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Best Bated Breath Poems | Poetry

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I Wait With Bated Breath by harris, matthew
I Wait With Bated Breath by harris, matthew
Bated Breath by Bayliss, PJ

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This Thing called Love - with Winged Warrior

Apprehensively I tramp with my lamp - through a path shrouded in gloom Silvery shafts of light entwine and fight through foliage as they creep Gnarled branches twist as I resist their sinister outstretched grabbing reach With a hushed bated breath I move in stealth - to allow the restless spirits sleep I have heard and have feared the ancient Mystical stories that are told Of a fabled cave of age where these immortal spirits abide A sacred and elated reverie this questing soul with them seeks To allow ‘The Oracles’ now - to show where my elusive love hides I have heard it expressed in a blessed rapturous appellation This glowing love from above that eludes this restless yearning child A bliss infused kiss that Celestial Beings have been heard to applaud A connection of perfection that would make Heaven look down and smile In my quest to find the nest of undying unconditional love I search alone to find my throne in the mighty caverns of the sphere May the spirits guide until I find my bride in barren breaths of cold And now I see in this mystic cavity an apparition does appear In a gentle voice I do rejoice and hold captive in their chambers My son are you the one seeking lasting love in our golden grotto I say yes and will you bless my jaded journey thus far I have made We’re beings of infinity descending divinity as above so below I fall to my knees as they say with ease - Feel the vibes of the stone Before you embark look within your heart - Love explodes there and beyond I shed a tear with a cavernous cheer and find where I have failed My soul anew now I'm due for my love to be Spiritually spawned
Acknowledgement from Maria (Down Under) - To my very dear friend and Poet Extraordinaire`-The illustrious (((Winged Warrior)), for producing this collaboration together with me. It is no surprise at the effortless speed of this production - virtually overnight (because of the time difference), and then another night with the sprucing up. It was good fun and we must do it again WW. POTD 19 September 2017 Music by Yakuro – ‘Through The Galaxy’ - Published on Mar 22, 2016 Copyright – Maria Williams and Winged Warrior – September 2017


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017


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Visitor - A collaboration with July Morning

POTW 28 January 2018

Prologue:
A beautiful extra-terrestrial female researcher is sent down to a remote island to observe earth and beam her findings back to her planet. She’s strictly forbidden to make any human contact. She detests everything about earth.

A research scientist, in a small boat fitted out with equipment is dispatched to investigate monitored, unusual signal activity emanating from this island.

Alas, a storm causes his boat to be shattered on rocks with loss of all equipment. His life is ebbing away as he is washed ashore.

And so the saga begins…  
~~~~~~~~~~~
In a palette of shimmering shades I dreamed Of moons circling moons within a celestial frame And scintillating stars that flickered through the day As melodious echoes sweetly called my name My thoughts of home are just nostalgic images that tarry Oh Earthling how I detest your Earth and its sustenance Through parted shrubs with bated breath your progress I observe To beings of my planet so dissimilar your semblance Undertaking this mission I realized a challenge it would be In truth your species to my world kindles an obsessive passion To secretly observe - make no association – my strict instruction Till finding you fading fast evoked these feelings of compassion Our paths were linked when I discovered you washed ashore Have you not wondered how you survived your sunken craft? Sensations of when our lips first touched cavort through my mind Breathing my life into you else it slipped forever aft Your countenance paler than before - will you arise today? Oh beating heart - my bond to you grows stronger by the days Natheless your harsh world would to me be a misplaced acceptance Despite my ‘ought’ to transmit a recall cue forestalls and strays
<~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~>
Strange visions overwhelmed me in deepest slumber Could this be heaven? Yet all is familiar, I've seen this before Blue sky o'er head, chimerical cumulus clouds without number Sandy beach below, the sound of gentle waves crashing, crashing My head, my head! Was I but for a moment dead? Throbbing, aching as though caught in some cosmic vise Real or unreal? Fantasy or truth? What ethereal dreams bled Into my brain in my hour of demise? And yet... Eyes of lemon-jade staring into my own. Translucent skin of topaz blue Against my battered and naked torso, tenderly caressing me, stroking my hair A face, a face not like my own, her teardrops as the morning dew Yet the vision keeps phasing, like daylight into dusk and then back again Soft lips of hyacinth pressing gently against my own, The sweet taste of honey as a healing zephyr fills my lungs In and out - in and out - flesh of my flesh bone of my bone O saviour, soul mate from the stars, from whence have thou come... Wait! A stirring in amongst the trees - footfall sounds I can't dismiss Am I being watched? - Who's there? I rise to my feet, unsteadily And turn to face my benefactor - Or is he/she/it my nemesis? Am I standing in a holy place, or my own private purgatory? Head spinning, body feeling heavy – a sudden need to rest, to sleep Darkness encroaches like malevolent shadows greedy to overtake Crescent moon appears in southern sky - my soul to keep, my soul to keep As dim fades to black a face suddenly hovers, a tender kiss upon my cheek My Celestial Angel returns …
