Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(1 votes)

RatingRated by

You must login to vote

It has been a long time since the last and it is time for another.

I would like to dedicate this Thread to Claire, who used to be a moderator here at Lit.Org but who sadly passed away. It wasn't until reading through the posting history that I was reminded.

Okay, the point is that whoever wants to post a poem on this thread they can, DO NOT post comments there is a seperate thread to comment on each others work.

The poems must include the following words:


The poem must be of 20 lines in length.

To those not familiar with the Poetry Thread it used to be a regular thread on Lit.Org organised to get peoples juices flowing.

Good luck and don't forget to post your comments on the other thread provided!

Ask not what you can do to poetry, but what poetry can do to you.

Related Items


The following comments are for "NEW POETRY THREAD"
by londongrey

poetry thread
Was standing at a party
drinking myself
into a blur
when I spotted him

He John Wayned through
the french doors
wearing a blue cotton blend shirt
My favorite color

Drinking a tall glass
of dark German beer
a little foam
on his upper lip

I wanted to walk over
and lick it off
but he was too tall
have to get me a ladder

What was I thinking?
I was buzzing like a bee
Better get me a strong cup of coffee
before I make a fool outa myself...

( Posted by: Nitz Kitty [Member] On: October 4, 2006 )

poetry thread
Heart transplant:

There’s no helping my bad behaviour
These are the habits of my heart
These, the closest customs most
Near the knuckle of my soul

Nothing for it, see?
This is what’s at the helm of my heart
A sail of carmine coloured cotton
Blown backwards on an ill wind

It’s gone beyond treatment, this
The hot chronic hub of the heart
Arteries hard as incurable amber
Pulmonary shards of polished glass

It will let in no more air and light
The shuttered, stoppered box of the heart
Will not be saved by your safe-cracker’s grace
You cannot locksmith me back from the bad

They took out my life with his, see?
When they bled him blue and cold
They swapped what warmed and beat and cared
For an unfeeling clod of cauterised coal

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 5, 2006 )

Choking me until I'm
Blue in the face

That's what your words
Add to my disgrace

Letting you pluck the
Cotton from my fields

Tiny glass trinkets
Become swords that you wield

Forever against my heart.
You; regret.

Blue bells and cotton
Murmurs in glass, never from shall I part.

( Posted by: chinadoll [Member] On: October 5, 2006 )

Poetry Thread Glass Cotton Blue
This, my heart that’s made of glass,
put it on the table and make full with wine.
Drink from it; kiss the brim with your lips.
Oh, how I’d love your eyes see the world
through the bottom of my heart!
drink from my heart that’s made of glass!

This, my heart that’s made of cotton,
put it inside your pocket, bring along with you at war.
Let it touch your wound
and soak up your blood and your brotherhood’s.
Oh, how I’d love you to bring a big ball of my heart!
put inside your pocket my heart that’s made of cotton!

This, my heart that’s made of blue
is the next one that children would ask why it were so.
A father, if you are, would say
it’s because of the sun above and the sea below.
Oh, how could that turn my heart blue I do not know!
Please dye with red my heart that’s made of blue!

( Posted by: peterpaulino [Member] On: October 5, 2006 )

poetry thread
Her cotton dress hugs her like a lover
In the brisk wind off the sea.
Standing proud against the rail,
Blue eyes keen for movement
Where sea and sky begin.

The pier all that keeps her bound from flight
Black tress a flagships’ pennant behind.
There for all the world to see,
The hour-glass of time no match
For the length a heart will wait.

Long dark nights she stirred in torment
Restless passion tempered in love
Awaiting once again
His strength to hold at bay
Lonely ghosts around her heart.

At last he takes her in his arms again,
Her dress no match for this one’s claim.
Long they stand in blissful solace,
Amid the hustle and bustle about
They kiss.

