Best Coarseness Poems
There I was.
Inside a crowded Toys R Us
On a mid-Winter’s evening
Abrasively loud 5 year olds
And depressed fathers
Ready to throw their “angelic” brethren
Into life-size Nerf basketball hoop
(Because it was on Clearance)
To embrace sanity’s madness
I was simply here to search for a porcelain doll
For my darling 8 year old angel
To match her serene complexion
But, toddler stomps & red-faced pouts
Equivalent to octaves of Hell’s 5th circle
Could not stop the strut that suddenly coated my foggy nerd glasses
There she was.
Her 5 foot, 10 inch majestic walk
Performing exorcisms on corrupted tile floors
With each
New
Step
My ear canals
Swimming in the serenity of
Her olive-coated curves
And violet-auburn shaded, shoulder-length curly locks
Left
Right
Left
Sensual witchcraft was placed upon my resilience
Chipped away by her Hazel ribboning pupils
My heart’s atrium, flat lining, with laughing hyena smile
Frozen by igloo’s revenge upon madness
“Excuse me, sir”, she vehemently moaned
(At least, in my head)
“Hi”, I expressed with pre-pubescent coarseness.
“I’m looking for a porcelain doll.
But, I’m a tad lost in this maze.
Could you help me find my way?”, she whispered with demure smile
With my tongue pressed against seconds’ icy arm,
Locked for dear life,
I inhaled with Olympic stature
“It’s 9 isles this way. May I show you?”, I confidently declared on sanity’s edge.
With constellations aligned by blue moon signatures,
“Yes, please”.
As crux of evening’s audible stresses
Faded into final curtain’s epileptic sunset,
The winds of Yahweh curtailed all foggy affirmations
Into palms of bliss
Because
On this night
I proudly took the long route
Slow dancing with magnificent silence
To the isle
That was only 2 steps to our left
I believe we both discovered our porcelain dolls on this night.
©Drake J. Eszes
As morn braces against the emptiness of night
And cock crows echo in waves of yellow light
Fallen mixed colors brush along the coarseness’ of stone
As fall would have them, these leaves of gold
Age as time moving swiftly through coveted hope
Laid far along twisted roads, yearning there and then
to be not parted here, have alas a distance near
But what of it, who so best to have it, more!
I tire now on thinking further,
and would love to simply settle
On piles of leaves bright along the way
To answer no more
to things that must stay
‘Cause with any wisdom here,
I would have experienced it there
On piles of leaves I will stay, and rest a time
before another day
And should it be the last of things, then so be it,
for I would have had
what it was before its last,
and what more can I ask -
to take on roads we can not stand
The rock that to the climber reaches out with
jagged arms
And to the sore foot of a traveler turns a tough
rough back
Holds within its harshness
The promise of swift marches
To they who aspire towards its summit.
And to each of them it someday proves
That in the roughness of the way lies the
smoothness of the journey—
For only amid coarseness can footholds form
And only to jagged rock can a grip bond fast.
It‘s the same with the affairs of men:
They who walk us on oiled paths,
Who smooth the way to soothe our soles,
Soon see their care turn to a scare
When upon its glossy form no crack is revealed
where seeds of hope may lodge
Nor any gaping holes seen through which golden
beams may slip and light the darkness ahead.
For fortune draws her breath through cracks
That make coarse the route
That to success leads—
Cracks that soothe our soles with spiced pains,
The pains that herald victory
Which barren comforts bear not.
We’ve created life that makes us see each other indifferently
In your world, I am an intruder while in mine, you are the coarseness.
Making conflicts that are war like with little understanding of why we even came to know each other.
Wherever my element throws out to yours there comes narrowness and excess of modishness, which may at last reach such an extreme as to see evil in whole yours.
Why is it so difficult when it would have been so easy if I humble and send you the truer feelings of respect and submission? For which will this make you feel a sensation of ease and comfort wherever you may be?
If my thought and sympathy was turned entirely on another, or entirely on other interests, would you feel restless and uneasy? Though entirely ignorant that my affections had strayed in another direction more than once as evidently you have known for sure as an open book or can I say as of a child’s innocence?
That of the flow of your thought to me in the desire to entertain during our mutual hours of leisure has results to cheer and strength. The pleasure it brings have been increasing and keep on increasing as ever, making it difficult to focus on other things immediately every time we meet for longer time before I gain my focus.
Every time I gain my focus, your trumpet like voice have been a constant reminder of the truer pleasure that constantly make it difficult for me to completely move on. A husband and wife you called this from the first time we met and truly I am stuck with little knowledge of moving for it has been a deep enchantment, difficult to wake up from.
Hope not so long that I will be able to disappear before your own sight and mind, be melted away like the sun does to the stars by morning never to be touched but be of reminiscence; this is but only of dream for now, for I am stuck in the rut.
Pawns Brokers
“Grit is a better word or term”.
They have it – these “Grunts” - grit –
that sandpaper bearded coarseness
structure in the face of fallacy,
backbone to support the flaws
of the wishy-washy conspirators.
