Best Coaxed Poems
When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing
and transient stars in clusters scintillate,
when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring
to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait.
He wends his way along the mountain trails
past opalescent rush of streams and rills,
goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales
and wind around and up and down small hills.
Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips
to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free,
he leads them with his reed held to his lips,
till blithely they embrace his rhapsody.
So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . .
Then captured by sheer merriment, join in!
For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
I have borrowed the first line of this piece from the"unknown scribe" , which I
read many years ago.... The rest is for ALL the great mothers who are SOUPER.
Who took me from my cosy cot
And sat me on an ice cold pot .
To make me pee ,when I could not.......... My mother
Who fed me from the very start
With bosomed milk , straight from the heart
Then burped me, 'till I'd belch and fart...... My mother
Who warmed me from the Winter breeze
Dried the blood from my skinned knees
But told me "fibs" 'bout birds'n bees..........My mother
Who healed me when I had a chill
And nursery rhymed me Jack and Jill
But lied to Dad , about being on the pill...... My mother
Who coaxed me past the school day bell
Smiled and said .. all would be well
But then went home and cried like Hell.......My mother
Who was protector from life's curse
Was doctor , dentist , priest and nurse
Friendly Bank ,with open purse...................My mother
Who lies beneath this cold grey stone
In peace ,at last , and all alone
The first true love that I had known.................. Mam
x
I watched them gather round
The warmth of your flame
Like campers at campfire time
Huddling close to you
Pushing and jostling
For the best place
I saw your warmth
Dancing off their faces
Small cinders escaping into the night
I followed the sparks drifting up
On the chilly breeze
Riding high…disappearing into the stars
I was cold
I was alone
On the edge
And yet…I dared not go near you
Though your light invited me
And I wanted so much to be warmed
By you
Yet….how could I find a place
By those encircling you
Watching the mesmerizing display
Of your orange and yellow flames
There was no place
Among the gathering of....
The strong, the beautiful, the insistent
So, on the outskirts I stayed
Tears trickling down my cheeks
Cold
Alone…
I waited…I held back
Until they all left
One by one
Some bumping into me
Not even aware that I was alive
I waited until you had almost died out
No longer on display
But a warm glow of embers
Still orange and glowing with desire
And I approached
Shyly…
Longingly…
Needing to see you dance
For me….only for me
And I coaxed you
In my clumsy way
My fingers cold
My heart ablaze
Suddenly....you burst into flame
A pillar of fire
Miracle of love
For I had not added any kindling
But my little heart
And yet it seems you had waited
Knowing I would come
And my slightest touch
Made the flames spring to life
Voracious flames
Flames reaching the high heavens
Your heat overpowering
Consuming
I almost threw myself into you
Wanting to reach the center
Of the heat and warmth
Of your beauty…
I spent the night
Out under the stars
Lying naked
Yet not cold
Naked
Yet not ashamed
Naked
Yet not shy
For your glow was my covering
I let myself be touched
Time and again
By licking fingers of fire
By the burning flames of your desire
For….ME!
For Gail's Contest
Touched by Your Flame
May 27, 2013
I waited, dressed to kill
in red,
and in love
both, of which
I could have been coaxed out of
You have turned a pale shade of white,
my Valentine
Al Green sang to me,
as my pen danced as your substitute
we danced all night long,
stationary, our dance floor.
As we whirled to the emotions
of words' sounds; hand in hand,
we went round and round
and round
No one else in the room
most of all, not you
as my ink turned
from red to blue
Eternity within your grasp
My plea? To undo the clasp
Let Desire wash away
Tomorrow and yesterday
Every other thought and dream
Meaningless I make them seem
Had you let the floodgates go
Oh, what pleasure you would know
But you let the moment pass
Tranquility came softly by
Sweet promise with you to lie
A scent full of serenity
Permeating entity
It caressed your very skin
But you didn’t let it in
No, you let the moment pass
Passion demands obeisance
Set to conquer your essence
In fevered pitch of a storm
To tempt you in every form
Fantasies of every kind
Unleashed frenzy of the mind
Transformed into what is real
But you were afraid to feel
To be tossed around and worn
To be completely reborn
Pounded by a wanton need
Every craving to be freed
Coaxed to burst into flame
But fear made your wild heart tame
And you let the moment pass
Love came knocking at your door
To bequeath a kiss and more
Calling in angelic chime
Faithful pledge denying time
Bonding of a soul to soul
Golden chance to become…whole
Promise true to last and last
But you let the moment pass
Now you beg and kneel to pray
For Him to open the way
You cajole powers that be
Somehow to change destiny
Before that moment to stand
Hold it safely in your hand
To seize me, the source of these
Let passion and love to please
To capture that golden time
Where all could fall into rhyme
Oh, my love, it will not be
My broken heart cannot see
My way through the halls of time
When I begged to make you mine
And now, my love, alas, alas
I must let this moment pass
In tears I let this moment……..P A S S
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Those designated raindrops
the sky must have saved for two
I kissed you in the daisy field
the rain soaked us through and through
Together we ran for shelter
moving quickly to the barn
I was thankful for those raindrops
as we hastened arm in arm
Sure the sky had coaxed us
to pleasure it opened the door
The sweet smell of hay around us
made me want you more and more
Those designated raindrops
pounded loudly on ancient wood
We removed all our wet clothing
I said we shouldn’t you said we should
As I gazed upon your beauty
my true passion became proof
Designated rain brought us together
Tap, tap, tapping on the roof.
