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The world stops like a film frame when I look in your dark magenta eyes in the sky at night, all its purple stolen from the stars by seagulls who make the wind do their bidding I look deep into your eyes so dark where colors dance on flames of light in the sky at night where stolen purple rises from the sea to fill the gaps between the clouds that could be used as jewels by native Americans before they knew they were indigenous when they loved the land that rises from the sea to mountains made of snow white snow or are they clouds before they're tooled by trickster seagulls who bid the wind to take them up to summits unreachable as naked men then again, in your dark magenta eyes anything is possible.
i passed a drug test so i could work in a factory i hate
A place where everyone brags about how much they drink.
Just shoot me now.
Worst poem ever, I know. But the images reminded me of a rorschach test. And after having just worked a 12 hour shift at my new job, that's what came to mind.
Seven, I like that one! Its wry humour, and of course its relatability, make it very satisfying.
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Rorschach
When he sees those ink blotches scattered across the page like dead insects he wants to reach down with hard fingers and push the liquid skeleton of individuals into the same shape so that, bones backwards and joints lolling and legs twisted into errant smiles, he can pick them up by one, all ranked and formed, and push teeth into them and make them all whole.
Moth... moth... butterfly... butterfly... beautiful pregnant butterfly... young mean moth... new born monarch... moth... moth... moth hitting me... moth... moth... broken winged monarch... moth... moth... butterfly leaving... moth... dead old moth... beaten scarred monarch... new cocoon... butterfly... beautiful new butterfly
Stained...interpretation into the unknown universe... Disorder in the daisy patch as sprites flutter above... A firefly spits inky black into a sea of neutral... Marshmallows of insight roast upon a stick of dynamite... Tanner than a pale yellow and the fire dances combustible dope... Blotting...blogging....prodding...flogging.... Cat'o nine tails laps a sea of oblivion but the ink doesn't stop... It drops like rain among the multitude...brains of stain.... The black clogs the white, as good evil does fight.... A battle of nine lives but the cat coughs up a hairball.... The universe on the floor, drowning in the inky shadows... Ice skating on quarters the size of half dollars where money doesn't matter... And insurance isn't assurance and life never ends but is infinite.... In the ink...a finger...it draws a horizontal figure eight on the clouds.... To infinity and beyond, and I'm not even a light year buzzed... No wood in the furnace but a monster in the closet... The ink runs down the clouds, lands on my wings... Like a bird soaked in oil, I fall crashing to the ocean of blackness... With a splash like the biggest bang, all the ink disappears …. Leaving only white paper....and in the right corner … A blot of black ink, left, at the end of it all ...and I swear it says............ FADE OUT
Thanks people. And wow, all of the above poems are well done, fun to read. Ledbetter's I read machine gun like, like the cat pictured in his avatar. Had me laughing.
Heretic's was very descriptive. It could inspire a script.
Pale Yellow's, another one that made me smile. It felt freeing to read, as if nothing was held back -- this is the mood I want to be in when I finally return to writing!
Micahael's, well constructed, well thought out with an ending I wasn't expecting but very much liked.
From the day we arrive on the planet And blinking, step into the sun There's more to be seen than can ever be seen More to do than can ever be done
Some say eat or be eaten Some say live and let live But all are agreed as they join the stampede You should never take more than you give In the circle of life It's the wheel of fortune It's the leap of faith It's the band of hope Till we find our place On the path unwinding In the circle, the circle of life
Some of us fall by the wayside And some of us soar to the stars And some of us sail through our troubles And some have to live with the scars
There's far too much to take in here More to find than can ever be found But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky Keeps great and small on the endless round
Okay, I know it was wrong to lift Elton John’s “Circle of Life”
I know it was wrong, Michael, but you and Pale have taken over the poem challenge and I felt scared.
Okay? There I said it! I was afraid… I was… I am… Wait, stop… I feel a poem… Or a soliloquy It’s not a haiku But, if you’ll let me, I’ll tell it to you
I said from the very start, My need for the word Nantucket So there, I just said it It felt good, so fock it
This tryst shows of late Lovers of poems each a wait Not for the next challenged attempt But only that their poem was great
So, I bid you a fond adieu And ask only one small thing of you That when this is through Delete the c rap I wrote As you famously always do
To all my Simply Scripters To the lovers and the bitchurs It’s been great to write a poem Because this writer has a home