( Posted by: nauticus66 [Member] On: October 5, 2006 )

Poetry Thread
Slow Cotton Waltz

One day became the next
When I was a kid running
On the wind, across forever fields

My cousin’s house had cotton
People picking, singing in slow motion
Nothing worth hurrying then

The sky was always blue there,
Even in the rain, I always saw blue
And I remember it that way

The sky was bluer
In the shade by cotton bales,
Talking about Betty and Veronica

Old men chased us away with words
And we’d run to Ferrero’s store
Stare at all the sweet stuff for sale

Didn’t have a nickel then
But when I could I’d put my face
Low against the glass and breathe fog

( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: October 5, 2006 )

P T Thread
"Don't take away my teddy!"
cried the little girl
as she held it
to her chest

Once a furry brown bear
with blue glass eyes
Now hairless, sticky, and black
Well loved, seldom laid down

No one knows
when teddy lost
one of his eyes
It just disappeared

The little girl awoke one day
beside her a brand new bear
A beautiful mohair
with a cotton gingham bow

Inconsolable the girl
searched through the house
While a trash fire burned
in the backyard

( Posted by: Nitz Kitty [Member] On: October 6, 2006 )

Sad posting history
threw Claire through
the looking glass
as an Alice
with a shattered chalice
spilled the wine
kiss that girl
but she's but a dream-
extreme, I mean
dead, deceived or deceiver
trampled (but no tramp)
derided by the newly arrived
and as quickly dearly departed
autopsy dissection with cleaver
by non-believer
I loved her, I still do!
She helped me create myself-

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: October 6, 2006 )

elusive thread
I forgot blue and cotton...

I can't cotton to her detractors- it makes me feel blue to think of it.

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: October 6, 2006 )

poetry thread
Chelle’s letter:

She has pressed her love on to paper
In petitions of emerald ink
With a kiss as crisp as a capital letter
From a recently reddened mouth

She says the sea is little-boy-blue
On the island where she is
And at dawn she goes waterward trawling
For fish same silver as Frankie’s flute

For a minute I’m carried away
My glasshouse heart triples her heat
And I’m caught on the cusp of that kiss, whisked
From her recently rosy mouth

For a minute I’m carried away
Where she’s catching those stray strands of cotton
Where she sells seashells on sea shores
And bathes her pale skin gold

And she knows that I know she’s lying
That I’ll notice she posted it Belfast
She lies to be kind so I’ll take of the kiss
A gift from her specially scarletted mouth…

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 6, 2006 )

Poetry Thread II
Desert Night

I wear cotton shirts, best for the heat
Cotton trousers and cotton socks and denim shoes
It’s 110 degrees Fahrenheit, blast furnace dry
“It’s a dry heat” they’ll say
When we’ve all blistered and died

The desert at night turns heron gray
And life begins anew – all about in the shadows
When I’ve thought all day nothing could survive
All flourish in the heron night
It’s those gray herons they call blue

It is dark now, the temperature still 105
A mirage appears with the moon
It will be water by morning,
Now it is just pale glass, smoky dull
Forming lizards in the gray heron night

( Posted by: bwoz [Member] On: October 6, 2006 )

PT Thread
One kiss from you
can send me
into the blue heavens
skipping on fluffy clouds

Kiss me again
I fall back
into a featherbed
covered with soft cotton

Hold me in your arms
I will break
into a million pieces
like shards of tinkling glass

Lie to me
tell me I'm beautiful
tickle my feet
nibble on my earlobes

Someone pinch me now
wake me from this dream
before I die from sheer delight
I'm getting too old for this

( Posted by: nitz kitty [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

poetry thread
Síochán/ Behind wire sky

Behind the wire we watch
A big beheaded moon rise
And stars kick up their spurred heels
And comets crack their whips

Behind the wire we watch
As satellites travel and gamble
That moon, like an unpredictable prince
Waxing and waning on whim

By Christ how bitterly blue it is
In our small swatch of sky

Behind the wire we watch
Hour-glass galaxies cinched
And see the sun like a windfall drop
Roll ripened to the earth

Behind the wire we watch
Laundered cotton and calico dawns
As winter stills the world within
And with first frost a peace prevails

