RULE-FREE! Oh, except for these few words....

HERE'S THE CATCH:
All the poems must at some point work into their piece FOUR out of the following FIVE words. So, you do get one "get out of jail free card". You do not have to use all five of the words - you can ditch one. It will be interesting to see which one people choose to ditch. The words are:

CURDLE
VIOLET
EPIPHANY
PROPINQUITY
MORPHINE

Minor variations on the words are allowed like CURDLE can be curdles, curdled etc. and pluralising is fine so VIOLET can be violets etc. See what you can come up with...

I'm waiting eagerly to see your creations

Hello friend (FoT?),
I look forward to seeing what I'm able to do based on that list of words; I feel this could be fun.

I just have one thing to let you know, with respect.,, a spelling Correction:

propinquity

And welcome to DUP! 😃
-Jade

Thanks for noticing the typo. Fixed now, not quite sure how the 'R' crept in there...

Hang Girl

https://youtu.be/fi2XCsPKlY8

My affinity
For detaching myself
From any propinquity

Killed myself softly by forced death
Guillotine
And gave away heartbreak to
Any one close enough
To see me..

Tummy in curdle throws
Of anxiety
Of crowd or the touch
Of something pure..

Unleash those cold blue teardrops and let them fall!?
I would not let them...so...

It came full circle
In morphine haze
And daze gone by in euphoric
Nod
For hard terrors
The chance to sleep..

For what?

Angry dreams
Behind violet
Violent eyes?
Streaked with red rage
From the damage done
..
By tourists who paid
By milligrams
30 please
And on my knees

My cock suck prayer
For first gleam high again
Dirty Genuflect led
To no epiphany

Rather led me to...
The worst of me...

And to half death
Too cowardly to grab the full noose
And be done
I was led to trickle drown...

As Jennifer's opiate wall
Came fast tumble
Rumbling down....

Grief is a blessing, that prepares you for any fight
It can make your eyes see the color of the night
No matter how deeply you feel chagrined
It can make your ears hear the words of the wind.

Whisper in the sky, dream of Amethyst
A violet glare shines upon my aching soul
Metaphorical blood, teardrops take their toll

Yet the French inside yells, "Ne sois pas triste !"

As always, he can't refrain
He speaks words that hit me like a freight train

"She's dead, all's dead, your pain won't fade
No weapon can pierce its armor,
Like that of the fierce fighter who ignores the end
Not even morphine could strike your stupor.
You feel the warmth, you feel the ache
All you crave is to finally awake
But unlike yourself,
Your eyes aren't closed
You gaze upon your glee deposed
That chapter's ended, now put that book back on its shelf."

Truth, swift as lightning
Words, echoing in my mind
As an epiphany, one of a kind ;

Death is everlasting
Death is omnipresent
Death is omnipotent
Death is a cunning thing.
At first you're afraid,
But then you look at it, in the eye
And it sings, like a mermaid
To its requiem, eventually you comply
The more you see her,
The more you love her,
Adequate propinquity
She'll end up your only
Friend
And she'll be here with you 'til the very
End.

Curdling under the bed
with a tube of morphine
he passes out

His dream brings him to a weird place
"no rabbit holes here" says a sign
while doctors have been searching the room
he begins to sense colours
smelling yellow
hearing green
tasting red
touching black
and finally

seeing violet
some doctors watch him
describing things in  violet

after a few weeks
he awakes claiming to have
an epiphany that will save mankind

a lesser known fact was
that when this said man awoke
foil was in his mouth
was it morphine or lsd?

The man claimed that the morphine
was actually a drip
his friends before he passed out
gave him some foil

This man wakes up in the night
only to find himself in the same hospital bed he saw
On his side table
he notices a plates with only
signs of eaten mushrooms

The doctors watching and laughing
in another room

Little red pills
piled in my hand
the propinquity driving me
pushing me
willing me
to lift them to my shaking lips
and swallow.

Time passes
as time does.
Vision grows dark
to violet then black.
No epiphany stops me
no thoughts or ideas
just static.
Then
nothing.

I thought
that morphine helps the pain
and I guess
it did.


* I know this isn't that good but I just really wanted to try a competition or something

These entries are so excellent. I thoroughly enjoyed reading them and how everyone is intertwining the words (I do have a favourite so far, but won't reveal just yet). I especially like that it's developing a theme, a link. It's making me feel different about the colour violet.

Your contributions are so appreciated!

PHASES


1.

The propinquity of
facets to the heart,
and one is burst.

I can't stem the tide of
curdled morphine,

of its violet plasma
seepage,
or repel my
darkest messenger,
never to claim my own.

Nothing about this is mine
as someone sinks into
oblivion
while I think of them
doing it,

jumping the gun, racing
the bullet,
to quickly turn and take it
into their mouth,

to chase the storm that
makes beggars of us.

Burning retrograde
of the
moon,
slow grind of
repressed memories

of an incomplete life
coming full circle


2.

In the pillaged remains
within the fault line,
my own slip between moments
entirely of dust and light.