We hope you enjoyed this episode. The story continues in 'Visitor Part 2'… Acknowledgement: Many thanks to you July Morning. It was a great pleasure putting this arrangement together with a talented poet such as yourself. It’s strange how quite by coincidence we were thinking along the same theme and how our thoughts came together so easily to produce this story. I shouldn’t be amazed at the speed with which you scripted your verses. I’m looking forward to working with you on the next episode. Maria POTW 28 January 2018
A Maria Williams and July Morning collaboration 22nd January 2018


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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A Box of Truth

I bought a box of truth from a peddler down the street,
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for a receipt.
 
The box was wrapped in violet silk and tied with silver string.
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath,    
even though he told me its veracity might sting.
 
The truth inside the box was even uglier than death.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench. 
I gripped the lid with shaking hands and paused with bated breath. 
 
I closed the box in panicked shock and struggled not to blench.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
It slapped me with repugnance and assaulted with its stench.
 
I found that lousy peddler selling boxes from his booth.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my violet crate.
Receipt in hand, I hurried to return the wretched truth.
 
With fingers clenched in fury and a heart awash with hate,
I bought a box of lies from that peddler down the street.
He studied me with sympathy and eyed my yellow crate.
I handed him a stack of bills and asked for no receipt.


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013


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Your Words Pale

I thought you the Master of Expression
               Your verbal dexterity
     Word play, a rarity: perfection
     Nothing could be more eloquent
           Nothing on earth as fine
    Nothing as beautifully sublime
              As that rhyme, that line
                 Or so I thought
            Or so I believed until….
               Your body spoke to me
 And your words paled in the eloquence
                Of your touch

Your lips moist from dying syllables 
             Closed over mine
        Melting the last of them
               All over my lips
   the heat of your pilgrim tongue
       Make letters come undone
                One by one
          

  Connotations and denotations of
                  Desire
                All expire
And are reborn in sensations new
       rebirthed in your touch
          meanings refined 
        as our souls aligned
    and our bodies intertwined

The flight of your flirting fingers flutter
     Eliciting Electra Ecstasy
       Syntax of sensuality
Spoken over the curves of my body
       releasing........me
      
In "voice" thick with emotions  yet silent to sound 
you spoke.....
    I heard….
              “I want to claim you,” your eyes intimated
                   “I want to know your every hidden place” your hands demanded
                        “I will taste you until I’m drunk,” your tongue teased
And with the wonder of manhood you thundered, 
            “I will possess you and make you mine.”


               Corpora of copulation reality
                          Soon to be
         You~~~ made~~~ love~~~ to~~~me
                In punctuation ecstasy
                        sexy synergy
             of my mind and your body
                       A pause     here
                Bated breath begging
                      “Go on, go ON!”
    Comma upon comma, you carefully placed
              poignant pauses to separate
      the onslaught of your list of sensual treats
    drawing me on that exclamation culmination
                         FULFILLMENT
                       Of you...and me…
    Eloquence of oneness beyond word degree
	                 Silent serenity
                   let eternity now just BE
            
            I thought your words were divine
                     Perfection of Pleasure
                    Wonderment of wonder
                  Eloquence extraordinaire
                 incomparable linguistic flare

                    But your words paled

             The day your body spoke to me

                    Eileen Manassian Ghali

                     Fictitious but Fun... ;)



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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Simple Pleasures

SIMPLE PLEASURES

When summer's in the meadow
and the bluebird's on the wing
I love the simple pleasures
that a country morn can bring.

Then all the world's a cane pole
with a bobber and a line,
the catfish are a jumpin'
and all I have is time.

My back against a willow tree
the clouds float softly by,
the wind is gentle on the pond
as it mirrors the summer sky.

With bated breath and baited hook
I slip in and out of gear
and that's the way I like it
now that summer time is here.


Copyright © John Summers | Year Posted 2010


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Daniel

You loved her with all your being, but then she left you wounded
Now you look at life without seeing, you feel your world has ended.

Young at twenty five and twenty three, but hope for you just ceased
To find someone though you were free, you've set your souls at peace
She’d settle for unworthy men, just not to be alone again
You gave up on love even then, seafarer who won’t sail in vain.

Young hearts alone and  lonely, but reaching to humanity
Paths have crossed though wanting only, to find your own identity
With curiosity and suspense, each with bated breath and still
Could listen to your pulse’ cadence, life’s void the other one could fill.

She was to you the blonde patience, you were the man she's longed for
Your pens spoke with great eloquence, biding  the time to come ashore
Beside the fireplace waiting, her radiant face and open arms
With love that set hearts blazing, found home in her dreams and charms.

How sweet the taste of one’s first love, that not all preconceived notions
Could have prepared you to think of, all the heated waves and oceans
That you would sail with bravery, secure in her warm embrace
In her there was no drudgery, bliss in her kiss, soft bed and lace.

But did you find true love indeed? It must have been the one question
That plagued as thoughts ebbed and receded, lost love, desire and passion
For you have shared your lives four years, just building all your dreams
Holding to each other in tears, rejoiced in her triumphs and schemes.

And yet she threw it all away, turned her back on love that's sincere
From your arms she went astray, went after what fed on her fear.
Gave up the years of love so pure, after meeting another man
Whose steadfastness she can’t be sure, as he abandoned his own clan.

Still you loved and was always there, when she needed you ‘til the end
During the storm you were her shelter, the lover whose love won’t bend.
The past year you were just coasting, along the shores, not knowing when
The wounds would heal and stop bleeding, wishing it’d stop right there and then.

Daniel my brother you should start, forget her and what could have been
Don’t let yourself fall apart, be strong, life’s more than what you have seen.
Though you loved her with all your being, but then she left you wounded
Now for your sake you should be thinking, it’s been a year, you should have mended.


(From the true story of Daniel, soul brother and friend, and the song by Elton John)
01 February, 2015
Story Poem Contest
Sponsor: Carol Eastman


Contest


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


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The Beacon of Hope

When you dread the break of day
and wait with the bated breath
the dawn of dusk 
for an eerie peace to descent,
When the balmy twilight 
singes your soul and you yearn  
for the welcoming arms of darkness,
When you begin to walk
and lose all sense of direction
but are too far down the road 
to turn back,
When you turn to your friends
and find none to comfort you,
When the concept of an all pervading God
dissipates like the morning mist
besetting you with doubts and fear;

Then in the midst of a looming storm,
death appears like a beacon of hope
beckoning your weary soul ashore.


~04/20/2017 / Words count: 111
~Free Verse contest by Laura Loo



Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2014


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Cheep Sweet Talk

"I've loved thee since I first saw thee as an adorable egg in thy nest!
Wouldst that thee would deign to marry me and put my pining heart at rest!
I hold thy delicate talon in my beak awaiting with bated breath,
For thine answer to my plea to be my beloved until parted by death!"

"All that I have to offer thee is a cozy nest in yon apple tree,
Safe from prowling cats and mean little kids to raise a family!
Please give me thy answer ere the sun sinks slowly in the west,
That I may begin to build thy dream home, thy cozy little nest!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Honorable Mention in Francine Roberts' "Enough" Contest -  May 2011



Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2011


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Listen to the Warm

"It happens just because we need to want, and to be wanted too, when love is here or gone to lie down in the darkness and... listen to the warm.” -Rod McKuen


Look deep into my Springtime and listen to the warm Leave all traces of winter behind Listen closely...and you'll hear the drip drops fall from that ice crystal fortress that surrounds your heart. I understand why it's there But now that it's melting away, it's easier to be able to Listen to the warm... The drips from your heart's fortress have formed a babbling brook With bated breath you board the boat with me Soon the topaz water's gurgling sound is in sync with your breathing And you relax Our destination? A cozy little cottage, in the middle of no where, but home to us Beneath our feet the lush green grass is speckled with wild flowers You pick a magenta one, and place it in my hair Like a couple of kids on a play date, we clasp hands and scurry across the field, our laughter echoing along with our steps We see that the door is ajar, a fluffy turquoise rug beckons us Snuggling upon it, I find the rug is even softer than it looks, as is your skin Soon the thunderous din of your heartbeat is in sync with mine Quite a rhythm section amid hushed whispers and the babbling brook outside our window
It becomes our lullaby, as we dream within this dream, we continue to Listen to the warm... Allowing the warmth to embrace us, our hearts say, that everything will be okay...
4/17/16


Copyright © Dineen Williams Gault | Year Posted 2016


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Within Her Breath

Within Her Breath

I heard upon the desert wind,
a song that sounds so sweet.
It lives within this dry parched land,
that lays beneath my feet

It grows within the desert palm,
and shines within its sun.
A song that reaches deep inside,
that’s not for everyone.

A song I see in eyes so bright,
and in that flowing hair.
A song that creeps into the heart,
and rides the desert air.

For if I stop and feel the wind,
I know that I will hear.
The softness of your bated breath,
as I am drawing near.

I’ll hear your passion on the wind,
and touch your gentle hand.
I’ll ride between those swaying palms,
upon the desert sand.

For I will pick the fruit of love,
that lives within the palm.
And hear within your gentle breath,
a loving desert psalm.
                                   by Tom Clark


Copyright © Tom Clark | Year Posted 2010


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This Thing called Love - with Maria Williams

Apprehensively I tramp with my lamp - through a path shrouded in gloom Silvery shafts of light entwine and fight through foliage as they creep Gnarled branches twist as I resist their sinister outstretched grabbing reach With a hushed bated breath I move in stealth - to allow the restless spirits sleep I have heard and have feared the ancient Mystical stories that are told Of a fabled cave of age where these immortal spirits abide A sacred and elated reverie this questing soul with them seeks To allow ‘The Oracles’ now - to show where my elusive love hides I have heard it expressed in a blessed rapturous appellation This glowing love from above that eludes this restless yearning child A bliss infused kiss that Celestial Beings have been heard to applaud A connection of perfection that would make Heaven look down and smile In my quest to find the nest of undying unconditional love I search alone to find my throne in the mighty caverns of the sphere May the spirits guide until I find my bride in barren breaths of cold And now I see in this mystic cavity an apparition does appear In a gentle voice I do rejoice and hold captive in their chambers My son are you the one seeking lasting love in our golden grotto I said yes and will you bless my jaded journey thus far I have made We’re beings of infinity descending divinity as above so below I fall to my knees as they say with ease - Feel the vibes of the stone Before you embark look within your heart - Love explodes there and beyond I shed a tear with a cavernous cheer and find where I have failed My soul anew now I'm due for my love to be Spiritually spawned Collaboration...Maria Williams and Winged Warrior-Sept.18.2017 Music by Yakuro – ‘Through The Galaxy’ - Published on Mar 22, 2016 Copyright – Maria Williams and Winged Warrior – September 2017 Thank you, my friend, from down under...you are a beautiful soul and a wonderful talent...an enchantress of write and a princess of poetry...it was magical to work with you again...looking forward toward our next 'deja vu'


Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2017


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The Kiss of Klimt

I hurried through the halls of Belvedere
To reach the floor where I could see “The Kiss”
The place I’d find his artwork was so near
I finally came upon it, joyous bliss!

It hung there straight before me, glorious sight
I pushed among the people standing there
I felt my spirit rise to wondrous height
With bated breath, transfixed, I stood to stare

How could I trust what eyes told me was true?
There was that gentle kiss, that sweet embrace
I’d seen it often before, but fondness grew
For tenderness Klimt painted on her face

The flowers in her hair, romance in bloom
Protective arms of lover, haven sure
Kaleidoscope of colors banished gloom
A moment captured then that will endure

I gifted to my daughter artist’s book
She loved his “Judith” and his “Tree of Life”
Klimt’s passion women mirrored in each look
He loved them all but none he took for wife

Gustav has left a legacy of love
In paintings that enthrall the heart and mind
Of stature small, but like the gods above
He left eternal mark on all mankind

For Anthony Slausen’s Klimt Contest
November 18, 2017


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2017


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Tone Down the Intensity

Tone down the intensity
Is like telling the sun
Not to reach its zenith
Of blazing, scorching heat
Or telling the waterfall
Just as it is ready to gush
Down in a tumult of
Freshness to hold back
At the edge
Or telling the volcano
Seconds away from erupting
Hot molten lava
To reingest the heat
And lie dormant
Or telling the tsunami
That is rushing headlong
To the shoreline
To recede back into
Nothingness and let go
Of its momentum of power
Or the shooting star
To not leave a sparkling trail
As the friction with air
Causes it to burn in brilliance
But to remain motionless
A pale light
On a dotted black sky

Tone down the intensity
For a person who embodies it
Is like telling nature to stand still
With bated breath
When all it wants to do
Is burst into a song of celebration.

Tone down the intensity?
Not a chance…
Tone UP the capacity
To live life!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013


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THE UNIVERSE IS IMMENSE

How many people with foreboding palpitations
have I seen slip from middle age and slide into old age?
They slither into their last refuge, the dirt hole,
and nestle into the forever unknown life stream.

The ones who grow old breath by breath, carry a last wish,
that life be sustained one minute more,
to last long enough for death to be quick and painless.
The dead, even the almost dead, at this point know hope is futile.

Hope is only for the living, the years brandishing hope vanished 
from our hours quickly dissipating as we lived in our lives,
decaying quickly into our last, precious dying seconds 
but revealing that recoiling from death is folly.

We are finite beings with an expiration date.
Death always triumphant shows no mercy 
and leaves no room for hope or idle prayers; 
forward and onward as the saying goes.

At my age, death is my constant companion, I do not shun it.
I welcome the old rattler without hesitation or fear.
Life and death are just what they are, a before and after selfie,
what happens after that is anybody's guess.

Nothing more, nothing less and in the in-between years 
I stuffed my hopes in plastic grocery shopping bags 
toting them with fears and lofty aspirations
knowing I had enough time...

So I lived my life as a happy-go-lucky tourist
seeing interesting places, but finding people with minimal common sense, avaricious to a fault and lacking compassion ready to believe anything.

Questioning has been my guide to understanding this convoluted world,
but what I see is a war-torn Disneyland in chaos, 
controlled by wealthy men with a malicious agenda. 
I visited and am grateful for living this long to see the world's malaise.

The call to learn critically is imperative. 
I await my next perplexing assignment,
eager to explore the universe and satisfy my curiosity.
Surely, somewhere else must have more common sense and astute logic.

Time brought age and wisdom, but also laughter and confusion,  
gearing me up for the next bewildering wonder to be revealed.
The universe is immense, but humorous and full of deceit.

Lead on, Grim Reaper, 
I will follow your lead with bated breath, 
worried what other idiocies you have in store for me
in that unknown theater called the hereafter.




Copyright © norberto franco cisneros | Year Posted 2017


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Anxiety

anxiety showing through;
bated breath and tired sighs
all the same
today and tomorrow...
just crude forgeries of yesterday
nothing changes
every exhalation breathing out
another piece of our monotony ridden souls

pressure
strife
choking me, constricting my lungs
as if even the air is now my enemy
blowing and pushing me in directions
that I'd sworn never to take

anxiety showing through


Copyright © Joshua Aguire | Year Posted 2008


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Let Me: Alone

Let me walk alone,
my journey to enhance.
Stop to pick a yellow daisy;
time to pause and dance.

Let me dance alone
tho my steps, to some, be wrong.
Waltz high upon a mountain;
whispered echo's of my song.

Let me sing alone
of loves with bated breath.
Fill my soul with laughter
until I lay in death.

Let me die alone.
Toast my life with wine.
My journey was my own
and it was mighty fine.



Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017


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Undressed- A Collaboration

She felt his presence by her side
Her first reaction – unimpressed.
She turned her head, a toss of hair,
The situation she assessed.

Maybe it was the dauntless smile
Perhaps the wicked twinkling eyes
The self-assurance in his poise...
