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PFFT
Poetry Fantastic Fanfare Talk
"But poetry, beauty, romance, love these are what we stay alive for." - Robin Williams as John Keating in Dead Poets Society
A stupid fish totally didn't forget about you guys. Totally. Not. I was just waiting for the first to come around.
Anyway... **drumrolls** Welcome to the first PFFT: Poetry Fantastic Fanfare Talk; Submissions thread. Where we can find the wonderful submissions of all of the lovely members who participated and entered a poem surrounding the theme:
"A breath of life."
Click the spoilers to read the amazing submissions! Scroll down for more details on the live reading (or you know, just vote for the date most convenient). If you want to express your appreciation for the poems (and they are all so deserving of all the praise!) be sure to post in this thread! Do be aware that this is a poetry appreciation event, so don't go heavy on the
By @PavellumPendulum
Permission to read: Yes.
Permission to read: Yes.
Il vient Graine, Plantée, S'enracine, Le printemps vient, Le soleil sourit, Les pluies fortes nous nourrissent, Ô que j'ai hâte de lâcher, L'hiver si sévère que je vit, Mes fleurs qui poussent, partagent mes pensées, Nous disons adieu à la dure fraîcheur. | It arrives Seed, Planted, Taking root, Spring is coming, The sun is shining, Strong rains nourish the earth, How I yearn to leave behind, The harsh winter that I survived, My blooming flowers share my thoughts now, We bide the bitter, biting cold adieu. |
By @Sorrelfur
Permission to read: Yes.
When the last snow melts,
Again comes the sun to shine.
Bringing with it life.
Permission to read: Yes.
When the last snow melts,
Again comes the sun to shine.
Bringing with it life.
by @wolf_
Permission to read: Yes.
Two Voices
"You'll never be good enough,child,"
Words echo with tempo, bouncing and flouncing without a care.
Try to bear the hateful venom flying with salivation.
There is no salvation, a crack in the dam's foundation grows.
A mothers' grace placed within venomous hands.
"You're such a waste of space,"
Needles stick to the skin, breaking thin layers.
Dost of blood not caught by the naked eye,
Yet can be felt with every belt she makes.
The crack bends and breaks with every mistake spoken.
"No pride to the family,"
Ride it out, she'll wear herself.
"Your best is not enough,"
Groaning from broken concrete echo within.
"You'll only be worth it six feet underground,"
The crack has become a slash, bearing the stress of the dam.
Each cut a new sentence spoken savagely.
She stands spewing, crimson shaded skin as sullen punishment brews.
A childs' bile boils from the throat yet nothing releases.
"I should've gotten the son I wanted, not the daughter that's tainted,"
A break surfaces, pressure drizzles with each puzzle piece.
Wrath waves it's hand and the band holding the dam snaps.
Sending waves of liquid hatred flowing through.
"You're not the mother I wanted,"
The child dares care to speak with weak words.
"Your abuse shows to everyone I meet,"
A chill greets the skin as the mother falls silent.
A deafening sound among the crowd.
The child holds back tears and fears the wrath before them
but yet speaks with superior words.
"You cannot make me fall,"
"You cannot affect me at all,"
"You are the worthless one,"
"You are the hatred that fills the void,"
Shaking yet strong stands the child.
The mother fizzled with the drizzle that came from the storm.
Cornered with their own vices tossed aside.
The child will heal.
What will that yield is unforeseen
But all is better without a mother.
Permission to read: Yes.
Two Voices
"You'll never be good enough,child,"
Words echo with tempo, bouncing and flouncing without a care.
Try to bear the hateful venom flying with salivation.
There is no salvation, a crack in the dam's foundation grows.
A mothers' grace placed within venomous hands.
"You're such a waste of space,"
Needles stick to the skin, breaking thin layers.
Dost of blood not caught by the naked eye,
Yet can be felt with every belt she makes.
The crack bends and breaks with every mistake spoken.
"No pride to the family,"
Ride it out, she'll wear herself.
"Your best is not enough,"
Groaning from broken concrete echo within.
"You'll only be worth it six feet underground,"
The crack has become a slash, bearing the stress of the dam.
Each cut a new sentence spoken savagely.
She stands spewing, crimson shaded skin as sullen punishment brews.
A childs' bile boils from the throat yet nothing releases.
"I should've gotten the son I wanted, not the daughter that's tainted,"
A break surfaces, pressure drizzles with each puzzle piece.
Wrath waves it's hand and the band holding the dam snaps.
Sending waves of liquid hatred flowing through.
"You're not the mother I wanted,"
The child dares care to speak with weak words.
"Your abuse shows to everyone I meet,"
A chill greets the skin as the mother falls silent.
A deafening sound among the crowd.
The child holds back tears and fears the wrath before them
but yet speaks with superior words.
"You cannot make me fall,"
"You cannot affect me at all,"
"You are the worthless one,"
"You are the hatred that fills the void,"
Shaking yet strong stands the child.
The mother fizzled with the drizzle that came from the storm.
Cornered with their own vices tossed aside.
The child will heal.
What will that yield is unforeseen
But all is better without a mother.
By Anonymous
Permission to read: Yes.