I want to recite you poems
never conceived of,
and to listen, enraptured
when you sing me your last.


3.

My wishes are
of no import.
The journey
begins
when it ends,
seamless
in its epiphany,
leaving no time to linger.

nocturne ~ {iv}
         
             we meditated  
             the propinquity  of
             galaxy & sea glass succor

                                 before the edges tilted
                                {&} viole[n]t skies
                                 curdled in tints
                                 of apricot & contusion ~
                                                 
                                                           … beneath stained glass
                                                               & pressed flower memories,
                                                               kaleidoscope worlds unfurled
                                                               in the twist of wrist & mane …
                                                            *
                                    & those amethyst screams
                                    kept tumbling
                                    within the taste of
                                    crossed wires & copper coins

                    did you hear me
                     through
                       {the epiphany  
                          of  torn lash flutter
                            & breathlessness?}

                                         that single, perfect ripple
                                         in unconscious veins  ~

           … there was never enough                          
                morphine to dull
                the angles to
                sfumato softness …

                                  i am surprised
                                   i didn't bleed sooner
                                                       //

propinquity breeds neglect


curdled violets sat under my eyes
wait-
i thought of a poem
wait-
no i didn't
flesh curdled
violet lips made pretty purple bruises
and i listened

but a morphine headache
knocked an epiphany into me
and i forgot
all of it

Thanks for all the excellent entries so far. Final couple of days for those up to the challenge... :)

  back when you were mine

my life was once violets and rose
the sun shined all day
why it changed nobody knows
but as it curdled away
my days turned into morphine
I tossed and turned all night
waiting for an epiphany
so I could feel alright
the days grew all together
intertwined like vine
wishing for proximity
like back when you were mine

Pockets full of morphine
Putting my life in a bottle
The guy in the corners telling me “don’t worry,
You’ll taste the color”

I’m close to the drugs,
Propinquity
They keep me on my level
One sip was like the rainbow,
Red to violet going on forever

At that moment I had an epiphany
I was stuck this way forever
The morphine would have killed me
But the bottle was a trigger

OK, friendoftina...I read 'no rules' so didn't do it in poetry form...and then I see it's meant to be a poem...I'll enter it anyway just for the fun of it...and it has all the words you require woven in it...


SHE’S GONE…



She enters the kitchen via the back door. The only colour in the room, a withering potted violet, sits on the windowsill.  She starts her conversation with one.

‘I’m surprised it’s survived; she’s not been here for weeks. Guess it could be viewed as the last remnants of her life. The kitchen looks like a bomb’s hit it and what’s that stench? That’s it, shit it stinks…’

Curdled milk sits in its container on the bench. She opens the fridge then the kitchen cupboards.  

‘What did she feed on?  Nothing, by the looks of it…there’s nothing in the cupboards as well. It’s like she knew she’d be away and didn’t do a shop, or maybe she gave it away, but to who?  I’ll have to do some checking.’

Surveying her surroundings, she decides to sit; it’s overwhelming.

‘Her death brought an unwanted epiphany to me…god, her life will be mine if I don’t steer a new course.  I’ve got to do what I’ve always wanted to do instead of drowning in regrets like she did.’

The propinquity of their relationship was to be expected; after all they were mother and daughter.

‘Fucking addictions have dogged us all our lives; gives weight to the theory they can be hereditary, be in our genes…bloody grog damn well killed her in the end. Humph, at least my lavish time with opium in Laos didn’t end the same way. That bloody time spent at Tham Krabok monastery getting clean was hell on earth but it saved me …you know, I thought after all those years off it, off everything, no grog, no ciggies, any addiction I had was gone, but the morphine I had to have proved otherwise. I should've told them about the opium…stupid not too…I don’t know why I thought it’d get out, that I’d loose my job because of it...had to fess up in the end; at least this time detoxing I had better surroundings but the fucking pain felt the same.  Never again, I swear, never again. No bloody kids for me either, I’m not passing this shit gene on to anyone.’

She rises from her chair and starts moving things about.

‘I should've done this earlier, come here to sort through her house, her belongings, her life...it’s a bloody reminder of what I don’t want to be; I couldn’t face it, couldn’t face her...she’s all over this place, even now, after all these weeks…God, they gave me crap after the ambulance brought her in…phoned me with incessant questions…why didn’t you come with her...there was no ID, why haven’t you been looking after her…how could I tell them I was avoiding her, hadn’t seen her in months…still don’t know why I turned up that day…someone had to find her I guess…lucky me, not…fuck, she was my mother…I’m such a bitch…I can see now she wasn’t eating…anything. Just drinking. Didn’t she say Meals on Wheels was delivering?  I can’t remember and what does it matter now.’

She moves towards the doorway to the lounge, turns and looks at the withered violet that seems to be on its last legs; she wonders if her Mum is saying a final farewell to her.

‘She’s gone.  And I’m here to clean up the mess she left…literally…and to make something of my life so I can prove we both lived and it wasn’t in vain.’




© Kate Adams 26/6/16