Okay, now, I was fairly sure that my contest would fill up quickly, but, lol, SIX DAYS? Oh, you passionate, sexy as all get out, poets. Who knew? Even the more... reticent... of you dug your heels into this one (oh, I’m sooooooo bad.)
So many of you SURPASSED my challenge, awed me, left me a little .... flushed. But a few of you either 1) entered forms which have less than 8 lines 2) wrote romantic poetry, lovely, yes, but not sensual. Only 1 poem crossed the explicit language borderline and refused to edit... I thank the poets who slapped on a fig leaf or two to appease ALL eyes.
Now, first I must say, as a parent, I am aware that my daughter will learn sex education in grade school. I am not happy about this. It seems all so clinical. Cold. Where’s the heart?
I believe that it is up to poets to ensure that beautiful, descriptive and emotive verse continue to be written which transcends the physical into the ethereal, as it has been done for thousands of years.
I SING THE BODY ELECTRIC!
Language can be art, language can create sensual art, sensual art can be a masterpiece.
YOU PROVED IT.
Thank you to every person who entered my contest, including a poet who thought I needed conversion (I’ll stop myself there. See, I’m getting better. LOL.)
This was the hardest contest that I’ve ever judged (again, I’ll stop myself, LOL) I struggled with placement ... studying language, device, flow, imagery.... I’m bleary eyed, dazzled by your craftiness.
I did award higher placements for originality, avoidance of the overly familiar and clichés.
You should feel proud of yourself. I know that for many of you, this is NOT a comfort zone.
Lastly, I want to thank the Soup Team for allowing me to host this party and for kindly reminding poets of Soups regulations. I trust that they will find these poems worthy of the winners hall for their beauty!
Hugs to everyone,
Crimson Tide Time
Cornering me in the bedroom's corner, you say it doesn't matter
if the lunar clock is striking twenty eight;
we can set ourselves adrift, unpick the anchorage,
the tide turning for our pleasure.
The slide inside smoother, slicker, tonight;
oddly intimate, skin-to-skin, coral depths pulling you in.
The red wave gathers, breaks, slowly spills and seeps,
creeps down my leg; neither of us cares.
We're lost in lunar loving beneath a bloodstained moon.
Our bodies cling and cleave, braced against the heave
of the current, wave upon wave of carnal carmine;
plunging deeper into the red sea,
your urging surging through me,
pulsing forward with the flood of my blood,
wet, now, with the cochineal essence of me.
Scarlet secrets of the sea cave within;
each warm gush brings a fresh flush of lust,
as the red anemone of my womb
tenses to release rivulets of rubies
and my muscles contract redly round you,
swelling to hold you with a hotter grip.
We're maroon-mottled, musky with lust,
as the crimson current churns and swirls around us.
And we're surrendering to it, going with the flow,
our skin streaked with scarlet tidemarks,
slippery with passion's puce pattern,
as the sea sweeps a new sensuality ashore.
You're dizzy-drunk on my body's heady claret,
sweat-silvered and ruby-jewelled, as you slowly withdraw,
leaving a smattering of glistening garnets on the bedroom floor.
Dizzy-drunk, indeed! This poem took my challenge and spun it on its heels. This blends raw heat with careful craft. This could be studied, as far as I’m concerned. It has it all: language, alliteration, clever rhymes that hum without a sing-song in the bunch, word play, imaginative verbs and precisely selected adjectives. The lines are built like waves, underscoring the theme of the poem, echoing its give and take. Metaphor magic won this poem its top spot. My favourite? The cochineal essence of me. Exactly so. Congrats, Charlotte. I am so glad you entered this bold piece. Art, this!
The Distant Flame
By Catie Lindsay
A paramount flame enraptures to rule,
unearthing the spicy array of my senses,
the reverie of Spring cautiously subdued,
a syncopated beat, three steps beyond pretentious.
Longing for that vision seen only in glimpses,
beyond the tide of what is still becoming real,
as passion burns its slow decay upon my defenses,
Baby, you make me feel!
I close my eyes to a thousand stars,
on a velvet curtain of the night,
and the Braille pathways of my heart,
submerge discreetly into your river of light.
I become caught and raptured in utter delight,
throwing open the soul of all that is real,
as your image dominates my inner sight,
Baby, you make me feel!
Blowing holes through the canopy of night,
touching your lips, meeting your gaze,
stormy passions toss apprehension aside,
restless abandon ventures beyond the haze.
Violet, in subjection to your silky ways,
smokey, the thoughts that make time stand still,
wistful and fervent this fire flames,
Baby, you make me feel!
As distant, sultry fires tax us,
two single spokes on an ever spinning wheel,
the Earth resumes spinning on it's axis,
but Baby, you make me feel!
I heard an echo of Cohen’s Suzanne in this modified Ballade. The refrain is about emotion and each line is an exploration of the senses, but done in such a way as to indicate that never once is thought, the moment and/or self forgotten. If anything, this poem magnifies how erotic intelligence can be. Certain images left me stunned ... too many to mention in one blog! This is hauntingly lovely... congrats, Catie. I’m dazzled!
Pretty Little Lace
BY Melani Udeta
the softest shackles
Braided like arms .
weaving us together ,
How tight will you tie,
how much can I take?
Before the ribbon breaks,
pretty little lace
splitting all over the floor
I want to be free
you pretty little ribbon
they can have that face
My laughter carries on the wind
I have my release
constricting little ribbon
In pieces, reckless abandon
Oh, so so much naughty in so few lines,and done with such a subtle weaving of words as to be reminiscent of courtly love poems or perhaps the erotic poetry of the ancient Egyptians. There are layers upon scanty layers of meaning, double meanings, here.... playful to the max! Complexity paralleled by simplicity. Lovely, intense. Fantastic.
