Best Beading Poems
One more question… say
Could Mona resemble mount?
Appearing as a huge fount!
Could Lisa… if so
Resemble Li? A black horse!
The prettiest mount of all?
In Lishan’s bliss lap
Where hot springs foil blissful map
Lisa taken from Lishan?!
Lastly, could Mount Li
Be mirror mount in Far East
When Columbus spews soil’s meek?!
But I wonder how
Accurate old paintings are
Keys of clues for clever dart!
Awakening sleep-
ing giants in Middle East?!
A smart name! World’s deep history
Da Vinci did see
The beginning of the bliss
Future coming so fast… twinge?
It’s time to plant seeds
Of grains to bloom hefty pints
Of harmony beading fizz
Two thousand twelve… cheer
When peace makers garb the *****
With profound peaceful prayer…
Stampeding ugly
Prayers… so that “Sweet Rhyme” brings
Chaste lands together in peace.
By: Nadia F. Shahwan – September 2009. This poem has been inspired through observing the
portrait of Mona Lisa by Da Vinci.
When I look at the Nile or Niger
My heart overflows with joy for such a wonder
As currents daringly flow on each iconic river
Every fountain has wealth embedded in its waters
Each mountain, sealed by the richness of history
This is the reason I recognize a path
A path filled with promises
Promises to make Africa great
In fact, Africa is already great
What a marvellous sight to behold!
Imagine a variety of wildlife in Togo
Comforting sounds of birds across Comoros
Outstanding presence of gazelles in Cameroon
Supernatural nests of swallows from epic Chad
Historical archives found in artistic Mali
Fashion trending all the way from Malawi
Magical flavour of Sea Cuisine from sanctified Senegal
Amazing pyramids in the gifted land of Sudan
Breath-taking desert all over Sahara
Beautiful girls dancing malembe in the colourful Sibasa
Bubbly boys playing in the busy streets of Kinshasa
Men brewing special coffee near corners of Mombasa
Women beading around some parts of Luanda
Elders sharing stories in the hearty homes of Rwanda
Lovely smiles from the stunning faces of Eritrea
Heartfelt love from the people of Liberia
Eternal Spirit of Ubuntu in Tanzania
Eye-catching mosaics around Tunisia
Vibrant Traces of Culture in Namibia
Incredible wisdom in The Gambia
Sweet melodies from Ghana
Sacred Forests in Uganda
Serene Oceans of Madagascar
Super Eagles soaring higher in Abuja
Special works of art from Addis Ababa
So many diamonds around Botswana
Abundant copper from magnificent Zambia
Hidden Treasures in Zimbabwe
This is no ordinary continent
But a place of contentment
Everyone who comes here
Is welcome at a first glance
By the greatness of Africa!
I woke this morn a chilling sweat alarmed
No recollection of the night before
The sheets were drenched and mixed in beading blood
That's when I heard the knocking at the door
I sauntered to the front glint through the drapes
Am startled by a beauty, don't recall
“Not leaving” she says, “open, let me in”
Last night I shared with her what would befall
Some memories coming back I turn the knob
She plants one on my lips, then many more
On sofa out she blurts “Well, is it done ?”
Don't answer her til I remember things
She smiles and says “you did it” views my cuts
The blood that's on my body source unknown
Still no reply from me until I'm clear
She voices “bye, I love you” her bemoan
It's coming back to me “was I set up ?”
Descends compendium of my cars trunk
She must have drugged the brain between my legs
Garage-my car-I'll search I could be sunk
I turn the key to open up the lid
A large dead man is scrunched up in a ball
The sirens getting louder “I've been framed”
I shake my head, about to take the fall
Strangers undulating with rhythmic ease
Igniting the air with ecstasy
While lights flash in spectacular colour
Hot breath creates an intensity
Of steam rising up through delirious sound;
While damp, red silk caresses my skin
Sweat beading on my baking skin
As I slip through the spaces with practiced ease
I am captured by the rapturous sound
Of collective want and ecstasy
Immersed in a world of fevered intensity
Exchanging black and white for oblivious colour
Feeling the music radiate wild colour
As I slide across his skin
His gaze, unmasking my passion and intensity,
Holds me with confident ease
Contact sparking transfixing ecstasy
Our words are lost in booming sound
The vibrations of his voice, a captivating sound
My eyes temporarily blinded by colour
I am clothed in a shiver of ecstasy
As his breath strokes my skin
Pulled together with incredible ease
By impetuous desire’s intensity
Our breath shallow, we move with intensity
Lost in overwhelming sound
Moving together with unfamiliar ease
Overtaken by scent, sensation and colour
Passion radiates from our skin
Building in agonizing ecstasy
The particles between us electric with ecstasy
The pumping music loses its intensity
As we lose the barriers between our skins
Touching with breathless sound
I feel the rising heat and colour
As our lips come together with ease
Our touching skin deadening all external sound
In the intensity of dark-lit colour
Our passionate ecstasy gives way to comforting ease
I saw it in a film: his city is beautiful.
