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EXERCISE National Poetry Month 2016: April 8

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by RiverNotch, Apr 8, 2016.

  1. 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: Inspired by a place you have lived in or a place you want to live in.
    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.
     
  2. MEMORY RECLAIMED

    a memory a film
    viewed once, eventually excitement
    loud action, hero
    slaying dragon
    or princess opening sex
    drowned out, as always,
    in favor of the little things

    the children -- perhaps the sun
    setting red in the horizon,
    dramatic string section
    hanging chords -- cut to night

    red firelight
    on the deep in contemplation face,
    a young voice, his words in the quiet like
    "should I heed? should I heed?"

    and smells of sage on rafter, thickening
    moss on wood, bed of furs
    beginning to foul, sour wine --

    my son my younger self, we heed now
    sitting here, locked
    in illusion
    now let me enjoy my pipe
     
    #2 RiverNotch, Apr 8, 2016
    Last edited: Apr 8, 2016
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  3. Hyacinths

    The world is perfumed largely with fragrant hyacinths,
    Sincerely blue, sincerely blue are you, dear house guest.
    Me? No, I'm no resident. I've been everywhere and
    Nowhere - but, that is where I like to be left to rest.


    Give me a fine corner and a cup of tea, sweet blue,
    I will tell you everything and nothing, all at once.
    Darling bloom of the god Zyphyr, western Anemoi,
    Strike me - Apollion, in the head, have you conscience?


    And he won't say another word to Hyakinthos,
    Who was his everything, but then nothing all at once.
     
  4. Sometimes you wish
    Dreaming on a star
    Young minds expanding.
    Wanting to go.
    Far off lands.
    Filled with faeries
    Galloping Unicorns
    Lands full of Candy
    Distant horizons
    Pirate ships
    Lost Treasures
    Second Star to the Right
    Sugar Plum Faeries
    Rivers of Chocolate
    You mind filled with the
    ideas of things.
    Hoping one day
    when you close your eyes
    you can simply forget
    your every day worries
    And go to your childhood
    memories and dreams
     
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  5. Tall cliffs surround me,
    Comforting in their solidity.
    The trees are a wall,
    Hiding me from view.

    The sound of the waterfall,
    Splashing down from on high,
    Makes me feel like you missed me,
    My little abode in the mountain.

    The stream dances joyfully,
    And the scent of the pines,
    Greets me happily.
    How I wish that I could stay.

    I look forward to every visit,
    Every feast of the eyes,
    To every time my feet,
    Can grace your surfaces.

    My darling amphitheater,
    How I wish for the snow to go,
    When I can once again bask,
    In your comforting glory.
     
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  6. Aside the bonny Loch called Fyne
    Where lavender and heather bloom
    A castle stands 'gainst the test of time
    Turrets rising still spell an enemy's doom
    The stones pure white stacked tall and strong
    Upon the bluff surrounded by the waters Fyne
    All sides but one, there the path winds long
    And archers watch from slits in a line
    Ending any advance that might attempt attack
    Upon the Laird and Lady safety housed within
    The defensive might nor castle walls ne'er lack
    But twas the valor of stout hearted men
    That kept safe the castle and the glory of the clan
    That can claim to this day a Laird MacLachlan
     
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  7. I couldn't see money when I was a child,
    only palm trees, and chasing, and temples,
    so maybe that was why
    I forget the rice farms,
    the tin houses,
    and lack of plumbing.

    There were just chickens to chase,
    and clothes to stain with crimson mud.
    The dirt was the bane of my mother,
    and for twenty years she ran,
    hating its stain,
    though I called it 'home.'

    All of my memories are full of tin bowls,
    carved in beautiful, sharp diamond patterns,
    the type you buy at a thalat
    for just a few baht
    to get a drink of water
    or of coconut.

    Even cheap rings worth nothing
    were a kind of magic to me
    and I bought them
    five baht,
    two baht,
    one baht,
    cheaply carved.

    I showed them to my grandmother
    and she would 'oooh' and 'aaah'
    and tell me she loved them
    in the days before I lost my tongue
    to a father's fear
    a new country,
    a home, but no homeland.

    I did not see people stare
    at the white skin I wore
    when people would touch me just to know if I felt the same
    as any other child would
    anywhere in the village
    who were baked longer than I.

    My cousins were my world
    and I bathed outdoors with no shame
    playing with a palm frond fishing pole
    my grandfather carved
    with a knife,
    some imagination,
    and country learning.

    I loved the food off the carts,
    the icecream man and his radio blaring,
    as me and my cousins raced outside
    shouting for him,
    waving money,
    hoping he'd stop for us
    and scoop coconute ice cream
    into a hotdog bun with rice.

    But as I grew older my eyes grew wider,
    and the temples and Bangkok made me feel less small,
    and the farms less small still
    until their confines chafed,
    their poverty itched,
    and their worries bit
    like fleas off my grandpa's dog.

    I cannot tell if I grew wise or grew stupid,
    but I saw what my mother saw,
    and tried to understand why she ran,
    yet still I consider
    that red dirt
    to be something of home.
     
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