Best Babe Poems
Ah, my brother is finally sleeping
Through my head mischievous thoughts are creeping
It’s my time to shine now
To him I won’t kowtow
All of the attention I’ll be keeping
I’ll make the best use of this special time
Beg for more after each nursery rhyme
I’ll play with his best toys
Till he makes the first noise
Because then I’ll just be admired part time
By Carolyn Devonshire
For Miranda Lambert’s Brotherly Love contest
April 23, 2011
I need your ultra desperation
your ultra conflagration of love making exhilaration,
I want your ultra shout and pout
give me your slap attack
the amber of your abuse, the saffron of your emotions,
I crave the playful plenitude of your ultra uppidy attitude,
you let me experience hyperventilation at your disappearance
then inflation of euphoria in my Heart's utopia by your reappearance,
I want to know your ultra sadness
that song you share with the twilight of despair,
your ultra madness, your vortex of female complex,
I desire your hot and haunted psychology
your genius of ultra ingenuity, the pulp of your passion,
sometimes you love me most when you hurt me
a pathology of love cut sympathy that I can handle best,
earning the ultra soft surface of your pillowed chest
where I can rest the weight of iron soul, and slumber at your behest,
I want the whip of your hips and the sip of your lips,
I want the pleasure plethora of your ultra vulva
to access the pagoda of your sexual yoga
to concoct in you the froth of organic soda,
I want your Gospels and Revelations
the Path and the Wrath, your cross of ultra conquest
the morning of your ultimate ascendance
the midnight of your ravishing bite
the bounty of your breast and the burn of your brimstone
give me the lyric of your ultra breath,
your ultra love keeps me alive!
J.A.B.
Lacing
My face
With the intoxicating embrace
Of your taste
Knowing
Your mine
Sets shivers
Swimming
Down my spine
Take my time
Let it glow
Before
It shines
I’m blinded
By your grace
Gonna trace
Your lines
Burn
The memory
Into my mind
X
Marks the spot
Of every dirty thought
I’ve got
Of you
Unleash
The beast
For the feast
That is you
Gonna savor
The flavor
Of your favor
Let it linger
Like a singer
Hitting
The last note
Send an emote
Or a text
If you want to know
What comes next
p.s.
Kisses
On your neck
Tasting delights softly captured
in a keyhole of thoughts
warmly smiling
radiates within one porthole
Outside the mind
opening this heart sweetly yawning
twilight dawning .
Clouds shades red blushing desire
fading to amber
going further out from the sun
turning shades
from gun barrel grey to black
setting our scene.
kissing outside in
thinking of your beauty love
Licking deeply tongues on fire
warm fluttering rays
hotly kissing each beat
burning passion erupting inside desires.
Let all the tree tops glisten ,
And gleeful children listen,
As snow drops gently fall,
To an amazing Christmas call.
Let all the people sing out loud,
Let mistletoe hang, from every cloud,
Let stars twinkle in the sky,
Let Angel choirs reign this night ,
And bring delight to human kind,
With their so lustrous light.
The midnight hour is close,
And many praises heard,
Countdown begins,
Even Santa is among the crowd,
Hat in hand, his head bowed.
The clock begins to strike,
The heavens open wide,
A nativity scene displayed,
Before our very eyes,
A heavenly Babe is born,
This early Christmas morn.
Farolitos: lanterns of candlelight;
Luminarias: outdoor fires of pine.
Both light quiet path on a Christmas night
for Mary and Joseph, old ones define
messages that the new babe is divine.
A candle in sack borrows from the two:
a delicate, hanging Chinese lantern,
and small fires left as a signal, in lieu
of rocks and tree signs, which later we learn
prompted phones and texts that we now discern.
Small fires still left, but a radiant glow
of Farolitos light wall and pathway.
All over cities and hamlets they show
an amazing, yet reverent, display
of warm stillness that gentles end of day.
December 13, 2022
"A Christmas Special Poetry Contest"
by Emile Pinet
She is in the kitchen making cheerios pie he is in the music room clanking at the keys
a Maestro prodigy yet to potty train airing out little notes and driving her insane;
With motherly sopranic voice she climbs the sweet n' low vibrations of love's keep
as her piano babe goes off to lala land, fast asleep on ebon keys of century ivory gold ;
A slight soupcon of happy dreams begin to take effect upon his tiny peeked smile,
while traces of thoughts arise like air balloons, "cheerios, and mother's lullabye"
The sleepy boy begins to toddle towards heaven's veil to that magical place where
daintel angels fly about and make easy music to the sound of water falls in spring;
He is a sapor vessel of beauty
a cherub child
that belongs to the flowers
of the field
Up there in the netherland of mystery and grace is a pianist who died young and
went with a song left unsung. She watches the piano babe and decides to play
for him. The name of the song is "Reflets" her name is Lili Boulanger....