By Christ how wonderfully white it is
In our small swathe of sky…

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

poetry thread, encore
Little lapses/ care

It gets in to my chest
This raw repeating rib-pain
When I know I’m about to be bad
My senses sent on jury duty
Scream like tampered breaks
And trouble me like my lungs are teething
Brings blood in upward rush, beating
A frantic throbbing flamenco
A feeling in my head then like
Shin bones scraped on glass

And I know

I will cut up their cotton sheets
With nail scissors
I will break the blessed-blue vase
And I will twist the heads from
Their figurines, one by one
Like fine bone china grapes
Make myself unlovable
Cutting off my own nose to spite
My ugly fostered face

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

P T Thread
Rambled through the house
opening the windows
after the down pour
Love that clean smell

The skies blue again
Sun shining brightly
Animal shaped clouds
floating by

Children laughing
as they jump
in water filled pot holes
soaking their cotton undies

Older kids riding their bikes
through puddles
splashing mud
on backs of their tee shirts

Me behind this glass fortress
of a picture window
wishing I were young
once more

( Posted by: Nitz Kitty [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

Poetry Thread
Peppermint breaths steamed my view;
the window a welcomed refreshment too.
Thoughts of the late night's wakings
replaced everything with only you.

The fool I've been to a new thrill
thinking you did, BUT you never will,
hold me, love me, want me,.. promises,
hopes of tomorrows you did instill.

Autumn colors glimpse as to remind
there should be more for me to unwind.
If you were to see me would you be
able to read the tears you find?

Clear blue skies carry life away,
my heart grows weaker with each day
The passion for living escaped me
when you chose in walking away.

Crusted crimson weeps deep into
cotton wraps around my wrists too
Insanity my only steadfast friend
when from one we became just two.

( Posted by: Dareva [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

poetry thread (for Peter)
Little Buhay caused a storm in the hot tub,
a bronzed pebble in swirls of glass cotton buds
that fizzed and pinned Buhay in giggles,
white bearded monster of the South Islands!

Grandpa Buhay got a bead in his eye,
that glistening silver hair ran down, stuck,
fluttered into the black circle rimmed in red,
Little Buhay appeared, reborn from waves!

Mama got a custard pie in tiny blue drops,
each carried a squeal of laughter,
a scolding trickle but not from a tap,
Little Buhay steamed with the waves!

The cotton buds gave way to milky lines,
perfumed tide lines on speckled legs,
Mama sent the waves away,
Little Buhay was saved.

( Posted by: londongrey [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

The Thread #2 for me
Tucked protectively
in deep pockets
the stolen item
that causes my
heart to beat
thunder-thud songs




in between hard
swallows are lonely
whispers "it's mine,
all mine" finally
in a sweaty grasp
I hold it tightly
something that was
hers, all hers,
now "mine, all mine".

From the dark alley
I see her shadow
behind the second
story hall light.
I wonder if she knows
if she has any idea
I have what once
was ours, then hers,
now "mine...all mine".

The October Moon shone
brightly down into
the blue topaz stone,
diamonds glisten and
I heard thudding footsteps,
"God ..... NO!!!!!!"



My breaths slow, deep
realizing its only my
beating heart, my
breaking heart, my
guilt already taunting
me, the selfish
unthinking me.

The light turned off,
time settled around me
but not within me.
I ponder under
the moonlit sky. Like
a snake I move undetected
back to the old wooden
house, caught my
reflection in a
glass window, thin
face with deep eyes,
filed with guilt.

I bent down on one knee
like I am proposing
to the massive wood
door, slowly opening
the bronze mail slot,
the ring between my
finger and thumb, its
pretty blue glass eye
watchful of me, the

But there she stood
before me, drilling
guilt into me deeper
than ever, her hand
thrust out, flat,
waiting as she tapped
her foot.
Hesitantly I placed
the small violet
cotton tattered cloth
in her hand.
Her gemstone, her prize.

Her hand waited and I
stood up slowly, she
took my hand and slipped
the ring unto my finger.
Under the Libra Moon my
sister gave me what was
hers for years, passing
it down to me on the
eve of my birthday.

Always believe in what
seems impossible.

( Posted by: Dareva [Member] On: October 7, 2006 )

Lets Have Another
Let’s Have Another

Pour another shot
Of Blue Curacao
Over ice, elbows out,
Ass over eyes
And watch the lights through
Cotton rimmed glasses.

