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Old 02-12-2012, 01:50 AM View Post #1 (Link) Biweekly Poetry Contest 2
lalodragon (Offline)
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The theme for February 12-25

I dedicate this drink to spring:

In high school you tried to convince me
that rum was sweet, sweeter than Caribbean water
or the girl on that vacation you refused to name.
Riding shotgun, I was too full of tasting spring:
the wind, cool like a nervous dancer, peeked under
my clothes and the woods opened like thighs
with a sigh, with a rash of jubilant crocuses.
Too full of a love for bare shoulders
revealed as winter’s bra strap slipped down,
I could not imagine how anything could be sweeter
than the roar of your engine past the bleachers.

Years later in Panama I drank rum because it was cheap
because bartenders swilled it into flat coke
and filled the night with more than cicadas.
It burned my lips cracked by the salty Caribbean
and clung to my throat, a spoon of sour honey.
Each shot sent a spike of loneliness through my body,
sharp but filling, like a bolt of lightning at dusk,
bisecting me into empty of you and full of myself
like the straight bole of a beer-belly tree bisects the forest.
I lay flat on my back and imagined the rum was your voice.
Three geckos curved on the ceiling, commas,
the words in between erased.

Now in the dead heart of February
as the cats grow restless and the dirt thaws,
as the crocuses poke their green fingers into the world,
I pour the first slow measure of sweet gold rum
into a glass like a monkey’s inverted fez.
Rum smells like Panama, like the fat Latin sun.
It touches my tongue wraps it up forces my mouth open
for a hot skewering kiss; my stomach rears up
like a lonely ocelot, the way it did that spring
for your complicated warmth, the way it still does
when I return to you, your sweet kiss full of life,
more life than the rainforest
and its thousands of buzzing drunken cicadas.

Syrup sex

You tease my mouth open
with lips that suckled honey
from the fingers of the moon
which isn't actually made of cheese.
I know because you say so. So I

taste the syrup right off your tongue
and realize that it tastes like

the rest of my life's pancakes,
cooked golden brown and drenched
soaking wet in maple
syrup that I
want to
from your throat
to your heart.

She is given a bag of rubbery sweets, and tears them with her teeth
like lions tear their prey-- no guilt in her but gold. Gold is guilt once it sprinkles
the spine, calling for more. This could only bring rust.

The rust holds things together.
She likes togetherness. Never bites sweets in half and waits for the
sherbet to spread. It's blasphemy to a woman believing in relation-

ships, and she is a woman all right, hands on hips making her look like a
bush with two wide-set branches on either side, a school tie sticking out
of her blouse like a kite abandoned on a tree by the wind.

Women aren’t made for men. Bodies aren’t made for souls.
Nothing isn’t made for nothing. For some the answer is always God.
For others, the answer is always sugar.

She’s getting to the bottom of the bag, the brown paper sunbathing
in her palm. For a second life is sweeter than dyed lumps; then the teeth
drop down onto the sidewalk, and she rises bitter-faced.

For first place, Isis gets five thank points and a first place badge (posted soon).
Second place, Squint: three thank points, and a 2nd place badge (posted soon).
Third place, bookworm: one thank point, and a third place badge (posted soon).
All entries receive crits! (These come when we've finished them.)

Next weeks' contest here

Other entries

A French kiss

La lune est suspendue au milieu du ciel
held by invisible threads,
as it whispered an ancient lullaby
to dormant petite stars.
And the lute played the classical coda,
orchestrating musical notes,
speaking for silent words,
revealing infinite desires.

A ballerina lightly danced,
moving her body with ease.
like a withered yellow leaf dancing,
in a cold autumn wind.
Her fragile strength,
never seemed to mind her.
As she twisted her way through the thin air,
ignoring the laws of physics,
mocking Isaac Newton’s theory.

The golden waves of her hair,
decorated her waist,
and flew as she moved,
drawing a shimmering hollow around her body.
The perfection of her features,
made her look like a goddess.
The way her green yeux enchanteur
harmonized her high pitched nose.
And the full cherry lips of hers
made their kiss almost taste-able.

I watched the scene with dreamy eyes
pictured myself in her arms,
leading the dance,
touching her lips with a French kiss.
When the rusty dove landed at my window frame
delivering a forgotten love letter
A simple “Je t’aime” cliché.
						Last edited by lalodragon; 02-27-2012 at 06:18 PM.
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Old 02-12-2012, 07:14 AM View Post #2 (Link)
bookworm (Offline)
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I love you for renewing this. Now I'll go write something.
Originally Posted by Samuel Beckett, Worstward Ho
The void. Before the staring eyes. Stare where they may. Far and wide. High and low. That narrow field. Know no more. See no more. Say no more. That alone. That little much of void alone.
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Old 02-12-2012, 09:43 AM View Post #3 (Link)
lostbookworm (Offline)
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Can I be a permanent judge? Like, have two permanent and one rotational?
and he saw himself nailed to the cross of his own cradle and coffin
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Old 02-12-2012, 10:21 AM View Post #4 (Link)
FayGee (Offline)
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Get me into poetry and I'll take part. The hard bit is the former.
YWO Awards 2011:
Most Welcoming Member: FayGee
Worst Spammer: FayGee

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Some poems rhyme
This one doesn't

So ha.

I collect thank points.
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Old 02-12-2012, 08:49 PM View Post #5 (Link)
Julian (Offline)
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So, is this a bi-weekly contest?

Whatever; I'll participate.
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Old 02-12-2012, 09:05 PM View Post #6 (Link)
lalodragon (Offline)
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Originally Posted by Julian View Post
So, is this a bi-weekly contest?

Whatever; I'll participate.
Nooo, weekly. Thankee

EDIT: lostbookworm will be a permanent judge with me. And we will need one extra person to judge!
						Last edited by lalodragon; 02-12-2012 at 09:11 PM.
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Old 02-13-2012, 12:18 AM View Post #7 (Link)
Isis (Offline)
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Critiques? I am SO DOWN for this. I think this will help me keep writing while I push through the final months of school.
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Old 02-13-2012, 01:03 AM View Post #8 (Link)
lalodragon (Offline)
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Originally Posted by Isis View Post
Critiques? I am SO DOWN for this. I think this will help me keep writing while I push through the final months of school.
The poetry goddess is baaaack. Looking forward to your entry.
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Old 02-17-2012, 02:12 PM View Post #9 (Link)
lalodragon (Offline)
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We must have your entries tomorrow night, people! We only have one!
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Old 02-17-2012, 05:41 PM View Post #10 (Link)
Arty (Offline)
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Can I just suggest that anyone who wants to enter this competition should do so without panicking too much about the quality of their work. Obviously we're judging this based on the quality of the poetry, but let's get this in perspective -- it's a weekly (perhaps bi-weekly) competition, so don't fret too much if your poem isn't the most exquisite work of art you've ever produced. Just get it to us as soon as possible so the judging can commence!

Half the point of this exercise is for your poetry to be critiqued, and since you'll get at least one critique on the work you submit to us, that should be an incentive in itself. That's not to say that you should just send us any old trash that you cooked up without a second thought, but bear in mind that it's the taking part that counts : )


/PR stunt
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