Perseverance in the face of punishments
wet boots and leaky tents,
rubbers to cover “rifles and guns”,
tenacity in the face of tedium,
the character, will, and fiber of freedom
melded into unified intent,
a molten steel adapting
in the face of resistance.
They are the “grit” -
dirt, gravel, pebbles, stones –
assembled, mixed, imbedded,
into the foundation of flexibility.
G I’s, ground infantry, “grunts”,
foot soldiers, men, women,
volunteers in a world of privilege
honoring history’s forebears.
First brazen move of chessboards
unseen pawn brokers, last weary
card thrown in game of war.
“Brothers” – back to back –
protections tough guys
carrying the weight
of battle’s lies.
12/22/2015
submitted to ---------IS A BETTER WORD – Poetry contest
sponsor – Verlena S. Walker
Will you burn the earth`s skin to glass?.
Yet, right there , in Harmony of `69
I bent in adoration
before the dusky pearl of your forehead
the soft slopes of your never-ending body
shifting under a sea of blankets
Oh! treasure of treasures !
sparkling
to life
love
in the inner-sanctum of the
tent-temple of my emerald heart,
filling it with that attar fragrance ,
that compassionate smile,
that yearning voice,
quieting my storm
urging me
to swim your sultry sea.
How could the world ever be the same again ?
Outside,
rooted like stark brood of the Black stone ,
rocks parried thuddingly the capricious charge of waves
and subdued the swell and swirl of a dark ,disturbed sea.
The summer night was short
and I
cleaved to you like a calf to its mother.
Your dark-eyed nipples breasted the blanket ,
occulting the coarseness of Harmony .
We rocked to cradle the peace in the galaxy,
with love milking the way
to the morning star .
Winking over the mount,
Venus caught us intertwined ,
drooling like babes,
sated
I, summer cloud paramour of
you Landie ,
altar of my sensuous sacrifice
sweet naos forever
Yolande
briefly
undraping your
compassionate cosmic essence
for a gallant stripling
starving for affirmation.
Awed,
i nested in mouths
harmonizing
now enchanting,
now strident symphonies,
keen enough to split
chaos
into mutual opposites
that grappled , grinded and finally clashed ,
giving birth to a higher union.
I tattoo your name , Landie, on the stretched skin of the earth.
I pullulate the waves in your name
sackbutting the syllables
till tremolo breaks it breathlessly to foam
on the glistening beach of your belly
Wrinkles I didgeridoo into the dark blanket of our night,
stringing out your diadem of stars
I spiral you stately across my deep.
Breaking away
reluctantly
from the tug of your knees
i trolled our anchor through love`s flow
girding it close to my wound-up heart.
"Go now love….spare me a thought "
Your voice and a gentle seabreeze wafted me out.
Diving at dawn with a whale of love
between waking dunes
capped by sourfigs , bleary-eyed revellers,
the blue-blue sky warbled
“one and one and one is three
One thing you got know ,is you got to be free
Come together, right now , over me.”
.
Now day follows day
Plunges into dust,
Along that old play
Between trust and thrust.
Now just for a while
Accord a kind will,
Unhinge with a smile
That coarseness you feel.
Now if you still best
A weary burden,
Discern and digest
Gall that must return.
Now night covers night
To tally and keep,
Note surreal insight
That caress deep sleep.
Now if wit must fail
To steady a pun,
Learn then to avail
With new jest you pun.
Now beyond this surge
Of grim metaphors,
Look to inner urge
To easy laughter.
Now let humour roll
Out your red carpet,
Transit lofty toll
As madness blankets.
Leon Enriquez
06 December 2014
Singapore
Myself, a cup:
Resting quietly
in a stained glass cabinet,
I wait for Desire’s approach
upon the uppermost
shelf:
That moment--
when the warm coarseness of His leather
dares to reach,
when the cabinet doors finally
breach;
when He lifts me
to the pursing slope
of pink.
He has not come,
yet content I remain.
(Dust becomes me, I think)
The glass hues rain my reflection
in purple and jade:
I am a shell of ceramic roses;
enamel strength,
delicately made.
I admire the pearly wax and wane
of porcelain,
all the wondrous variety that may be held
Within;
With or without knowing--
the brush of His lips
to my skin.
Is Donald Trump not essentially American,
An exemplary icon of quintessential America?
A normal man to the loud, confident American,
The pride of the burly, bullish pedestrian?
Freedom of speech is understood by Americans,
To mean that diversity is the consequential result,
And that all can perambulate along vocality’s road,
Without fear of scathing, of the eloquence catapult.
Bigotry is rife in the States and you can’t criticise,
Harshness, coarseness or brevity for anything,
Because if you do a snide remark with cascade,
To sedate your narrow mind and morality thing.
So here’s the thing: the president is not normal,
But is a speciality without symbolism of the norm,
So maybe it should be harder, languages required,
To become a presidential nominee with silk form.
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming,
A strumming rhythm of natures
Raw essence.
