literary greatness

i want to see poems born out the inspiration of what you are, or have been, reading.

the rules:
-find a literary quote that inspires you.
-write a poem inspired by that quote, but don't use any of the 'main' words. it, the, them, etc are fine.
-200 words max
-include your quote in your entry
-new work only, please.
-please title your work
-no collabs
-two weeks

example:

“What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.”  Hagrid/J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

roots

we will bend
and sway.
our long roots grow deep
in this bloodied soil.
the harsh, blue winds will not
break the thickness of us.

season after season
we will lose and grow leaves.
we will draw life from this forsaken place
and we will live.

no,
we will do more than live.
we will thrive.

staring at oncoming storms,
into their eyes.
into their calm, livid eyes.

and we will not blink.

MATTHEW 7:7 - Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find

77
I am this crumpled cover sheet crushed and creased
Wooden headrest wooden buddha wood floor boards
Yesterday’s bitter coffee today's dinner half eaten
A screen flickering intermittently
A murmuring screen in the corner
A muslin hanging from iron hooks and taut wire
A book well thumbed unopened and discarded as untrue

I am landing light through the door and light shade
Light on the home-stitched patchwork at my feet
My beads the cross on my heart clavicle scapula
We become what we have half-seen
See - have touched and I offer this
A flaxen head dreaming on my shoulder gently
Breathing in long beats by which I measure my days.

thanks for kicking this off with such an excellent entry, whale!

Why So Serious, Bitch?

from: Why so serious, son! Me thinks it was Hemingway.

listen here Bitch
don't make me pull out the switch blade
on you Bitch made
you can suck a cactus any which way
but make sure you swallow the pricks quicklay
no games and no jokes
no shame and no pokes
Bitch made, bitch made
which hand did that Bitch play
Bitch made, bitch made
deal a hand that that Bitch hates
seven deuce off suit
now try going all in and you all lose
Bitch maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaade
don't you Btich meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
I ain't no Bitch
so you just better quit
with that Bitch shit
I don't play no games with no Bitches
I don't care about no dames or no midgets
I don't know if this Bitch will change
I don't care to even know the Bitch's name
oh Bitch
oh Bad Bitch
why so serious
I said Bitch
I said Bitch
why so serious, Bitch?

I wanna enter but am clueless to any quotes in books i have read.. I 'll catch your next comp hopefully
great idea for a comp
Zazzles

"At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night."
-H.P. Lovecraft


 The Black (of my pen)

I've gone a million miles
Inches at a time
When that pen hits the paper
Line after line
I know it's time to go
Run with the ink
Through these pages
I jot down
All these thoughts that I think

I've dreamt a million nightmares
This darkness that I breathe
So I get up
Immortalize them
Put my mind down at ease

My bleeding pen leaves bloodstains on my hands
Like a madman I smear it
In these dreams I sure can
Wander with the monsters
Expel my darkest thoughts
Play out this black imagination
For without these stories
They will rot

Stacks of cryptic writings filed deep then slip my mind
Until I come across them
At a later time
They tell the tales of nightmares that I dreamt and won't forget
The images are permanent they stay without regret

These well placed lines have taken me to the stars and back
Through hell and to it's pits
My pen has made the darkest black
Where the sun never shines and the wind is always cold and blowing
My next destination is unknown
But I am going while the ink is flowing

"We're all in the gutter,
but some of us are
looking at the stars..."

mind you, the
day times are
hard...

thanks for all the entries so far! keep them coming!

THE WITCHES
Author: Roald Dahl

Year: 1983

"It doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, so long as somebody loves you."




Ill wait for that moment
For as long as I need.
'Til he come in shining armor
Upon his trusty steed.

Something quite that special
Is worth a century's wait.
Two hearts will beat as one
When you get to meet your soul mate.

Beauty isn't necessary
But happiness is a must.
You will never know the posibilities
'Til you give a chance at lust.

"I’ll be your Dostoevsky, if you’ll be my Tolstoy. Our life together will be so full of despair that death will be like a gulag full of joy."
~ Jarod Kintz [This Book is Not FOR SALE]
*
wreckreational ~

your eyes hang
like weights
beneath the cuckoo
& i wait
for
spiders to hatch
from amber ~
... we've been
staring blindly at
peeling wallpaper
& sepia polaroids
tacked to
faded floral prints
by my tears
as though
they'd bring spring ...
*
loose sheaves flutter
like startled gulls
against
the nicotine sky
but i'm too high
to gather
my thoughts ~
... i flake away
in snippets
of paper & glass
chained
to my wrist
but you pin
my spine
between
piss stains
& your disdain
to love me  ...
//

This is an awesome comp idea, Minerva! It'd be great to see more entries and I wouldn't mind having a crack at it myself [I'm feeling inspired!]. Perhaps you could extend the comp for a week and leave the door open a little longer while I warm up my muse... the choke's on, it just takes a lil while to get her started this time of year.

i was thinking of extending. so whenever that option becomes available to me, i plan to extend. so get to work!

