For our poetry jam on Twitter this past Tuesday, @tspoetry provided a series of prompts taken from packaging found in the cabinet. Our instructions were to pick up words from the prompts and each other, and make poems. Below is the first of several posts, this one containing six poems.
Poems from the Cupboard
By @llbarkat, @doallas, @mxings, @PoemsPrayers, @TchrEric, @togetherforgood, @monicasharman, @mmerubies, @KathleenOverby, @lauraboggess and @gyoung9751; cameo appearance by @Lorrie58; edited by @gyoung9751.
Wild Honey, Wild Bees
I’ll have to take your word for it,
and once I take a word I keep it.
I will take your words, golden and
heavy, stir them in and sip them with my
wild honey, cultivated by wild bees,
ruled by a wild queen, her flowing
hair, like lei after lei, a greeting thick
dense with the smell of honey;
hives in motion, rushed by a tropical
breeze;
full moon, coral lying deep, like
the sleep where I dream of you.
Let me sit, sandwiched between
full moon and rich red soil,
breathing in blossoms.
Wild honey tipped, I trace my
finger in its amber, ancient promise
arising from ancient coral deposits,
full like the moon, eyes deep as the
color of rich red soil,
wrapping my hair round the tropical
breeze.
You are like a beautiful pink blossom;
I am attracted to you like the bee.
Orchards Thrive Here
Tropical fruit orchards thrive here, and
in the spring their fragrant blossoms
are abuzz with honeybees.
My mind buzzes like a bee, drawn to a
rare pink blossom,
pink blossom new, untested, not yet
ripe with spring’s gifts, seeking.
Lush are orchards in spring, their
blossoms weighty with fragrance,
honeybees dipping to taste the life
they spread.
Honeybees tease, much like you,
without meaning to (much). Do you tease,
or are these weighty blossoms truth?
Heart abuzz, sticky with amber promises,
a dancer picks what she wants from the
orchard, scents heavy, calling flower to
flower, the gift deposited. Brush the bees
off the dancer’s back; she is arched, stung.
You are like no other, rich, exotic, heavy on
my heart.
Salve the sting with rich, buttery
honey to soothe the tempest below.
Bees gather,
make honey,
pollinate.
Bees.
Sting.
Cut on the Coral
Cut on the coral, the red slip of hurt
teasing a line in the soil, she sits
amidst the bees on a beach of
whiteness, of purity.
She feels the coral, and presses the
bees into its inmost shards.
She sits quietly amid the
coral shards,
observing
the
desolation
left
behind.
Borrowing Words
Can I borrow your words?
I want to eat them. The ones I
do not eat, I will feed to those who
have no words for all their own.
I want to write poems wild.
I want to do it unafraid.
Can you dance naked in the
moonlight with a song? Dripping with
dark honey, I will dance for you.
I will dare to tantalize and
vandalize.
I will vandalize your mind.
The Label by Candlelight
Thick and viscous can surely wait;
higher content, not of sweetness tried
nor wanted.
Easier than darkness
is candlelight.
Easier than sunshine
is moonglow.
What else do I have?
Check in the cabinet for me, honey.
Swimming Through Honey
I try so hard,
like swimming through thick, dark honey,
but see no way to make “antioxidant activity”
sound poetic.
Borrow my words, naked, clothed;
either way they will soothe
smooth your way.
Well, you are right about that,
a good thing to keep in mind, yes.
Once I put my words on you,
spit my words on you,
they will drip from you,
dark and golden
hot and cold
buzzing in your ears
in the dark. Keep in
mind how dark
honey soothes.
You are my anti-oxcide,
dripping down within me.
creating me,
cleaning me,
making me new.
Will you soothe me
with rich dark words?
Can we dance a dance of words
and souls bared naked?
- Poets and Poems: Benjamin Myers at “The Family Book of Martyrs” - January 31, 2023
- Poets and Poems: Laura Mullen and “After I Was Dead” - January 24, 2023
- “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” – An Old Poem, a New Artwork - January 17, 2023
Erin says
Oh hooray. i’ve been looking forward to them all week. 🙂
Heather says
This is my third poetry party and, thus far, my FAVORITE set of poems. I love them, love them, love them.