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Joined: Oct 2010
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 25: Write a poem inspired by sacrifice or a sacrifice.
Form: any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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Threads: 408
Joined: May 2014
Cult
My father was taken
by aliens.
They'd have taken me too
but I was too much mammal
and a little beneath them.
He says he's got it all up there
and not to expect a visit.
He says he's got it all up there
and I am too much mammal
and a little beneath him.
I am not expecting a visit.
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Threads: 141
Joined: Oct 2017
Bxb6
Thirteen, in black and white, in 1957;
thumb to mouth, another move
to emphasise his youth, or something
sly and Shakespearean?
A thoughtless thoughtful pose
captured by the camera, on the cover,
in the headlines. In monochrome,
this moment when he will sacrifice
his queen and so defeat a master.
A good man who does not deny
the child the satisfaction
of checkmate.
.
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No Caller ID
Each time my landline phone
shrieks I sacrifice my peace of mind
to its warbling demand
for instant obedience.
If I pick it up it always is
that Chinaman script-reading
his demand that I refill
my nonexistent order for Viagra.
If I let it ring I’ll never know
if it was you— I’d recognize
your heavy breathing anywhere,
electric perfume sweetening my ear.
Non-practicing atheist
just mercedes
Unregistered
Thoughts of a Mayan child
My father is a chacon, Kingdom’s best
at opening the body cavity
to tear the beating heart from living chest,
appeasing Gods, and letting blessings free.
He came for me today, all robed in black,
made sure they served my meal of peyote
and psychedelic mushrooms. He’ll be back
to paint me blue, and add the finery
of gold and silver necklaces, rare stones
that grab the sun and darken it. Today
I’ll fly into that pool, join rotting bones.
I hope his red beans choke him. I can’t say
why Gods need children’s bodies, but it seems
they’ll take all they can get of bloody dreams.
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Noble Sacrifice
My grandfather shot men.
All of them guilty
of following orders,
blood seeping
into the earth,
eventually lost
like seeds a child plants,
expecting candy to sprout.
Time is the best editor.
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Joined: Oct 2010
Dating My Best Friend’s Ex
First consider what to do
with your hands, you must
hold the grenade firmly.
This will fix the striker in place
and prevent any premature
consequences. The proper
level of pressure and touch
will determine what lights the fuse.
Slip your finger into the pin,
and remove the ring (if one
exists) with a twisting motion.
If there’s no ring there’s no
commitment to safety. Hurl
the grenade like you would
a baseball—though this isn’t a game.
for children or the inexperienced.
Take cover and wait
for the inevitable
explosion.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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05-02-2018, 01:57 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-02-2018, 01:59 AM by RiverNotch.)
Hermitage
Lock yourself in your room and claim
you've dedicated your life to God.
Masturbate all day, maybe
mod some Skyrim along the way.
Soon you're out of porn. You crack open a book --
retroclone you'll never play -- and pore through chapters
one to three. 'Thou shalt have
six attributes for thy characters. Thou shalt have a single class.
Thou shalt choose spells for mages, weapons for warriors.'
Look at an image of a girl you like.
Stare into her hair, then into her eyes.
Something you'll never do if you ever meet,
not unless she said yes
or wasn't looking. Not into her breasts,
of course, you have more class than that,
although the glance passes...
then weep for a bit.
Just a bit. You are no warrior
but a sorcerer-priest, and it's time to eat.
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Joined: Oct 2012
Only to be expected
I carried sleep
under my eyes for later,
food wasn't hungry
replaced by feeds.
Clocks forgot to tell time,
nights were counted on a cry,
days as strong as coffee
and every song was a lullaby.
But the milky smell
of cotton clean hair
and the touch of cradled skin,
trades only a on basic right
as a fathers sacrifice begins.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out