NaPM April 7 2013

[milo]

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 6: Write a poem comparing your love to a flower.  Try to avoid cliche
Form : any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more

Questions?

[Todd]

Venus

My love is carnivorous,
a hungry, toothless maw.
You gnaw your leg
like a trapped raccoon
in this limping race
of freedom against digestion.
No matter which of us bites,
I salivate.


~~~
This was tough.

[NakedBear]

Gardening Made Easy

With open mouth I spew
brown, thick recycled shit
that works its wonder when
I let it lay around
your roots still spreading down,
down through the ground prepared
by these, my loving hands.
Some fresher shit might prove
to much and poison you
from tender foot to tip,
while on fermented words
you raise yourself up tall
and swell your young firm buds
to violet-green with spite.
And that’s all right with me.
I know I need but shed
cold tears across your leaves,
and rain my beams of sun
upon your head and stem,
to make you spread in bloom.
And should I choose, I may
then taste your nectar down
between those petals soft.

See, I have gardened much.
It is not new to me
this tilling up the soil,
this planting in of seeds.
I’ve fingered many styles,
and tasted much that’s sweet,
and never do grow tired
of tending to my bed,
nor those who’ve taken root.

[neena2504]

My love for you
will be like a flower,
watered with faith,
nourished with care,
nurtured with compassion.

Each day new petals will unfold,
the fragrance will spread some more,
resplendent, it will shine anew.

Your words will be the breeze
making it sway in mirth.
Your caress will be the rain
soaking it with life.

It asks not to be offered
to the deities divine.
It just needs to be
in your bedroom vase
and watch you get up
in the mornings, yawning
and smile at it just once.

[billy]

Like moss on granite, you cling to me
cover the hardness. Soft, fibrous.
The green of you hides the rock of my rage
uncomplicated camouflage quells me.
My skin, pierced by the tenderness of your roots
is soothed, healed in the cool of your balm.
I lay on you, in you, roll through your nature.
The smell is summer, dried on warm stones,
rivulets of crisp water crossing gentle slopes.
The touch is omni;
in, on, above, without.
I worship you.

[neena2504]

Like moss on granite you cling to me
cover the hardness, soft, fibrous.
The green of you hides the rock of my rage
uncomplicated camouflage quells me.
My skin, pierced by the tenderness of your roots
is soothed, healed in the cool of your balm.
I lay on you, in you, roll through your nature.
The smell is summer, dried on warm stones,
rivulets of crisp water crossing gentle slopes.
The touch is omni;
in, on, above, without.
I worship you.

Wow this so well thought, well executed and amazing. Inspiring one...

[billy]

you're so easy to fall in love with

thanks neena

i've not been on much but i'm impressed with your involvement in the NaPM threads along with some of the others. it's probably you lot who inspire me

[neena2504]

you're so easy to fall in love with

thanks neena

i've not been on much but i'm impressed with your involvement in the NaPM threads along with some of the others. it's probably you lot who inspire me

thanks.
It is getting more and more difficult everyday, I must say. Let's see if we all can make it to the end.

[justcloudy]

I didn't mean to go a different route from the other posts, but I guess I did. ;p not totally polished, but it'll do.


The field

(quick revision)

It was in April, some years ago
when we climbed into the meadow
of shoulder-high wildflowers.
I trembled, clutched your hand,
terrified of a snake ambush.
You laughed, secretly nervous.
Your cousin took the picture
that all of Facebook loved:
me, Ray Bans and white bandana
you, with that silly haircut
frolicking in yellow-green fields.

It’s April again. Since that year
we've stepped on many touchy toes.
Their venom caught us by surprise.
Others look and see beauty,
only we feel hazards lurking.
Here we are, still, together
smiling, as we were pictured.

_______
(original)

It was in April, some years ago
when we climbed into the meadow
of shoulder-high wildflowers.
I trembled, clutched your hand,
terrified of a snake ambush.
You laughed, secretly nervous.
Your cousin took the picture
that all of Facebook loved:
me, Ray Bans and white bandana
you, with that silly haircut
"frolicking" in yellow fields.
Since then, we've stepped on
some people’s fragile toes,
whose venom caught us by surprise.
Hand in hand we've gone down
a lovely, dangerous path,
and seen the eye level beauty,
and felt the danger below.
But we're still here, together
smiling, as we were pictured then.

[neena2504]

Calendula

And so I will uproot you, bring
you to my home and press you tight
until you're safe, cosseted from the years
a slip between the sheets of some great
unread volume.
Many years from now when I need comfort
