Best Assignations Poems
You display your beauty like a rose,
your appearance, at first frail and ghostly,
blooms to fuller view in a sky studded with stars.
O Maiden Of Mystery! home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
convocations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the menstrual flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination.
The sun shall lose her heat and bleed to death
e'er you dissolve, expend your final breath.
You display your beauty like a rose,
your essence frail and ghostly
blossoms into fuller view, a wondrous pose.
Maiden of mystery, home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
celebrations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the tidal flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination;
ever present there for all to see,
we praise you, and applaud your constancy.
The front bar of the Criterion is filling up,
It’s after five and the patrons are filing in.
Placed orders echoing off the old timbers
Vying to be heard and adding to the din.
The Grand Old Lady proudly plays host
As she looks out over the muddy Fitzroy.
Thirsty travellers mingle with the regulars,
Escaping the heat with a time worn ploy.
The nubile young bar staff are soon kept busy
As the chaos of orders are shouted out.
Pots and schooners, Bundy Rum and XXXX,
Of their burning thirst there can be no doubt.
The old burnished timber balustrade
though hints at an earlier time of splendor.
An era lost in a more genteel age,
When the old lady was of years more tender.
There’s a Dining Room and spacious Saloon,
Public Bar and upstairs rooms in which to stay.
All retaining their charm of yesteryear,
You can imagine just what they would say.
They’d tell tales of the customers of old,
Of the dusty drovers long on the track.
To the bar to slake a hard earned thirst
Before again mounting up to “get on back”.
Of the bullockies breasting up to the bar
Still cursing that cranky old lead beast.
In language blue they summons the barmaid
And soon settle in for a liquid feast.
Floorboards ringing to the thud of hob nailed boots
As the thirsty stockmen venture into town.
Today their pockets are full of promise,
Tomorrow hangovers they need to drown.
They’d recall long ago warm summer nights
With the polished chandeliers shining bright.
When the silver cutlery was out on display,
And well set tables made for a grand sight.
When gentlemen and ladies on the town
Took pride in appearance to look the part.
When crinoline, whale bone, lace and shift,
Were well placed to land a gentleman’s heart.
And assignations conducted furtively
In consummation of illicit affairs.
All in the rooms overlooking the city,
at the top of those carpeted old stairs.
I’m sure that today’s equivalent games
Are still seen daily by those left in charge.
The same scenes repeated by a new crowd,
The same desires on their faces writ large.
Red and juicy,
sensual shape,
sexual by nature,
they drip promiscuously
on my prurient lip!
Tastes of summer,
girls in flimsy cotton dresses
flirting shamelessly,
and sinfully suggesting
assignations in the park,
in the darkness, for a lark!
Their flavors captivate,
make me hunger
for an intimate embrace!
You display your beauty like a rose,
your essence frail and ghostly
blossoms into fuller view, a wondrous pose.
Maiden of mystery, home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
celebrations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the tidal flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination;
ever present there for all to see,
we praise you, and applaud your constancy.
(for Jules)
I knew you not, and yet your depictions
Directly ruled my inner sight,
And endless conversations we have had,
In vaulted confines of the truth of night;
Whispered beauty, uttered grace,
Breathed flame upon the candles blessed alight.
And in not knowing you, until your revelation
Eternal assignations we have made,
And tightly held each other to the end
Held each other in the velvet shade;
And blindness lifted from my eyes and saw
The splendour and desire that Gods have made
Red and juicy,
sensual shape,
sexual by nature,
they drip promiscuously
on my prurient lip.
Tastes of summer,
girls in flimsy cotton dresses
flirting shamelessly,
and sinfully suggesting
assignations in the park,
in the darkness, for a lark.
Their flavors captivate,
and make me ache
for an intimate embrace.
If I became a pronoia non-schizophrenic
I might begin channeling Jesus of Nazareth
but, instead, dealing with my real world dysfunctional family,
with messianically depressing delusions
refracting illusions of gift-it-forward co-redemptive grandeur
leading cooperative economic explorations
into remembering pronoia hopes
resilient win/win regenerativity
despite win/lose verbally abusive
and actively distrusting history
Struggling to pacify
remaining cognitive v affective dissonance
about bodhisattva empowering
and economically enlightening assignations,
therapeutic communication
respectful of our integrally democratic constitutions.
Organic frames of sympathetic reference
and nonviolently communing dialects
and double-binding co-empathic
depolarizing dipolar Yang/Yin permeable
AnthroMind/EarthBody boundaries
Sacred anthropocentric messiah
of universally lonely
monotheistic protagonist ideation
within organic EarthBody bodhisattvas
of unitarian belonging
polytheistic pronoia win/win experience
AnthroMessiah/EarthBodhisattva
co-empathic peak health/wealth resonant
extended family longing/belonging resilient
cobinary resonant AnthroFamily care-giving
longs to belong inside GaiaBody's forgiveness
for past SacredMe v OrganicWe antagonistic hubris.