She created the music and lyrics in 1911. Today the music can be heard but
the lyrics are in her own vouch safe world of creativity.
Lost in a perfume of the past the present comes to life again
he is gonna wake up to the arts, some day, but when ?
Contest Name: Tell me a story 2 (chose Image 1)
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
11/01/2018
If I could jump in a rainbow
And soak up the rays
It still wouldn’t compare
To the love of my Babe
He showers me with sentiments
He explains how he feels
He gives us a future
And makes fantasy become real
I can’t quite remember my life before him
And he thinks the same
We are brainwave twins
My life has no past
It seems I’ve forgotten
Like it was molded or rotten
With my baby it’s all new
Life started the day
I met my true best friend
Confidant and lover for always
My Babe
thank you babe,
my sweetest one,
cos i have loved you long,
you are my fun,
sweet part of life ,
you are this hun,
though i step over the barriers,
come,
to meet you behind,
the green door, yes some,
you are my sweet delight,
bar none.
the lover of my life,
the one,
who shows me the light…
it's done...
Don Johnson
There in a little town called Bethlehem
a couple called Joseph and Mary
the young woman who was pregnant
filled with worry almost daily
Nowhere could be found anywhere
until in that little town came inn
there a babe came forth here
God sent His son to take away sin
That little baby named Jesus Christ
here was God himself incarnate
in this body of flesh and bone
He came to save us from our fate
The saviour of the world no less
this Jesus destiny was upon a cross
God's anointed son truth embodied
focus to Calvary whatever the loss
This God-man full of God's spirit
drawing many to believe His gospel
came from heaven on a divine mission
salvation's news to make others well
Mysticism is alive and well.
If this seems like a mystification, you have not experienced it yet.
But wait, what if you have?
Think on the mystique of a newborn babe.
You know this beautiful child has an inner glow, and sacred look, fresh from heaven.
Mystically alive, a soul-messenger.
A newborn will mystify even the most hardened skeptic.
You cannot hold one without instantly feeling that you are looking into the eyes of God.
Anyway, I cannot.
You are not as sweet as honey anymore,
I wish you will evaporate just like a water vapor;
You only love your bottle of whisky or your liquor,
Don’t give me a kiss, you stink! I’ll slam the door.
Pack your things and walk out,
For the first time I can be hysterical… I’ll scream and shout;
You cannot take care of me as I wanted to be stout,
Like my idol Betty Boop whose lips are so luscious when pout.
I bought this house for you and for me,
All day and night I worked hard…now, I’m so skinny;
You said, you had contributed a thing here, I don’t agree,
Just your one and only nail on the wall, am I happy?
Tonight, I will give you your last chance,
But keep yourself away from me at ten-meter distance;
Drink those perfumes then give me the last dance,
Before you’ll sleep naked on the floor and forget me babe, not hon.
May 25, 2014 6.40pm
Second Place
Contest: Slamming Season
Judged: 6/17/14
Sponsor: My fave poet, PD
Third Place
Contest: Slam The Slam
Judged: 8/28/14
Sponsor: My Beloved Poet Skat
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers Minnesota
Before Paul Bunyan flattened it
To resemble North Dakota.
Paul's blue ox Babe was equal to
Most anything he'd ask.
A job that takes machines today,
Babe found an easy task.
When Minnesota was cleared off
To Paul's high satisfaction,
He looked around for more to do.
His huge ox needed action.
He came out to the great Northwest
Where he found to his surprise,
The trees grew taller and so big
They matched his ox for size.
Babe struggled just to clear a path
For wagons to get through.
Paul, fearing for his valiant ox,
Said, "I''m retiring you."
As I said before, no man's alive
To tell the end of story.
It's said Paul and his ox went home
To bask in their past glory.
Babe Ruth
To tell the truth
Was as good a hugger
As a slugger
Silence hushed, a crowd in awe,
Only crickets could be heard.
Under the spell of the Babe,
They looked to where he pointed,
Hoping to see a home run.
Perhaps the greatest player
America ever-knew,
Would, once again, please the crowd.
But the pitcher wasn't phased,
And threw a wicket screwball.
Babe watched its winding approach,
Eyed it close, took aim, and swung.
Resounding off of his bat,
Unfailingly, the ball flew.
Then, as the home crowd cheered on,
Headed straight for its target.
(Acrostic)
5/19/2015
12/21/2022
Poetry In Motion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri