A young discus thrower hurls the discus with all his might
It lands, churning up the soil somewhere nearby
The discus thrower is happy, or perhaps disappointed
If his rival has managed to throw the discus further
Let’s try to give these competitions some meaning
Is there anything in them, hidden behind the obvious
Behind the victories and defeats – perhaps a thirst for a little power,
A sublimation of war, or, conversely, the peaceful labour of farmers?
Or do competitions serve as a consolation for those
Who cannot or do not wish to compete?
But perhaps someday, another time,
When discs are made to order,
Tailored precisely to the thrower’s palm.
Wakes with a misaligned fanny
this tale is strange and uncanny
much unscrewiing it seems
with the man of her dreams
Her unfortunate state puts the blame onto Danny
Wont accept bhitch but accept a jolly good bonk
Discuss the size of willy......the wonk
I don't usually swear
or discus private hair
Here's the truth! This bard's not a shonk
Driving is not a sport for the unrehearsed,
practice makes perfect on a speeding track.
The steering wheel is a discus, blunt and capable of slicing/dicing.
A handbrake? A pull-snap-stop bone break.
Electric windows are guillotines; seatbelts are nooses in softer attire.
An Olympian goes for gold; drivers should settle for bronze on a road.
Today I wish to discuss the discus
first flung in faraway Greco track and field events
as is it has no use whatsoever
yet serves its purpose to all intents
as an oblate spheroid weight
and altho' as you may know
a javelin one would hurl
a discus you should throw
Let me hear no talk a-fast?
From the master home?
He who always comes in last?
Soul made out of chrome?
Better long days, seamstress work?
Iron rations hard?
Brazen bull, such jobs! To shirk!
Poet, prophet, bard!
Thought-fire, sing in all of us!
Lightning-gods, blessed be!
Cannonball and Blunderbuss!
Fling, O fancy-free!
Tombs ought be avoided?
By living men, and how!
Feet a-sure when out of bed!
Sacred sight, thy bow!
Wild as ocean rhythm!
Say, oracles, sing!
Dark backward, black abysm!
Envy, how you sting!
Hospitable to many?
Perhaps. Who is to say?
I don't talk to any!
O Judgement, have thy day!
Sisters, hearken thus unto!
From below I shriek!
Charon Boatman, need a crew?
End Times, give a peek!
Sound, fill each with learning?
A message for the world:
Choice must be discerning?
Yes, sir! Discus, hurled!
Well, oh well! We are in hell!
Doubled over, trees?
Coven Witch, cast well thy spell!
Honeyed, honeybees...?
Desculpa
Now it is too late
And I need to sleep
Now
Also I don't want to discus
My private business with you
Yes I am a Christian since birth
Desculpa
I am going through some tough times
There were times
That I didn't know if I was coming or going
Desculpa
But I am happy with my life
Also I live my life at the present moment
Also I never bring the past
Because I suffered a lot in the past
And nothing good had come out of it
Desculpa
I had to change the things that I had
That was not good in my life
Yes I did it all by myself
Without any help
Desculpa
I am a different men now
Also many times I was at the end of the rope
And I didn't want to live anymore
That thought was going through my mind
For a long time
Into me
When will they see
I shall let myself be
Inertwine in revolution
Searching for peace
Why has it become so hard
Almost 50 years to the day
Alone I sit
Ponder it all
I need it to end
This insecurity
No longer a child
Don't want to be an adult
Time is slipping away
Running out of life
Will I be this way for all my days
Where is the courage to be seen
Hidden away forgotten
Indulged in unspeakable abuses
Welcoming the lies
Avoiding all truths
I am the example
The intuition of what not to be
Here I stare back at me
With so much discus
I don't think six feet deep will keep it secure
They all will call me by name
The demons will run fear
The victims will lie
It will be the carnage I need
To remember all that was left of me before
It all went south.
A Rose
Most chose
A Lily
So frilly
A Peony
Bee honey
A Hibiscus
Bloom discus
A Lilac
Purple crackerjack
A Daffodil
Yellow thrill
A Wave Petunia
Will rave Ah
A Begonia
So bona
A Daisy
Sun crazy
when we rose a fuss
with you want this to discus
glad that you love us
it was a legal tackle–
it’s not as if football is a dangerous sport,
sure you have your injuries,
but it’s not like boxing
where the guys walk around brain-damaged,
or look at hockey,
they have more fights than goals,
I mean even in skiing
a non-contact sport
you fall, you get hurt,
or your knees don’t last past thirty
it was a legal tackle–
Boomer was running with the ball
it was twelve-seven
we really needed this game
and I knew I could take him
we played in college together
it was just a quirk
a freak accident
that his neck snapped like that–
it wasn’t my fault
it wasn’t because of how or where
I hit him
__
Apollo and his best friend, Hyacinth, were engaged in a friendly contest to see who could throw the discus farther. Apollo’s throw hit Hyacinth in the forehead and killed him.
