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.

Topic 30: write a poem inspired by things ending.
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

Questions?

No Longer Dancing

I won’t dance the mambo on your window ledge;
hoof a soft-shoe in quicksand, bogged down in woe.
A relationship can't waltz on a dagger's edge.

Your last volley of insults has driven a wedge
deeper than that hollow from where your voice bellows.
I will not do the mambo on your window ledge.

There’s no enduring passion left for you to dredge
up; I nearly drowned once in your cruel undertow
in a relationship waltzing the dagger’s edge.

From a forest of guilt, this lovebird has fledged
your wretched nest, harboring nothing but sorrow.
I won’t dance a last mambo on the window ledge

on my term's final eve. I've cleared the boxwood hedge.
Your love seat of thorns sits empty, now that you know
that I will not waltz with you on a dagger’s edge.

You’re banished from my life; this is a sober pledge.
A new vista’s rousing. Can you hear the cock crow?
I’ll never dance the mambo on your window ledge.
A relationship can’t waltz on a dagger's edge.


(Done, I can't believe I did all thirty.)

.


Jasmine

It took several days of walking to the track;
testing her courage which in truth she lacked.
Staring the train down as it went whizzing by
a sense of exhilaration, her ticket to ride.
Maybe she found the courage she sought
in some pills, or repeated experience bought
the will she was looking for, to stare into his frantic eyes,
while listening to his whistle blow, saying goodbye.


–Erthona
©2014

.

Closing time

Can I have your glasses now please?
Have you no homes to go to?
I’m staring at two full pints,
I’ll probably be sick
but right now it seems worth the risk.

The cold air has been let in,
lifted my head with a silly grin.
The big lights reveal all the tacky sights
disrupted faces squint at reality
the scraping of chairs is muffled
by the hiss left over from loud music.

The zombie hoard moves towards the door,
rolling like an episode
from voyage to the bottom of the sea.
It’s then I use my one last chance,
asking sympathy
for a leg trembling romance;
not even a back of the club glance.
So on I go
drawn by a diesel engine drone
and the smell of deep fat,
cheese burger and chips
consumed to be splattered
in pavement patterns,
to be stepped in by Sunday shoes,
disgusted
on the way to their pews.

But it's all OK at three am,
I'm pissing like a horse again
and hear the rain on the roof,
proof that the streets will be healed
running like clear liquid
that forms on a scab.
Refreshed ready for their Sunday best
and my curtains drawn day of rest.

Scrumping for Jam.
Wait for the moment when the moon
is in the last stage of assent,
then enter another mans field,
disguised as the ward of the chancellor.
Select and take the best fruit,
the audited growth of his labour.

Next, break down the door
of the household store and steal
all of life’s sweetness.
Rough cut the fruit and portion
up with the sweeteners.
Make sure each batch is stripped
of seeds that might be re-sown.

Now boil it all up under pressure.
Keep stirring to get the dross
to the top and agitate each precious
drop with a slotted spoon.
Given the time it takes to make,
collect several cases of different
fruit from each farm.

Assemble your chosen receptacles,
decant only after all the sugar is taken up
and absorbed. When each pot full,
screw down the tops with as much muscle
as you can muster. The drop in pressure
as the heat goes out of the case facilitates
a tight seal and full lid closure.


A note to Nottingham’s men

Beware of the high court ceiling fan
and of flawed jam jars,
laced with air bubbles, to feed a last gasp.
Full closure on made jam is a dirty job
it can unexpectedly expand
when unseen micro cracks
shatter into the silence
of the empty fruit box.

I am surprised that only three poets are left standing.

(05-01-2014, 06:31 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  I am surprised that only three poets are left standing.

Congrats, and thanks for the interesting reading all month. I've got the last week's worth of poor starts, maybe I'll work on them when I stop boring myself. I can't even blame milo, he did his part well.

(05-01-2014, 08:16 PM)ellajam Wrote:  

(05-01-2014, 06:31 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  I am surprised that only three poets are left standing.

Congrats, and thanks for the interesting reading all month. I've got the last week's worth of poor starts, maybe I'll work on them when I stop boring myself. I can't even blame milo, he did his part well.

Oh goody, I am glad you are going to try and complete them. It was a big effort to keep up. Half of them were just disciplined brain racking. For the other half, I exhausted every unfinished piece, every scrap of collect themes, every saved quip to complete the effort. I felt that I owed milo, the site and my fellow poets a run at it.

(05-01-2014, 08:22 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  

(05-01-2014, 08:16 PM)ellajam Wrote:  

(05-01-2014, 06:31 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  I am surprised that only three poets are left standing.

Congrats, and thanks for the interesting reading all month. I've got the last week's worth of poor starts, maybe I'll work on them when I stop boring myself. I can't even blame milo, he did his part well.

Oh goody, I am glad you are going to try and complete them. It was a big effort to keep up. Half of them were just disciplined brain racking. For the other half, I exhausted every unfinished piece, every scrap of collect themes, every saved quip to complete the effort. I felt that I owed milo, the site and my fellow poets a run at it.

Ha, I tried to start each one fresh and my brain's all sonnet scrambled, you should hear it in there, scary.

(05-01-2014, 08:31 PM)ellajam Wrote:  

(05-01-2014, 08:22 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  

(05-01-2014, 08:16 PM)ellajam Wrote:  Congrats, and thanks for the interesting reading all month. I've got the last week's worth of poor starts, maybe I'll work on them when I stop boring myself. I can't even blame milo, he did his part well.

Oh goody, I am glad you are going to try and complete them. It was a big effort to keep up. Half of them were just disciplined brain racking. For the other half, I exhausted every unfinished piece, every scrap of collected themes, every saved quip to complete the effort. I felt that I owed milo, the site and my fellow poets a run at it.

Ha, I tried to start each one fresh and my brain's all sonnet scrambled, you should hear it in there, scary.

It's probably quite lyrical in there.

I thought I might miss this, but now I'm just glad it's done. Some of the prompts were very difficult for me, they did not...ahem, prompt much! Still, all in all, in the balance it was more fun than work.

Thank you Milo, I am sure I will cease to look toward next April with dread soon enough

Congrats to all the runners who started the race, even if you broke a leg along the way.

Marcella is lyrical all over!

Dale

Well done to all that took part and a huge thank you to Milo for keeping the clock ticking, I have had some great fun reading and writing, so I guess I'm going to miss it, although like Dale I have had the odd mental block. It has been so interesting to read everyones different take on the same muse. Thanks again to Milo and to the others that offered up the suggestions, great stuff. Keith