FOP BATTLE THREAD

9. Time/date

19:01 and she was late (Panic!)
thoughts raced through my mind,
stood up on the first date? No...
And although my ears were buzzing with
nervous bees I heard a voice behind me
nervous (almost) as mine a jumped
right into the lampost and onto
the chewing-gum splattered ground.

You laughed and were beautiful
and suddenly 19:01 was my favourite
time of the year

10 - Rhyme

Nothing rhymes with volcano, so
lets rearrange some words and... no?
Don't look at me as if this poem doesn't
flow right off your tongue like a snowball
thrown at a teacher's collar bone. You
set yourself up for a fall if you expected
poetry in this here chaotic whirlwind
of jubmleddownwordzallo-verdplacelike-a-this

Round 9

1. Form (haiku)

Salty waves crashing
pitter-pattering footsteps
washing them away.

2. 30 - 32 syllables

I spilt the cat food across
the kitchen floor this morning
in a haste - rushing to get ready
for nowhere. Yet I have no cat?

3. Include "a river/ocean" or "a star(s)" either by the words, or through metaphor.

She's a rivulet and knows
how to water your soul,
I am but a brewing ground
ready to harbour caterpillars.

All the roses you spilled,
leaf by leaf, devoured.

And nothing I'll ever do
will bestow you bloom.

4. Use a song title for the poem's title.

Exit wound

And everything became a blur, after you scolded me
about lying in bed all day, after you
took all my diaries and burnt them, but in the fire
I smelled your hatred, and in the smoke
I saw the frown that looked like my father's,
whilst all I've ever been trying to do
was to keep my family pictures and wedding ring apart.

But it was too late, soon the milk tourned sour
and nobody spelled poetry for me in their cereal.
The bag of coffee beans I kept for you never lost weight,
unlike me, and one day there were no bandages left
at home, but I was too broke and tired
to get out of my bed.

5. Sad/depression

The sound of laughter makes me grimace
(inside, of course)
while the sight of games makes me frown
(inside, of course).
The swish of her hair makes me swoon
(inside, of course)
and the sound of her voice makes me anxious
(inside, of course).

The length of the night makes me panic
(inside, of course)
And the loneliness in my heart makes me cry.
Inside. Of course.

6 - Free poem

Listening to the wind rustling up
fallen leaves was different with you.
The breeze whistled in a different tune
and the whistle of the shed door was given
a rhythm. You didn't care how your hair
squished, octapus-like, around our faces.

This close, I could count your eyelashes.
This close, I could feel the drum of your heart.

7. 10-12 lines

He told me once
How he thought lands
We're phoenixes reborn
Out of their ashes every time

As he toyed with a lighter
And the edge of one worn map

Tonight we take matches
To countries, till we singe our
Fingers

Tonight we take matchsticks to countries
And dream...

Of a new home.

8. Must include a body part in your poem/title

We were jetlagged by dreams,
solving our time difference,
and both our accents were clouded
by continents, yet we heard each other
as easily as the same old tune at the supermarket,
you know - like when Christmas arrives
and you're trying to resist the plethora
of chocolate goodies, trying to be neat.

But we've been messed up, and we're
crumpled aluminum wrappings together.
We're thick-headed and smudged,
sweetness that dug holes in our teeth.

9. Time/Date

Exhaustion breaks through
the boundaries of our predicament,
aching sweetly in the prestige
of having never given up -

I wish this July 22th
could work as an analogy
for the remnants I have left
of our memories:

But it doesn't - our effort was wasted,
with higher stakes blown away,
forcing us to turn our love's cradle
into a twisted grave.

10. At least 1 Rhyme

Tuesday night past 23,
drinking bad wine and forcing out poetry.
The buzz rages, killing quality -
O what a calamity!
(Poem #90!!!)

1. Form

Acrostic -- Frustration

For hours we go,
reading the words
understood once before,
silencing our emotions
the way we've been taught
readily available to feel
alone, without another
trusting soul on our side,
instead of confiding
outwardly, wanting to be
needed, felt, heard, understood.

2. 30-32 Syllables

We count words off our fingertips
but never learn to appreciate
the willingness in the meaning.
Maybe some day, we will.

3. Include "a river/ocean" or "a star(s)" either by the words, or through metaphor.

I am no siren
Though you claim
You heard my calling
Till the soul

And though you claim
That my eyes look
Empty at certain angles
And at certain times my voice
Seems almost Eerie

You are no sailor
Though your hair is wind blown
Your lips are sea chapped
And your skin is sun kissed

And though you never harboured
In one place for long and probably
Never will

My skin doesn't handle the salt well
And sailing makes you seasick.

#4 Song Title

River by Joni Mitchell

River, river, where for art thou?
Beith you in glen green or valley fair?
For I followth thee with fire's breath
To rid me of this vile despair,
Water, water, where for art thou?
Beith you in woodland deep or meadow tall?
For I can nay wash her impurity from my heart,
she taketh from my soul, everything, all.

5. Sad/Depression

Today
I'm not depressed.
I'm not suffering in silence.
I'm not climbing walls,
pacing and tearing my skin and my hair.
I'm not yearning for the light to reach me.
I'm not surrounding myself with neglect.
I'm not whispering lullabies to Happiness,
I'm not turning away Hope at the door.

Today
in reverse.

6 - Free poem

It doesn't get any better.
False promises sting harsher
than the aches of bitter realities -

I wish I could cauterize my wounds,
and turn the dripping rubies
into love letters in tangible shape.

I wish I could revitalize the faded colours
of the love we once shared,
preventing it from committing suicide.

But the past is always more pleasing
than the present, no matter when,
because we can't create bonds again.

It doesn't get any better.
I'm tired of hearing such worn out lies -

it doesn't get any better,
and I'm stuck in a place where tomorrow dies.

7. Sandy

There were waters
On the streets
Boats aside
Houses

But this wasn't Venice, no.

Despite the sadness lingering
Around every single corner and the winds
That's yet to cease mourning

This was real..
No matter how much it looked
Like something Shakespeare
Would write.

8 Body Part

My feet ache to feel
the discomfort of the cobblestone alleys,
where bargaining with children
five years of age
is a normality. I want to see
the boldness of that yellow arch
stretch her limbs against the mountainside
once again, holding pregnant secrets
and tip-toe'd whispers. To breathe in the scent
of smokey ash from the volcanoes, and pray amongst
the cross on the hill. I long to be here. Forever.

9 - Time/Date

It's 3am and I feel
the slipperyness of the bathtub
along my drunken toes.

I've gone and drank myself drunk
layered in these bubbles again.

The water has run room temperature
for what feels like sixteen hours,
and my lips are numb from your name.

#100!

A hundred poems, join the fray!
It's not as impossible as they say,
to force them all out in a single day!
Push, push, push, my lovely club!
The other ones we've got to drub!
(Nay, nay, nay, I'm not smug!)

Be amazed, stand in awe,
as I move my cramping jaw,
to turn the ninety-nine and end the game
into a number hundred that's totally lame!

Hear ye, hear ye, it's finally over -
Baby Rainbow's been a pretty nice drover!
Hear ye, hear ye, this message so hearty -
<insert filler words here>, it's time to party!