NaPM April 18 2013

[milo]

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 18: Write a poem inspired by a dark secret you have . . .
Form : any
Line requirements: 10 lines or more.

Questions?

(congratulations to those sticking it out this far)

[Todd]

Ah the blackmail poem, I wondered when we'd get this one.

[milo]

A writer's pay isn't what it used to be . . .

[billy]

i'll try one later though i have no dark secrets apart from flicking one or two over my wrist while thinking of sister emelda (a Carmelite nun) in a kids home i was staying at

[Todd]

Not easy, a round about draft...

~~~~~~

The Girl in the Plastic Hat Asks

If I'm a priest while resting a hand
on my chest, she loves priests.
I am wearing black,
the color of secrets, so she asks
if I'm married. Her questions
to the cadence of a teenage girl
on ecstasy popping her gum, until I feel
as if dozens of mosquitoes
have flown into my eardrums.

I want my annoyance to crack the air.
I want to tell her that like John Wayne
Gacy, I have 33 bodies in the crawl space
under my home. Like Bundy, I want her to help me
look for a dog that I've never owned--maybe
a collie, or pembroke welsh corgi. I want
to go home.

I am a taut wire.
I have no confession.
I perform no last rites
Shallow people lie
in shallow graves,
never quiet.

[NakedBear]

Oh, good one, Todd. The break before 'gacy' was great.

Or maybe



~~~

Kinda like Emily

My cheeks are hued
with anticipation carving
my love’s gaze upon my face.

Few know him
and so take him to be me.

They cannot see
that I will gladly lay before him
so all my vital heat can soak his skin.

Someday we will roll together
upon silvers shifting just like sand,
which laid beneath his feet while rowing
his reluctant lovers between the shores.

But I’ll give him all I’ve got
as all my wants will be succored.

[billy]

After class

Miss Bennett taught me English and sex.
Education wasn't a good skin for me to wear.
My english teacher was, she spoke poetry
to my cock; it mattered not what words were uttered,
only how she twisted her tongue round the vowels.
I'd never seen live-in-the-real-world tits.
Before her it was underwear in the littlewoods catalogue
and the nubs of Mary greenhill in the sewer pipes
of the new housing estate near Manor avenue.
Bennett called me her novice at first, then begged
for me. She was smoked salmon sandwiches
and high class weed. The end came quick,
quicker than a choirboy in a conclave of cardinals.
Caught stoking her daughters bread oven,
my extra curricular activity cut off.

---

i'm also posting this in serious if it's okay, it saves me doing two

[milo]

Kin

The bones can’t break the secrets of this hollow,
twin decades since I’ve seen the shallow mound
the twilight grays and scowls upon this meadow.

My father’s flesh now roots with this old willow,
the same spade strike that harvested the ground.
The bones can’t break the secrets of this hollow.

Now I have made a half of our shared sorrow
my brother phantoms only me. Around,
The twilight strays and growls upon this meadow.

But half of me still lives as his twin’s fellow
as half of me twins with his corpse. Rockbound,
the bones can’t break the secrets of this hollow.

But now they feed upon his kinship’s marrow,
forever more their harvest will be bound
The twilight preys and prowls upon this meadow.

So one skinned skull, it lies forever sallow
and one haunts up from swamps, forever drowned.
The bones can’t break the secrets of the hollow
as twilight grays and scowls upon this meadow.

for reference:

Kith

I am not the rook or the crow,
or the intricate brooch at your throat. A feather
to rest in the brook of your brow.

Your song steals the wind from the low
that mourns with the bleat of the lamb. My brother,
I am not the rook or the crow.

Your bones take the crush from the blow;
the thick articulate stutter. Our father
will drown in the brook of your brow.

We hide away hide away flow
and slough through the muck and the peat , we slather.
I am not the rook or the crow

as they wax and they nettle the grow
we loam away, quietly pine, we gather
at peace in the brook of your brow.

