Best Clutch Poems
The dawn spoke her name like a silken secret
carried carefree by the tradewinds of lust and larceny
imported from the traderoutes of paradise and pandemonium,
sequined with violet venom she venerates the virtue of volition
her love is unlawful, unequalled in unrest, righteous in conquest,
tender in temptation, torrid your surrender, her beauty a will bender,
Queen of Empire Passion, warrior unknown to submission
her kingdom was not inherited, glory and throne ungifted,
the treasures, stables and territories, battles and crown all won,
rich in intellect, endowed with rare resources, affluent in original passion
bejeweled in natural beauty, she bewitches beasts and men alike,
Poets pen her preciously as Woman Total, Priests implore her pardon,
male servants pander to her anger and ardor, satisfaction she commands,
Sisterhood the symbol and soul of her mission,
I was just a man, a wanderer wading through her reign,
from the unsubdued North I came, a curious traveler with ancient name,
my tribe unfamiliar, underestimated, a Chieftain of steady pulse,
tresspassing towards her roots my aim was direct knowledge of her
woman of renown cunning and learning, woman of exotic ability,
seeking teaching and romance, though I would not be her Subject or victim,
this she knew, this she abhorred, a challenge to her dominance,
I agreed to meet her alone in the open morning of war,
in an abeyounce of gliding fire she comes riding out of the sun
regalia of black roses against red tears flying above her shoulder,
our horses begin a battle tromp, breaths heavy with moist mania
she has leopards in her eyes
poinsettias and death's palms painted on thighs,
scalps of exlovers and enemies slung on sadle
we acknowledge one another with ritual yell
I exclaim, Warrior Poetess, she screams Poet Warrior!
dismounting with mutual vigor our combat erupts
cutting my cheek with her blade's lip
kicking me in the ribs
I clinch her collared throat
and heel trip us to the ground
she snarls, I growl,
a glimpse of rescue in eachother's eyes -
J.A.B.
I wanted something bubbly
Coke with ice cream trick
That fridge, again, empty
So I made my trip to Kwik
Swerving around this town in my horses
Parking up by the front door
No training could have prepared me for
What waited inside the store
Standing with her 2-liter of Diet 7-Up
If I just died, keep me here on heaven
I asked above not be taken so abruptly
Feeling luckier than sevens or elevens
Now she says that this place
Is wherever we stand here
Desiring her within my space
Needing her crystal clear
That gentleness of her touch
As we let go while giving in
When love has got its clutch
In times we are skin to skin
Edenical clutch
Adam & Eve bonsai
bare side of moon
it’s bright and sinless light
seems a world away
We meet every morning in the coffee shop, opening our eyes with a bold cup of java.
Chatting about the daily news in the paper, the controversy, hardship and damnation between lines in the pages. Our beverages getting cold as we talk with reservation and restraint, exercising political correctness, morality and the like. Our joy is engaging in conversation, while our cups rest in saucers tight. The subjects dwindle slowly as we exhaust our supply of caffeine. Like old habits that die hard we rely on our coffee clutch
For stimulation is the voice we crave and talk doesn't cost much.
what I wouldnt do to get you in my clutches, crack a couple eggs, break my own legs to smoke a dutch with my duchess, through hazards ready to duke, Ill puke up a ruckus, refute a succubus and pay for a million knuckle sandwhich lunches, punch the paper until its vapor for that proper sustenance even if it shuts down the whole government, im thinking how am i gona date her
cause love conquers, drives barbarians bonkers, berzerk over that twerkin, some booties deserve sponsors but more importantly its what her minds offers, attentive like attendees at a concert as nina simone saunters like an unstoppable monster, packing bowls of sugar, she aint going for that oscar, truth hurts sometimes lies are softer
every dream fostered, ideal and pristine, christened with caramel and ice cream we scream, for these things cause sour grapes might need sweetening, id rather have attempted and lost, then walk off wondering, into that bitter sunset, spending eveings upsept and alone thinking of you wishing youd hit my phone no time for me might mean for someone else, or your over it all and time is for yourself
rib cage pressin, bars of bones mufflin my internal percussion, tho my flow can sound like timpani typically im feeling terrifically, heart beat bumpin, like kids in a bouncy house on steroids jumping, *****cats click the mouse for all types of assumptions, tho this night i was punked by her junk, vacant spaces need stuffin
In the labyrinth of shadows, where trees clutch the forest's shade like a hidden talisman,
Like old, diligent guardians, they embrace the unknown stories of the night,
Hidden under the petal of an ethereal flower, a hidden world whispers secrets,
Under the azure sky, previously unknown, limitless horizons unfold.
Our love takes shape from a distant star, seeking paths with the soul,
From lost halves, we grow whole, polishing words with a gentle sigh,
Delightful aromas in forests delineate the tear from the essence of suffering,
I adore having you by my side every moment, speaking of stars that find no sky.
In the heart of the night, when branches weep tears without reason,
And beyond nights, forests, and dawns, I remain yours for eternity,
Why do you soothe my soul with your hand, as if I were a child at your breast,
When within me, all feelings blend into a silent storm?
Why do you call me without words, and in the deep night, you cry out in my soul,
Asking each step to be closer, with fiery whispers woven among silences?
Yes, I love you, and I do not ask to tell you how simple it is to do what you do not want,
Just as clouds on another sky gather, so that two become one again and one becomes three.
Gather me among your thoughts, without asking, without saying a word,
When your eyes abduct me into endless moments and you rise on an altar of tears,
Why allow the day to bury our unfulfilled love until now,
When I tell you you're near me, with soul and shadow, on any path?
Let the mystical, ancient, and wise forest speak through us,
Where light weaves dreams and darkness keeps all our secrets,
And together, let us traverse this sacred land,
Forever enwrapped in the enchanted whispers of the endless forest.
yet the people rebelled against me
in the wilderness locusts and wild honey
he poured out his wrath on them
yet i did what would keep it
from profaned in the eyes
of the fighting nations
do not follow the idols of your ancestors
the sacred river flowing dirt
remnants of burnt carcass
yellow flowers merging with clotted blood
naked sanyasis dancing in the charnel ground
post mortem rituals ego transcending
tantric liturgy molding the mind and desposition
prayer beads, flower pujas ,yajna ,mortification
of the rotten flesh, summer solstice
esoteric dharmic traditions
archetypal liminality surface
chthonic dieties dragging
will you defile yourself
what are the roots that clutch
what branches grow out of serpents
In a sense everything that exists,
Exists to climb and cling.
All evolution is a climbing
We clutch and cling
Towards a higher form
As it reaches the consciousness,
Towards a spirit.
One loves and honors the high places
As sense them to be homes of senses
A higher place of awareness,
A spirit that soars
So we clutch, cling and climb.
There is more than a metaphor
Thereby a means of discovery and mirth.
+++++++
April 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Seventh Place Win
Contest: Any Poem Goes #30 by Linda
Something had to give
Or, it was going to break
…shatter
…explode into fragments so sharp they could sever gravity
The machine had been running on vapors for far too long
Nothing oiled
Nothing lubed
Everything got too hot too quickly
Everything groaned, screeched, & whined as it threatened to seize
Irreparable
Each piece, to the tiniest, was twisted, and skewed six ways from Sunday
It was so many things…
The one thing it wasn’t….
It wasn’t good
So far removed from good that it was miserable
A junk pile of outdated parts
A wretched heap of uselessness
The rub?
…it wasn’t always in such disrepair
When it was in its prime, it ran like a syrupy dream
A dream that promised an eternity
Absolute
Always
Now, that dream was pregnant with sorrow, & about to birth a bitter end
It promised nothing more
The tank long emptied
It promised nothing more than
The lengthy, messy, harrowing task of dismantling the machine
Piece by piece
Each stamped with painful memory
…a reminder of what it used to be.
how much could we clutch
able to reach out and touch
which was Dutch and such
No matter how fast I run, or how high I climb,
It always escapes me, that being called “Time”
It is a cunning sparrow, taunting with each rasp
But with each step nearer, flies out of my grasp
Fleeing from my hands, away from my clutch
Just millimeters away but not enough to touch
Running up a steep mountain, I lunge to clasp
But stepping closer to the edge, I let out a gasp
Richly hued feathers painted black and blue,
Each trapping my limbs, my feet stuck like glue
Plant-like appendages wrapping around like vines,
Securing me in place to watch the minute hand’s line
Each tick, each beat, each shake of its slender tail,
Speeds up my heart rate and the pace at which I inhale
Staying in the same place, I beg and plead for more
More of that being which continues to soar and ignore
To this day the sparrow continues to hide and mock,
To glide around others and let out a triumphant squawk
For no one can stop time, whether I am young or old
Only during my final breaths, the sparrow I can hold
Written: July 7, 2021
Contest: “Grasp”
Sponsor: Constance La France
I paused, the moonlight to inhale
As I put my steep climb on hold
Thick grape vines held tight in my grasp.
On I climbed to clutch a buttress
My breath reduced unto a gasp.
On I clambered higher to clasp
The dark hued castle tower cap
I donned my rig to glide away
And soar over broad moonlit vale.
7/5/2021
Writing Prompt - Grasp - Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Touch and Clutch Much
There are those men who like to touch;
Happy when women are in their clutch;
Definitely endowed,
And very proud,
And are always enjoying it very much.
Jim Horn
Congressional after hours activities.
We're down by two to the state champs, here we come
~ I foul out... game over
September 03, 2020
My Most Unforgettable Moment in High School Contest
Sponsor: JCB Burl
I watch the hard-top slide into the truck
the desert sun immediately floods
elating, intoxicating, bathing me
you were right, this is just what I need
ease off the clutch, onward I speed
the cool wind blowing through my hair
driving off without any cares
just for once I'm not looking back
as exciting as popping in a full clip
you were right, this is just what I need
running the gears, now picking up speed
feeling the power in my right hand
as my boot works the tight, left pedal
who would of thought you could get such a rush
from this pretty little compact piece of metal
you were right, this is just what I need
no reverse, no going back, onward I roll