Steel Icarus
we move
I tried to make it spiral but on here it's impossible
The Urban Poetry Challenge thread
- Thread starter ShiftyBagLady
- Start date
Hotdesk Almanac
She keeps secrets in me.
Lifts my lid for privacy,
blows bubbles in my guts,
leaving evidence inside
with full impunity.
I am discreet
rebellion.
He spits bile inside me.
Hatred for his mummy
and the baby
and the way the teacher treats him
like he's soft.
He isn't.
I contain his scarlet ache safely.
I display names and dates,
scratched in perpetuity,
significant to no one now
but me.
I am their history.
I soak up saliva, endeavour, secretions, bad temper, frustration, intentions, and tears.
water colour imprints of a small boy's dreams
wrought in indigo blooms
OVERFLOWIN
G rough-book margins.
I have held purple shame, ragged breath,
passed-around-the-class nasty notes,
stolen fuzzy felt, plasticine catharsis
coloured orange, blue, and green.
I am wood, legs, nails, holes, hurt.
I collect.
She keeps secrets in me.
Lifts my lid for privacy,
blows bubbles in my guts,
leaving evidence inside
with full impunity.
I am discreet
rebellion.
He spits bile inside me.
Hatred for his mummy
and the baby
and the way the teacher treats him
like he's soft.
He isn't.
I contain his scarlet ache safely.
I display names and dates,
scratched in perpetuity,
significant to no one now
but me.
I am their history.
I soak up saliva, endeavour, secretions, bad temper, frustration, intentions, and tears.
I echo young flesh bent double
over long division
desperation;
over long division
desperation;
water colour imprints of a small boy's dreams
wrought in indigo blooms
OVERFLOWIN
G rough-book margins.
I have held purple shame, ragged breath,
passed-around-the-class nasty notes,
stolen fuzzy felt, plasticine catharsis
coloured orange, blue, and green.
I am wood, legs, nails, holes, hurt.
I collect.
Last edited:
This time I edited an old poem, that was never finished, with the prompt in mind. The prompt was about experimenting with line breaks. The formatting won't quite work on here, nor the font type (that doesn't work on any fucking online platform!) or size, so I'll leave that up there, and link to it on Write Out Loud as well.
Hotdesk Almanac | Write Out Loud
Hotdesk Almanac | Write Out Loud
seeformiles
Lost in the wood
Here’s an rhyme I wrote last week for Easter based on my childhood - when we’d await the coming of the Easter Hare (as that’s the German way) - and Mrs SFM hatred of stray pubes. I recited this as we tucked into a choclatey breakfast 
:
Easter
Strike up the band!
Kick up your legs!
The Easter Hair’s hiding
In one of these eggs.
Which one could it be?
Which silvery coat?
You’ll only find out
When it tickles your throat!
:Easter
Strike up the band!
Kick up your legs!
The Easter Hair’s hiding
In one of these eggs.
Which one could it be?
Which silvery coat?
You’ll only find out
When it tickles your throat!
Not Doris Day's Armpits
(to the tune of Que sera sera)
When I was only 12 years old,
I shaved my armpits
bare as can be.
Will I be sexy?
Will I be fit?
Here's what they said to me:
'Oh the itch the itch!
Whatever possessed you, bitch,
to bulk-buy a load of Bics.
Oh the itch the itch'
When I grew up I carried on
hacking my arm pits
week after week.
Did it get better?
Did it hurt less?
Here's what they said to me:
'Oh pit hair pit hair,
we wish you were thick as fur.
We wish you had curly hair.
Oh pit hair pit hair'.
Now I am grown and blades have gone,
so has my pit rash
and that mad itch.
Now I am furry.
Now I am sleek.
Here's how it makes me feel:
Oh pit hair pit hair,
you make people stop and stare,
you're sexy cos you don't care.
Oh pit hair pit hair.
(to the tune of Que sera sera)
When I was only 12 years old,
I shaved my armpits
bare as can be.
Will I be sexy?
Will I be fit?
