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Writing Challenge: write a sixty second poem (or prose)

so nubile and innocent
not yet struck by carings double-edged sword
flickering those beautiful black eyelashes
between precious stares so unaware
so gorgeous
when you grew unexpectedly, swanlike
wee butterfly wings not yet full spread
you took this, you took that and you took these,
once dormant desires palpitate in irregular measure
Gorgeous
to quench your growing thirst
you start to see more and grab more
becoming covetous and dizzy with desire
learning that want can be a painful delight
 
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there once was a man from nantucket......
they wrote a poem about him
he did something awful
and
got sent to the state penitentiary
where he married a large mulatto man with breast implants and
shaved genitalia
he currently lives in a trailer park in new mexico and is waiting on the mothership to come to carry him to his home planet
which is located
somewhere
back in nantucket
finis`
 
why she sat next to me i'll probably
never know
but she had that nice smell
like a shower
with a flower
and she'd put that powder on
that i just don't seem to have access to

how she made my heart skip
a beat
is one thing i keep asking her
and she smiles
grins,
melts me into her
just likes she knows that she can

since she's been gone i just
stare
at the hole on my bed
where she laid
debts left unpaid
i've got nothing left to give
but so much more to take

now, is she back? she says
she is
but i doubt her conviction
her eyes stray
elsewhere but
come back to me, encouraging
but i don't think she really sees me.

no idea where this came from.

if i do this again i want to write with a lot less structure, because this actually took much longer than one minute - about two and a half - but it was just written in one sitting, with no edits.

like this a lot less than the first one.

i might try again.
 
live, fall, learn

"you just run down to that wall over there and try to jump over it"

yea?
it looks simple enough

CRASH

but i can't do it


[:p in the style of a great poet - Kirk Judd]
 
i can't stand it
my text takes all of your space
in the place of
some better images of word that
anyone could provide
on the
proviso
that they'd provide a provision of the revision
that i subscribed to

and they would
i know
because yesterday what they spat
at me was all i could even think
about until
the sun rose today, all in my face
it was
bright
sweating
fucking beating down on me and it hurt
me
it
hurt
me
but its falsetto was my saviour bass line was comfort

an instant
in which we all felt better because we
all felt received
and we all knew 'just once'
i'm sorry that what i say
isn't x-rated, like i'd prefer

is it, just me
or have you noticed that the only
real
fucking
politics
these days
are x-rated because any other time no one cares
the x is aesthete
and
the x is replete
with image and love and hate and life
and
the x is complete.

p.s. i get a certain feeling, it's one i've had with my own forum: aus. social. i'm not so sure if people actually read the stickied threads at all. and thus perhaps it would be best to unsticky this and just bump it once in a while?

i just don't think stickies work anymore. people ignore things that are constant. oh ,that's cool.

*runs off to write poem*

p.s. about a minute and a half
 
a queen of innocence
enters the world of lust
giving in to desire
she comes towards you
as she enters your world

you get drawn into her
ignorant to pain she may give
taking her to your den
she reveals and seduces
unaware of the potential
you take her into lust

two pieces of flesh
Rub against each other
as sweat drops down
An angel starts to moan
Screaming in agony
She gets taken into hell

the pain is unbearable
but yet she wants more
sounds fill the room
and the bed squeeking
she begs for more




okay so it doesn't rhyme :p
 
the life you want
the life you need
two different things
Why is it so?

It's going no where
Or so you think
Come down the track
and this misery will be rewarded

Think of the future
It will be the way
Although fate has it's own mind
Is your destiny what you planned?

Depressing thoughts
Change of plans
You have no control
Yet you think you do
 
sort of.

in some ways, i actually find rhyming poems easier to write. BUT, i find the non-rhyming stuff almost exclusively better, because of the amount of free-range.

i guess it depends: if i'm feeling non-creative i can churn out a fairly nice rhyming poem that depends almost entirely on theme - it can turn out how i want it. but if i'm feeling creative i can say almost anything through a non-rhyming poem because i have no boundaries. sometimes i can change language or verse or structure and it doesn't matter.

*hugs free form*
 
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I've only made a select few rhyming poems, I find it just that little bit harder to find the one word to make it rhyme.

Man, I wish I could find all my old poems :( They were so evil
 
light at the end of the tunnel
is just the lightglobe
at the end of my eye
my eye
my eye

watched the movie you said to see
and i said to hate it
'cause your love i hate
i hate
i hate

one more time i start no fire
and you look like i did
my scorches burnt you
burnt you
burnt you

i'll burn you
just don't see me.
 
Drip marks dried in suspended motion on the white piket fence had my thoughts frozen in a bubble as I was zapped back to the time of the begining of the paint drip. With out a look behind I dove into the bushes to a Sergent of arms

edit to fix spelling
 
I cry tears of glass,
Watch as they fall from my eyes.
They will shatter upon your life,
Watch as they fall from my eyes.
I bleed the blood of the dead,
Watch as it flows from my veins,
It will cover your body,
Watch as it flow from my veins
 
There is a girl
with eyes of blue,
crystal blue,
the color of all those tears she cries
they seem ordinary but if you look just a little closer
you can see
that in those eyes is the heart of everything she is
and everywhere she has been
they were not that sort of blue always
they were changed by all the sadness
by all of the pain
by all of the agony of illness
her eyes became the color
of the tears she could no longer cry
in her eyes is the souls of many
that will make her who she will be
and you can see she lives this life
not for her self
but for those reflected in her tears
she is a loner in one way...
a party of one
you can see it was not always that way
but you would never know by the things she says
it is all in her heart,
in her soul,
in her eyes,
you can see it reflected in the tears she always cries
 
Have you ever lived in a country where everybody is the same?
Have never been of a people who's identity is a fantasy?
Have you ever wished you were part of something diverse?

Why do people live on sheets of ice?

--- G.

(can't believe it took 60 seconds to write that, lol)
 
what a great thread 1234!

my turn

ecstatic mavericks trapped in a battle of maximum habits
conniving manna from androids and beating birds of prey with rotted cabbage
laugh at the savage ravaging of class-act mastering
trash teh crap you stack up your back and attack at will
but if you kill
oh if you kill
the deal is done
the sun is fun
funny in a way
like laughing at you
certain that soon you'll be singing a tune
that resembles a banshees' howl under the full moon


this is crap. considering i haven't written anything in a while.
 
And I will be the floating fractals,
a fluttering fairydoll
foreplaying between your petals,
feathering through bee stings and bee flutter to fasten
freely formed kisses to your forehead.
 
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