Posts: 257
	Threads: 108
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		04-24-2020, 12:18 PM 
(This post was last modified: 04-24-2020, 08:26 PM by Quixilated.)
	
	 
	
		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: Write a beautiful poem in an ugly way, or write an ugly poem in a beautiful way.
Form: any
Line requirements: 8 lines or more
	
	
	
	
		
	
 
 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 2,360
	Threads: 230
	Joined: Oct 2010
	
	
 
	
		
		
		04-25-2020, 12:56 AM 
(This post was last modified: 04-25-2020, 01:06 AM by Todd.)
	
	 
	
		Aubade at Camp Crystal Lake
The first sparkle of morning
has skipped across the lake
like a thrown stone, though light
remains only gray memory. 
The canoe rocks back and forth
upon the water, and I watch
your chest rise and fall
to the waves' rhythm.
Your lips part and a whisper
of breath escapes. 
The screams of night 
are swallowed
in sun-dappled quiet.
You stir, awake, yet silent.
I raise my hand from the water
so that I might touch your face.
	
	
	
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
	
		
	
 
 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 1,187
	Threads: 250
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		two cents wings optional
this pair a teenage cents
(u no wat i mean)
waz wakin past ware i
set mi PLEZE HELP sine
an one cent sez we awt
to biy that man sum food
no just a fiver i sez
an they wuz abut to gimme
then the other cent sez
thers a Mishin just a block
they stud me up and pult
me there i copt a feel
fum one but now im here
an dryd out an i
never got the fiver but
they wont let mi hav
no drink or smokes an
things look difrnt like
the Sun come out
	
	
	
 Non-practicing atheist
 Non-practicing atheist
 
	
		
	
 
 
	
	
	
		
	Posts: 848
	Threads: 232
	Joined: Oct 2012
	
	
 
	
	
		Voodoo doll
The room felt cheap,
a low wattage bulb 
barely made it through
the gold tasseled lamp shade,
something had been boiled
before he arrived, the stench
cradled in his arms
crying for attention.
Once white net curtains,
stained yellow over a peeling 
faux leather settee,
where he sat and listened
to the muffled gun shots and sirens 
of a distant TV.
Her Witch like features 
bent crooked over the large
print of her heavy bound book,
her milky eyes looked blind
as she mouthed the words
and shook her head 
with each new line.
He snapped up from his chair 
as though being controlled 
by pins, placed deep on to nerves, 
his body looked awkward in its skin 
as he staggered towards
a thin boned hand.
And there in the common room
they found each other,
danced for the first time
to soft music, only they could hear.
	
	
	
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out