Here's what they said to me:
'Oh the itch the itch!
Whatever possessed you, bitch,
to bulk-buy a load of Bics.
Oh the itch the itch'
When I grew up I carried on
hacking my arm pits
week after week.
Did it get better?
Did it hurt less?
Here's what they said to me:
'Oh pit hair pit hair,
we wish you were thick as fur.
We wish you had curly hair.
Oh pit hair pit hair'.
Now I am grown and blades have gone,
so has my pit rash
and that mad itch.
Now I am furry.
Now I am sleek.
Here's how it makes me feel:
Oh pit hair pit hair,
you make people stop and stare,
you're sexy cos you don't care.
Oh pit hair pit hair.
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Baronage-Phase
Well-Known Member
Baronage-Phase
Well-Known Member
<deleted by request: ed>
Last edited by a moderator:
Kontemplations
Considering
the cunt,
containing curse and origin,
alive within a Twelfth Night letter from Olivia
and Hamlet's country matters,
the Dead Sea of Ulysses,
Penguin prosecutions, unsuccessful,
and the trump cards of tender Beckett wives.
In monologues and myth making,
displayed on Venus figurines,
in Dinner Party paintings,
Courbet's fevered inspiration;
sacred, praised in Bridal Hymns,
Hindu yoni,
sheela na gigs
and Leonard Cohen's alpha and omega.
Consider art and architecture,
literature and sculpture.
Consider sin and censorship
and interdicted culture.
Consider birth, consider sex,
consider our existence,
and ponder
on the power
of the
cunt.
Considering
the cunt,
containing curse and origin,
alive within a Twelfth Night letter from Olivia
and Hamlet's country matters,
the Dead Sea of Ulysses,
Penguin prosecutions, unsuccessful,
and the trump cards of tender Beckett wives.
In monologues and myth making,
displayed on Venus figurines,
in Dinner Party paintings,
Courbet's fevered inspiration;
sacred, praised in Bridal Hymns,
Hindu yoni,
sheela na gigs
and Leonard Cohen's alpha and omega.
Consider art and architecture,
literature and sculpture.
Consider sin and censorship
and interdicted culture.
Consider birth, consider sex,
consider our existence,
and ponder
on the power
of the
cunt.
ShiftyBagLady
Thinks she is a flower to be looked at
Haven't written thing a thing all week because my fucking life wouldn't allow it. I have read a bit though 
Was having a smoke on the balcony just now and heard my neighbours playing Bob Marley. I was going to try to write something based on the senses this week so they provided some aural inspiration.
Thanks guys.
Now shut up.
Untitled
Is this love, is this love, is this love
That the neighbours are feeling?
Surely not with the door open,
Surely not with the plashing of the rain
They've got know, got to know, got to know
Now. As do I, with the sirens wailing.
As do I, with the stillness of droplets
Hoping to fall from the leaves.
Is this love in the kitchen?
Is this love in the grey heart of Babylon?
Is this love with the smoke in my lungs
And the ploshing of rain in my tea.
Little darling, is this love?
In the madness and the shouting?
Is this love with the sharp bird trilling
With the daffodils fading fast into earth.
Is this love with the boujie glass buildings
scraping the underbelly of the sky?
I need to know. Now. With the rain
Falling soft on my face and my thigh.
Was having a smoke on the balcony just now and heard my neighbours playing Bob Marley. I was going to try to write something based on the senses this week so they provided some aural inspiration.
Thanks guys.
Now shut up.
Untitled
Is this love, is this love, is this love
That the neighbours are feeling?
Surely not with the door open,
Surely not with the plashing of the rain
They've got know, got to know, got to know
Now. As do I, with the sirens wailing.
As do I, with the stillness of droplets
Hoping to fall from the leaves.
Is this love in the kitchen?
Is this love in the grey heart of Babylon?
Is this love with the smoke in my lungs
And the ploshing of rain in my tea.
Little darling, is this love?
In the madness and the shouting?
