NaPM April 5th 2019
To set up a new thread for each day of April; First off, make sure no one else has already posted for that date. If not then copy and paste this post into a new thread and fill in the necessary information.

Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

NaPM April 5th 2019

Topic: A poem inspired by fluids

Form: Any

Line Requirement: Any

Collect semen from a dead guy? 
The Church isn’t ready to talk.
His widow isn't ready for a family.
His parents aren’t ready to let go.
No disrespect intended, but Darwin
would turn over in his casket
if he were alive today.
Does the river speed up 
  or slow down as it rushes to the edge.
   As it fills up the basin, merging every churning
                                                        m     i      w
                                                         o     n      a
                                                          l              t
                                                          e     t      e
                                                          c    h       r
                                                          u    e       f
                                                           l             a
                                                          e             l
                                doesit get louder, until it is silent,
                                            until it finds its way 
                                                  to the ocean.
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
Crimson Mask

Like a slasher movie victim,
red conceals his everyday face-
razor blade sliced through
sweat, forehead,
only to be stopped by bone.

They blame the steel-chair
as his eyes burn, mouth dry
with pride
because even if just for a moment,
he feels like a true artist.

From Wikipedia:
Crimson mask, a professional wrestling term to describe a wrestler's face being covered in his own blood, most often due to blading.

Time is the best editor.

Our love possesses no set shape, Marie,
but constant volume, filling up our days.
It swells a little, struck by summer’s rays,
but even deep in winter courses free.
From you to me and back, by subtle ways,
it pulses pressure, hypersonic sound–
as if we shared a body.  We have found
that, parted, we rejoin in meeting’s gaze.
Alone together, emptiness around,
black vacuum blazes into perfect light,
excited to electrifying height
by grand potential and a yearning ground.
We rise, Marie, in spirit over dross-
gold, left behind, inconsequential loss.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
I remember that first kiss I stole from you,
sweet with the butterscotch candy
still in your cheek (I stole that too).

You were all pink-cheeked innocence
and sinful lips, and I tried, really I did,
to wait for you to make the first move,

but your lips were covered in candy shine,
and the dimple in your cheek was laughing,
and I couldn't let that moment pass untasted.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
Baby, maybe
you ought to drop
the violin,

maybe your hands
should wrap themselves around
the red and green wreath

on your brow,
pluck the plump

bubbles of poison
bowing its stems
by drawing purple

lines about your
neck, swallow
and regret

for only a moment, then maybe
those holly sapphires glowing
Star-of-Bethlehem-like on your

thick brow has, at last, turned you,
Santo Niño, man,
and I

your violin case,
your lectern,
your crown,

To say;
the movement of her walk a work
of art would be too cliche...
Remember how a Riesling falls
all sweet into a glass,
all swirling round the bottom;
well it reminds me of her ass.
The sheerness of her silken skin,
the warmth when sunlight hits.
The champaign coloured rays of light
that land upon her as she sits...

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