For it rears its ugly head,
Bares sharp teeth and snarls,
Threatening to snap and grab me by the throat.
Despite its threats, they are filled with no intent.
it curls on my chest,
Creating an overwhelming pressure making it hard to breathe.
The outside world taunts and teases its welcoming arms;
Instead I am beckoned to lay in bed,
To let myself go;
To sleep the days away;
To let the nagging of the outside beckon me and drive me insane.
This thing won't let me go.
It won't go down without a fight,
So I lay in bed for days to appease it;
To make it happy;
To let it destroy my head with thoughts.
Until it has finally let me out of its sharp claws.
The pressure and darkness followed by guilt and embarrassment lingers,
But I can breathe.
I can finally breathe;
I can finally take care of myself;
I can finally greet the outside world with a breath and a small
"Hello,"
Until it drags me back again.
Until it rears its head and snarls once again.
Permission to read: Yes.
For it rears its ugly head,
Bares sharp teeth and snarls,
Threatening to snap and grab me by the throat.
Despite its threats, they are filled with no intent.
it curls on my chest,
Creating an overwhelming pressure making it hard to breathe.
The outside world taunts and teases its welcoming arms;
Instead I am beckoned to lay in bed,
To let myself go;
To sleep the days away;
To let the nagging of the outside beckon me and drive me insane.
This thing won't let me go.
It won't go down without a fight,
So I lay in bed for days to appease it;
To make it happy;
To let it destroy my head with thoughts.
Until it has finally let me out of its sharp claws.
The pressure and darkness followed by guilt and embarrassment lingers,
But I can breathe.
I can finally breathe;
I can finally take care of myself;
I can finally greet the outside world with a breath and a small
"Hello,"
Until it drags me back again.
Until it rears its head and snarls once again.
By @Noctis the Devious
Permission to read: Yes.
To rise from trauma
Like a Phoenix from it's ash
Is to be small and vulnerable
Needing to be nurtured
Once more.
Permission to read: Yes.
To rise from trauma
Like a Phoenix from it's ash
Is to be small and vulnerable
Needing to be nurtured
Once more.
by Anonymous
Permission to read: Yes.
With blinking eyes, the world to see
But dark, dismal, damned and doom'd
Even as thine tiny feet toil or dark liquid consum'd
Aimless, thoughtless, wanderless, in state of be
Endless cycle, not shackled, and not free
Even now walking the cobbled road
The cold lingers, crushes, and erodes
Life peculiarities rarely foresee
The rabbit hole, pulling, plunging, twirling, and tumbling
With stained knees, and scraped palms, mundane become decried
With wobble and stumble, condemned sinner
Path set forward, tis thine life, thine love and thine calling
The first breath may naught be with first eyes flutter wide
But stride taken with light, upon gifted glimmer
Permission to read: Yes.
With blinking eyes, the world to see
But dark, dismal, damned and doom'd
Even as thine tiny feet toil or dark liquid consum'd
Aimless, thoughtless, wanderless, in state of be
Endless cycle, not shackled, and not free
Even now walking the cobbled road
The cold lingers, crushes, and erodes
Life peculiarities rarely foresee
The rabbit hole, pulling, plunging, twirling, and tumbling
With stained knees, and scraped palms, mundane become decried
With wobble and stumble, condemned sinner
Path set forward, tis thine life, thine love and thine calling
The first breath may naught be with first eyes flutter wide
But stride taken with light, upon gifted glimmer
By Anonymous
Permission to read: Yes.
Come outside- he said.
It is pleasant and welcoming.
He invited me to glissade,
under primaveral honoring.
Come to breathe- he uttered.
While quiet clasps,
urged egos to be mustered;
with void losing grasps.
Come and let thyself be free, my dear.
I watched thee writhe,
too long drenched in tears.
Leave and be blithe.
Take my hand and flutter!- he clamored.
I waltzed with the cosmos... and respired.
Permission to read: Yes.
Come outside- he said.
It is pleasant and welcoming.
He invited me to glissade,
under primaveral honoring.
Come to breathe- he uttered.
While quiet clasps,
urged egos to be mustered;
with void losing grasps.
Come and let thyself be free, my dear.
I watched thee writhe,
too long drenched in tears.
Leave and be blithe.
Take my hand and flutter!- he clamored.
I waltzed with the cosmos... and respired.
By Anonymous
Permission to read: Yes.
Out, I must go.
To pirouette with the sun,
And exist hither.
Permission to read: Yes.
Out, I must go.
To pirouette with the sun,
And exist hither.
Live reading:
Okay, I done goofed there. The only actual date I can host a live reading for sure is Saturday June 11, which is short notice for everyone, I realise. To make it up I'm proposing a second date tentatively on Saturday June 25 but I will have to fight for that. The time will be 1 PM CDT (Chicago time) which translates to everyone in CEST (my timezone) to 8 PM. Above you can let me know which date works better for you. If it turns out that June 11 is too short a notice for everyone I will move it to June 25, if it is a split, I guess I can do it twice?
If neither date wins the next available Saturday night I have for a live-reading will be August. Or tag @MaryGold to be a trooper.
