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Post by martinshaw on Jul 7, 2011 14:39:48 GMT -5
One poem everyday is what I will post. Anyone can join in, but it must be written on the same day. At the end I shall run through to my fave parts and pieces: not including mine. Be lucky in your observations, and don't cheat.
Today is Jul 7, so the last day will be in Aug 7.
I will be watching, as you me. Read em and weep
Love ya
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Post by amylou on Jul 7, 2011 15:15:37 GMT -5
That's quite a challenge, but a great idea - I look forward to reading what you come up with. Maybe I'll give it a try - but afraid I might miss a day! LOL My brain is being drained by little people. Hey there's an idea for my first poem!
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Post by martinshaw on Jul 7, 2011 15:20:33 GMT -5
You must must must write what you have. There is no going back Amy
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Post by amylou on Jul 7, 2011 15:45:26 GMT -5
Okay, what ever you say - there's no going back!
I'll post something at the end of my night.
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Post by martinshaw on Jul 7, 2011 16:34:20 GMT -5
Piranhas gone wild
Locked into battle my fish
fight for other fish in their tank.
I’ve got no food for them,
so they’ve become hungry
for their own scaly flesh
and microscopic throat
catching needle bones.
They can have each other for all I care,
they’re just a swimming head of teeth
with cosmos staring eyes sat on top,
like a cheap plastic Muppet toy
in a Christmas cracker.
They are now bouncing off the glass (the fish I mean)
in a Piscean free for all,
biting chunks from each other
in faceless duals turned on
by extra side bites
of the floating dead,
just to make sure.
In their spasms of necrophilia
I should have called one of them
Rock Hudson!
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Post by amylou on Jul 7, 2011 20:55:21 GMT -5
Okay, here is mine for the night. Just finished. Will probably regret posting this, it's not my best. (I still need to think on your poem martin, creative yet disturbing as usual - in a good way)
Slugs and Snails
He won't hold my hand forever.
Time is hasty
and he's standing on a ledge
desperate to let go of my grasp
He will leap
from boy to man.
But for one more day
his hand searches for mine
his eyes still say I'm beautiful
and he believes I know everything.
He won't curl his lips
imitating the sounds of war and guns
much longer.
Or soar paper airplanes
through the air.
He's marching a line
I never wanted him to realize,
but somehow he knows it's there.
Make believe on one side
reality on the other.
But for one more day
his little mind escapes
to a world where epic battles are fought.
He won't dream
of accomplishing the impossible
much longer.
Like finding a cure for cancer
or becoming the President.
In time his childlike faith
will be tainted
with burdens of adulthood
and endless responsibilities.
But for today he can dream
of changing the world.
In my eyes
he will always be
the little boy
who searches for my hand
who makes paper airplanes
and believes dreams are possible.
In my eyes
he will always be
the little boy
who needs me
who thinks I'm pretty
and assumes I know everything.
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Lily
Administrator
Posts: 2,197
Joined: May 2011
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Post by Lily on Jul 7, 2011 21:03:26 GMT -5
That's beautiful, Amy. Well-done! It conjures up the poignant images of mother and child. The message being enjoy the moment, it's all so fleeting.
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Post by martinshaw on Jul 8, 2011 2:41:50 GMT -5
Great Amy!!!!!!!
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Post by amylou on Jul 8, 2011 5:50:13 GMT -5
Thanks Lily and Martin - that was fun to write - but also makes me sad. I think with a little more time spent, I can go further and make it better. And yes, Lily, that's exactly what I was conveying - to cherish the moments because they will soon be gone. Thanks for the challenge Martin.
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