Do warning bells ever suffice?

She sipped her drink and options weighed
He praised her looks and wispy gown
His flavoured words - delicacy
Her guard she weakly lowered down.  

Till late at night beneath the stars
They danced to music, hands on hips
If ever doubts had crossed her mind
Erased they were by burning lips. 

She found him suave and debonair
His face, ethereal, divine
Attentive eyes looked deep within
His lips still tasted of sweet wine.

The music played; he held her tight
Each sense alive and needing more
She whispered breathlessly to him,
"There's more to me you must explore."

Behind closed doors, he lay her down
And kissed each part that he undressed
Before her nakedness was shown
Her face he tenderly caressed.

"I will not take what is not mine; 
You will not be a one night stand."
"My love," she said with bated breath,
You'll guide my life; I'll guide your hand."

A Callman Collaboration (Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian)


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2018


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Undressed

She felt his presence by her side
Her first reaction – unimpressed.
She turned her head, a toss of hair,
The situation she assessed.

Maybe it was the dauntless smile
Perhaps the wicked twinkling eyes
The self-assurance in his poise...
Do warning bells ever suffice?

She sipped her drink and options weighed
He praised her looks and wispy gown
His flavoured words - delicacy
Her guard she weakly lowered down.  

Till late at night beneath the stars
They danced to music, hands on hips
If ever doubts had crossed her mind
Erased they were by burning lips. 

She found him suave and debonair
His face, ethereal, divine
Attentive eyes looked deep within
His lips still tasted of sweet wine.

The music played; he held her tight
Each sense alive and needing more
She whispered breathlessly to him,
"There's more to me you must explore."

Behind closed doors, he lay her down
And kissed each part that he undressed
Before her nakedness was shown
Her face he tenderly caressed.

"I will not take what is not mine; 
You will not be a one night stand."
"My love," she said with bated breath,
You'll guide my life; I'll guide your hand."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Callman Collaboration (Paul Callus and Eileen Manassian)



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2018


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Punxsutawney Phil's Weather Forecast

Folks wait with bated breath 'cross the nation,

   For Phil's insightful prognostication.

      What will his prediction be?

         We will have to wait and see,

            After Phil wakes from his hibernation!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved

(Not for contest)


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015


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An Introduction: an introduction

Considering how many times I set out to pen a small,
Master piece of art, a gem that might underwrite,
The utter liability of being just that stamp,
Or tramp, or whatever other denomination one might reliably take into use,
To put me in some camp,
By way of classifying the contingent being -me- 
Whose eagerness presently strives to present 
Himself as himself as truthfully as Truth writ large,
In terms, of course, both endearing, flattering and “brutally honest”,
(Which, parenthetically, is what my soon to be deceased ex-step-mother-in-law once Said,
Would be the way she would have to describe some of My more salient character flaws)
To you my reader, my chosen few, my undeniably very few chosen few,
As a being in the here and now,
As living flesh and burning spirit,
As a man of substance and substantial capacity 
To transmit radiant rays of thoughts,
That reside, quite Evidently, 
And in no doubt to some degree by Providence,
Within an interior space- MySpace- where nothing gets elbowed around-
Nor for that matter ever gets liked, commented upon, shared,
Or, even worse, put at risk of going viral-
For this is after all an authentic  space, 
Not a virtual race to create a face,
Nor a terrific place to leave a cyberlinear trace
But a true mental galaxy, 
An individual-wide web of self-associating neurons, 
Where all and everything is self-made and dependent upon Nothing more, 
Than a small light switch which I alone am the master of-

This then will indeed be far from the grandeur of the art I imagined.

Therefore my fair friend
I humbly ask,
With hand on heart,
Notwithstanding those fingers so inclined to be bent and crossed,
And hat in hand 
(That would be the other hand)
For your forgiveness and forbearance
And do solemnly promise to get this little ritual over with
As fast as a cat on a motor scooter- 
Which is an image I kind of like by the way
Because it reminds me of Sally,
The old toothless Steinbeckian woman who lived alone above the basement apartment,
A dank little hole I might add, 
Back in 1992,
Where my ex-wife, now an Artist, used to live in a snotty little town called Westport.