"Too weird to live, too rare to die." - Hunter S. Thompson; Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas

Splatters

Two men,
too wild to tame,
too illusory to pin a name
on,
but something seems
to ring true when the word
“Gonzo”
bursts forth from ones lips.

Somehow a
journalistic masterpiece
is woven, of which
the true beauty
may only be perceptible
to those able to see
past the warped and
twisted remains
left by the spatters
and splatters
of the hectic and
corybantic scribbles
and ramblings
of a madman.

Stains.
Ink and blood;
sweat and mescaline;
ketchup and booze;
and every now and then,
between the constellations
of mess and distortion –
a gem of pure,
literary genius
that entices
the reader into the
madness
like Icarus to the sun.

There are too few
who can survive
the plight
of such derangement
and depravity,
and even fewer who
can spin
an amazing and emotionally
manipulating tale
from the experience.

What seems
eloquent to one
may seem superfluous
to another.
Or super fluency
for one
may seem supercilious
to another.
Super silly
may seem super sane;
insane to one,
to another inane.
Stick a cup
on a circular table
surrounded by a crowd.
Ask each person
where the shadow falls.
I assure you some
may answer the same,
but surely not them
all.

“They’re lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary,”

Stairway To Heaven:

If a single man could be perfected...
he would be the never ending staircase.
Short steps are taken towards escalation.
But not until the hill has been climbed.

Greatness awaits each rise.
Heartbreak emits from each fall.
Beautiful is the walking, talking, breathing, loving sculpture of desire and pleasure.

"show me a hero and i'll write you a tragedy"

-Fitzgerald

traffic

He was born into poverty in a trailer park in east Texas.
Spent some time in a plywood pen with siblings but when they were sold for meth money his accomodations grew in size.
When the digs got clostrophobic and the babies got to walking, got allowed to sit on the couch.
Now this is not to say that the boy was fed well or never beat. On the gravytrain of a slave he was definitely riding bitch.
A give away to a x army scumbag drug dealer was the best option dude ever had.

Me and cuzzo took a trip a few hundred miles outta Baton Rouge to find him chained to a children's play house in the 30 ft. yard next to the casino.
Now ten stones hadn't seen carpet since 30 lbs.Wasn't easy to convince a lil go for a ride might be in best interest.But a porterhouse and some air conditioning can convince anyone used to those standards.

16 shits and 7 bags of treats later we hit the red stick.It's hot here and everybody takes a lil seista mid afternoon but not this brotha.Veins full of tequila and whiskey mixed with gasoline and meth constantly. Jacky Joiner Kersey who whenever gets to where he needs to be always runs away.Can't understand wanting to always eat black people but still sleep at my feet.

Apparently my best fucking friend is a selective racist.

The tweeker that shimmied the back door open with intention of taking my big screen and bars had a bad night when Draco tore his tight skin loose  before i gave him a blunt force trauma,hid the dope,called the cops and kept his gun. The thing about boxers is they stand on their back legs and paw you with the front. American bully dogs are neck biters who contrary to what pitt bulls ad parolees might tell you, like to fight.Just not each other or people they like.The NFL got it twisted.
So the boxer crossbreed who likes where he stays at ain't the one you want.



So momma gets the cancer. Brain tumors. Everyday you spend back and forth, to and from the hospital with lil sleep and constant xanax and taaka vodka use.Cancer in my family is an enemy you can't hit back. It's like frank said "blueballs,of the heart".
And maybe all the triple sixes tattoos and upside down cross comedic references are adding up or maybe I been pulling too much in and not putting enough out cuz caught in traffic on airline highway one day a colored homeless gentleman approaches to ask for change. In my stupor I roll down the wrong fucking window and draco jumps out. Don't even put it in park,jump right out the door but he's already crossed three lanes and now the light is green.Never fucking green when you need it.Never fucking green when you actually need it..

Draco is already on the other side of airline highway where the grass is greener than any concrete or trailer park he's ever seen.. I scream his name,he makes eye contact and sprints towards me but before i can say NOOOOOO! he's at the centerline getting his neck crushed by an 18 wheeler.

Carried and buried him. And even though i work a roughneck bar, I still get drunk and try to fight truckers.
But I don't ever roll the window down on the way home.