Thanks to Elsa Rosee, her title “Designated Raindrops” inspired this piece.
The warrior lays her weary head,
With heavy heart she cannot bear,
Burning tears stream down her face,
As whispered memories touch the ear.
Her armour tarnished by remorse,
Her battle-cry a wimpered row,
Her wounds, of which bleed solitude,
Will never know forgiveness now.
The song began two score ago,
When two came knocking at her door,
In need of refuge from the world,
Of that, and love, and little more.
Forced to fight for every smile,
Her only solace found in song,
She longed for love to rescue her,
And plant her where she could belong.
Jealous tongues are seldom kind,
Self-seeking hearts know nought of love,
The caged canary only sings,
When coaxed to praise from up above.
For the steely spine that now I own,
Forever shall I grateful be,
A gift from her, and from her own.
Courage mounted inwardly.
I'll not forget how I have loved thee,
And youthful memories I will prize,
Til on the shore of His forgiveness,
Whereto now, we both shall rise.
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces"
John Ruskin, 1853
A scrap of sleep, a lopsided sky
A slip of verse that wandered by
The universe of a minute, an hour's lag
A poem scribbled on the back of a paper bag
Fragmented lyrics of lost words
Coaxed into song by hummingbirds
Where sapphire moons rise at noon
And ivory dawn reddens too soon
But for lonely love of poetry
Cast aside by conformity
Cloistered, salted tears consumed the sea
Drenched in magnanimous misery
Masking shy scars to look the same
Calling pain by prettier names
Peeled pages from the diary
Of the once and future me.
8/29/20
For 'All the Little Pieces' contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
She hid her talents in the deepest darkest recessed corner
Taking it out never, for fear of being called brilliant.
She did not want to be shunned or ostracized,
Knowing her people well
Then one day she met a stranger who coaxed her a tiny bit
Encouraged her to allow herself to be
She shook out one sliver of a slip of a talent
And began to glow, and began to grow.
for F. A.
You, in going a little way from yourself
Have gone a long way from my gullible ilk.
« I’m trying hard not to like you, » you said
The breaths of several men surging in your nostrils
And the stench abraded in your flesh :
« You are unshaven. »
You took proper care to remember the right words :
« Why are you so far away, I cannot reach you. »
The ****** you probably tried to fake –
Thanks for the repeated protestations -
Blew all the other exhausted noises through.
« I think it’s all this lack of sleep and all that, » you said
Trapping me with your alien scents.
You have gone away more than a little from yourself.
I have felt and avoided the humiliation in your voice :
« Turn out the lights. I’m afraid
You’d never like me again. »
These are bothersome words.
Only constant repetition make them less wearisome.
One whole week you waited and watched.
One by one you chalked us down.
We fled, not so much from you
As from ourselves, not knowing which
You or the condemned flower to take :
« Why don’t you tell me something about yourself.
I’ve said enough, » you said and came closer
Wraithed in your trapper's overflying airs.
Now that you have prospected a little
Confiscated my intimate thoughts, coaxed my ego
Applied the guileful balms which embolden
A man in bed and made of the future a promise
And turned and sighed like the unwanted thing
Now that you have preyed in my sanctuary
Gazed long in wistful silence my empty shrine
How can I let you go – take my scent
And mix it till it roots in other flesh
And wandering, I’ll not know why someday
I might fret in the company of familiar strangers.
« What about the lad ? » Alone and wishfully loitering
« Oh, let him toss and turn. Why shouldn’t he ?
He’ll write better then, » you said, for once
Rippling the nimble calm embossed on feigning face
That poised flutter of your lips when words you wield
Assume a dextrous innocence
Little wonder then the sensually provoked blushes
Cross-fertilise the loping lurk of your poems.
You in going a little way towards me
Have gone a long way from yourself.
Before you go a little way prospecting
Leave leave a little of yourself in your safe.
©: T. Wignesan, 1965 (from the collection: tell them i'm gone, 1983, rev. 2012)
The first flame will always be its own.
None can ever mirror it.
A second flame born of the same candle
may be coaxed to life;
but 'twill ne'er be the first.
Go ahead, grab the matches, grab the candles,
everything you need to start that fire.
Light that first flame.
Revel in its fervor, enjoy it while it lasts;
don't be too sad when it burns itself out.
Try to light that same candle, a second time;
if indeed it can be lit at all,
it won't thrill you the same.
Yes, it's still fire; it still mesmerizes,
still creates that heat, and still burns.
But 'twill ne'er be the first.
Now, take a second candle, and put
flint and tinder to that one instead.
Watch it, live with it, savor it -
and when that one too eventually dies down,
riddle me this one question.
That first flame is oft times the fan favorite,
but which, in the end, is truly more precious -
an attempt and mayhap success, at a second,
imitation flame,
or a fresh first, with a different candle?
Make no mistake, on rare occasion that second flame
of a first candle may even be better than the first.
Yet, even were it more ardent than the last,
every single fire is unique -
and some small part of you will always remember that first flame.
Any others may be
more wonderful and fierce,
may be slovenly mimicry,
or may be raw magic in their own right -
but 'twill ne'er be the first.
Ordinary Precious Stones
Buddha saw it first
but as is his way never let me in on it.
The stones, rough, unfinished,
ill sized tribute to chaos, beckoned.
I closed my eyes
It started to take shape in the mist.
Each stone should have its place
separate yet dependent on the others.
They should not attract attention for themselves
but become a part of a greater beauty.
I touched each stone, listened to its passion,
rolled it, positioned it so the sun would
augment its finest facets. Allowing them time
to adjust, to relate themselves one to another.
When each stone hummed in wind coaxed OMMMMM
I rested, placed the Buddha in the midst
of these, now precious, stones.
Each morning I look out on the Buddha
in the midst of his rock garden, see the
sun creep over his shoulder glancing off
the facets of those most ordinary
precious stones.
Submitted to – Precious Stones and Gems – Poetry contest
Sponsor – Anthony Slausen
11/14/2014
If I should live a hundred years,
I know each breath will fall in you
then rise with touch of, heart's content,
familiar hands that once we're new.
My eyes, if blind, from years advanced
would know each laugh line ever traced.
I'd know each twinkle of your eyes
and smile shared upon your face.
Back to the day when love began,
in dreams, I'd travel there each night.
Back to the kiss upon my cheek
beneath our tree brushed soft in light.
Or I'd fall back with hands entwined,
into my dreams of our first dance.
Stargazing, nestled close to you,
our feet coaxed by songs of romance.
For now, I'll gather every sight
and memory of you and I,
Our days of marriage, life and love.
I know these years will soon fly by.
And I will turn my eyes away,
then close them to remember gems
of sapphire days and onyx nights.
In shadows, I'll remember them.
Behind my lids, our years unwind,
in case one day, my eyes go blind.
I
A spark is shot
Deftly, from between two fingers.
It sits, wavering on its bed
Like a lone star
Against the black,
Cold coals.
Chuckling, a candle flame shows
Its little golden head.
Sleepily, it reaches for its mother
And she, flickering, crackles her tongue
As the scorching hand upon her breast grows
And spreads.
Curious and hungry,
flamma explorat.
II
A fire is mature, suddenly
Superior. Its arms extend,
It works, briskly it burns.
Like a tiger
It inhabits its cage.
Laughing, a blaze rises
To greet a brittle friend.
For another
And another
Blaze yearns.
Alas! Any tears would hiss
If the glowing cheeks reminisced a kiss.
It is Love The Fuel on which its life depends.
Selfish and beautiful,
flamma vivat!
III
The embers sift, tenderly
Nursing the staggering
Foolish old flame
Who must be coaxed to nibble and feed.
No light livens the hearth, haunted now,
Merely shadows.
In faded fame, amidst dusty fortune
The patient lies.
And it ponders as all its dazzle dies
Who taught me to hate?
Was it lack of love or lack of life
That finally dampened my fanciful play?
Slowly,
Painfully,
The gargoyle face is smothered in ash,
The soft powder of its parents fate.
And death waits
Eerily
Still
Until another is born in the grate.
Tired and lonely,
flamma extinguet.
Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano
My mother’s hands on ivory keys wove enchanted runes
Then flew across the keyboard in musical monsoons
Notes of black and white in song serenades communed
She coaxed the claviature to plaintive and musical cartoons.
Eighty-eight keys remember days of Claire de Lune,
Sonatas lyrical shimmers recall enchantments of the moon,
Bewitching notes that bloomed in l’apres midi afternoons
Reminisce now that her treasured piano graces my front room.
2-7-22
Contest: Pride of Place
Sponsor: Julie Ward