The Riddle of the Word

I belong to a Riddle game forum, in which posters are obliged to guess the previous riddle before posting their own. Since riddles are typically in poetic format (inspired by Tolkien) I decided to post my most recent riddle, which took the Riddle Roomers forty=one days to solve.

The Riddle of 'The Word'

Not people obsessed with birds were they

who with certainty, denied any special maternity,

In the palace of Wisdom now defiled.

The people cried in defense from the Nile,

to the northern seas, thoroughly riled.

On the shores of the Aegean

Came a great legion

Sequestered, they sought

to pray and find the answer.

What word did they settle on?

Answer: (Theotokos)

An Attempted Poetic Expression of Blessed Mary’s Voice

(From one who once heard her speak.)

“With a ring of lily petaled bells
She speaks in bright soprano reflections,
Of giving sun and mirrored moon…”

Eternity contained within a voice, and yet
Three lines are all this pen can conceive!
The womb is dry, the mouth barren,
With truths that cannot be put to paper!

The ink dried! All expression denied!
Cassandra trice accursed yet no Apollo scorned.
Three lines, no more! Three lines, no more!
And every word falls dead at which it speaks.

“With a ring of lily petaled bells
She speaks in bright soprano reflections,
Of giving sun and mirrored moon…”

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Poem - The Final Solution

Aka: When the Brothers remove Shredder's head from his body



Leonardo
To push the matter to a final conclusion
I stand in a fine red mist, sprinkling
A pitter patter of soft surrender
To silence in the slicing through a throat

Raphael
To push the matter to a final conclusion
Twin leaders but chosen only one, splattered
A violent fountain choked with filth and bile
To Hell, with the severing of his head

Donatello
To push the matter to a final conclusion
Three stand in trinity stance, arterial-spray
Erythrocytes and leukocytes and thrombocutes
To brain death, through lack of oxygen

Michelangelo
To push the matter to a final conclusion
Four brothers alone in cardinality, bloody
Sin held by all through struck by one regardless
To Shredder’s defeat, and initiation into murder

Morbid stuff comes out when I get bored

Crabs slither, dragging their claws
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to claim me?

A gentle breeze brushes the palms
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to touch me?

The tide pulls at my bare ankles
In the moonlight, or is it you
Come back to drown me?

Introduction to Ashok

I am very happy to have joined this small poetic community, and I hope it grows.



Here are some commentaries on poems I love to read and reread. You'll find towards the bottom of that list a list of my own poems, and I do encourage you to read them and find out if you think I have any standing as a poet or not.



I wish I had more to add, but I think that's all for now.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Slipping

(This is an old poem of mine, but my personal favorite.)

I’m letting you slip through my fingers again tonight
I stare into cerulean eyes only to find myself
Thinking of something else entirely, like palm trees
Or the taste of pineapple dissolving in my mouth
Then you blink, blue to cream to blue
Jolting me awake, my tongue dries in my mouth
Have you been speaking all this time?

I ponder the courses of my wandering heart
And in pondering, my mind once again leaves you
To linger on the shores of psychology
Embracing philosophy
Dancing in the sand with St. Augustine
We’re tracing footprints in the shallows only to see them
Washed away by the tide and swell of you
My feet are cramping, I curl them under myself
Have you been speaking all this time?

Navy knit sweater over the crest of shoulders
It moves with your breathing, a hypnotic pulse
Your breath catches mine and I fall
Plunging head first into Davy Jones’ locker
The quicksilver current carries me away
I am entranced by dolphin laughter
Ensnared in tangles of seaweed
I see a flash of sapphire in my periphery
And sink down, seeking the quiet
Lonely depths of the mid-Atlantic trench
Then, hooked and netted, thrown onto the beach
My lungs paralyzed, gaping wide like a flounder
The door slams, I’m alone on the couch
Have you been speaking all this time?

Challenge response-

Latest news: Mel writes more random religous poetry.

This is not my best poem, but it fulfills the challenge. *sigh*

Alpha
The first
Mystery
The Origin
Creator of All
But, crushed, His blood poured out
Shed for our infirmity.
Along the narrow streets
Death loses the prize
We kneel, search for
He, our dawn
and also
Omega

Poetry DOOM Challenge #1

He he he, I love the word DOOM, don't you?

Anywho, this is challenge number one for this group and I hope it results in brilliant work that will forever immortalize us as poetry masters! Or something like that... Here goes:

This is the Syllables Challenge!

Rules:
1) Free verse.
2) No rhyme.
3) There must be a definate structure to the poem, and that structure must be created by manipulating the number of syllables per line.
3) No haiku or any other premade syllabic forms. You've got to make up your own syllable structure.
4) Did you notice that there are two number threes?
5) No cheating or else... you will be sent to a zero g room with crack-monkies, bananas, and one veeeery frustrated elephant.

Stumbling, she humbly enters...

I have the honor of being invited to post in this lovely place of rhyme and unreason.

And so, here is my first poem:

Gregorian Chant

Many waves flow against a high shore,
incomprehensible, unless you know
there is more--
The complex made simple, like in old days.
And so as a simple pine box
is carried out the world says
"How beautiful!"
And stops, holds breath, waits...

This strange new world tries, with vanity,
to make this same complex simplicity,
but though it is lovely,
it is not the same with computers.

A smorgasboard of random stuff. Yay!

1 (poetry)
sharing is nudity
dangerously tempting
running at the mouth
to share too much
a flinch but i'm blind

2 (selfishness)
that face is not a reflection
those eyes are not your eyes
so when you salivate
remember that they don't
or might
or definately agree

3 (Why am I obsessed with beach imagery? WHY?!)
I write about things I don't like
And places I don't care to see
I dream about the ocean
But yawn upon the beach

(The Blessed Virgin Mary) 4
tiny hands and smooth
holds the Child without calluses
no sin to blacken the blood
in purity she rises
for Her it isn't to rot
but gracious blessings evermore