Thursday, October 25, 2012

10 Word Thursday: Perfect Agony

It's 10 Word Thursday again...time for poetry. I decided to do it in the style of a succession of haikus. Just to make it interesting, I suppose. lol

Ms. Bebe gave me these words:

salacious, prototype, fire, bawdy, dandelion, atlas, museum, explosion, tea, petal

a salacious fire
takes up residence in me
the explosion...great

the impetus, him
the fuel, his body perfect
sculpted from dark wood

far from bawdy and store cheap
...atlas-like and strong

i imagine him
a tasty tea of sweet dreams
dripping onto me

cascading like rain
beading upon my soft petal
me soaking him in

i become spoiled
my prototype paramount
supreme over all

where do i go now?
like a fiend i chase the high
embers of a fire

whisked away like wind
dandelion spores adrift
me...changed forever

Thursday, October 18, 2012

10 Word Thursday: The Missing Muse

Back when I was on Multiply.Com, a friend Ms. Bebe used to commission a Ten Word Thursday. She popped up on my wall today on Facebook after months of me not doing this challenge. (Also, timely because though I haven't been writing poetry...I've been wanting to) So here are the 10 words she gave me and the poem I came up with.

10 Words: bemused, judicial, countenance, abyss, adrift, pimpmobile, obedience, enormity, membership, visage

somewhere out on the sea of sonnets
ADRIFT on driftwood
feeling no more good...
my muse,
lies listless
staring up at the stars
wishing for whimsical wisdom
on dying suns
for one...just one line
to buoy out of the ABYSS
its artful assent
rising in OBEDIENCE
aware of how essential
my bard's MEMBERSHIP is.
or maybe,
she lies BEMUSED...
a VISAGE of blankness
that pale COUNTENANCE,
a reflection of the gaping chasm
that's taken resistant residence
all up in my heart...
all through my fingers...
my lips,
a silent dryness
where my golden gift
once dripped with hunger...
i don't know,
perhaps she feels left alone
my time,
meted out between too many loves
or just not enough love for her
and her obstinate stance
is a somewhat JUDICIAL
and heartless eyeing
for allowing her to lie here dying
and leave the both of us crying...
[i'm sorry]

back there...
afar on land
parked ashore
her poetic PIMPMOBILE
sits abandoned,
driven no more...
no music,
no Keys,
no packed bags filled with stanzas and creative acquiesce
just she...
floating in a breeze
in a pool of thought,
i can't seem to seize
too far...for me to write with ease
and though,
i can't swim
i fully intend,
to sing her back to shore
promise to be her whore
if only she'll remember
that i her
slightly psychotic
equally hypnotic
poetic ass!

in the butterfly net...

i ink...i flow...i pen,
my soul, my words, my zen