Challenge - Without an 'e'

The first challenge for the poets of xiv lines was to write a fourteen-line verse without using the letter e. Here are the responses ...

Without e — Laughing waters

what's missing
in my day
how can I find
what possibly
can go wrong?
I look and look
but no sight
I'm start to think
about clouds,
rainbows,sky-
it's all so normal
but I know in fact
my day is not so bright
without that missing part


Just for You — Elusive Me

If I, if I could walk on by
And blow a kiss, a kiss amiss
I'd warm you up, til lips do sigh
I'd colour you in paints of bliss.
I'd run across your skin so soft,
Aligning stars on sky of black
And oh I too would smooch you oft
If you'd allow our lips to smack.
For can't you play? This cat's away
And you and I can float in clouds
High up high amongst our stars
And flap our hands and point at crowds
And watching ants, or cows and cars.
     Am I so mad oh what say you?
     Did you not think I'd try it too?


Wistful Moon — Sumyanna

Wistful moon,
look down upon your fragrant shadows
in dazzling visions that tango
across our moonlit plains
rows of silky, sloping stalks
tilt longingly in oncoming winds
dipping and soaring, as if in a stupor,
drinking in a fountain of light
from a thousand distant stars.
I watch, without a sound,
and a soothing song stirs within my soul
I allow its hymn to touch my lips
and slowly drip against rays of moonlight
I sing, grass sways, and a tranquil moon looks on.


Cold — Garry Spooner

Across a vast and frigid land,
Which whirls about in turgid icy schist.
A habitat so harsh and bland,
Autumns last hurrah, a stormy tryst.

This kingdom of such chill, it still,
Anoints my day with hard and icy sunlight.
No warmth, not from full noon's strong will,
Can warm cold marrow outright.

And nightfall shall not show its hand,
Long is a day ,without a moon, forsooth.
An anxious mind and soul at its command,
As push and pull avow antagonistic, wanting truth.

 Harsh is that truth, so known to us in proof of art.
 Cold is this soul, of I, an imaginary part, without a start.


Fly or Di' — Alima J

I'm stood on top of a cliff
watching a bird fly by,
playing with my thoughts
thinking I should try.

My aim to fly may sound absurd
but I am willing to do or try.
I could fall onto sharp rocks
or soar ridiculously high.

So today I shall try it
for tomorrow is far away.
and I may accomplish nothing.
What do you say, Mr Gray?

Shall I jump into a dark abyss
or grow a pair (of wings) and fly?


Pouring out in Wars — s l jennings

Pouring out in wars scorning purity
Night is not an infant born folk story
World history births his dark portrait
To mirror our past again minus glory

In backward acts of cold position's gain
advancing nations for capital worth
Tribal instincts kill dominating man
Viciously stabbing truths known at our birth

A starving child calls out from an island
His origins cry not for gold unknown
Aspiring only to tomorrow's dawn
His body adapts toward light 'til grown

Playing and praying for Night's immunity
Survival's story is opportunity


Down a Calm Walk  Mark A Bryan

I walk through tall grass,
Many dark days know,
Sit and wait until night pass,
A mountain of joy lift morning spirit.

Who try to hold it, carry wings,
In air or on land many plans,
Through right or wrong arms cling,
Find a way don't try to cry.

Know your highs and lows,
Out of a pack bring to told,
Tomorrow's gold, bring to bows,
Look into a mirror and know all roads.

On your way lift a hand,
Pull away from land not sad.


Missing 'e'  Mai

drifting
in my own thoughts
I will stay afloat
in this swamp
of my own longing
for you,
your touch
your kiss
my soothing rhythm
that calm
and comfort
all my hurts and pains
as it carry us through
bliss


A Fall — Sean M. Price

Damn banana at it again.
It’s floor flat form mocking my hand.
Why oh why must it crack and fall?
Is fussy fruit that fails to hold
Its form for the mouth to swallow
God’s instruction for a proud soul?
   Nah, its just a junk of bad luck.

But bananas long to grow up
Waiting for that hunt of a void
Clashing with a sultry hard husk
A brash gash sprouting its soft soul
Hungry bud willing to unmask
What it avoids but will absorb…
   Truth that points towards oblivion.


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