Snow is everywhere, the trees are crowned
with it, and ice skims the harbor,
frosts ships, going nowhere. Even when
he held me, there was ice in his heart,
Ice in the pale blue of the washed-out
sky beyond his closed eyelids, ice
beading his vodka skin, and
"You are hot," he said, "Hot,
hot, hot..."
Balzac is beading,
Robespierre is reading,
Introversion I am needing,
Reflections I am heeding,
In old bat cave central,
Like an ancient Sybil, hypothetical,
Wisdom is supposed to come with age,
As Balzac turns his own page,
Why am I more religious than the Pope?
Can any faith give Earthlings hope?
Better than folk smoking dope!
If you have problems embarrassing,
Bring them here for my listening,
Sage advice I am providing,
Reflections I am heeding,
Yes, boys, beer understands,
How did dinosaurs make it in Pleistocene lands?
Answer: They didn't, for beer, no hands,
Yes, reflections I am heeding,
Humans are minute cosmic specks, spinning,
on a pebble in Outer Space, clinging,
If gravity didn't suck, we'd all be floating,
Reflections I am heeding,
As Robespierre shall keep reading,
Then Balzac shall be beading.......
flashes of childhood while I toss and turn
the visions haunt me, fierce fires slowly burn
red ears, cold cloth: fear is beading my brow
soft strokes to my face, a cloth cools me now
Heaven sent prayer- - -please send relief soon;
and grant me grace should I not leave this room.
Please look down from your place high up above
Sounding your trumpet, please wrap me in love.
Fondling fingers - - - life lingers through a thread
three times through the hour they said I was dead
dreaming, floating on a cloud - - - - -the abyss
rescued from death - - - -brought to life by a kiss
Please just wrap me neath clouds of angel wings
Please stay down there longer, they gently sing
I was stuck in traffic
Just the other day
When a certain feeling hit me
In a most horrific way
I felt a pressure building
It's happened more than once
But the fact I didn't learn
Made me feel just like a dunce
Sweat was on my forehead
My foot was on the brake
"LET'S GET THIS TRAFFIC MOVING!!"
I said for goodness sake
I've got to reach an exit
To answer natures call
I'd settle for a tree or shrub
But I prefer a stall
The cars then started moving
I thought, "I'll make it through"
But ten feet brought another halt
Now here comes number two
My forehead sweat is beading
As internal pressure builds
I dread to think what happens
If my need is not fulfilled
The guy beside me's drinking
From a Big Gulp soda cup
Unconcerned of progress
As I watch him turn it up
Again we start to moving
I can see the end in sight
A blue sign shows the promise
Of a restaraunts delight
It's not their food I'm seeking
But their plumbing there within
I'll be glad to order something
If that's what it takes to win
I've got one lane to change
So I put my blinker on
I hope the guy back to my right
Can see what's going on
Here we go. We start to roll
The guy gives me a space
It's just another fifty feet
To help me end my race
I grit my teeth and grip the wheel
With bowels and bladder full
I make it to the exit
And I pray to save my soul
I finally reach the turning point
But then the light turns red
I wonder if there's someone
Out there messing with my head
With muscles growing weaker
I hope that I don't seep
The pain that I'm enduring
Is enough to make me weep
But then the light turns green
And we're free to move along
"Lord just let me make it
Before anything goes wrong"
I turn into a parking lot
And find the nearest space
I park my car and jump out
Then I'm off to run the race
I find the restroom there inside
The one that's marked for men
I turn the knob and find it locked
DAMN!! Where does it end?
I dance around and grab myself
And then I hear a flush
My eyes roll back into my head
I feel a certain rush
I know the moment's near at hand
When I can have some peace
Just get that bastard outta there
So I can feel release
Rockman :-)
I am ten and crossing home.
Two players missed it, as it rolls on and on.
An error if you're scoring the play,
but I call it a home run on my first day.
I am ten, and I have found my first love
in a tattered ball, and a hand-me-down glove.
I am twenty, and I am throwing hard.
Beading sweat, please stay in the yard!
Each pitch thrown with a hope and a prayer.
Scholarship athletes can't be only fair.
Medical school looms larger than the Show.
A privilege for few, but I don't want to go.
I am thirty and I cannot put it down.
Sundays the old men come around.
Love of the game a common bond.
The bat is no longer a magic wand.
Reminiscing about those bygone days.
I can no longer beat out those close plays.
I am forty, and I watch with delight.
My own boys throwing with all their might.
A lump in my throat, a moist eye.
I contentedly look on and sigh.
I've passed down the love to the next generation,
and I wouldn't trade that for a standing ovation.
A Polite Warning. The Following poem is somewhat steamy. Not explicit, but explicit in
inference. If this sort of thing offends you, then please be considerate and don’t read
it. Thank you.