So I suitcase away this sorrow
and whisper the sough and the scatter .
I am not the rook or the crow
to hide in the brook of your brow.

[brandontoh]

I thought of this on my way home from work. It's really stupid. ><

Alphabet Soup

A is for asshole,
B is for bitch.
C is for cunt and
D is for dick.

Control the aggression,
stop with the blaming.
The curses need to go,
along with the drinks.

Learn about affection,
see the beauty in life.
Some cuddles help too,
bring delight for once.

A is for apple,
B is for boy.
C is for cat and
D...
D is for dad.

[cidermaid]

Sorry this one has got a bit long, thought I would randomly try a pantoum again and it got a bit out of control. (Also not sure the subject particularly suits the form).
It's Billy's fault he got me thinking about how English teachers are to blame for a lot of things in life. Mine got me started on a life time obsession of making (and drinking) alcoholic beverages.

Drinking problems.

It seems that English teachers have a lot to answer for.
I liked English lessons, I did a lot of reflecting.
Our teacher wore cowboy boots and chilled in double lessons
The older students were encouraged to be radical.

I liked English lessons. I did a lot of reflecting.
“If it is hot, bring a drink” he said. (I knew what he meant).
The older students were encouraged to be radical.
He sat at his desk and got progressively more relaxed.

“If it is hot, bring a drink” he said. I knew what he meant,
squash and sweets were sneaked in – they didn’t like his special tea.
He sat at his desk and got progressively more relaxed.
Nobody knew it was wine, so I sat and grinned at him.

Squash and sweets were sneaked in – they didn’t like his specialty,
it was pale and slightly fizzy … it looked like lemonade.
Nobody knew it was wine, so I sat and grinned at him.
The Oak leaf was his finest. My Father made home brewed wine.

It was pale and slightly fizzy, it looked like lemonade.
Swigging lemonade in class was cool and very daring.
The Oak leaf was the finest of father's home made wine brew.
The first in my class from a broken home – Duly noted.

Swigging lemonade in class was cool and very daring.
The Head had heard a rumour, in he came, asking questions.
The first in my class from a broken home – duly noted.
“Everyone just has squash, except one who has lemonade”.

The Head had heard a rumour. In he came, asking questions,
nodding at me - a special case. Largess duly granted …
…everyone just has squash. “Except one, who has lemonade”.
Eventually I had to stop – My source dried up with Father away.

Nodding at me - a special case. Largess duly granted …
…he never did come home. I had to go and live with Mum.
I had to stop eventually, my sauce dried up with Father away.
Mum doesn’t drink. That’s Ok --I learnt how to make cider.

It seems that English teachers have a lot to answer for.
My Mum doesn’t drink. But I have learnt how to make cider!
Our teacher wore cowboy boots and chilled in double lessons.
He never did go home; he couldn’t live with his Mum,

[billy]

i think it's an excellent use of the form. nicely done AJ
glad my escapade helped

[milo]

Sorry this one has got a bit long, thought I would randomly try a pantoum again and it got a bit out of control. (Also not sure the subject particularly suits the form).
It's Billy's fault he got me thinking about how English teachers are to blame for a lot of things in life. Mine got me started on a life time obsession of making (and drinking) alcoholic beverages.

Drinking problems.

It seems that English teachers have a lot to answer for.
I liked English lessons, I did a lot of reflecting.
Our teacher wore cowboy boots and chilled in double lessons
The older students were encouraged to be radical.

I liked English lessons. I did a lot of reflecting.
“If it is hot, bring a drink” he said. (I knew what he meant).
The older students were encouraged to be radical.
He sat at his desk and got progressively more relaxed.

“If it is hot, bring a drink” he said. I knew what he meant,
squash and sweets were sneaked in – they didn’t like his special tea.
He sat at his desk and got progressively more relaxed.
Nobody knew it was wine, so I sat and grinned at him.