As fresh and as fragrant, colored hyacinths,
That intoxicates one with heavenly scent.
So may my true,original form of artful poetry,
Bloom and blossom, escaping cells of the past.
To spring into action at each sunrised day!
Not wondering where my poetic desire be.
For truly, as a new child grows free….
And this style takes on its own shape.
I, no longer resist, creating my own fate!
********
Greek Legend has it that Hyacinthus, a young
man from Greece, was beloved by Apollo.
He was teaching him how to throw the discus.
Accidentally, it hit him in the head and killed him.
Instantly!!
Out of his head, the ground soaked with his own
blood, grew the flower,named in his honor of his
Name…. Hyacinthos.
The petals were marked with “Alas”, for sorrow.!
Panagiota Romios.
Romios Poem I
“In My Own Style”
Hickory, Dickory, Dock.
A giant Fear, this planet
has been rocked!
Alas, do not shake,
Just get loaded and do
not awake?
Each second our freedom
passes.
We (not me) will give this
world only laughter and word
gasses?
Like clowns is a a circus,
Truth flung to the air like
a discus.
We keep you happy,
from our Olympian pens.
You will never know your
Country has been stolen
from you, then!!
I mean each country does
not understand.
Your freedom has already
been taken!
And we who have the power
of words to undo this?
Sorry, we leave you forsaken.
We speaketh only of darling
bunnies and irises!
Or of gardening or raking.
Unaware our leaders have
sold out to China!
The Formidable Wuhan
taking!
7/30/2021
_2_
Saša Milivojev - A CRY
Apollo’s discus
Fine blond hair
The echo of the universe
The strong winds of Zephyr
The sun’s heat
Melted the wax wings
And I fall again
Why am I not a shadow
To be torn into two pieces
In the air
Why do I not have an apple instead of a heart
To have an arrow driven through it
Why is uncertainty so agonising
Let the blade cut the neck
A curse
A choir is singing
Purple colours of dreams
A verse fallen from the lips
The thirst of withered lilies
From whose petals
We will hear a woeful
Cry
Saša Milivojev
www.sasamilivojev.com
About this new priest need to discus,
He sure has become an added plus
And after name,
Was his game;
Whole church started raising a fuss.
Looked like new priest had a loose tooth;
Had been giving sermons from a booth
Was bold;
Truth told;
We heard was about the book of Ruth
We will book a plane after reading
book of Ruth. We liked the way
that she would look but had
heard she is a lousy cook.
Could you be a buckaroo
who read the Book of Ruth.
Be one who her once knew.
Have to be careful when mentioning
knew a few and new dress she did
wear had a tare and was the one
which was blue.
About Ruth they had written a book;
Had heard her husband was a crook;
They indicated,
Was implicated;
Trump came out of it when we shook.
While we were working around the clock,
Trump again left us in a state of shock
Wound his watch,
And he did botch;
Would block and never let roster cock.
Pathological spit-steroid addict,
blame-shifting weightlifting fanatic
Decathlon cracked lip truth ...
Jumping over another
high cloudy crystal
methane alibi
aloof sprint hurdle
Twisted twin-lip discus throw
on a poppy milk turbo fan blow
Veracity record unverified:
Marathon factual finishes
don’t have a Mary Jane
Photoshop shred of proof
Possessing a prosthetic tongue
allows them half-truth pole vaulters
to perform
those verbal gymnastic,
lying athletic feats of strength,
so hash mark daringly
Yielding honesty sweat labor sparingly
Such a Festivus mucous odor:
pandemic ground-zero celebration fête
Noxious nitro nostril gas,
on a downhill imposter incline oxy splat
Lie ability
don’t hinder a moral victory thief,
it’s a boon to the burglar, actually
Carousel tales ... up-and-down lung sales
giving hazy, rowboat circular details
Ever racing for the Pinocchio prize,
wouldn’t knowz
losers,
with smelly rumor toes ...
Fan the foul exhaust fumes —
when their tale pipe empty,
bad-breath bellow sneakers
reach the end of the road
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.