The idea is to read the short poem that went before, and respond with one of your own. It can be a continuation, it can be inspired, it can be a rebuttal. Something in poem [or prose-poem] form. It makes good practice, gives poets a chance to show off a few offthecuff ideas without the pressure of a complete poem. I've done this before and sometimes things from this have ended up reworked as whole poems. sometimes not. I know there are a lot of good poets hanging around here, I hope people join in! (well I sure as heck don't know where a thing like this would go - I guess word games is the closest? anyway, mods, I appologize if this isn't quite right.) ------ i think i found a soul on the side of the road today, tired and ink-faced, smudged like bruises that weren't signs of abuse, not unless you count the torment of dirty hands against a sleeping brow. i brought her in - certainly this soul was a her - and let her sleep in the backseat with maps and stolen coats for sale. she slept long and still is there, curled up in camelhair, picking up the smells of gas, hamburgers, cats. i will watch her for however long she sleeps. when she wakes i guess i'll bring her home, but then what? give her my bed, let her have her keep in salt and flowers?
I watched the lost soul as she slept I wondered what secrets she kept in the distance I heard my minion evil revel for I was their master I was the devil by all rights this lost soul was my prize I am the soulless prince of lies I collect lost souls and take them to hell it is my job and I do it well but this innocent soul is not mine to take I must let go when when her eyes awake so what is the devil to do this night evil must do good tonight
The evil that dwells within your soul Has cause me to suffer in hell You plague my mind with insanities Can't see the beauty of life no more And you are the one I have to thank for this So goodbye to you forsaken one I leave you standing behind closed doors As I venture off into the unknown To find a place in which I do belong Ariella
honestly i don't know what to say to the door you left by the side of the highway, rooted in weeds paint-covered, stained and scratched by your pack of wild snow dogs they are whitebacked, they find every drafty opening the door is closed. i'm sure it will stay that way. who would risk stepping through from gravel, gloss-gray shoulder into some other depth of a world
You say the door is better off that way closed and you on the other side to me but what you really long to say is open up and see that there is a life out here it is just for you and me ariella
You drawled of highways long collapsed; the cars, however, intact- their tin-foil metal melded into new aspirations. Of these three hundred and twenty-two doors: which one is my home? The answer is none.
My door is open For the exterior only, Empty your body Heart, mind and soul Into the forgotten sea of unrepeated memory. Tie down free arms Bite down the tongue; Strangle sound until They too are mute, Come to me- Here I am for you.
I hear your offers I see your doors I smell your proffers And touch your floors But something I Sense even more Is my head in the sky And my wings as they soar. I'd rather be free.
Like an Eagle soaring to reach the highest skies looking down on rocky cathedrals with blood on my feathers time is still turning they soon will be dry All who see me All who hear me will fear me for my wings are wide As I soar down from rocky mountains.
I have now, the power to roam, Maraude the lands as if they are my own, With wings that will not let me down, Except for when I cammand them to, For there are lands far and beyond, One's mind can reach, So I shall use my wings to fly, And land wherever I wish, As if the primitive lands, are by me, owned, For with these wings, Power has come, into my hands, And now I shall not let it seep away.
All the power of the world, Belongs upon my hands. Forever basking in the Strength, My flight has brought the lands. Forever green Forever golden Some left unseen, And some left Emboldened. The first plane to fly, and I am upon it. All bask and stare until your mouths run dry. Because where it is that I sit, Is the throne of the first with-in the sky.
Mother in the first class lounge breast-fed at 60 000 feet a tiny infant or emperor, I think I mouthed at the time. His toes wiggled in woolen socks and he drank the lot quite ungrateful really, [mannerwise] only burped, drooled, the whole show against the rules in my opinion as I said to the steward. 'That's my wife, you bastard,' he commanded 'You married a baby,' I reprimanded. This was before we landed in Singapore. The law is on my side I'll think you shall find in Singapore. But I never said those words nothing clever flashed across my mind I lost the argument, so alas and farewell milky, woman and your steward husband young & foul trio en route to Brisbane
