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Poetry Magnum Opus


  1. Poetry

    1. Member Poetry

      Post your poems (up to three per week), receive comments, and comment on the works of others

    2. Member Poetry (overflow)

      Post as many poems as you want per week, receive comments, and comment on the works of others

    3. Promotions

      Promote your books, websites, blogs, and other publications

    4. Member Archive

      An Index to Members' Poems

  2. Reference Section

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    2. 587
    3. 22
  3. General

    1. General Discussion

      Share and chat about topics of interest

    2. Literary Discussion

      Discuss literature and writing

    3. 12
  4. Special Interest

    1. 112
    2. 615
    3. 524
    4. PMO Audio

      Share audio recordings of your poems (members only)

  5. Prose and Longer Poetic Works

    1. The Prose Forum

      Share and discuss your essays, short stories, and other works of prose

    2. 35
  6. Reading

    1. A Poem I Read Today

      Read a poem you like recently? Share it!

    2. Favorite Poets

      Discuss your favorite poets and their work

  7. Art

    1. 81
    2. Photography, Drawing, and Painting

      Share your own photography, drawings, and paintings

  8. Welcome

    1. 5
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  • Topics

  • Posts

    • Once an addict always an addict,
      even when sober with a 5 year chip,
      triumph tenuous.
      ~~jvg Prompt: Write a poem in exactly 24 syllables using the word "triumph".
    • Running with the Dead (This is about)   This poem is about Being awkward bookish Frustrated fanciful and Fuming this is about   Standing before Audience Trying to speak truth Before you know yourself and the wanting   The Wanting for something real authentic but you haven’t separated   Intensity from Love Pain from Ecstasy Experience from Responsibility its   About finding my friends And favorite authors before dream had edged into waking Wishing   For nuclear absolution To be wiped clean To remain comfortable as violence transforms   From chronic to terminal about holding onto stories Tight tight their horizons obscured the death   Of their species a moment of celebration rather than loss Dumbfounded jogging through An old cemetary I saw our   Names repeated An endless Liturgy Echoing the antecedents Of those I thought I knew   And started laughing as the two hawks who Landed told me You Know nothing and   possibly, nothing too well And so this is about The Hare who was frightened Running and hiding   Saying Silly Silly Boy Your world is so fragile Enjoy this hunt chase magnificent   Now.
    • I'm old,
      move slower these days,
      but like a rustic old water pump,
      words pour crystal clear
      from my well.
                   ~~Jvg   Prompt: write a poem in exactly 24 syllables using the word "rustic"
    • Agreed Tink. Same goes for reading. Sometimes I read a poem in the same way I listen to music - just enjoying the sounds. Especially enjoyed No.5.
    • Thanks Tink. I quite like the ease of not writing, but then tinkering with an old poem inked the pen! I played. best badge
    • A rare sonnet from you Badge.  This is a lovely piece on aging and relationships.  It felt familiar. ~~Tink
    • Hi Berry,  What a beautiful concept, "music pre-exists".   I suppose it does, somewhere, but I had never thought about it before. 

      "wings camouflaged as waterfalls"    I love the creative imagery.   "music ushers the closer to the divine"    Lovely.   

      I liked this poem a lot,  ~~Tink
    • Not every poem has to be great poetry.  ~~jvg

      hot and sweet,
      begins my day.
      The strong liquid wakens
      my mind.

      How fast
      the kitten
      is growing up.
      She has doubled in size,
      too soon.

      day of rest
      and I need it.
      I'll pray from home today,
      Thanks Lord.

      fog creeps in,
      cools summer heat.
      The damp chill is welcome.

      surrounds me.
      Even the birds
      keep their songs within them,
      at peace.
                               ~~jvg Cinqku
    • I had to adjust a few settings which I new would cause some comments in this topic to disappear, so I took some screenshots to save the conversation. I'll paste them below.
    • I like the word oval. So for breakfast
      an egg, just like this hand, brown and freckled.
      My spoon taps gently on the shell. A child
      at heart I cut soldier boys from my toast. My wife believes in exercise and buys
      organic veg. Friday's always fresh fish.
      She steams their eyes to pearls and never sighs.
      I like the swaying fennel, but not the fish. It's winter now. She walks on settled snow
      down the Kissing Lane, and locks our door
      because I lost her gloves. I'm getting slow.
      She takes her sister's eager Labrador. I see her hands are cold, her sable hair
      flecked with frost. Childless we've grown old.

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