NaPM April 17th 2019
#1
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 17, 2019

Topic: a melodramatic sonnet about something that should have been mundane. 

Form: sonnet 

Line Requirement: 14 lines. 
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
Reply
#2
The Coffee Sweats

The coffee sweats, you know the ones, inside
my guts are moaning for a glass of cold
refreshing water, but I got to ride
the caffine high, awaiting to be told
my seventh cup is shaking in my hand;
pretending puddles aren't on the floor,
my voice too loud and fast to understand
that cream and sugar watch, and can't ignore
how yellowed teeth are really crying out
for floss and paste, afraid the dentist chair
will bring a wrath that is without a doubt
the last insult against a tired stare.
But then, by four A.M., I lie awake,
and wish to give my life for sleep to take.



This made me realize how much I prefer free verse to metered poetry lol

Time is the best editor.
Reply
#3
Fatal Question


A salesclerk asks with studied innocence,
“Paper or plastic?” which begins a war
between twin angels in a shopper’s core,
each scolding and demanding penitence.

A choice of plastic, cheap con-ve-ni-ence
accepts vile ocean-choking patches, more
than heart can stomach, but she thinks of lore
concerning chainsawed trees, and sits the fence.

Her mouth moves, sputtering, “Pa-plastic, please?”
To which her naughty clerk deigns to reply,
“Dead dinosaurs?  So cute.” Her terrors wax.
“Pa-paper?” “Killing forests?”  To her knees
she falls - but there’s a hero striding by
who saves her sanity with burlap sacks.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Reply
#4
Where's the Bottle Opener?

I think I'll sweep the floor today and put
away the pots from off the kitchen sink.
A Hoover for the bedroom rug and shut
the wardrobe doors to hide away the stink.
Two pints of bleach to wash away the shit;
within the toilet bowl a fat turd lay
I'll flush it first then scrub it with true grit.
The polished ones are best or so they say.
Is housework worth the daily grind; the heat,
or are we better off just drinking beer?
To lift or not to lift the toilet seat;
real men don't care, thier waters hold no fear
So choose the chores to do and choose them well
and if you drink a beer or two don't tell.
Reply
#5
(04-18-2019, 11:11 AM)dukealien Wrote:  Fatal Question


A salesclerk asks with studied innocence,
“Paper or plastic?” which begins a war
between twin angels in a shopper’s core,
each scolding and demanding penitence.

A choice of plastic, cheap con-ve-ni-ence
accepts vile ocean-choking patches, more
than heart can stomach, but she thinks of lore
concerning chainsawed trees, and sits the fence.

Her mouth moves, sputtering, “Pa-plastic, please?”
To which her naughty clerk deigns to reply,
“Dead dinosaurs?  So cute.” Her terrors wax.
“Pa-paper?” “Killing forests?”  To her knees
she falls - but there’s a hero striding by
who saves her sanity with burlap sacks.

Nice one Duke. This brought a smile to my face.
Time is the best editor.
Reply
#6
Tonight I'm sleeping on the couch because
My wife heard me talking to my two friends
About something each of our spouses does
But I'm the one who now must make amends.
Untill l'm on the far side of the house
She waits to ask manamanamana.
I'm making coffee she sounds like a mouse
Then punches me while grabbing a banana.
My buddies we all laughed because it's true,
George's wife says muffnuffpiduffmigruff
And Aaron's schglooboobidooruminue.
Not a big deal but MY wife had enough.
I heard her shout on her way up to bed,
If you want back in badabeedabded
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
Reply
#7
A Long Week


You struck a well
and had your fill
of rage. Disgust
blew like a dry

east wind. You wished
for water, got
a block of ice.

Cum dribbled out
like typhus from
the maws of lice.

Then your baby died.
How can you care?
Your momentous
is the world's mundane.
Reply
#8
The extractive metallurgy of nickel and cobalt

At last the limonite,
roiling in acid,
is no longer placid
and gives up its goethite,

to dissolve, then be jarosite
blood red, as Abassid
Iraq's limp and flaccid
neck in Mongke's lasso tight.

And then come the flash tanks,
limestone dosing, thickeners,
organo-acids like little skanks
selecting like a slutty nurse
Ni and Co from the baser ranks.
Reply
#9
(05-24-2019, 10:57 PM)busker Wrote:  The extractive metallurgy of nickel and cobalt

At last the limonite,
roiling in acid,
is no longer placid
and gives up its goethite,

to dissolve, then be jarosite
blood red, as Abassid
Iraq's limp and flaccid
neck in Mongke's lasso tight.

And then come the flash tanks,
limestone dosing, thickeners,
organo-acids like little skanks
selecting like a slutty nurse
Ni and Co from the baser ranks.

Love it, and I'm not even a chemist (Am. Eng. - chemical worker, not pharmacist).  I seem to recall, though, that chemists have a deserved horror of working with cobalt, so this would have added intensity for them.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!