Squash and sweets were sneaked in – they didn’t like his specialty,
it was pale and slightly fizzy … it looked like lemonade.
Nobody knew it was wine, so I sat and grinned at him.
The Oak leaf was his finest. My Father made home brewed wine.

It was pale and slightly fizzy, it looked like lemonade.
Swigging lemonade in class was cool and very daring.
The Oak leaf was the finest of father's home made wine brew.
The first in my class from a broken home – Duly noted.

Swigging lemonade in class was cool and very daring.
The Head had heard a rumour, in he came, asking questions.
The first in my class from a broken home – duly noted.
“Everyone just has squash, except one who has lemonade”.

The Head had heard a rumour. In he came, asking questions,
nodding at me - a special case. Largess duly granted …
…everyone just has squash. “Except one, who has lemonade”.
Eventually I had to stop – My source dried up with Father away.

Nodding at me - a special case. Largess duly granted …
…he never did come home. I had to go and live with Mum.
I had to stop eventually, my sauce dried up with Father away.
Mum doesn’t drink. That’s Ok --I learnt how to make cider.

It seems that English teachers have a lot to answer for.
My Mum doesn’t drink. But I have learnt how to make cider!
Our teacher wore cowboy boots and chilled in double lessons.
He never did go home; he couldn’t live with his Mum,

I liked it so much I recorded an audio for it!

[Todd]

Yeah, I'm not commenting on these threads enough. There are a lot of poems I've enjoyed throughout. Yours is definitely one of them AJ.

[cidermaid]

Thanks for the kind comments and encouragement everyone.
An audio for something I wrote ! I'm not sure how to respond to that beyond to say I'm stunned and Wow...I'm always pathetically grateful if someone takes the time to read my poem,never mind making an audio Milo...you are my new favourite person. ><
This writing thing is really most odd and upside down. I was completely unimpressed with my effort ... I thought it lacked finness and subtly. And now I'm grinning from ear to ear, off to read it over (because I'm still not convinced it is any good...but maybe I've missed something) OH and next thing you know, I would love to listen to someone else reading it. ( because I'm having a vanity attack).

...Oh good grief... the cider wench has got high on the fumes!

[milo]

If I like a poem I sometimes make an audio of it to see what it sounds like to have it read to me, I could upload it if you wanted.

[cidermaid]

I feel a bit self concious asking for this and still convinced it will sound awfull (not your voice - my poem), but I think that it might prove to be really helpfull in terms of a tool to work out how to move my writing forward. It has never occured to me to try recording any of my poems to actually listen to them / as opposed to trying to listen and feel as i read them. (Would need to investigate the tec side of how, but perhaps I should look into this).
Anyway thought it would be nice to see how it sounds with someone elses voice wearing it. So very kind of you to offer.
Many thanks AJ.

[milo]

Done. Don't expect greatness.

http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/showthread.php?tid=9751&pid=123931#pid123931

[justcloudy]

I rather feel like I'm interrupting this thread now. ;D
I know this is late... my weeks are busy... I wrote this in the back of a taxi, haha. extremely unpolished but I kinda feel guilty about this one and probably don't want it to be very good anyway... ;p


Brother, I never loved you.

We are many, I can take my pick
and you were never one.
Your handwriting still makes me sick;
your jokes are humorless.
As children we fought all the time,
often I, the culprit;
your skin was pale your hair was fine
but I was never jealous.
Your tears appeared with lightest touch
You wimp! Baby! I yelled
Mom said my measures were too much
I called them education.

Now I’m older, you are too
we have more tolerance,
but we both know we’ll never end
this brother-sister dance.

[popeye]

I thought of this on my way home from work. It's really stupid. ><

Alphabet Soup

A is for asshole,
B is for bitch.
C is for cunt and
D is for dick.

Control the aggression,
stop with the blaming.
The curses need to go,
along with the drinks.

Learn about affection,
see the beauty in life.
Some cuddles help too,
bring delight for once.

A is for apple,
B is for boy.
C is for cat and
D...
D is for dad.

I c you still have a pussy in c