A pair of lips to kiss
A warm body to hold
Snuggled together
Against the cold..
A little sigh
A little moan
Now’s the time
To leave them alone.
Come the dawn
It’s no surprise
To see them both
With love bruised eyes.
Granite towers rising above the canyon,
Orange-colored dreams millennia ago
Carved above the lavender meadow below,
Reflecting in the stream meandering for
Miles like a snake slithering toward dusk
With scorching sun high and scintillating
Off limestone remains along the edges,
Smaller and smaller until they disappear
Into the singular vanishing point where
The painting melds itself to ornate framing.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Brian Strand's Contest
August 3, 2021
written August 2, 2021
is not as yet our awareness
flowing gently in an unbroken continuum
in an orientation of thought rested desirelessness
wherein each bliss ignited node within form is our sensorium
is not as yet our attention still
vibrantly present without interference
allowing the divine sublime love impulse to instil
soma nectar within each lifetron revealing our luminescence
is not as yet our cognition gentle
accepting each on an as is where is basis
recognising we are being shaped upon the mantle
in timeless time all becoming love enabled in divine caress
12-March-2021
has not as yet
the bubbling elixir surfaced
bursting forth in boundless exuberance
enveloping all within its fold
yet without confining
as a bliss mist
has not as yet
a silent scream of delight
reverberated through boundless space
as a lions roar gently purring
caressing all hearts
with its perfume
has not as yet
head melded with heart
fusing together in a synergy thunderous
co-creating hearts desire now
as of choiceless choice
resonating with love
24-February-2021
You don't know me;
Yet could you love;
Love me at the bible says do;
And if by chance you loved me;
Would it be as lovely;
How would you know;
if you won't see;
1/31/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
We so carefully respect the boundary
Placed around us by society
A sly smile, a covert glance
That we cannot name romance
For rules it's wrong, for souls it's right
As we slip into the deep night
And discover each other
I boil to be your lover
I'm drifting off as you say
Just listen to me talk, it's ok
Nothing could unbend my smile
I think I'd like to stay a while
But I have to leave, it's getting late
Where will this go? We'll have to wait
November 27, 2019
Songs of moonlight
A time for reflected light
A poem is coming
As Yet Unblemished By Pure Beauty
That time has come in nature’s year;
That best time of all, the barren time;
That time of nothing yet but promise;
That time of the pure hope:
Late February,
unblemished by Spring’s harsh actualization,
her first hints in this time of new light,
Skunk Cabbage stirring in frozen swamps
and Redwings in marshes,
her Promise soon to be kept in perfect beauty
unbearably aching with the certainty of loss.
Summer sunshine gently fading
Casting shadows on the lawn
Weeping willow , Branches cascading
My quiet corner now adorns.
The last rays of sunshine seeming
To inspire the butterflies to dance
In that moment I am dreaming
Of true love and romance .
Kisses in the twilight
Soon the moon will rise
The romantic air of midnight
Stars shimmering in the skies.
Tender kisses become demanding
As we feel our passion soar
Two lovers understanding
We can wait no more .
Touches soft and tender
Ignite feelings of desire
Soon we must surrender
To the flames of passions fire.
Kisses that burn with longing
Hearts beat as if they'll burst
Feelings of warmth and belonging
Passionate quenching of our thirst.
I know you are out there somewhere
I'm searching desperately for you
I've spoken of the moments we'll share
and the things that we will do.
My quiet corner of reflection
Has once more worked for me
I have felt true loves affection
and seen the things as yet to be.
For the any poem goes #15 contest
Sponsor . Poet destroyer A
That word we use to fill voids
in our emotional lexicon,
that short, sweet sounding syllable,
well-intentioned and lofty
- and sold, at dear price of course -
that is not love.
It's not enough word
to encompass the whole,
but it will have to do.
Nature or Deity
what petty cruelty
or splendid mystery
that he and she
would so distant be
in mind and manner and vanity
This is why they writhe and bite
or love as cold as winters night
We claw and kiss and spit in spite
We rage and pace and fuss and fight
or cut with words or flee in fright
yet in all of this we find delight
and die together blissfully
Embryonic lies a love as yet unborn,
pulsing through the tissues of the swell,
enshrined and cultivated, single flower
of the bed
where the sweetest consummation gently fell.
Sentient be the nucleus of dreams,
aspiring for the primal breath to take,
nursed and softly kicking, sleeping bearer
of the faith,
waiting for a future dawn to rise and break.
Living beats the centre of a world,
embodying a new and lustrous day,
alive and indicating all the wonder
of the stars,
promised happiness much more than words can say.
Innocent lies a love as yet unborn,
expectant of such purity and care,
patterned and configured, older than
the skies above,
greatest gift that anyone will ever bear.