Posts Tagged ‘poems’

bonus post: a sestina

April, as you may know, is National Poetry Month, and in honor of the event, erotica/horror writer Bliss Morgan has set up NaPoMoFo on Google+. Every day she posts a set of words to kick off a poem (which can use one or more of the words, all the words, or none of the words). Today’s set of six words fell together as a sestina:

How could you allow yourself to be caught in a position so unsuitable?
Your downfall will be absolute
How very unwise! No matter his charm
no matter the glamor of the party
you should have allowed the night to expire
you should have been strong to resist

But youth and folly are hard to resist
Even when you’re with someone suitable
With a man like that, rules and prudence both expire
swept away in a cloud of Absolut
and wilder things, I’m sure, at that party
Of course you fell captive to his charm

He’s loaded with charm
he wags a finger and women don’t resist
I’m sure he’s had every girl at that party
It’s true he doesn’t care about money, or what’s suitable.
He wants control. It must be absolute.
He’ll smother you until you expire.

Believe me, child, fires such as these expire
What once delighted quickly loses charm
the loss you fear is not so absolute
Nor is desire so terribly hard to resist
It’s as easy to fall in love with a man who is suitable
as it is with a raffish rakish party

an impoverished illiterate ill-mannered party
whose lust for you will soon expire
he’ll think satin and mink isn’t suitable
for soccer games, and he’ll doubt the charm
of Versace, Gucci, and the other names you can’t resist
the death of love will be quick and absolute

Which do you prefer, love? Johnnie Walker, Abolut?
There’s even Dom P left over from the party.
You know I’m right, darling, please don’t try to resist
Chase your dreams before they expire
While you’re still young and full of charm
live your life to the fullest: that’s what’s suitable

give yourself to joy absolute before these tickets expire
let yours be the party, yours be the charm
they can’t resist you; your conquest will be most suitable

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poem for the day

At Sunset


you will die when the sun sets

beyond the sea of endless hope

when the shadow at your door blots all direction

and home becomes a blur

unremembered though you stand at its threshold and its pigs squeal all around you

though the smell and the taste and the touch are as near as your own skin

no matter how many times you click your heels

you will never find Oz.

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haiku for spring

happy pink flowers
pollen streaks puddles yellow
my nose overflows

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