Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
Weekly Poetry Stuffage
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Week 127 (June 23-29). Poems. Topic: Swimming Pool.
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Yay, we love M for being fantastic.This is my poem, hopfully you can tell it is about agirl learning to swim, but in case you can't that is what it is about.
Strong Arms
She walks, she stumbles, she rises again.
She runs, she falters, but keeps going
She kicks, she thrashes, and slowly she rises
But with no help, she once more descend.
There is no air, there is no breeze
There only this wet stuff, stifling.
Wriggling free she pushes up
Shaping her hand to form a cup
A strong grip helps her to come near
She grasp it for dear life
Her father face is smiling at her
He say's she did just fine.
She tries again safe in his arms
There is nothing that could cause her harm
Joy fills her heart as she kicks her feet
She's got it right finally, and now she swims with ease.
Christa, I just read “Strong Arms.” It reminded me of when I was a kid and was taken for swimming lessons. The teacher had to throw me in. I like the lines “There is no air, there is no breeze / There only this wet stuff, stifling. . . .”I came up with a poem this morning, but compared to yours, it’s very dreary.
The Old Municipal PoolThe boards of the bathhouse are rotten,
deep in leaves the pool’s cracked floor.
The town has changed and has forgotten.
Steps of broken iron ore
lead to a jungle of huge vines,
some hanging from a rusting tower
like a schoolgirl’s doodled lines.
The air is thick with what’s in flower.
The strange stillness recalls her name,
the empty desk in the next row,
how time had stuck in one scratched frame
now fifteen Decembers ago.
They’d found her dead in the deep water,
beaten, bruises on her throat,
a used-car salesman’s long-haired daughter.
I still have her last love note.
I wander into the green gloom
beneath the canopy of leaves,
as though back into that classroom.
She wore blue jeans and flowing sleeves,
and nothing thrilled me like her smiles.
Our footsteps echoed in the school
as mine do now on ruined tiles
of the enormous swimming pool
a thug has left a haunted place.
Hearing her laughter as before,
I turn. Where once I saw her face
is but a splintered bathhouse door.
Is is very sad, but I like the language in yours so much better. I really liked this verse best."They’d found her dead in the deep water,
beaten, bruises on her throat,
a used-car salesman’s long-haired daughter.
I still have her last love note."
Thanks, Christa! It’s useful to know what part of it stands out for you. Before I wrote it, I tried to come up a sort of story it could be about.In the town where I went to high school, there’s a deep ravine, and down in it there used to be a municipal swimming pool. The pool must have been beautiful at one time, but had been closed for years and was overgrown.
Christa, you may or may not find this interesting. These are photos of the pool under construction.http://louisdl.louislibraries.org/cdm...
http://louisdl.louislibraries.org/cdm...
http://louisdl.louislibraries.org/cdm...
Wow cool. Looks like it is in a great spot, although where they would put a parking lot beats me. But kids walked more in those days so they probably didn't need one.
Wow! Two contrasting but equally great poems. Swimming pools are a luxury when I was growing up, so Christa's poem applies to me when I was already in college. I like it. I can see the girl nervously searching for her dad's face while waddling in the water :)
M's got powerful images. It was hypnotic. My most favorite lines were:
I wander into the green gloom
beneath the canopy of leaves,
as though back into that classroom.
She wore blue jeans and flowing sleeves,
and nothing thrilled me like her smiles.
It felt like I was walking through that canopy of leaves myself and getting transported in another dimension. Really good!
Sheblogger aren't you going to post something. It simply is not fair to have only me against M :D
Haven't given it a thought yet. Hopefully inspiration would strike before the end date for submission :)
Thanks, Alex and SheBlogger!Christa, there wasn’t any place to park near the pool. It was in a deep ravine, next to what had been the high school. To get to it, you parked by the gym, then went down a long flight of stone steps. The town was so small that in those days kids could easily have walked just about anywhere in it, or gone on bicycle. Now Mansfield is a desolation in the midst of a huge area where drilling for natural gas is going on.
I always think it is so interesting to read poems, where the writer is actually talking about a real thing. When I try to do that is comes out wrong (Maybe I just don't have enough experiences yet) so that fact you can do that it very intriguing.
Here is the first poem I wrote for this week, but I like it less than my other one. Strong Arms is the one I am entering but I would like to know what you think of this one.A Day at the Pool
The water laps gentle
The sun Shines down
I lay on a towel
And quickly turn brown.
Children laughing
Running wildly
Jumping into cool blue
And gleefully they scream.
Rolling me eyes
Yelling at them
Careful I call
Or with the sharks you'll swim
Dragging our feet
Flopping on the floor
Grabbing a fast shower
Before joining them with a snore
This is a day at the pool
A break from the normal droll
Home we are tiered
But tomorrow we again go
Haha, I don't even try to compare with the other poems here, but I love the topic and couldn't resist posting something :)Poolside Goddesses
There they lay, beside the pool,
Like goddesses on the sea.