( Posted by: BWOz [Member] On: October 8, 2006 )

poetry thread, last time

I woke up to watch the sky
Reunited with the sun
But the moon would not admit defeat
Or acknowledge that the best man won

Quite white and unrequited Moon
Begs Blue Sky to let him stay
Pale face pressed up to her glass
Unable to turn away

Moon asked Sky where would he go
But Blue Sky only shook her head
Rolled with Sun in honeymoon mood
On the cotton sheets of her cumulus bed

Sky opened wide her bedroom window
And threw down a suitcase of his stars
Said take those useless baubles with you
So Moon slunk off to hit the bars...

...Later Sky will seek him out
When Sun says she and Sun are through
When he’s drunk enough then he’ll forgive her
You know, because we always do.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: October 8, 2006 )

Poetry Thread Comments
To every one as I sat here and read there is so much talent and a pleasure to read every one. Thanks

( Posted by: wanda [Member] On: October 8, 2006 )

Poetry Thread last
Cold hands extended from
blue cotton scrubs,
palpitating here and there.

Something was amiss.
I saw it in her
Aqua blue eyes.

No language could be
misunderstood in this
type of communication.

Glass tubes fill with
uncertainties again.
I hate, then I accept.

Illegible instructions
scrawled. The maze used
to amaze me, not now.

She knows I know.
The quiet becomes
my treasured secret.

I walk in my land of
tomorrows, all alone.

( Posted by: Dareva [Member] On: October 8, 2006 )

PT Thread
Blue haired ladies
sneezing into cotton hankies
drinking water from glass goblets
No plastics at their luncheon

Old money looking down
on new money
Whispering about the lottery winners
a few houses away

There goes the neighborhood
Did you see that
gaudy landscaping
They have no taste at all

Don't they know
they will never fit in?
That daughter of theirs
will never make the Debs

Well, ladies let's be off
gather up the stuff
let's go meet the neighbors
after all we are the Welcome Wagon

( Posted by: Nitz Kitty [Member] On: October 9, 2006 )

Glass Cotton Blues
Rejoice in yourself!- Let's forget
londongrey's preceding thread
rarely happy- but always gay
"Not that there's anything wrong with that"
I often say- I use that phrase
with tongue in cheek-I don't mind gay
but others freak with a wink and a nod
to the log lumbering
within my own eye
(Hush Mr. Will Hill- I know some more quotes
Now isn't the time to indulge Billy goats)
If you now try to
read this with a rhythm
you are forgiven-
never assume anything
except your own error
the only fact is
you don't know anything
but love one another-
Oops! Glass blue cotton

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: October 21, 2006 )

I meant NOT forget londongrey's thread and a few other errors but I'll leave it be- I must proofread b4 sending. Best wishes

( Posted by: drsoos [Member] On: October 22, 2006 )

blue, cotton, glass
May we all be as fragile as glass
and remember others are as well
May we all be as honest as cotton-
strong and sturdy, "breathable", yet afraid of hot water, lest we shrink-
May we all be ever aware of how truly miserable it feels to be completely alone, wondering, wandering amidst our own misery, making the misery even more despondent from aloneness-
May blue be the color of the vast and clearing sky, and not the despondent aching heart.
Let cotton be the candy, and glass the half-full kind, and let blue be the richness of blood that reminds us all to be kind- "Blue cotton glass" a new reminder to me, silly though it might sound, I think I'll try to earnestly take it to hold in me a sense of the fragile of all those components- I'll think of cotton candy, spun of sugar, yet so frail. Melts so quickly in your mouth. I have glass in my house that is a hundred years old. It's melted, and waves, and shows that even glass settles over time and bears a pattern of age. Blue? I will continue to see "true blue" instead of sorrow. Sorrow is too easy, comes much too readily, but constancy and loyalty are every bit as real. Cotton needs to be ironed, damn-it, but glass doesn't, and blue only does if you think too hard-

( Posted by: emaks [Member] On: October 23, 2006 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.