April is, indeed, the cruelest month . . .

And:

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Toil and succour

Anything (within reason) goes...

Moderators: Gary, riverwriter, Poetry Moderators

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Agnes
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Fri Nov 16, 2012 4:41 pm

Fog dies when the sun comes out.
Sometimes it screams. Sometimes it pouts.
But die, it does, sooner or later,
and toward heaven it heads--if it's good fog, that is.
Smog heads to Hell. It's bad. Like this rhyme.

The question is: Why doesn't red hair burn?

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olson29
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby olson29 » Fri Nov 16, 2012 8:19 pm

Where does fog go?

Today we're able to travel wherever we want to go.
It's the wild in our eyes, the pure, uncut, 100% infinite
love in our soul. Here we are in the vast receivable
syncopated breath of a whole universe in the smallest place.
We innocent enlightenment, and find the answer to every question, here, pure.
We see Iguazu and Angel, Kahiwa, Boyoma, Gocta, Hannoki-no-taki,
a child's eyes. We listen to rocks and fog divide and dive into river water.
Singing mist rises up waterfall, with stories to share in each drop, as the
eyes in mountain cores becoming sand - listen. The factors that brought us hear,
still. We find a place, deeper, transcending soul, listening to life, hope.

At the falls, we rise rise to join infinite concerts, and migrate to our concert
in the rain. We see all we can see with our eyes closed. Inside waterfall
an outside waterfall, we smile and find a home
that has never been and will never be again.
It's only now that makes us; now is infinitely ineffably precious.

And what about us, the water out of all the water ever, this combination
that could have never been. We smile into eachotherseyes and listen
to our most sacred hopes, we protect and listen
with more tenderness than we have ever known. We travel, again.


------
why doesn't red hair burn?


Blue fire enters red fire and makes purple fire.
We heard the stories about how she can make
a tiny seed become a tree in less than a minute.
We heard her light was so soft, so yin, that it could
contain any yang.



--------

What does your heart hope for?
you are poetry

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Sat Nov 17, 2012 3:04 pm

My heart hopes that it can beat
at least as long as these two feet
can move me 'round from place to place -
while still a smile does grace my face.

My heart likes to skip and dance.
It gets worn out by circumstance.
Adrenaline is not its friend.
My heart hopes to stay the end.


Q: What about marbles?

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Agnes
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Sun Nov 18, 2012 12:22 pm

I have many marbles--yellow, green and blue.
I have tons of marbles--glass, clay, and agate, too.
Cat's Eye, Oxblood, and Turtle, Crystal, Bumblebee,
Tiger, Pearls, and Steely--I have marbles, as you can see.

The question is: Can they hear you?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Sun Nov 18, 2012 1:37 pm

Shallow

My words, they fall like pebbles
into a dried up stream.
They clink and clunk and clang and thunk
until I want to scream.
I wish someone would hear them,
beyond their clumsy deaths,
pick up the fragments of their sounds
and listen to their depths.

Q: Who stole my voice?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Sun Nov 18, 2012 3:08 pm

I tried to find your voice. I looked everywhere.
I looked high and low. I looked here and there.
I looked in the tree tops. I looked in the sea.
I looked in the toilet. I looked in debris.
I tried to find your voice. I asked everyone.
I asked cops and robbers, a hooker and a nun.
I asked all my neighbors, my enemies, my friends.
Then after that, I asked them all again.
I'm sorry I can't help you recover your lost voice.
To sit in awkward silence may be your only choice.

The question is: Have you tried sign language?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Sun Nov 18, 2012 3:35 pm

What's Your Rising Sign

I was born July the 8th, a child of the moon.
I wish I knew what time it was, midnight or maybe noon.
The astrologers can't help me. They say just take a guess.
I asked my mother more than once, but she was in distress.
She said it was the nighttime. Or maybe early day.
Or maybe it was not at all. She really could not say.
The hospital can't tell me. They've closed their doors you see.
And as for all the records, they've lost the one of me.
I wonder who I am, sometimes. Do I even exist?
The stars all twinkle bright and true. They tell me to persist.
I wonder if a comet just dropped me on the ground
under the moon and left me there, hoping to be found.


Q: What about twins?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Mon Nov 19, 2012 3:23 pm

T wins.

Face it. S never stood a chance.
Her curvy sibilance was just no match
for T's tenacious tap tap tap.
S thought if she blew long enough,
she'd eventually snake a win.
But no serpent is strong enough to outwit a T.
He's duplicitous with a capital D.


The question is: how does J walk?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Mon Nov 19, 2012 5:54 pm

J walked into a bar one day --
asked the bartender for a drink.
"We don't serve your kind", he said.
"You better move on, I think".


Q: Do you mind your Ps and Qs?

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Agnes
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Mon Nov 19, 2012 8:02 pm

P's and Cues



Ravi, Ravi, come out and play.
Please put your blow-up doll away.
The sun is out. The sky is blue,
and all the girls are missing you.
Come. Be nimble. Come. Be quick.
Come dance under my Limbo stick.
Don't be bashful. Don't be shy.
Don't make me poke you in the eye.
Ravi, Ravi, come out and play.
I guess that's all I have to say.


The question is: Will he bring us posies?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Jabberwhacky » Tue Nov 20, 2012 4:02 pm

Rring-a-ring a rosies,
my comfys got my cozies,
roses are red
and violets are blue,
since i am well-bred,
here's a poesy for you.



did that (really) take 5 minutes?

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Agnes
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Tue Nov 20, 2012 5:00 pm

Five or ten, but then who's counting?
You came, and that's all that really matters.
The rhymes are racing. The beats are mounting.
Hare on the table. Cat a grinnin'. Tea cups flying, splitter splatter.
I feel like the Queen of Hearts. I do.
And you, Mad Hatter, we've been missing you.

The question is: Will you stay?

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Cat Sith
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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Wed Nov 21, 2012 8:12 am

He has to stay. He cannot leave.
I say we tie him to the eaves
with pen and paper by his hand.
He cannot go, you understand?

Dear Ravi, he must stay and play
to keep the gloomy beasts away
the ones that try to block our minds,
the ones that sneak up from behind.

Fresh new words, I know he keeps.
Perhaps he'll drop them as he sleeps,
and we can catch them as they fall
and nurture them until they crawl.

I like the posies. I really do.
But he just brought one - and it was for you.
My vase is empty like my brain.
I hope my poem is not in vain.

Dear Ravi, where oh where are you?
It's awfully hard to wait. It's true.
We're trying hard to stay alive.
Please come back and give us five.

Q: Do you have any sunflowers?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Agnes » Wed Nov 21, 2012 3:41 pm

Sunflowers--I have a few.
Or maybe just one, but it's for you.
Now, don't wear it out or make it cry,
'cause if its petals fall off, it will die,
and then you'll be back where you started--
beggin' sunflowers from the nearly departed.

The question is: Damn. How did I forget the question?

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Re: Toil and succour

Postby Cat Sith » Wed Nov 21, 2012 6:40 pm

Thank you for my flower,
I'll keep it in the sun
and give it water daily
so the petals will stay on.

As for your lost question,
I think you'll find it here.
In the answer to your giving,
the question is quite clear.

Q: What are you thankful for?


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