Pausing too briefly for peaceful family rainbows
of divine co-elational bliss
predicting further appositionally sustainable
spiritually healthy longing
and physically wealthy belonging
wu wei Tipping Points in-between Yang struggling bodhisattva with
and not messianically against
Yintegrity's sacred/organic
extended family bicameral transformation.
Belonging within Earth's bodhisattva climate of wealth
longing to cooperatively embrace
AnthroMessiah's peaceful Gaia Hypothesis
therapeutically supporting
our extended organic family's pronoia vocation
While dealing with my real world dysfunctional family,
with messianically depressing delusions
refracting illusions of gift-it-forward co-redemptive grandeur
leading cooperative economic explorations
into remembering pronoia hopes
resilient win/win regenerativity
despite win/lose verbally abusive
and actively distrusting anthropocentric history.
"...the sister moon, cold, comely queen of the sky."
Ada Limon
********
You display your beauty like a rose,
your appearance, at first frail and ghostly,
blooms to fuller view in a sky studded with stars.
O Maiden Of Mystery! home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
assignations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the menstrual flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination.
The sun shall lose her heat and bleed to death
e'er you dissolve, expend your final breath.
Thank you very much Ms Tara Reade for confidin',
Your allegation 'gainst Jo-Jo the Clown Joe Biden!
Interesting that the fake news at CNN and MSNBC
Hammered Trump and Kavanaugh for like dallying constantly!
But from them regarding Biden, we hear not a peep
About the alleged assignations of this puerile creep!
Most of the time Joe doesn't know where he's at,
Nor can he find his butt with both hands, this wily bureaucrat!
Vote for him if you will this coming fall,
But if he is elected, God have mercy on us all!
(I suspect I'll receive vile flak from those with a different view - that's OK - fire away! I'm sticking to expressing my First Amendment rights!)
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
"...the sister moon, cold, comely queen of the sky."
Ada Limon
********
You display your beauty like a rose,
your appearance, at first frail and ghostly,
blooms to fuller view in a sky studded with stars.
O Maiden Of Mystery! home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
assignations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the menstrual flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination.
The sun shall lose her heat and bleed to death
e'er you dissolve, expend your final breath.
Red and juicy,
sensual shape,
sexual by nature,
they drip promiscuously
on my prurient lip!
Tastes of summer,
girls in flimsy cotton dresses
flirting shamelessly,
and sinfully suggesting
assignations in the park,
in the darkness, for a lark!
Their flavors captivate,
make me hunger
for an intimate embrace!
You flaunt your beauty like a rose,
as your essence, frail and ghostly,
blooms into fuller view, a stately pose.
Maiden Of Mystery, home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
convocations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the menstrual flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood, manipulation.
The sun shall lose her heat and bleed to death
e'er you dissolve, expend your final breath.
It burns
Brighter, fiercer, nuclear
With effulgent incandescence
But only when untended or
denied the expected trajectory
For there is beauty in this
A Glorious Thing indeed
The rarest of things truly
But to wilfully deny it?
There is beauty in this
The question unanswered
The Troth not Plied
The step not taken
The tone: implicit
There is beauty in this
Why not the unfulfilled
The peak uncrossed?
No less intrepid
The solemn solitary longing
For the possibilities
Unexplored...
Yes, there is beauty in this
Untainted by banality
Never familiar enough to let fester the insouciance we know so well
No sordid, covert assignations and all that they entail
Oh there is beauty in this
freedom to plough the fallow furrow
In spite of interdiction the splendour grows each time connection recurs.
This is the wonder!
Yes, there is beauty in this
Can this clock be run down until it's a thing out of time?
Of course, there is the possibility of regret -
The train not caught
The Nettle not grabbed -
But
There is beauty in this
"...the sister moon, cold, comely queen of the sky."
Ada Limon
********
You display your beauty like a rose,
your appearance, at first frail and ghostly,
blooms to fuller view in a sky studded with stars.
O Maiden Of Mystery! home of stillborn
assignations, misspent dreams and lovers'
assignations, fired with all the grief
you can distill, and all the joy.
You haunt the heavens, blithe and beauteous,
even when unseen your hold is mighty,
mistress of the menstrual flow, the driving force
behind each woman's mood and machination.
The sun shall lose her heat and bleed to death
e'er you dissolve, expend your final breath.