbarrow, shovels, spades, chainsaw, hoses, saddles, quantity electric tools, bench drill, vice, quantity paint and brushes. Three large water tanks and a portable petrol-driven pump. Small trailer, unregistered. Large woodpile, neatly stacked. Beds of flowers and vegetables, shrubs, an orchard of fruit trees, four black hens, one ginger tom cat, and one very confused blue heeler. 
04-11-2016, 11:56 AM
Packing List
Games Dictionary Calculator Porn mags Encyclopedias Movies Notebook Personal Trainor Photos Postage Stamps Music Maps Newspapers Camera Watch Alarm Clock Phone. 
04-11-2016, 12:02 PM
cannibalism
I'm staring at the sky black and then I hear a bluejay flutter high and when I see him land soft on grass and spin I feel for a little worm's meat and skin I taste the grind of teeth and chin I smell juices of fear basting mice and men I know the salt-less taste of loss and sin. 
04-11-2016, 12:37 PM
Dang JM -- and massive, massive lol Tiger! Although I'm not sure a phone would make up for postage stamps, if a place ain't got bars.
04-11-2016, 02:29 PM
04-11-2016, 02:36 PM
wasn't expecting what i got from jm and tiger their list poems, thanks for igniting some ideas for me. nicely done
Growing Up with Cerebral Palsy
I. Infant I began as an actuarial calculation back when people did figures with a slide rule, probably mixing a strange alchemy of Euclid’s perfect numbers, my two-pound weight, and my mother’s painted on smile to determine a 38% chance. Peter Singer had not yet written to reject my being a person. II. Toddler I crawled and continued to crawl, and my mother’s world shrank to what would never be. Dreams like a blighted field. Children are not the reason for divorce. We mean to say, not the only reason. III. Preschool I wore leg braces under my pants so my parents would feel normal. This was my normal. Frankenstein’s Monster clomped like me, and didn’t know that all babies weren’t born by lightning. IV. Elementary School I learned that friends happen when you stay very still, never break a pencil, never go to the sharpener. Children aren’t innocent. and they hunt in packs. The principal said that a human bite is filthier than a dog's when I bit into Mickey’s forearm and spat blood on him as his friend’s let go of my arms. Now they all just walk like me when they think I’m not looking. V. Junior High These years are a burning fuse for a town too small to have a McDonalds. The acid of puberty mixed with nothing to do made us fight. I never stopped fighting, 138 times and then I quit counting. I started getting love letters that was the way girls fought. VI. High School There was a cure for me. Saw through the femur, and re-hamstring like a guitar—a coin flip of normal or wheelchair. I missed being able to hit someone. It felt like love. Kid in a wheelchair tells me how lucky I am. Everyone’s heaven is someone’s hell. The freedom of not giving a shit is like a flower that breaks through the pavement.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
04-11-2016, 03:49 PM
Powerful work.
04-12-2016, 12:54 AM
The Cage is Empty
A Parrot Flies Toward Neptune Street lamps in straight accord recede toward the horizon over cracks, separations imagined divisions between blackened ice flows amidst which fishing boats drift without occupants. The earth is dark and crumbled. Scorched tree trunks tip below silhouettes of crudely fashioned crosses on the skyline. A gray feather attaches to the bottle of the nest. On a hickory tabletop a fork and a spoon of different design, a pristine bone china plate. The outline of a hand holds the outline of an inverted drinking glass. Oak benches twenty-two feet each direction over maple floors to echo on bare walls, if there were sounds to echo. Two windows give light to long reflections. Archways to the left allow the room to drain. A folding chair opens in the spotlight on a darkened stage a place to sit in a circle of light, nothing more. 
04-12-2016, 06:42 AM
Cars, trains, buses, planes, boats, rockets, skateboarders down mountains,
skiiers and snowboarders at an avalanche, bmxers and motorcyclists without helmets, Formula 1's at Nurburgring, stocks down the speedway, helicopters, helicopter wings, base and bungee jumping, skydiving out a plane, hang-gliding, jet-packs and those squirrel things, squirrels(not really), but bears and big cats, rhino and elephant feet, crocodile teeth, sharks, whales and sometimes dolphins, jellyfish if you really piss 'em off, scuba diving, oxygen tanks shutting off, storms if you piss God off, basically anything going off, tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and hurricanes, basically anything Satan is on, Illuminati, the CIA, FBI, militaries, and DEA if they catch on, the Mafia, Cartel, Latin Kings, MS-13, Crips, Bloods, Aryan bruhs, TRG, Yakuza, and if you're 'round my way then Bulldogs, Busters, Scraps, and Playboys, basically any pimp or thug in your way, coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, cocaine, methamphetamine, heroin, xanny's and Oxy, Valium and Klonopin, lean, but not weed(seriously), LSD or angel dust if you think you can stop trains, paranoid schizophrenics who think you're insane, manic-depressives who think about you intensively, split-personalities who think they're Hannibal, cannibals, aboriginals at home, Nazi's if your eyes aren't blue, RUF if you're in their view, suicide bombers, terror attacks, exponential growth of ISIS clans, Uber drivers who claim it was the app possessing people, people possessed, old school shit like bows-and-arrows, crossbows, knives, swords, catapults, trebuchets, ropes that hang, new school shit like nukes, missiles, H-bombs, claymores, flamethrowers, cyanide, mustard gas but not guns (if you're pro-American), McDonald's, BK, Taco Bell(unless fresco), fuckin' Rally's, Carl's Jr., McDonald's. Yeah, basically anything but guns. (Oh and trivial shit like heavy stuff on high ledges or ladders or wet floors or texting, etc.)