The Ceiling Fan
By Joe Flach
Like fallen warriors,
we collapse side by side,
glistening in the sweaty afterglow.
Limbs still entangled,
too exhausted to sing the other’s praise,
we stare at the blades of the bedroom fan
slowly circling above.
escapes in between your deep,
reflects in the brass, ball base
of the rotating fan.
I smile in return,
unable to rescue my gaze
from the fan
cooling off our steaming bodies.
your right hand moves;
fingers entangle with those on my left.
I still taste you on my lips.
I silently laugh to myself
upon the realization that I still have one sock on;
the other dangling on the end of a fan blade.
The remainder of our clothes
strewn around the room
as if the hamper had exploded.
ruined when I removed it
with my teeth.
Beads of sweat roll down my thigh
where our legs remain interlocked –
I love the smooth contrast of your skin
against my sun dried legs.
The ever so slight breeze
created by the fan
is starting to dry our exposed skin
as we slowly regain strength.
The circling blades hypnotize.
from the fan motor
mixes with the recent memory
of the rhythmic dance
now lightly brushing against me,
is re-energizing my engine.
near your finger tips
indicate our dance may not yet be over.
to interrupt my transfixed,
with the ceiling fan,
so I can once again
concentrate on you.
Energy restored –
as if pumped back into our souls
by the bedroom fan –
the warriors re-engage
in battle once again.
A battle in which
each warrior wins.
I loved the theme, the playfulness, REAL-ness of this piece. Captured, the dual nature of man and woman’s relationship with each other, the need and hunger, love and friendship, which will be eternally mixed with a small degree of polarization, cross currents. The poem takes its time, does not rush, allows us to see that reflected couple, duplicating theme with delivery, always a hit with me! The last lines linger. Congrats, Joe!
In the dark, I came alive
I found my way
~into the light
Camouflage in lace, my skin glisten,
Towards the wind, I listen!
Skin of envy and gold,
My limbs suddenly unfold,
Gracefully I follow the air,
I found myself without a care,
Every meaning, every feeling felt erotically insane,
Seductively, the night whispers my name,
A freedom flight
~into the night.
My breast, not of a little girl
Beyond the hazes, into another world
My life unto this point had been a riddle
My fingers slither, a play without a fiddle
Circles with motion,
Vibrations and self-soothing lotion,
I touch my self gently,
Thinking of you relentlessly,
The night echoes a whimpering sound,
I want to see, and embrace the secrets inside me,
I squeeze the damp enigma charcoal sheets-
moaning and moaning, repeatedly.
Tucking my silk pillows, groping my knees,
I rub my lids slowly, satisfaction complete,
Falling back into the realm of counting sheep.
I’m reminded of Nancy Friday’s ground breaking book, My Secret Garden, with this brave write. Despite the poetic description within this work, it is finely pared, removed of all needless modifiers. Stellar imagery, great use of language and metaphor, just the right amount of repetition. I loved the line, “Follow the air.” Congrats PD. This is mint!
I am alone By S. Jagathsimhan Nair – lonely, forlorn and yet highly sensual. Loved the changing refrain, the language and longing of this piece. Favourite line? Weird chords.
A Gold’s Reverie By Andrea Dietrich – loved the play of reality and fantasy, the use of smell, sight and sound. Wise avoidance of touch, we can look but can not... lol. A sizzler!
Moonlight Serenade By Debbie Guzzi – the full use of senses here is so artfully done. Ah, yes, the things we keep, those trinkets and souvenirs... and the stories they tell... poignancy here, too. :)
Love Potion By Abdul Malik – this is beautiful, simple and has a timeless quality to it... almost Shakespearian, not in its voice, but in its sentiment. Wonderful!
Figment by Carrie Richards - such a wonderful contrast between fantasy and reality, so much beauty in this narrative, but I especially liked skin borne to foxtails...
Touch Lightly By Craig Cornish – Oui! Oui! Oh, yes, here is the subtleness I hoped some would try. Mink, indeed. Well done, just enough.
Moments Treasured By Sashi Prabhu – the language in this rhyme is combustable, the writing intense, emotion-filled. The first two lines pulled me in, and I stayed...
Perceptions By Ruben O – playful, soulful, er, somewhat boastful (lol) and just able to be read too many ways to mention. Language, oh, yeah, here it is!
Camouflaged as Love By David Williams – I loved how it did a 180, turned... I could be funny and say, I think I’ve stayed in that hotel, but I’d rather say, I know how love changes perception. ;-)
A Risque Ballroom Dance By Anne Currin – I really liked how the metaphor and imagery continues throughout this poem... dreamy quality...
Tiny Kisses By Seren Roberts – yes, passion and love blend here nicely and extol the rewards of growing older, but not colder. Bravo, brave write!
Nightfall Surrender By Debra Squyres – Sigh, this one is so romantic, and sad, touching. Lovely and deep.
The Rush By Jeremy Martin – So much to like, here. But I was especially impressed with the line, ‘the rush under your ribs.’
Dark Temptress By Roy Jerden – Oh, sexy, sexy, sexy, yet so tasteful! Well done... I was quite taken with the line, I can not vanquish my desire...
Naughty By Richard Lamoureux, okay, I really got a giggle from this one! So much fun! The last line is the clincher.