Breathing rock inhaling, exhaling
As the earthen elemental surrounding
Conscious thought.
Knowledge’s smoothed edges, leave
Reasons rough coarseness exposed.
Humanities deaf ear, hears only,
The hollowing of the four winds,
Shutting out enlightenment's truth.
Natures dream weaver touches
Heaven,
With her softest silken finger tips,
And gods canvas falls unto earth.
Behold a tapestry deepest blue,
Lit by universal stars.
In the stone circle,
Mankind lifts innocence vial,
Revealing ignorance blindness
Of sight.
And feels humiliation smallness.
It's singular aloneness, individuality,
Quest for immortality exists,
On baron grounds frosted soil.
In stillness silence, behold the
Ring of fire.
Lighting divine spirits to flame,
Flickering embers alight igniting
Destiny's spark.
Intellect, intelligence a rebirthing
From deaths black darkness.
Within the cold gray stone,
It lives a spiritual humming.
A strumming rhythm of
Natures raw essence.
Breathing rock, inhaling,
Exhaling.
As the earthen element’s
Surrounding conscious thought.
A cathedral of stone,
With one disciple
Left in prayers knelling position.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Love lost that fiery feeling
babbling bitterness,
Much mundane coarseness came
pausing prime progress.
Though interval inspired
tantalising tone,
Where gracious grieving gratitude
brought the hungry home...
to forever fall for love again
rekindling sheer spark
with whispers wafting warming words
ignited from doomed dark.
Now, fuelled fire flames gears no games
yet drives desired dreams…
radiating rich romance
marvelling moonbeams.
Mom, I embrace the SunShine
Mom, I embrace the Rain
Mom, I alleviate the coarseness of the grind
Mom, I eliminate all pain
Mom, I welcome all rhythms that move me
Mom, I relax the most easily triggered part of my mind
Mom, I take in all the therapeutically medicinal sources that soothe me
Mom, I think of You in the Center of A Gentle Wind as The True Unwind
Mom, I completely get a hold of myself and correct my attitude
Mom, I close my eyes to start a relaxing Time Machine Journey
Mom, Every WonderFull Vision that I see (again) only further UpLifts My Gratitude
Mom, I Immediately Grow Up Even More, which does Additionally Assure Me
Mom, I EnJoy a Gold 'N' Nugit Ice Cream Bar on Mother's Day In Memory of You
Mom, There Is No Maternal Influence or Inspiration Above You
Mom, I wish I was a scientist that could create the The Perfect Recreation and Chemistry of You
Mom, if I could, and if I was able to, I would Hug You Till I Die....My Last Words Would Be 'I Love You'
When long johns get religion
And you’re fallin’ out the door—
And bowels just move a smidgeon
When they need to move much more—
Then ol’ north winds come knockin’
And it’s then that you sure know—
If relief don’t come callin’
That you’ll sure enough dern blow!
Then your stomach do start rumblin’
Like it’s in some argument—
And you know the storm’s comin’
And it won’t be heaven sent!
That’s when you cinch your sphincter
To repress that symphony—
To kill or mute the coarseness
While in polite company.
But when that time is over
And ol’ nature runs its course—
You’d better blame your best pard
Or meekly point at your horse!
Yes, long johns hide revival
When your bowels can take no more—
But if you feel it comin’
Just undo that ol’ trapdoor!
once or twice I thought I saw you
where shadow stretches long across the rock lawn
but it was just the heat from the sun’s rays
a mirage that evaporates into evening dust
once or twice I thought I heard you
drifting silently into a dream
when I looked you were not there
a faceless lesson I finally learned
once or twice I thought I smelled
the ambrosia left from a morsel of love
that left me hungry after the meal digested
thirst not quenched from bitter wine
once or twice I thought I felt
the softness of a lover’s hand
soothing my brow but not my mind
the coarseness of burlap against velvet skin
once or twice I thought I tasted
the sweetness of all it could have been
imagination plays funny tricks
on the senses of what won’t be
As is each day of years to come
~
O’ blustered winds - of coarseness flow
Upon these lips atone
Yon murmured fields of slowly strolled
To quest as if unknown
Lest I call these visions deemed
A’ crying o’er the heart
Breadth o’ mine own eyes hath seen
Nor fancied o’ thy part
It hath been of sorrowed sleep
O’ cast of humbled dreams
That I, for one ~ hath felt the thrill
A’ wash of what it seems
For as with all ~ who’ve angels smiled
And to the long of mind
Within my heart thy taste is real
Of you that I now find
For thee, I say ~ I now must weep
Thy joy engulfs my soul
To breathe is lost from what I see
This heart o’ my control
Happiness doth shed these tears
‘Tis moisture meant to show
O’er all that I hath known this past
My heart doth love thee so
I pray that I shall not awake
Yon beauty calls my sleep
For if mine eyes should find the sun
I fear that I shan’t keep
This love angelic I hath found
So forged this dream to see
As is each day ~ of years to come
Thy love doth come to me
Just having a little fun