"lipogram" poems
A forward confrontation:
Two mortals watching, ogling in thirst.
Instantly, and in a rush.
Primordial acts: anti-thixophobia.
Taunting and nuzzling in such
A local vicinity of inquiry.
Triumphant, wailing slurs.
Alas, but a murmur: troglodytic.
Solitary, oh, limbs chaotic and aching.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
(an almost lipogram)
It is missing!
Just as a lost paramour
or a forlorn suitor of a now hollow past,
causing a lack of all glamour.
My lass’s familiar touch hiding
astray in murky clouds of a dulling rainbow,
my writing turns to a wan pallid world
as I scour my mind to supplant this loss.
Assailing yon dragon with quill in hand
I spurn my awaiting angst,
stalking as Orion’s own conspirator
disavowing all doubts of my own ability.
Sallying forth I do not tarry.
Words assault a wall of lofty doubts
born of naught but a foolish phobia.
Scaling mighty ramparts,
my anima’s flight attacks a radiant moon.
Until, with a final onslaught
my thoughts find laconic catharsis.
As twilight’s shroud is found approaching,
with a concluding flourish of a now
worn writing tool,
my lost lass of misty pasts...
returns.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
A lipogram I cry aloud,
My first in fact, I’m slightly proud,
To all who know of what I drawl,
I post it now upon my wall.
This task is tough and trying though,
Only using A, I, U and O.
Two-thirds of words do not apply,
And now I think you might grasp why.
I’ll stop my scrawling so you can wallow,
On how this lipogram is so hard to swallow.
And until I think of a good part two,
I’ll sanction additional scribing to you.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
See the depressed deed
Delve deep
Cry, the elegy's creed.
Elsewhere:
Breeds new
Bzz-bees, elm trees, electric eels
Ever-steel freeze
Sweet revenge's creep, then screech
Wed, cheer, speech
Fresh breeze, meets seeds
Frees weeds.
Here:
Wet cheeks, we weep
Regret seeps
Need jeers.
Yes, we bleed
Yet
Every eye never sees
Every remedy. never felt
By the helpless.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Go follow storms hold
from hot to cold
On soft sorrows sold
For floods shock
from wool to stock
Of old mans' clock
Lost to strong flow
from door to roots low
No blooms bold do show
So sooth scorns ghost
from good grown host
Common honor bonds most
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC