This originally started out as a pantoum , but I took some rather hefty liberties with the form. (But hey, I kept the basic rhyme scheme while trying some diversification with the lines.) At any rate, it's nothing special, but I thought it would be worth posting. But then, I've been wrong before. Anyway. If you read, let me know what you think. Continental Drift Now you pull away from me, hesitant and cold; are you shaken by something you see, the things I've said, or what ...

Am I pathetic or what?  I can't for the life of me give a title to this poem.  It's a sonnet, incidentally. But hey, classic forms of poetry seem dead anyway.  Most poetry you read is dreadfully constructed 'free verse' that's basically just crapping words out onto the page in whatever 'structure' you want and calling it a poem.  You're not Octavio Paz, people - don't even try. But yeah, this is an old-school Italian-style sonnet.  Eleven syllables a verse, fou...

Thanks first to Kelly for resurrecting the JUWC.  I'm so sick of what passes as political and religious 'debate' on this site that I'd much prefer writing and reading such as this.

In the OP, I posted a haiku as a joke, saying that was my submission, but then I was bitten by the haiku bug, and today I was finally able to sit down and finish my haiku story.  it's nothing special, but it doesn't suck as bad as I feared it would.

Manos morenas, dedos largos, estrechos, uñas pintadas perfectamente púrpureas, muñeca frágil, delicada, venas azules.   Hombro fuerte, lleno de energía, alfilado, cubierto por bufanda negra y gruesa, piel blanda, oscura, dulce, salada.   Cuello porcelano, mejillas rosadas con pecas, labios llenos, rojos, cálidos, plenos, ojos espléndidos, verdes, sonrisa única.   Te beso. ...

Waves of static pulsate, tides of white noise, punctuated by the fleeting beats of washed-out drums, slowly emerging from a neolithic paste of tribal dissonance, coalescing into the friendly, familiar sounds of a heavy beat. Simple piano melodies wash in with the white waves, bringing in tow the guttural guitars, fuzzed beyond recognition. Point, counterpoint, piano and guitar dance like lovers, diametrically opposed, yet ultimately complementary. The harrowing, haunting bass...

Ever since discovering the poetry form pantoum , I've been trying and trying and trying to make one work. It's a difficult style of very structured poetry, but it's got a great "incantation" sound to it. (For those who would like more info on the pantoum , check out some explanatory sites here , or a more in-depth explanation of structure, rhyme scheme, and line repitition, check this site out .) But yesterday, the fates smiled, the clouds opened, and I was able to create what I think ...

I should probably put these all in one article, but I'm having more fun posting them separately. blue - black hair, curves of hips, waist, breasts, perfection. Abbreviated again.

Another abbreviated haiku. Sugared, cold, Drifting fields of white. Frozen time. I'm just thinking of winter.

"Death" Death. Perky young girl, black clothes, gold ankh, windswept hair - Should a boy love death? (Inspired by Neil Gaiman's imagining of Death from the graphic novel series "The Sandman".)

For my submission for the first writing challenge for the JU Writer's Club, I finished a surrealist story that I've been working on for weeks. I will post the surrealism story later this morning, I'm putting the finishing touches on it right now, but this poem serves as a preamble to the story. Read this, and then (when the other is up) read the story. It won't make sense, but it's surrealism - it's not supposed to. --------------------------------------------------------------------...