dwai

The poetry thread

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Thought we could have a little poetry thread going. Whenever you feel inspired, type out a few verses of original poetry. No rules need to be followed. 
 

Here’s one I wrote a few minutes back —

 

The Battle of lofty heights 

 

Looked up and what did I see?
A battlefield in the sky...
Clouds on two sides facing each other, 
lined up for a melee.

 

Like fluffy spacecrafts high above 
With perforated sails...
They lurch and charge repeatedly,
But with drunken ant-like gait.

 

And just as it begun,
It was over too....
The sky a clear slate of blue.
Not a trace of either side,
Only a resplendent azure hue!

 

 

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The Vampire Bush

 

 

Be wary on your walks

Remembering this  Spring

Our footfalls left 

Far less disturbed

Those jealous spirits 

Ours displace

 

Think not lest you imagine

Strange things where 

Brambles grow


 

Be wary on your walks

Remembering each Spring

Our footfalls left 

Far less disturbed

Those jealous spirits 

Ours displace

 

Think not that you imagine

strange things where

Brambles grow

Edited by Sketch
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The thing in my chest

that is not a heart

holds clutching pain

 

neither pulses nor spins

it wants to control

all of my intentions

it wants

control

 

I hold a pen

I hold a blade

I hold it and it turns

unlucky, graceless, beholden.

 

My rootless right hand

seeks to be 

the only fixed point

holding it all together.

 

 

Forcing guitar strings to do

what I want

taking the notes,

ripping, plucking,

 

never letting them go,

throwing them like lawn darts

 

(letting go

like selfless arrows from a self bow)

 

put down this compound of compounds,

a mechanical release to trigger

a mechanical release,

to make the wheels turn

and maybe send an arrow downrange

after all this archery

 

 

( A mechanical release is a device used in compound archery 

so that the arrow can be released by squeezing a trigger, 

allowing the archer to let the arrows go

with no feeling of release.)

Edited by Sketch
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Wonton Soup

 

“This soup is so good!”

This was our seventh visit to the restaurant over the years, at irregular intervals. 

“Chicken soup with pork dumplings but WOW! So good.”

We were never seated at the same table twice, otherwise the meal,

and most of the conversation, was the same.

We’d only looked at menus briefly, the first time, our first “Real Date”.

Warm, soft light in a pink and brown room,

always the same calm dinner time.

The other diners silhouettes and shadows,

their conversation and clink lost like sounds in snow.

“Do you always poke your wontons apart like that?”

“You always poke your wontons apart like that.”

A little flatter each of the five times she’d said it in between.

“I just wanna see what’s inside”

“You don’t need to do that with everything”


 

The emperor of the Southern Sea was Lickety, the emperor of the Northern Sea was Split, and the emperor of the Center was Wonton.   Lickety and Split often met each other in the land of Wonton, and Wonton treated them very well.  Wanting to repay Wonton's kindness, Lickety and Split said, "All people have seven holes for seeing, hearing, eating, and breathing.  Wonton alone lacks them.  Let's try boring some holes for him."  So every day they bored one hole, and on the seventh day Wonton died.

 

Mair 7/7, last verse of the Inner Chapters of Zhuangzi.

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The ravens in the schoolyard 

Patrolled during classes

Watchful, walking slowly 

Eying us sternly through the dormer windows

Of the classroom.

 

Immediately the sister 

Addressing the students 

Would zero in on my desk

And close in

Smelling faintly of carrion.

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All is One.
One is All. 
Why resist?
Why cling?
Freedom lies in between...
Resistance and clinging.
Let go, just be.

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