FGC #26 Tantalising Fixtation

Tantalising contented fixation

we hunger for that sacred precious state

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

lips moist with anticipation

soft sensual succulent hunger consummate

Tantalising contented fixation

Dark guilt and innocent flirtation

despised, feared adored and delicate

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

useless to beg for its cessation

this smothered spiritual liquid paradise

Tantalising contented fixation

angel whispers, demon temptation

exotic sacred and decadent

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

bounty in anyone’s translation

aromatic soothing indulgent chocolate

Tantalising contented fixation

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #26 Villanelle Poem Challenge.

I have to admit, I'd never heard of this style of poem before  I did quite a bit of research first about the structure - but basically ( from a great poetry website Kazoom)

The villanelle has 19 lines, 5 stanzas of three lines and 1 stanza of four lines with two rhymes and two refrains. The 1st, then the 3rd lines alternate as the last lines of stanzas 2,3,and 4, and then stanza 5 (the end) as a couplet

The advice many places gave was to choose a subject or topic area that you are obsessed with... and well.. Chocolate is high on my list.

Noticing the blessings along the Journey FGC #23

A journey honours the realisation

of changes made

Never forget your dreams

Prepare for your passion

Face day and night

Share like the luckiest people

You want to rebuild

choose your way.

A solid foundation

so beautiful

is ahead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #23 Found Poem.

This is a new format to me. I found a definition on Creative Writing Now  which best describes this genre. "A found poem uses language from non-poetic contexts and turns it into poetry. Think of a collage -- visual artists take scraps of newspaper, cloth, feathers, bottle caps, and create magic."

I flicked through the pages of "Road Ahead" - a Motoring Magazine focusing on cars, engines and motoring holidays, cutting out headings as they struck me. Collating it, I asked for personal guidance in my life's journey - having struck some road blocks and challenges.... and these words strung together; giving me a meaningful message. 

I've taken a photo of my collage - and also written it for clarity.

Broken FGC (2012) #19

Escaping the cold mountain of words, I crumpled muddy and worn beside the churning rapids. Its termulstuous racket masked my stay, offering souvenirs of a throat raw from howling and stony dry well of tears. 

With knees pulled tight to my chest, I watched the seething river unseeing.   


A leaf bobbed past, exhausted from its journey over frothing rocks and settled uncomfortably on a sunken, outstretched branch of a bramble. Though it clutched and tore deep into its backbone, the leaf serenely lilted away, its tip flicking me a reassuring farewell; gliding unconsciously past the trauma and towards new adventures.

I uncurled and stood, ready to re enter the world.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge , #19 Prose Poetry.

Words - 110

This was also submitted to Friday Flash  ( though technically its a poem.. of sorts...)

Summer Pleasures FGC (2012) #16

For Summer and her pleasures, a bittersweet farewell
tiny claws on the clouds foretell
Spring shadows murky within the mist
her hunger burnt unsated until the hidden tryst
she lay sinister lustful beneath the blooms spell

every detail shared in her diary bombshell
shocked eyes torn across the words compel
me now, wishing never to see that list.
I pray to unlearn of her walk in the meadow

the translucent touch of my hell.
Peaceful vapours turn late light to damp evil
Can I feed on Summers crumbs and exist?
Summers pleasures where we kissed
embrace deeply before she can scream and yell
winter welcomes Summers blood bright across the snow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge , a Rondeau Poem - number 16#.


 Once again delving into poetry where things for me are not comfortable. I realise the absolute importance of choosing the right words within the right space.


A Rondeau is a short poem consisting of fifteen lines that have two rhymes throughout - as far as my research told me - something similar to a shakespearean sonnet.

This was also submitted to Friday Flash ( thought technically - its not really a flash....)

Betrayal Births Moirai FGC (2012) #11

Suspect it, yet I’ll never tell
Foulest lies poison your heart
you betrayed my trust as well

I should have known it from the start
Now this ill-wrested love has soured
Your hate, from hate birthed from your mind
any goodness from you devoured
all the meanwhile I was blind

Low snipes and envy does you little favours
my strength sucked dry at your leisure
poverty struck my Muse it waivers,
I’ll starve her no longer for your pleasure
     You’ll now feed my pen with plot and skill
     Unwittingly your tainted tongue has birthed goodwill

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  Sonnet

This was submitted for #11 of FGC. 

Moirai is defined as the personification of the fates.  


I give thanks to the betrayer of my trust for allowing me to step up and away from a situation I may have become stale ... and ordinary. Truly.. thank you.  I follow my dreams now; all because of you.


This  was also submitted to Friday Flash.

Tanka - FGC (2012) #7

I see you near me 

I imagined us always 

ageing together

walking, tears smear my glasses

I dance alone now you’re gone

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  Tanka style  

These poems are frequently about love, seasons, sadness, with strong images and poetic devices haiku avoids. 5 lines, with lines 1 and 3 being shorter. 

Syllables per line are 5-7-5-7-7 respectively. -- defintion from "Poet's Market, 1998"  

From my reading too, I believe they normally don't give them a title - thus no title on mine.  


I'd call it - "Mortem Viits"... "Death Visits"...I love the way Latin sounds.

This was submitted for #7 of FGC. 


This  was also submitted to Friday Flash.

