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Three word inspiration.

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11971

the silence
was barely audible
above the rustle of rouge leaves
which caught a breeze
and walked with it

the sun had turned orange
gave the clouds a darker hue
before it sank south-bound

took all the colours
way down
out of
view  

I'd stood under an elm tree
because the rain had changed
from gentle droplets
to a torrent
 
[must have been
a massacre of little things
which didn't scurry to safety]

then I thought of a giraffe

because my mind works like that:
six degrees to six degrees

thanked the elm for its shelter
fastened  jacket buttons
then walked through the trees
into the rain  


subject, gaunt, harmony

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
104awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13017

the subject is closed
says the little man
turning away from her demands
of food for her boy
which he declared was not his son

gaunt swaying on his feet
malnourished and hungry
he looks up at the adults
who hold his fate in their hands
how powerful they are...
how cruel

he closes his eyes
he is no longer afraid
he is going home
he hears the beautiful harmony
of an angelic choir...


Frugal, vapours, bundle



poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11971

they've made it
through the chaos of war
and the lottery of sea
to the land
of fažlte hospitality

to a small town: mid-west

where the people hate
themselves
and each other  
since the bloody civil war
some world's ago

frugal to a fault
and no fan of vapours
which don't come
from a pot full of potatoes

can kinda tell
how this is going to go
in a month or two

when honour
is thrown into the bundle


crescent, bloom, hinge

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
104awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13017

she really wanted to enchant him
no...she wanted to charm him
so that his love would be deep
and undivided
so she chanted spells
under the crescent moon

she thought of herself
as a unique bloom
flowering so beautifully
for him
the wrong words in the chant  
and everyone saw her
such, they flocked for her loving

her door  hinge broke down
as suitors trampled up her garden
into her house by the dozen
and running out of the back door.


flaying, flying, frying

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11971

The couple outside

it's four thirty a.m.
the last open bar
closed five minutes ago

when the punters leave
they'll hang around
the burger joint
till the food stops frying

then walk in groups
or one's and twos
till a taxi takes them
out of here

two walked down
some minutes ago:

a guy, a girl  
shouting the odds
at each other
bout stuff which
shouldn't really matter
in the long run

neither noticed
the curlew
( or whatever it was )
which flew in
perched upon the foot
of the girl
for a few seconds
then flew off again

and they fought
then stumbled
lost balance
tired to bend each other
to defy gravity

but she
ended on the pavement
flaying her self
with bundles of air
she"d grabbed
on the way down

and he wobbled onwards
til he found a pole
to put his shoulder to
and work his way down
to the ground

they looked at each other
but no words

[kind of odd you'd think
maybe not so much these days]

then he grunted
and laughed

half crazy
half mad

crawled towards her
with his jacket offered
to keep her warm
while they stayed silent
and waited for the taxi
to take them home
so they could make up

orange, peculiar, fold

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
104awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13017

after the brawl in the pub
he went home
he face bleeding
from a cut on his nose
by someone's ring
he laughed aloud
he felt like a smashed orange

yet he had never felt so alive
in his life
a peculiar sensation after feeling half dead
for almost a year
what do you say when your best friend
who is also your spouse, die
of an unknown illness

he touched a fold
in his pocket
where he kept a small photo of hers
maybe it was time to leave it at home
and for him to stop haunting her.


prelude, predicament, punter

poet
Afroqn73
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 24th Dec 2016
Forum Posts: 409

The prelude to her current predicament was him- always him
Eyes blue like the ocean
Like two blue pools I wanted ro swim in
Hair golden yellow like rays of the sun
A brillant,  dazzling smile that captivated everyone
Hook, line, and sinker he had me fooled
I had no idea the depths of his depravity
How I would become his property-his tool
The beatings arent even the worst of it
The vile, nasty names he calls me-I'd rather get hit
Little by little my will he tore asunder
The last little piece, the very final bit
Came on the night he said to me I mean whispered it in my ear almost lovingly
"We need to make some money quick my pet...I've got it all worked out dont you fret! How are you going to help me you wonder? Why your going to go off with this punter."
I had no choice in the matter you see
It was his will, his order, his decree
Since then there have been many I have long since lost count
Now you know why  I'm up on this window ledge about to jump out

Rhinoplasty
childhood
anti Christ  

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11971

some say
peter pan of pop
went to shit
post surgery:
the chin
lips, rhinoplasty
and whatever else
we didn't see
 
some say
the whole industry
is a blood soaked fart
from the anti-Christ's arse
so child-hood stars
were always gonna implode
at some stage  

[but, to be fair
it's probably not as bad
as all that]


frescoes, marmalde, cyanide


 







poet
TheGoddessMinerva
Minerva Grace
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 3rd Dec 2014
Forum Posts: 333

in dreams,

like wet plaster,
moonbeams drip like marmalade
off burnt toast
onto hungry tongues and chins.

bergamot and orange frescos
dance from mind to eyelid
in a bluegrey mist.
(everyone knows colors look
brighter against drab backgrounds.)

but all I can really think about
is how to disguise cyanide in my own food
so I donít disappoint my
children.

***
blush, compadre, bourbon

poet
AEMelia564
Y
Dangerous Mind
Norway
33awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 1561

Story of
a broken bourbon bottle
conveying

Music of life
when
I blush

in mirors
Death smiles
at me



Archeological
magma
porcelain

poet
lepperochan
Craic-in-a-box
Tyrant of Words
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 11971

Kimberly Krakatoa said:

"violence
is most always
the prelude
to tentative peace"

while she chipped
away magma
to find the bones
of anyone
who could attest
to it

or something
to justify
an archeological
rape
of a mountain village

who's people
had never laid eyes
on her
or her porcelain skin
in all
their years dead

solitude, cranberry, camera

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
104awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13017

I craved solitude once
from the hassles of living and life
and when I knew it personally
it was just disguised loneliness...

its like tasting sweetness in a cranberry
while thinking of blood when looking at the sauce
I felt removed from everything
...just views into various sides of thoughts

life at times is magnified
as if by the lens
of a camera
especially when disappointment
and unhappiness visit...


Grandiose, benevolent, humility


poet
AEMelia564
Y
Dangerous Mind
Norway
33awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 1561

Humility has spoken
in what is said not
we fold these pages
tear them
burning each word
benevolent poetry
speaks grandiose
truth

Hearth
dragonfly
lillac


poet
ReBekahBehave
Lost Thinker
United States
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Joined 29th Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 5

i heard him
he said himself
on a track
makin that trapp
talkin type trash
boy that wack

sat to attack
so subtle like
his voice crass
his body tight
im all like
that ain't right
he sat light
crawling on floors
making a fool
wishing for more

poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
104awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13017

AEMelia564 said:

Hearth
dragonfly
lillac



I was seeking hearth and home
in a land faraway
a world of magic seemed to wait
fantasy behind a pearly curtain

the signs of the dragonfly
I ignored
believing true love waited till death
my wrinkled face was beautiful

the scents of lilac
permeated in my dreams
as Eros died in my soul
and my heart shrivelled
to dusts.


gravity, fabricated, whet


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