Crit away
04-12-2016, 07:38 AM
Weeded, I love the exuberance of that. Teagan, once again, you've posted an exquisite poem. *bows*. Todd, I am speechless, really amazing piece.
Me, today, I got nothing. About five false starts. Love the idea of list poems, have written them, can't do a damn thing right now but spit and drool stupid words. Maybe later, maybe tomorrow.  Meanwhile I'll enjoy reading y'all's. 
04-12-2016, 08:29 AM
You guys are so inventive, its been a real treat to read today's offerings quite the emotional roller coaster, and yes I mean laugh and cry.
Christmas morning (not sure this really fits be its all I got) one for the children. Sadie woke to sleigh bells on the roof, the winter witch had cast a spell of ice, she hoped this year that she would get some proof, at least a slipping reindeer's dangled hoof. Outside her room she met a small mouse, who liked to store cheese in the sides of his mouth Listen! she said with the loudest of shouts but the mouse had no time, he was on his way out. As she stepped on the stair, she met a Brown Bear, who lived in the cupboard just under there. Can't you hear that sound? banging around, climbing back up all, covered in soot. But the bear just frowned and turned around. On reaching the hall she decided to call to the basket that guarded the door, I know she said to a blood hound called Fred they'll be presents laid out on the floor one for you and the rest for me, come on boy lets go see. The dog barked and chased his tail then followed the pine scent of Sadie's trail. She entered the lounge and looked around but the presents where nowhere to be found. A window was smashed by a trampled tree oh dear me, where ever can they be. Well my young lady said Fred the hound dog in my professional opinion it was an outside job. I'm afraid to say this year will be sparse, no list from Santa or cash found in cards, because thieves have left us with nowt, nada, zip, oh please don't cry put away that big lip. Christmas morning was quite a kerfuffle but sat in the quiet Sadie heard a shuffle. The mouse had wrapped up his last piece of cheese and the Bear held her tight with his best biggest squeeze. The family played games all day long, Dad played guitar and sang some old songs, grumpy George at number thirty even gave them some cold cuts of turkey, yes it was true, Christmas was quirky. But at the end of the day, in bed tucked up tight, when Mum asked Sadie if she'd been alright, she thought of the things that they'd all done together and whispered to mum "it was the best Christmas ever" The mouse agreed and the Bear gave her another squeeze. If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
04-12-2016, 11:09 AM
Keith, that's delightful.
And, this here is all I got but at least it's something. Maybe tomorrow I'll get my game back.  A Selection of Unsorted Bookmarks full list of lojong proverbs duotrope: your control panel Smilie list firsthand weather garden rant Richmond weather Chattanooga weather Fredericton weather Rio Hondo weather guide to planting by the moon Dangerous Harvests Claytonia megarhiza var. bellidifolia Chukchi lullabye Benjamin Zephaniah -- No Blue Suene Shoes Stuck in the Smokehole of our Tipi Kitten Riding Tortoise glasses don't have to be expensive Medicine Work/Inlakesh Roundys on the Road where the emergency alerts on your phone come from Mountain Moss A Canticle for Roadcat how to cook brown rice perfectly American Science and Surplus how to cook brown rice perfectly Under the Green Corn Moon small mesh flats Hepatica acutiloba Triodanis perfoliata (Clasping Venus' Looking Glass) Bamboo Rayon Leggings The Death Sentence of Ashraf Fayadh Ecodeviance/Indiebound In a Dark Time the Eye Begins To See Celtic Cross/Hicksville Invaders from Mars The Life at the End of the Tunnel Everybody Try Flying
04-12-2016, 12:04 PM
Kiss me hard on the mouth
until your soft lips bruise on mine Stretch my body out against the wall like an ornamental crucifix Press the knife deep and hold it as the hot blood spills over your hands and stains your skin Bury me on the edge of the forest so I can dance with the sway of the alders Join me in the grave and mold to me like clay against plaster Bay your sorrows in the moonlight until the wolves join and sing me back to life
04-12-2016, 03:50 PM
undecided list poem
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