Sally uttered those timely words
With a Cheshirean grin to boot her point home
Because her landlords were kicking her out
Not only for going sour apple on three months rent
But for being a rotten apple to begin with in a part of the world
Where only Golden apples were entitled to reside.
Sally had to get the hell out.
Faster than a cat on a motor scooter.

Oh toothless rootless Sally how I celebrate you!
Hardly a master of your own destiny
You were at least a Masterful speaker
Unlike those marginal creeps,
Mr. and Mrs. Somebodyimportant, 
Whose sharp noses wedged you out 
Of their little cash crop cottage 
And who no doubt live comfortably  
This very day
In some vaulted tomb under Floridian myakka 
While you 
My little friend 
Are but dust in the wind.

With that aside now put aside 
I now commence
To end quickly this brief debriefing 
And by way of Introduction
Will only add the most necessary details to conclude 
What urgently needs to be concluded as rapidly as possible,
Faster even,
To paraphrase our heroine in modern idiom,
Then a cat going global on youtube.  

However,
One important detail to get over with,
A small but relevant 
Fact of the matter,
Is confessional by nature:
I hate introductions because they do 
In fact Matter
Under the unique circumstances
Which with bated breath and increasing alarm
I have come to recognize
As not only necessary
But obligatory
To outline
In a way-
Um…. 
How do I say this?-
That will not only defy
The very conceptual idea 
Of brevity
But defy it in such a way
As to peel its meaning down
To its very atomic anti-structure
Semantically speaking
Which is to say,
Apologetically, 
That brevity in my hands
-Drum roll please-
Is brevity in geological time.

Why you ask?

My reader,
I suffer from nothing less 
Then a syndrome, 
Unique upon this earth-
(Oh wretched wretched earth you are!)
Unique among all earthlings,
(With some note-worthy exceptions among 
Those posturing, lumbering humanoids called writers)
And certainly unique among all rational creatures
(Who Nature by way of de-evolution has so endearingly
Immunized against MyDisease by way of social nurture 
And social constructions that protect humanity’s bloodline from madness),
Called-
In proper taxonomic terms-
“Ican’tstopwritingIcan’tstopwritingIcan’tstopwritingIcan’tstopwritingeizer’s Disease”



Copyright © Yorn Called | Year Posted 2014


Details | Bated Breath Poem | Create an image from this poem.

WORKSHOP - DANIEL

You loved her with all your being, but she left you wounded Now you look at life without seeing, you feel your world has ended. You were twenty five, she was twenty three, young and strong yet hope ceased To find someone though both were free, for you have set your souls at peace She’d settle for unworthy men, so as not to be alone again You gave up on love even then, seafarer who won’t sail in vain. Your young hearts, alone and lonely, reaching out to humanity Paths have crossed though wanting only, to find your own identity With curiosity and suspense, each with bated breath and still Could listen to your pulse’ cadence, life’s void the other one could fill. She was to you the blonde patience, you were the man that she longed for Your pens spoke with great eloquence, biding the time to come ashore To see by the fireplace waiting, her radiant face and open arms With love that set hearts a' blazing, you found home in her dreams and charms. How sweet the taste of one’s first love, that not all preconceived notions Could have prepared you to think of, all the heated waves and oceans That you would sail with such bravery, secure in her warm embrace In her there is no drudgery, bliss in her kiss, soft bed and lace. But did you find true love indeed? It must have been the one question That plagued as thoughts ebbed and receded, lost love, desire and passion For you have shared your lives four years, just building all your dreams Holding to each other in tears, rejoiced in her triumphs and schemes. And yet she threw it all away, turned her back on love so sincere From your arms she went astray, went after what fed on her fear. Gave up the years of love so pure, after meeting another man Whose steadfastness she can’t be sure, as he abandoned his own clan. Still you loved and were always there, when she needed you ‘til the end During the storm you were her shelter, the lover whose love won’t bend. The past year you were just coasting, along the shores, not knowing when The wounds would heal and stop bleeding, wishing it’d stop right there and then. Daniel my brother you should start, forget her and what could have been Don’t let yourself fall apart, be strong, life’s more than what you have seen. Though you loved her with all your being, yet she has left you wounded Now for your sake you should be thinking, it’s been a year, you should have mended.