Is this love with the sharp bird trilling
With the daffodils fading fast into earth.
Is this love with the boujie glass buildings
scraping the underbelly of the sky?
I need to know. Now. With the rain
Falling soft on my face and my thigh.
Baronage-Phase
Well-Known Member
Half way down the road
I see them.
Two huge manes
Of palest pink.
They cascade to earth .
Time's measure...
A pure blossom.
Weeps with joy.
And life is changed
Beautifully,
With the turn of a dial.
I see them.
Two huge manes
Of palest pink.
They cascade to earth .
Time's measure...
A pure blossom.
Weeps with joy.
And life is changed
Beautifully,
With the turn of a dial.
I used the prompt again today and finding it really fucking difficult to write something that even gets near quality every day! Anyhoo the prompt today was 'something big coming together with something small'.
Superseding Planets
thin and unliveable, named after war
bloody and brutal and cold
smashable bubbles of glassy cat's eyes,
we played with them in the road
vast in diameter, iron-rich regolith
channels and valleys and dust
tiny parameters, sand, ash and ribbons
of ruby, virescent, and rust
hold a marble to the sky
concentrate and close one eye
supersede and disappear
the mighty rock of Mars
Superseding Planets
thin and unliveable, named after war
bloody and brutal and cold
smashable bubbles of glassy cat's eyes,
we played with them in the road
vast in diameter, iron-rich regolith
channels and valleys and dust
tiny parameters, sand, ash and ribbons
of ruby, virescent, and rust
hold a marble to the sky
concentrate and close one eye
supersede and disappear
the mighty rock of Mars
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krtek a houby
Merry Xmas!
Internet madness
Infinite sadness
The game is endless
And often quite senseless
Are they right, though
The one who is my foe
Internet handles
Uploading scandals
I don't know
Perhaps I should go
Infinite sadness
The game is endless
And often quite senseless
Are they right, though
The one who is my foe
Internet handles
Uploading scandals
I don't know
Perhaps I should go
Baronage-Phase
Well-Known Member
Tweeze
Pinch
Poke
Damn!
A hair on my chin
Is growing too fast.
It's winning the race
Of the hair on my face.
Wait....
Wait....
"Take that" ..stubborn follicle!
Such sweet relief
It's gone.
Pinch
Poke
Damn!
A hair on my chin
Is growing too fast.
It's winning the race
Of the hair on my face.
Wait....
Wait....
"Take that" ..stubborn follicle!
Such sweet relief
It's gone.
May Kasahara
take me to the feeling
Bluebeard's Babies
At night Mummy and Daddy take off their faces
they wear each other’s
or the ones they keep in the bottle
on the high shelf.
You’ll learn this
once you get to the age
of helping,
until then you mustn’t
come downstairs after dark.
Mummy and Daddy never cry
although their voices are big and strong
as ogre’s hands
so when they say
‘put down those breadcrumbs’
or ‘spin me some gold’
or ‘take that cow to market’
you must listen.
They never show us the other faces
they say we will learn about them
once we get to the age of knowing
but for now Mummy will sing
and Daddy will rock
good night, good night, good night
I am of the age of helping.
I fetch and carry, mend and matter
Daddy says that one day I will please a king.
Immy was the age of knowing.
Mummy and Daddy say
she has gone
on a quest.
At night when I’m not listening
to their faces grunt and groan
I think of the door not slamming.
I don’t ask
when Immy will be coming back
that belongs
to the age of knowing.
At night Mummy and Daddy take off their faces
they wear each other’s
or the ones they keep in the bottle
on the high shelf.
You’ll learn this
once you get to the age
of helping,
until then you mustn’t
come downstairs after dark.
Mummy and Daddy never cry
although their voices are big and strong
as ogre’s hands
so when they say
‘put down those breadcrumbs’
or ‘spin me some gold’
or ‘take that cow to market’
you must listen.
They never show us the other faces
they say we will learn about them
once we get to the age of knowing
but for now Mummy will sing
and Daddy will rock
good night, good night, good night
I am of the age of helping.
