Best Bathing Poems
her husband made her
a beautiful scented bath…
pity it’s outdoors!
Inspired by the above picture which was taken by my hubby when we were out walking today
AWARDED POTD 3RD SEPTEMBER
Please go to my poems page so you can see the accompanying picture as it doesn't show on the POTD page
09-01-17
Sun Bathing
There is this brilliant gem hanging on high,
radiating down upon me from a clear blue sky.
It takes me back and into a time
when laying in fields, on river banks was sublime.
On a spit I sit, going around, browning under the sun.
Not a care, a worry, no obligations – there are none
as I read history, of the future and contemplate,
what is it that Nostradamus, predicts as our fate ?
Being showered upon by shades of soft, pink flakes,
flowered blossoms light as spring air, no mistakes
by Mother Nature, on her journey – brought down
by springs cool breezes that keep blowing around,
kissing, glistening, crystal spheres, upon a body browned
by the noon hour sun, making the hour feel so good
as all of life’s moments, upon this plane, should.
I lay here, absorbing the waves of musical sound.
Music has been, is, and will always be my companion
until a time when we become a part of the All, to champion
that which lays among the essence of another plane
that will carry us beyond all of our todays pain .
That plane, the beginning and never ending sojourn
that takes us around and around, our souls to turn
into a part of the whole, a place we will never yearn
to depart from, never again needing to know concern.
B. J. “A ” 2
April 26th 2005
Beyond the dark trees
Robins bathe in the sand
Watched by an eagle
Tender pats of a grateful mum
Saved from deaths door and sure scorching
The heat and ash were so close to overpowering
When a savior reached out and lifted us to safety....
How can I say thankyou, you are my hero?
I have not words but an overflowing heart
I give what I have....a tender touch
As I wipe the dust from your eyes
**Written about a picture of a mother dog that was rescued along with her pups from a burning
building by a brave fireman. The mother dog licked his face tenderly to say thanks for your help!
Breathe laden islands rise and fall
beneath the steam graced surface of clear water,
capped with rosettes, red-brown, silken, warm,
beaded with water running in rivers
down mountainsides of flesh, puddling,
in the darken depression of navel.
The water rises, about kneecaps
pristine and alabaster in hue.
Angular shoulders hug the far end of the tub.
A slender neck held aloft, crowned with auburn hair
and hazel eyes, changling orbs, of green and gold
an a oval face rivaling Modigliani’s Madonna.
A ruddy glow spreads across high cheekbones.
The rising water submerges all,
but porcelain neck and upturned face,
tendrils, tresses, coil, splay on still water.
Lids droop languidly, lips pout petulantly,
and still the water rises
buoying delicate arms, ending in fingers
...avidly playing.. upon
the pearl white key to desire.
Bathing in the Nectars of Love
Let your love fall now that I may wallow
Let the tears drip of your inner essence
Entranced by the nectar that I swallow
As I may engulf and taste your presence
Let your beating heart keep me company
The emptiness that entraps my being
A string vibrating in your symphony
Forever echoing festal freeing
Intoxicated by your juices wine
For the gods of love pour down their nectar
Indulging in grapes of the orchard vine
Seducing our souls a haunting specter
The nectars of your love are ingested
Thus the fluids of my heart arrested.
Dec.15.2018
Super Sonnet
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
N/A for contest
The soft humming sound of the cooling fan seeps through the crevices in her head, escorting a maze runner within her. She wishes to put an end to it. Both the fan and the maze runner. Yet, she requires both, much like oxygen, to sleep in this Indian summer night. Instead, she rises from bed and ribbons the drapes to the sides of the window, the moon rays' reflections cutting through the capiz shells of the shutter like a blade, leaving her skin singing the blues. She opens the shutter, and her bed is flooded with music and light akin to a spotlighted opera stage. She then lay down for the night, bathing in the woody amber scented moonlight.
The night sky asks the moon.
Down there, is someone thinking
Of you tonight.
The moon smiles.
The stars giggle.
-maria
11.9.15
The steaming sun rays,
Beating against your green coat;
Prickly as a thorn.
Surrounded by the city fuss
where throngs of lonely people live;
each day their lives superfluous
while trying hard as hopes misgive,
and years sift quickly through life’s sieve.
A peaceful pace is what I seek
away from life’s enduring grind
that leaves my weary spirit weak;
tranquility I long to find
and leave this city noise behind.
A walk through quiet forest green
while bathing in tranquility,
enjoying solitude serene
with nature’s calm docility,
and elegant gentility.
The scent of pine that fills the air
invigorating senses well
as quiet thoughts lift up in prayer,
and peaceful dreams within me dwell
while nature’s calm my thoughts compel.
The freshness of the forest breeze,
the calming sound of forest rill,
tranquility these moments seize.
I’ll walk this fern lined path until
my mind is cleared and dreams fulfilled.
December 8, 2019
Am bathing!
Collecting delightful effigies
from great heights imposing joy
keeping lathered many notions.
Only paradise quietly relaxes somehow
the unconditional, variant ways,
xenial yang zygomas.
When the bikini replaced the bathing suit
They were brief, but also rather chic
But the briefness was, nonetheless,
Still sufficient to cover both cheeks
Form:
O Cowherd, my fellow cowherd
Let's quickly drag the river walk
Fun walk with the wash cattle
Take the bamboo tube, and charcoal.
Look quick the sun came out midday
Does buck tilak on forehead
Bring mustard oil, to nails.
Don't forget, the calabash of garland and brinjal.
O Cowherd, my fellow cowherd
The house to clean
And don't forget to take the new rope
Today is to reject the old rope.
Let's hurry and brinjal with calabash for dinner,
Let's go forward to cattle digilithi rod to beat.
Star berry soap suds
midnight moon as my witness
River skin shoulders
shivering a quiet cool
lapsing into liquid pools~
Bathing with Bathsheba
By Mark D. Stucky
As you bathed bare below the high palace
were you intentionally seductive?
The citadel was in plain view,
and so apparently were you.
Or were you simply innocent,
and the king abused his power?
Was it a me-too moment
those three millennia ago?
Nonetheless, you became complicit
in David’s paternity cover-up.
You closed your eyes to consequences
of a conspiracy plotting betrayal,
and unfortunate Uriah
lost both his “lamb” and his life.
When David’s resulting infant
died from a fateful illness,
did you whole-heartedly mourn
for your late husband and child?
Did you desire a do-over
to undelete their ended lives?
. . .
But is today a we-too moment?
Are Americans all Bathshebas?
Will we bathe in regrets for sins
of commission and omission,
over our actions and inactions,
flirting deliberately with danger
or acting intentionally ignorant?
As a complicit collective,
with democracy endangered
by a groper and his groupies
and eyes carelessly closed
to gun and climate violence,
will we grieve aftermaths
with broken, anguished hearts?
(See also my poems "The 2023rd Psalm" and "The Art of the Devilish Deal.")
(Edited photo taken originally by hike4life687 on Pixabay.)
~The wave breaks
gently, caressing
over and over
it strokes
the rocky shore.
The shore
trembles
wet
ready
silvery
but mute.
The storm
glowers
angering the sea:
back-talk
leads to back
hands,
and the shore
maudlin
retreats.~
Large ~
boulders
break with the tides
of time, to slivered
shards all glistening wet.
golden in a new dawn
once whole now
broken by the tide
still there's
beauty,
yet.~
*see about the poem