Their skin, golden like the sun,
Their hair is loose and free.
They prance around in the latest brands,
And brag about their price.
They sit and laugh, all dry and clean,
Drinking white wine on ice.
Not once, do they enter the pool,
To feel its cool embrace.
But rather sit for hours on end,
Like they own this place.
They love to talk of other beauties,
Who'd left from too much sun.
And when children enter the gods domain,
They 'ruin' the beauties' fun.
At each splash, the beauties scream,
"Oh, my Prada's spoiled!"
And how, "Chlorine will wreck my hair,
I just had it newly foiled!"
This I know, for I was once,
A goddess by the sea.
But now, all old, I sit and laugh,
At what once was me.
Hahah, I love it! Too funny and so true.
What are you saying, Rachel? You're poem is very good. Very realistic. It's a funny attack on "real life" fears of "beauties". I like it very much, especially the lines: And when children enter the gods domain,
They 'ruin' the beauties' fun.
Okay, here's my last minute entry. I hope it's decent enough to post :(The Lady by the Pool
By SheBlogger
Water sparkling
In the dark of night
Alluring, inviting
Under the pale moonlight
There on the other side
Sitting serenely by the pool
The most exquisite beauty
Jaws dropped, I started to drool
Her long ivory legs
Dangling, paddling teasingly
Her emerald eyes
Piercing through my heart fiercely
On their own will
My feet dipped in the water
Body all submerged
I slowly walked towards her
Heedless of the cold
Neither of my slow descent
Even when I started to drown
I only thought of her sweet scent
From under the water
I could still see her smiling
Right above me
Like an angel beguiling
Out of breath
But I didn’t care
Feeling so elated
I willingly died right there
Christa, there are some nice images in “A Day at the Pool.” To me, a poem with short lines is usually a lot harder to write, and I think you did a good job.“Poolside Goddesses” (great title!) is written in ballad stanzas that are broken up, and the rhyme is perfect, as is the comparison of the vain sunbathers to sea goddesses, of the pool to the sea. This writing has a lot of flair!
In “The Lady by the Pool,” a lorelei-like figure lures the poem’s speaker to a blissful, if watery, death. The writing has that something about it that, all on its own, makes the poem a thrill to read.
M wrote: "In “The Lady by the Pool,” a lorelei-like figure lures the poem’s speaker to a blissful, if watery, death. The writing has that something about it that, all on its own, makes the poem a thrill to read."
Thank you, M. I thought my poem failed to express what I was trying to achieve, but with your comment, I guess it somehow succeeded :)
I can’t speak for others, of course, but I find that I have such a strong, instinctive revulsion to drowning, that there are no legs, however long and like ivory, no eyes, however enticing, that could lure me to the death that awaits the poem’s speaker. So I suppose I don’t find the ending altogether believable. I love the writing, however, and some of the imagery.
M wrote: "I can’t speak for others, of course, but I find that I have such a strong, instinctive revulsion to drowning, that there are no legs, however long and like ivory, no eyes, however enticing, that co..."Well, in that case, I did fail to convince readers that she was an enchanted creature and hypnotized men to their death. But still I'm glad you liked it :)
Could someone else set up the polls and contest? I'm busy today.
I’ll do it. Is “ghost” okay for the new topic?
Sure. Meanwhile, I'll clean to the soundtrack of ... Lady and the Tramp?
The polls for the Week 127 Poetry Stuffage are up. Go vote, ye pirates! Please don’t throw tomatoes at the musicians.http://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/67...
Edward wrote: "Sure. Meanwhile, I'll clean to the soundtrack of ... Lady and the Tramp?"What?
I was busy all day because I had to clean. I was going to put in some music but my fifteen month old brother decided to watch Lady and the Tramp.
Aww isn't that sweet! My little sister loves that movei, I had to ban it from the house for while.
All I remember about Lady and the Tramp is Peggy Lee’s singing “He’s a Tramp,” and there was some cute dialogue in a scene at an Italian restaurant:“But-a, Tony, dogs-a don’t talk.”
“He’s-a talk-a to me!”
It's a good movie. The first act establishes Lady as being raised by humans in a community where a collar and tag was considered a badge of honor while the Tramp evades dog catchers and lives life "foot-loose and collar-free." The Lady's human owners are going to have a bady, and the Tramp happens to wander in at the right moment to tell her that, "There's only so much room for love and affection in a human heart; when the baby moves in, the dog moves out." Then the first night with the babysitter, a catperson, just makes everything go downhill from there.We are Siamese, if you please.
We are Siamese, if you don't please.
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in this group.
Your poem can be any length short of 3,500 words.
This week’s topic is: Swimming Pool.
The rules are pretty loose. You can write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. I do not care, but the poem you post must relate to the topic somehow.
Have fun!