I fetch and carry, mend and matter
Daddy says that one day I will please a king.
Immy was the age of knowing.
Mummy and Daddy say
she has gone
on a quest.
At night when I’m not listening
to their faces grunt and groan
I think of the door not slamming.
I don’t ask
when Immy will be coming back
that belongs
to the age of knowing.
May Kasahara
take me to the feeling
Heh, no I just made up the name and not really a direct connection to Bluebeard either. Just started randomly thinking about what life as a child of extremely (fairytale level) dysfunctional parents would be like, while I was doing the vacuuming 
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As you do, likeHeh, no I just made up the name and not really a direct connection to Bluebeard either. Just started randomly thinking about what life as a child of extremely (fairytale level) dysfunctional parents would be like, while I was doing the vacuuming
Subjects of Denial
My hair is clean and brushed and smart.
Hers is drenched and dirty.
I am wearing cosy clothes.
She is bare and purple.
I'm inhaling bluebell air.
She is breathing fire.
I am watching pixellated subjects of denial.
I am strong and tall, unbowed.
She is weak and wailing.
I am fifty years of age.
She is but a baby.
I have biscuits on my lips.
She has froth and horror.
I am watching pixellated subjects of atrocity.
I have eyes that blur and leak
but I am speaking freely.
She has eyes that cannot see.
She is wheezing frantically.
I am hearing grown men lie.
She is hearing people die.
I am watching pixellated subjects of denial.
(The prompt today was to write a poem of simultaneity. I watched the news last night and this fell out today.)
My hair is clean and brushed and smart.
Hers is drenched and dirty.
I am wearing cosy clothes.
She is bare and purple.
I'm inhaling bluebell air.
She is breathing fire.
I am watching pixellated subjects of denial.
I am strong and tall, unbowed.
She is weak and wailing.
I am fifty years of age.
She is but a baby.
I have biscuits on my lips.
She has froth and horror.
I am watching pixellated subjects of atrocity.
I have eyes that blur and leak
but I am speaking freely.
She has eyes that cannot see.
She is wheezing frantically.
I am hearing grown men lie.
She is hearing people die.
I am watching pixellated subjects of denial.
(The prompt today was to write a poem of simultaneity. I watched the news last night and this fell out today.)
Today's effort is so bad I'm only putting a link to it 
The prompt was a state of the union address, to yourself, for yourself. I've already written stuff about my future, so I wrote this instead
State of the Utopian Union Address | Write Out Loud
The prompt was a state of the union address, to yourself, for yourself. I've already written stuff about my future, so I wrote this insteadState of the Utopian Union Address | Write Out Loud
The prompt today was to write a haibun - prose poetry finished up with a haiku. Didn't quite crack the prose bit, but enjoyed the challenge.
Springtime at Aintree
Vultures descend on a city red and blue,
eating up the green grass.
Profit-driven fingers semaphoring odds
and the ends are as regular as clockwork here.
Runners and their riders gather at the gate,
accumulators tethered to their necks.
A sweat-streaked chestnut whinnies as she blows
and gathers up her feathers for
They're off!
And the chestnut flutters,
flounders over safety measures,
scavengers roaring out displeasure,
had a tenner
each way
on a double
and they crumple up the stub;
deaf to her snowblind breath.
Now the chestnut sleeps
with a bullet in her dreams.
Lilies for her wings.
Springtime at Aintree
Vultures descend on a city red and blue,
eating up the green grass.
Profit-driven fingers semaphoring odds
and the ends are as regular as clockwork here.
Runners and their riders gather at the gate,
accumulators tethered to their necks.
A sweat-streaked chestnut whinnies as she blows
and gathers up her feathers for
They're off!
And the chestnut flutters,
flounders over safety measures,
scavengers roaring out displeasure,
had a tenner
each way
on a double
and they crumple up the stub;
deaf to her snowblind breath.
Now the chestnut sleeps
with a bullet in her dreams.
Lilies for her wings.
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