#responsepoem

[vivificame]

I thought it would be a gift for the rain to stop

But this used-to-be lake would give anything to be a puddle or pond

Seen too much death, grown callous and cracked

With a thirst that may never be quenched

I’m not sure how much longer I can go

Knowing this drought has rotted me to the core

All the sunshine I once craved

Makes it easier for me to dig my grave

when it rains it pours,

but how big must a puddle grow

before it is considered a pond?

when does a pond become a lake?

i’m drowning,

but i insist that i’m dry.

insist i couldn’t die.

now every single day is overtime.

is extra credit.

is derealized.

i’m drowning but i

wring my clothes

and promise that i’m dry.

it’s good for the flowers, they say.

that’s very good.

you’ll need them soon.

[elysian-tragedy]

Lamprocapnos

I once compared

the aroma of flowers

To candy

As a symptom of

My first long-term love.

A callow young poet,

The one who’s security deposit

I kept

When she broke

Her lease on the space

Behind my eyes;

She loved Candy.

A film of discarded

Silver wrappers forms to each

Crevasse and crease

below my foot

Her security deposit covers

the cleaning costs,

But I bear the

Toothache,

Trauma,

and Therapy

On my own.

Each day

Each week

Each month

Between her and I

Further disclose my mistake:

Not all flowers

smell of candy,

but Bleeding Hearts

Always do.

~ ll, 2023

[rabbicreditor]

Far too willing, always ready stick, sword, musket in hand to spill the blood of another. The Mark of Cain will remain until we set these horrid things down. #responsepoem @metmuseum #PierFrancescoMola #CainSlayingAbel #WeAreEachOthersKeepers #WeMustLearn (at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpA66GorD-D/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[master-of-hearts-xiii]

It will never be legitimate.

Not when you defy god and man at every turn.

Not when you’d rather watch bridges burn.

He was married- is married

As your faith is concerned

That gap in years matters

No matter what your heart yearns

Conflating mentor with lover

The first lesson to learn

Hurting your family

Their love you have spurned

Ignoring friends wishes

And all the fears that they warn.

What part do you feel is legitimate?

[sailorpoet]

Porcelain Doll-man

Tonight, I write about how sometimes we have to shatter everything to find the pieces that matter most.

I see myself in a picture, Looking far away, looking removed, And I want to run away from everything They asked me to do,

or just sledge- hammer the flawed porcelain doll-man standing on the stage singing words so well he doesn’t realize, like Monkee’s, they are genuine words of other people who

[writersblockletters]

the whole world lacks detail sometimes

i want only to inhabit the individual blades of grass

[fierce-elegance]

#thebluesteye #pecolabreedlove #tonimorrison #poetrycommunity #creativewriting #poetrygram #igpoets #wordoftheday #responsepoem #readingisgoodforwriting #readthenwrite #instapoet #fortheloveofpoetry #workingprogress

[jgmac1106]

<pre> scavengers among the last species to feed on carrion. life histories poorly known motionless behavior of decomposing carcasses #clmooc #foundpoem #responsepoem #smallpoem </pre>

[infinitee-possibilities]

Significance

In the sleepless hours, soon after the setting of the sun,

I am embraced by an inevitable darkness--

It engulfs me as I drop deep into the abyss of my thoughts.

I ponder about the reason for my existence, the significance of my stories,

the grief I feel for remote memories is completely irrelevant

to everyone and everything except me, myself, and I.

So what am I? What is the reason for my existence?

I am simply on human being within the existence of nearly seven billion:

seven billion people who inhabit this earth,

this earth that is part of a solar system of eight planets, a sun, and an untold quantity of stars,

this solar system that can easily be represented by a dot in the Milky Way Galaxy.

And the Milky Way Galaxy?

It’s hardly a drop of water in the ocean when compared to the rest of the universe.

