PROMPT National Poetry Month 2016: April 11

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016.

  1. First third is done, y'all! Now for the next.....damn, twenty. Damn. xD

    Again, the rule is you've got to write something on the topic or form described, with yer poems being in different posts. And that month thing -- prompts'll stop by April 30.

    TODAY'S TOPIC: Make a LIST poem.
    FORM: Any
    LINE REQUIREMENTS: 8 lines or more

    Credit where it's due; the idea and the prompts come from this site:
    Poetry Forum - - Post poetry, get feedback, give critique.

    BONUS POINTS: You immediately get a facehugger if your poem is also a Liszt (as in the composer) poem, a bucket-o-rainbows if your poem is also about Lust, and a cookie if your poem is about Beyonce. However, due to some silly technical details, I can't give all three -- maybe just a love, if you do that. xD
    #1 RiverNotch, Apr 10, 2016
    Last edited: Apr 13, 2016

    Leaving my philandering husband Giorgio, I quickly set out
    to make a mistress of myself to Sangria --
    that is to say, as I boarded Jose's rickety boat
    to Spain, I got myself
    roaring drunk.

    Who rides a boat to Spain?
    Me and Gabriella took the train --

    Sometimes I wonder if I'm really still Giulietta,
    as I sit up smoking after love.

    Me? I know I'm no longer Giorgio -- now, you call me Giorgina.
    One night, after love,
    I dreamed my sex was being pulled off of me bloodlessly,
    like a stub of tallow stuck awkwardly between the legs.
    That was the only change. Yet still, you and all others
    acted as if I were finally complete,
    as if I were your sister, fulfilling your dream
    of a thirst quenched.

    The first thing we did once we reached Barcelona
    was visit that famous unfinished cathedral,
    Sagrada Familia. The name alone
    made me shed a tear,
    although I remember
    it was not one for sadness.

    That business trip I took -- I actually flew Gabriella
    all the way to Hong Kong for a painting.
    "Interior d'un Cafi". I told her seeing Paris
    captured through the eyes of a complete stranger,
    a revolutionary
    who fought against Spain's stranglehold
    over his country,
    was better than actually going there.

    I told Jose, I did not want to live by the sea again.
    But he refused, insisting the salt
    would help clear my lungs. That was my problem,
    he said, becoming breathless
    over every little thing.

    In fact, my plan was
    to go to Tunisia -- she complained
    with your voice, when she learned.
    Why take the long way? she asked.
    Why not go by boat?
    I said I wanted to retrace the steps of our ancestors,
    the Romans, reenact the farce
    of the Punic Wars, eventually
    of Aeneas leaving Dido.

    Leaving you, I thought the spirits
    would stop haunting me. Didn't I conquer them,
    if not in this world of phenomena
    then in the world of my memories,
    your films? But they returned
    one night, after love.
    Neptune again rose from the sea,
    again brought with him his great barge
    of decay --

    Then Venus appears next, in her golden veil
    and tight bikini -- then Bacchus the young god
    with the girlish black hair and the over-shaven face
    and the white breasted raiment that in your memories
    still didn't distract from his sex -- then Pluto
    or maybe Saturn burning your favorite doll --
    then Jupiter your grandfather the lord of the heavens
    flying through the mists to his
    mistress Parisienne -- then what again?
    Now I don't remember. That story you told me,
    explaining why you were so breathless
    after your brief visit to the neighbor's,
    I wasn't really listening.
    #2 RiverNotch, Apr 12, 2016
    Last edited: Apr 12, 2016
  3. I stared out at an ocean blue,
    But my heart stayed still,
    Refused to patter,
    Wouldn't race.

    I still felt numb inside,
    Like a brain in a shell,
    Stuck staring,
    From my own eyes.

    So I turned around,
    Back inland,
    Climbed a mountain,
    But the result was the same.

    Even as I stared out,
    The land below tiny,
    My heart barely moved,
    Barely churned.

    I tried and tried,
    Time and again,
    To feel something,
    But nothing worked.

    So I finally gave up,
    And I went back home,
    To my little abode,
    A house in the plains.

    Rolling hills surrounded me,
    The grasses expanding,
    A yellow ocean of wind,
    Mountains surrounding.

    Days passed and my heart,
    It stayed still,
    Until one day I heard it.

    The rumble of thunder from the West,
    The crackling of the air,
    The running of the heat,
    The whipping of the breeze.

    My heart leaped for joy,
    So I ran outside my door.
    Bare feet carried me up the hills,
    And I let the rain consume me.

    As it fell, my chest ached,
    From my heart beating finally,
    So I screamed with the storm,
    And ran with the streams.
  4. Ambrosia

    Lilacs in bloom
    Trees after rain
    Babies after baths
    Kettles while stewing
    Bread piping hot
    Cologne on necks
    Fevered skin on skin
    Tongues together entwined
    Sheets after loving
    And you near me​
  5. No one ever told me the things I would need
    to bury another person
    and I am surprised to find
    I only had to get
    your address
    your car model
    some paperwork
    a picture of you
    with her
    and a lawyer.