Monday, December 20, 2004

I've gotten a lot of use out of these stick on letters. I've had them so many years, I'm amazed the glue is still as good as the day I bought them. Posted by Hello

What's a word morgue?

A word morgue is a box full of words used to trigger creativity. Add as many words as you like. Choose them at random and use them to launch poetry or journal entries or blogs or stories. Posted by Hello
My word morgue.  Posted by Hello

Think Pink

Think Pink

Today I'm going to stay ahead of negativity.
I'm going to put on my rose colored glasses.
I'm going to stop being such a cynic.
I'm going to close my eyes and remember what my kids looked like when they were babies.
I'm going to think about my best stage shows.
I'm going to sing my favorite songs from childhood.
I'm going to put on my make-up and pretend I am a princess.
I'm going to remember what I was like when I was a virgin,
Before I knew how much it hurt to have a lover reject me.
I'm going to look for the best in people.
I'm going to be kind to strangers, even the seedy looking ones.
And I'm going to smile on the outside even if I don't feel like it on the inside.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

I thought we needed a little art to go with the words. Posted by Hello

Funny it says poet, not poetry.

      
poet is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

The Last Dance

I just finished this a minute ago. I'm sure I'll be making some changes. It's R rated so if such things offend you, don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy.

The Last Dance

She watched him in the shadows as she danced with great lust
Her garments laced tightly but not so tightly her breathing would suffer
Within the boning and velvet her buxom cleavage was embraced
Her fashionably tattered skirts topped by her blood red corset
And spilling over it were her spiraling auburn tresses
The drums played faster and she could feel the pounding of her caged heart

In the end it always came down to matters of the heart
She knew in the long run it would take more than lust
She danced faster, her dark eyes flashing under her wild tresses
She was proud that she had made men suffer
Made them long for what was under her skirts and corset
Made them pay dearly to pull her into their drunken embrace

But she’d had enough of sweaty drunken embraces
While those encounters wet her thighs, they never won her heart
She felt chills as she saw his eyes wander down her corset
So she danced closer to the shadows just to feed her own lust
Licking her full lips, staring into his eyes, watching him suffer
Close enough to feel his fingers entwine in her tresses

Feeling his lips suddenly on hers, his elegant hands dragging her by her tresses
Dragging her behind the heavy velvet drapes, pressing her into a hard embrace
And she kissed him back just as fiercely, as if he would by her passion suffer
As if she could stoke the fire of his need until it was hot enough to win her heart
For she was quite the savant when it came to deepening a man’s lust
She felt his nails slide down her neck, her chest, to her corset

She felt consumed by his fire, suddenly wishing to be free from her stiff corset
His other hand pushing aside her sweaty tresses
His body pinning her firmly to the wall behind the draperies, the musk of lust
She couldn’t focus, she was gasping in his embrace,
She wanted him more than she had wanted anything, wanted him with her whole heart
And she who wants it most will be made the most to suffer

And then she felt his nails pierce her breast, and in her eyes he saw her suffer
Blood dripping slowly down her d├ęcolletage, splashing on her corset
His acute other worldly ears heard her ragged heart beating
He buried his face in her hair, sinking his fangs in the pale flesh beneath her tresses
And she knew, too late, too late, this was her final embrace
She was paying the highest price for her passion, paying with her soul for her lust

Finally a being that could take her heart as no human could, could make her suffer
And so heightened was her lust that she had a final orgasm, even as the blood flowered like a rose on her corset
And he lifted her into his arms, her tresses sticking to the blood, as he finished the embrace.

My first Sestina~The Last Dance

The Sestina is a 39 lined poem developed by the French in the 12 century. Here is a page that explains the format. http://www.baymoon.com/~ariadne/form/sestina.htm

Monday, December 06, 2004

blue elf

Today's five words:

Doe-eyed
machinery
ephemoral
merriment
blue


ESCAPE
Leave the machinery behind
Join the blue doe-eyed elf
in ephemoral merriment

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Random Five Poem 2

Wordlist:
poetess
saint
unicorn
myth
kisses

Dewy Kisses

She's a saint on a unicorn
She is dewy kisses on your brow
She is hot fudge and teddy bears
And warm fuzzy bunny slippers
She is not a myth
She is a poetess
She lives in your memory

Fayme Harper
copyright 2004-2005

Poetry Assignment~Random Five

For this assignment, you make word lists, print the list, cut out the words and put them in a bag or hat or box so you can draw them out.
Then draw out five words, and use them in a poem.

Random Five Poetry
cirque de luna
moan
calliope
prestidigitation
fingerpainting

Circus of the Moon

The circus is like a living fingerpainting
Cirque de luna bathed in moonlight
Elves on prancing ponies
The mesmerizing calliope
Prestidigitators in tails and top hats
Ladies so beautiful the audience moans
As they swing on the trapeze
Pink poodles and diamond eyed divas
Fire eaters and ferocious tigers
Under the midnight stars

by Fayme Harper
copyright 2004-2005




Welcome

Welcome to Prancing Pony Poetry