Naked Flamenco
( A sultry summer night spent together
With ardour between us growing
She whispered, “Let me dance for you”
I agreed, little knowing………………. )
Binding spells of mysterious wanting
Soft dark her eyes looked
Into the shades of my mind
An enchantress of fantasy
She etched her velvet pattern
On veiled secrets
Parted
Dangerous lashes flutter desirous
In emerald peacock pupils
Midnight burnished hair let fall
In captivating tangles
To full ephemeral corners
Of soft bitten lip
Coy damp line drawn on her cheek
Captivated
Her expression acknowledges
With known provoking smiles
Eye lights shine saying “already mine”
With twisting flamenco poised
Sensual arm insinuates to finger tip
And eventide's rose is pale skinned
And naked
Curved line from ankle
Writes portents to the nape of her neck
Through black tousled sexual spinal blades
Shoulder dipping
Quivers her femininity to rising breasts
While arched longing
Mouths the indescribable tactile seconds
Of her promontory dancing
Patient in toe tip exquisite she places
Penchant elegance
Of her naked ballet
The ribbon swirl of vanished gossamer dress
Depicted wing-ed arms
She rises a surrealistic
Flight of angels created
In soft light air brushed forms
Of muscle, rib cage, bones and tendons
Body writhed centres eclipse
On pubic between
The epitome of gestalts navel breathing
I shudder Goosebumps of enthralling
Built by such grace of a heavenly
Consecrated female
Led beyond mere heated needing
To a place resplendent
With sheer un-tameable and un-nameable beauty
Guitar stringing twangs the milliseconds
Of her overture
Spanish castanets tap click fervent
Pronouncing the rhythm of my heart
Naked pale formed Goddess
Gently rips from me
Every appreciations confession of
Perfections contours
Fine satin sheen hairs risen
Beading sweats slight trickle
Aroused by my infatuation
Nipples stiffen
And I am drawn from and by
Heavy breath to music’s ending
To land in her presence
Panting
She has seen through me
Every century of a woman’s glory
And with a slow beckoning finger
Her eager eyes
Tell me
It is so
I believe I will go to St. Croix,
Where the balmy air I will truly enjoy
With lots of fine sand
And a big butted man
Who I can completely and truly annoy
I will leave a stuffed woman in my bed,
She will have a nice round balding head.
So when my people come see
What has happened to me
They will find a still dummy instead
This man and I will take our time reading
And sweetly enjoy chocolate feeding
We will stay in St. Croix
And eat all their soy,
And learn how to do intricate beading.
Fruit fully ripened
Like browned bodies
Squirming, bumping, wiggling
Vacuuming the meaty softness from its shell
Tongues licking the peel
Juices running
Like nectar over mouth
Over chin
Juices running
Beading and dripping like translucent pearls
Juices running
Streaking eager faces smudged with dust
Still savoring the goodness
A hand wipes
The sticky residue into crumpled grasses
Other limbs slowly press forward
Reluctantly, they release this shimmering moment
Its sweetness
So brilliantly alive under the sun’s blazes
Passes into nothingness
Becoming but a trace memory
Kathy Kroll
October 21, 2015
Brenda and Banron bounced slowly on his boat
as the brilliant sun sparkled brightly on the glistening water.
Big and burly he was the boy she sought after in her book.
She smiled bravely as his battered pole slipped smoothly
through the babbling blue surf leaving the sand far behind.
"But why have you brought me to this barren sad place?" Brenda spoke.
Banron sized her up, staring blankly into her soft beryl eyes.
"It is seven leagues beyond the barrier reef that we are bound," he said.
Sea gulls skimmed lazily across the bow of the bobbing boat
as it slowly yet bullheadedly sloshed sprays of salty brine
into brackish basins starting to fill under the benches where they sat.
The sun was intense, battering her senses and beading sweat on her bosom.
"You better take me back Banron," she stated as their destination drew near.
The breeze blew stiff from the opening in a cliff soothing her hot breast
as butterflies stressed the bile in her bubbling stomach making her want to barf.
Believing Banron simply saw her for her body enticed her emotions,
but now she stirred self consciously as he gazed at her from beneath his brutish brow.
As the boat smoothly slid into the cave, before her she beheld a dark brackish stream
"You don't seem to understand beautiful Brenda, I am not Banron, I am Chanron the boatman
and before you lies the river Styx, now, one silver coin, if you please, my sweet baby."
09/19/16
Try to pick a date to meet
A few retired friends
And find it near impossible
For everything depends…
On travel plans or visits
With the kids from out-of-town
Or babysitting grandkids
Or the dentist (for a crown)…
Or tennis games or theater tix
Or else a craft-type class
In beading or in quilting
Or in knitting or stained glass.
How wonderful to have the time
Without a job to tether
But how complicated just to plan
A day to get together!
Today I cut my beading class.
I didn’t feel like going;
But there will be no consequences
Due to my not showing.
I will not get detention
Or some points off from my grade,
Though of course it will take longer
For my bracelet to get made.
It reminds me of the feeling
When I struck out on my own
And became aware each choice I made
Was mine and mine alone.
Beer and nacho chips for dinner
With some ice cream on the side?
There was no one there to tell me
My decisions were denied.
So today I played some hooky,
Not my usual routine,
But at times it’s nice to feel again
Like being seventeen!