From the story of Daniel, soul brother and friend, and the song by Elton John 01.02.15


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bated Breath Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Spring

Welcome Sun you move in our direction,
the Northern World is waiting for you call,
will you cure this Winter's introspection,
bring light before the darkness starts to pall.

Longer, warmer days anticipated,
for annual gifts we wait with bated breath,
hints of life from those that hibernated
to obviate the threat of icy death.

Feathered friends return from far-off places
their gratitude translated into song.
Resting plants will rise and show new faces,
the weak have gone, this World is for the strong.

A time of change, of hopes on which to cling,
each year, three months, the Season that is Spring.


Copyright © Mike Roberts | Year Posted 2013


Details | Bated Breath Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Stagecoach Is A-comin' To Old Santa Fe

"Hyar she comes!  The weekly stagecoach is a-comin' to old Santa Fe!"
The driver cracked his whip and blowed his klaxon to herald the way!

The weekly arrival of the stagecoach was cause fer raucous celebration!
The town's ne'er-do-wells found another excuse fer excess inebriation!

The excited citizens one and all awaited its arrival with bated breath,
To see and greet the motley rogues brought to town by the driver, Seth!

Seth descended from his perch midst snarlin' curs and guttersnipes,
Gun-totin' hangers-on, genteel ladies, the sheriff and other sundry types.

Grizzled Seth cut loose a stream of cussin' and in a furious rage,
Yelled, "You'uns clear the way and let them people git off'n the stage!"

His bedraggled passengers set foot on the dusty streets of old Santa Fe,
Happy to be relieved of the stagecoach's nauseous lurch and sway!

The Baptist Ladies Guild gasped when down stepped a lady of the night,
But she was greeted by the fellers of Buster's Saloon with a cry of delight!

Next was a feller all dressed in black scannin' the crowd with a gloomy glower.
He was a preacher-man causin' fellers from Buster's Saloon to cringe and cower!

A steely-eyed dude with 44s on his hips viewed the mob with condescension,
But his shifty manner put the sheriff on alert and merited his attention!

Down stepped a foppish dandy wearin' diamonds and dressed in fine attire.
He was a gamblin' man aimin' to see how much town capital he might acquire!

Seth hollered, "All aboard! I gotta git to Albuquerq' by six tonight!"
He whipped his steeds to a gallop and soon old Santa Fe was outta sight!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved



Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2015


Details | Bated Breath Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Family Tree

Explorin' the branches of the family tree can be rather dicey.
Some ancestors could be famous, humdrum er downright spicy!
With bated breath I decided to take the risk and check around.
I wasn't all that enthralled about some of the dudes that I found!

Seems that in the distant past a member of my family strain,
Was a notorious pirate maraudin' the boundless Spanish Main!
Another was a nefarious cattle rustler ever on the vamoose,
'Til a posse tracked him down and left him danglin' from a noose!

One forebear, a scoundrel who specialized in robbin' trains,
Was ensconced fer life in a cozy cell, detained in clankin' chains!
A rowdy ancestor caused a ruckus in a Cripple Creek saloon;
The high sheriff done him in one fateful August afternoon!

My lineage included a business lady of whom I proudly spoke,
'Til it was revealed she was a soiled dove, dismayin' this poor bloke!
My great-grandpa was caught dispensin' jugs of potent 'shine!
Revenooers busted him resultin' in a term in jail and a hefty fine!

A distant uncle was a goon in a notorious gangster mob.
He met his Maker heistin' a bank they were tryin' to rob!
I proffered a prayer as I examined my tragic family tree:
"Lord, may a sturdy twig adorn this tree and let it begin with me!"

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved

Entry for Judy Konos' "Relatives" Contest


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2014


Details | Bated Breath Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Silence is now the sharpest dagger to the heart

The blacked out world mutes loves counterpart

Silence is now the sharpest dagger to the heart

You hang on bated breath for a single word

The peace of sound will not be stirred

You can't keep calm surrounded by the lull

The speechless stare has left you dull

The stillness way has struck a nerve

Standing alone tall in there reserve 

The secret world they will now not share

They leave your black heart to die on dead air

The blacked out world mutes loves counterpart

Silence is now the sharpest dagger to the heart



Copyright © Kevin Clark | Year Posted 2014