― An original response, Significance (by infinitee-possibilities)

[responsepoetry]

Response to "Cleopatra" by Meggie Royer

Read the Original First Here

I have witnessed the great void It has found me in my many nights alone and detached from The fingers and lips and curves I once knew and now only half remember as ecstasy and warmth Even then, after we untangled our pulsing bodies Straightening anything we could make straight I felt the shame of not feeling enough Halfhearted towards the lover that unknowingly gave everything All to someone who had nothing real to give A child that couldn’t muster up real care So now I sit with the great void, and it knows me too well I place all that I deem as precious around it, because that is as close to filling an abyss one can get By letting others near it, showing them that it exists, hoping they aren’t afraid to fall in But it swells and sometimes I think that it’s stretching So I lock my precious things away before they are swallowed forever Though I’m not so good at mending myself, it seems nobody else can find where to place the tourniquet My heart will mumble hackneyed motivations on these nights He will even quote Mark Antonius in an attempt to promote sanity “Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief…” Grief is grief, I tell him, no matter how it breeds We cannot hide from what it so deeply rooted in our being, we cannot run from our own existence And if I’m mistaken, if you find a path that leads to a lesser pain Please take all of us hurting ones with you

[sailorpoet]

The Length of a Moment, Eternally (Part Two of A Yeats' Response)

The Length of a Moment, Eternally (Part Two of A Yeats’ Response)

{This morning, I posted a response to Yeats’ The Indian to His Lover and commented that I felt there was a second response poem in the later part of the poem.  I wrote this on the airplane from Hong Kong.}

My footsteps barely show in the sand next to yours Maybe, the fact is, only I can see them, though With the certainty of our living love, I know You feel them press down next to the lake, just…

[g0ddessbunni]

Just because.

Just because we arent together. Doesn't mean I stop caring. Just because we hardly talk. Doesn't mean I stop wondering. Just because I'm not physically there. Doesn't mean I still cant be there. Just because I dont talk to you 1st Doesn't mean you can't talk to me. Just because i dont show it Doesn't mean I stop worrying Just because I dont always reblog stuff Doesn't mean I stop checking your tumblr Just because you can't drive Doesn't mean I wouldn't walk to you Just because it might not seem like I'm here. Doesn't mean I can't be near. Just because you dont know it. Doesn't mean its true. Just because you are blue. Doesn't mean I can't be there for you. Believe it or not I'm still here. I might not be near but I still care. I still wonder and worry about you in the back of mind. You fully haven't gone away, which it will over time. I still love you enough to make sure your fine. I still care about you not just this one time. Please dont hurt your self. It brings me in tears. Because I still read your poem's, my dear. I hope we can build up a friendship again because I miss you. It would make me so happy to be able to see you. So I'm willing to walk to you if you need me, dont worry I'm not going to bite. But please dont give up that fight.

[lisajean1015]

DuPoWriMo, February 21, 2013: Response poem

Response poem for today:

I gave up ironing for Lent in 2001 and haven't seen an Easter yet. Saint John of the Crease, Our Lady of the Steam Burn, pray for me, for my deadly sloth. Glory be to God for wrinkled things, for beauty past caring, for that pair of pants since Wednesday night in a heap at the foot of the bed.

Source poem by Debbie:

When the ironing board is left standing, puffs of steam from the iron stranded in a mystery of lost chores, I will remember wrinkles situated like lace across an array of buttondown shirts, and necks upon necks of ties.

Last response poem! Tomorrow, a three-line seventeen-syllable first renga stanza.

[sailorpoet]

Backcatablogging: Tanya Cliff and Siren Whispers and a response poem "In the Deep"

Backcatablogging: Tanya Cliff and Siren Whispers and a response poem “In the Deep”

It has been a true pleasure to explore the back catalogs of two wonderful poets: Tanya Cliff and Siren Whispers. Siren’s poetry covers a great range of sensual writing from explorations of nature, understanding grief and sorrow, and raw sensuality. Early in her work I found a shared connection with the sea and the transitional seasons of Autumn and Spring. Tanya covers an equally broad range of…

[sailorpoet]

40 Minutes

{response poem only to https://saynotoclowns.wordpress.com/}

Say no to clowns, rode in on the donkey thinking The end of this adventure will require humility. So when we departed one another in the desert I had no regrets, but second thoughts do come Every now and then. Couldn’t I reach more souls If I was the one king to rule them all?

Say no to clowns, harder to do in a crown Drops of blood and…

[sailorpoet]

A Madeleine Moment

Squirming, his seat offered him a memory Stolen from a blissful archive, an unabashed Moment in time that lingered, a Madeleine Proust would have spun into an eighth book.

There is a period in life when roller coasters Are terrifying, a terror that builds each step Closer to the front of the line as The Eager Ones Pile up behind, conveying their enthusiasm for

Horror. And so he bit into a…