I can gaze upon you, still safe
between these ancient pages
and maybe catch the ghost of your
long forgotten fragrance.

milo

This is wonderful! Specially the second half, it is just marvelous.
Reading this makes me think, did I understand today's NaPM topic at all?

[justcloudy]

Gardening Made Easy

With open mouth I spew
brown, thick recycled shit
that works its wonder when
I let it lay around
your roots still spreading down,
down through the ground prepared
by these, my loving hands.
Some fresher shit might prove
to much and poison you
from tender foot to tip,
while on fermented words
you raise yourself up tall
and swell your young firm buds
to violet-green with spite.
And that’s all right with me.
I know I need but shed
cold tears across your leaves,
and rain my beams of sun
upon your head and stem,
to make you spread in bloom.
And should I choose, I may
then taste your nectar down
between those petals soft.

See, I have gardened much.
It is not new to me
this tilling up the soil,
this planting in of seeds.
I’ve fingered many styles,
and tasted much that’s sweet,
and never do grow tired
of tending to my bed,
nor those who’ve taken root.

all the poems are lovely today, each really different and holding their own surprises. but Mikey I have to comment especially on yours, I thought it was really clever. so much double meaning, it made me grin. well done. =]

[cidermaid]

no time to put any polish into these offerings which is frustrating to say the least...esp when I see how good everyone elses offerings are. (Love your offering Billy. Moss is just so strokeable). Between the orchards, ciderblending and young horses it is silly season here. All work and no play

Berry me.

Brambling,
I lie entangled in your thickets and bloom.
Softly opened white, lightly blushed perfection.
Singularly multiplied towards an Autumn rush, I rise
With desire, a semi-dormant crown
uprising from underground. Sending a tendril
to touch and twine your outstretched limbs.
I rely on you to lift me up.

And when the summer passion abates, fully sated,
I adorn myself with purple gems.
Each a stain of pleasure. Tried by tongue
And sucked into blissful oblivion.
Fermenting rich connections
to remind the wintering mind
of the enduring passion of a wild vine,
that still twines about your lower parts
in prickled protectiveness. Making sore
any who give me cause to show my claws.

[NakedBear]

all the poems are lovely today, each really different and holding their own surprises. but Mikey I have to comment especially on yours, I thought it was really clever. so much double meaning, it made me grin. well done. =]

You have made my day. Hopefully I don't now ruin it for myself! haha.

[milo]

Calendula

And so I will uproot you, bring
you to my home and press you tight
until you're safe, cosseted from the years
a slip between the sheets of some great
unread volume.
Many years from now when I need comfort
I can gaze upon you, still safe
between these ancient pages
and maybe catch the ghost of your
long forgotten fragrance.

milo

This is wonderful! Specially the second half, it is just marvelous.
Reading this makes me think, did I understand today's NaPM topic at all?

Thanks for the kind words, I think everyone sees the world in their own ways and that is why I love poetry, but especially why I love topics because we all take a thought and bring our own flavors to it.

milo

---

Lady Hibiscus

So while I press my knee
to earth and you avert your eyes
so not to see the thinning copse
that bowls my scalp -
while I grasp your hand in both
of mine and croon forgotten ballads
to your breast and call you lobula - forget.

My fingers formed as rakes would till
the hearth-baked soil; break the sun-kilned
cast that traps your roots
like bricks of someone else's
house.

Instead I pleat a shallow stream -
so lift your wilted, sighing head ;
the days, at least, are not so long.

[brandontoh]

Love

Love is like flowers:
real ones wilt in time,
even with utmost care.
Fake ones last forever,
because god doesn't exist.

[ellajam]

Some beauties here, fine prompt.

[milo]

Some beauties here, fine prompt.

yah, this was one of my favourites as well.

[Clarko]

You're a bush of fucking thorns
In the spring you grew anew and
in the summer you blossomed and bloomed
but in the fall your green leaves began to grey
and your flower buds slowly unravelled
Then it was winter and I needed you
Your soft pedals and sweet perfume
I dug you out of the snow to find your
looks had faded almost completely
But I reached for you
your thorny limbs swallowed me up
Pain cold blood and botany
You're a bush of fucking thorns

[Keith]

Natural

I run my fingers
through your field
of wild poppies,
check to see
If you like buttercups
on the olive of your skin.

A mouth distilled
from sunflower smiles
to be sipped
with weighted heads
brighter than the artists brush
against the curves
of your ripened crop.