Overused and Abused FGC (2012) #3

Tired

drained, dreary;

frazzled and bedraggled

overworked words fill pages

Suddenly big amazing awesome beautiful
so very bad but really good
said great happy interesting that was nice

Words get tired being out too late

forced to visit so many pages,

bushed by the constant appearances

Be kind to manuscripts

leave them alone

cut 10%

dare

u

Lazy authors - 

Get a thesaurus

use your words wisely

or your audience will disappear.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This  OULIPO Poem was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge  and was submitted for #3 of FGC. 

The format adopted was the snowflake method - where the first line is one word long, the second line has two words, and so on. In true spirit of OULIPO, I then brought the words back and down where the last line was one word - and then up again - sort of like a wave. I am hoping its all in the spirt of experimentation.

This  was also submitted to Friday Flash.

Embrangled

This weeks prompt asked us to create something using these words - but not to look them up.

Periapt

Vilipend

Embrangle

I have taken a step to explore the free flowing poetry format....

Embrangled.

Embrangled in my youthful fancies

It slammed me like a mac truck.

For a time I remained

Vilipent and full of denial.

But now, every mirror visit

I see more grey hairs and wrinkles.

Bemused, Periapt, fearful.

I wonder if I aught to invite myself 

to the pity party I’ve just created

or creep away

to search for hair dye or the newest wrinkle cream

Join the harried crazed eyed bottle blonds

seeking to recapture a youth slipping past.

Perhaps I’ll revel,

 Embrangled in this next stage of my life instead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Story inspired by the [Fiction Friday] prompt at Write Anything and submitted to JM Strother’s #FridayFlash  via Twitter. This Poem was recorded and posted up for Spoken Sunday via Audio Boo

LillylollyLous Operatic Moment

Prompt: Set your story at the Opera.

This weeks challenged screamed "Dr Seuss" to me and part way through I was sorry I listened. There is a reason that particular gentleman was famous and revered as a wordsmith. Still, true to my word of exploring new genres and styles of writing, I am submitting this week and wanting to hide.

In the kingdom of Singalingalongsu
Where plumbers were few
But pianos and opera houses were plenty
A wee pink lass lived at number twenty
She was as cute as could be
But a problem you see
Not a note of opera could she sing

For in the Kingdom of Singalingalongsu, the only way they could speak
Was through operatic tones; every one strong and never weak
Great halls had been built across the nation
For concerts and performances on constant rotation
But poor Lillylollylou never quite got the technique
And her class mates teased her about her squeaky shriek

Miss Lillylollylou so sad and so down
After another day at being the class clown
Sat at the fountain and began to cry
How I wish I could sing, I try and I try
but my voice is so thin you see
they all call me a banshee
I wonder can she
Sing any better than me?

A passing Umfalutumfious bird upon hearing her piteous cry
Stopped short, turned wing and soared downward on a tactical fly by
He settled on down beside the weeping miss
And asked, why do you cry as you do?
Don’t you know that this fountain
With water Filled up from the mountain
will be soon be clogged with salt?
And it’ll be all your fault.


I cannot utter a note of opera and am useless in this land
I cannot sing everyone but I have spot in the band
And now at our big end of year concert my teacher has cut
my performance piece to just one line and it contains ‘but’

The kind Umfalmufious bird twisted about
From his tail a tiny feather he plucked out
And grasped in his beak he then dropped it at her feet
“Hold this in your hand as you next go to sing
much luck and joy it will bring
I think you’ll find your voice will be much improved
And your classmates removed
Instead of you, as you fear.

But to be sure that my precious feather takes hold magically
You must practice these scales four times a day or tragically
What voice you have will be gone.
So for a week from dusk to dawn
Practice hard and practice long

So Lillylollyou took the feather and thanked him
Practiced her scales in the bathroom, in the hall, in the kitchen and at night
In the field and milking cows and flying her kite
All the time griping the feather tight
Keeping her dream in sight

The concert day came and all were excited
Important folk had all been invited
Bustling and boastful her classmates sneered
Whats with the feather you look so weird

Lillylollylou smiled quietly and pressed her feather into her palm
Throughout the opera she remained so calm
As the production wound its way to her small solo,
The band were instructed to follow
And as other singers cringed and blocked their ears awaiting the noise
But instead when Lilylollylou opened her mouth with poise,
The sweetest voice, pure and strong
Her one lined note strung out long

She sang her line as perfectly as any
Everyone stopped Everyone listened
Champagne glasses swirled as they glistened
Everyone in Singalingalong heard the voice.
Its clarity alone a reason to rejoice
Faced with the silence she looked about her
All were astounded at such a note to occur

One stood to clap her and then another
Her mother, her father and then her brother
Soon the whole hall, filled with their cheers
And never again did she suffer their jeers

The Birthday Sickie

Prompt: Yesterday, your character called in sick on their birthday because they knew their co-workers had a surprise party planned. Write what happens today.

Eyes cast down
Slink in, Coat off
Slide into desk
Shhhhhhh

Press power button
Dammed windows announcement.
Hum and buzz continues
Phhew

Groan
Pile of work
A days catch up
Emails flickering
Sales meeting?
Damn. Moved forward

Scramble with figures
Gzdtt
Print out sheets
Clutch to chest
Rush
Last into board room

Surprise!
Balloons and streamers
Sally grinning
All knew I hate fuss
Suspected my sick day
Groan and grin

Avoidance yesterday pointless
Pinned today.

Authors Note: Keats I ain't - but it was fun. Given the growing amount of poets who submit, I thought I’d try my hand at this style of expression.