Best Connoisseurs Poems
Had a room been open in that passageway
as a foreign night-ship, you’d have sailed by
Love would’ve been what? I couldn’t say
Life: an inveterate humid ply____________
Perhaps has passed with its pernicious waves
Acceptance rising like ocean’s eustacy
Sometimes, perfunctory was a skin-cut shave
So much more, was propitious ecstasy~~~~~
Parts of us shall never be contrite
As connoisseurs of our own fate, we played
Rage now mostly contrived in dying spite
though candid caustic thoughts can still prey…
Passion!
Our ultimate perfidy
Passion!
We should've kept astute custody.
6/29/2021
The inspirations domain into your very soul
Verses lay as the main thoughts of the console
Every moments recorded as the treasures of your word
Prestige left the fingerprints on your precious keyboard
The repetitions of day and night as well as vice versa is not a constraint
Each breath taken sent the muse to the brain which you ready to obtain
Your coverage was huge, infinity like the skyline
Love, cliche and dark were the appetite of your kind
Living as the super man in muse
Conquer the insight, live to perform ahead the audience as a perfect boost
Amazed the connoisseurs by the masterpiece of yours
You innocently made people addicted without any tricks or even force
We as the audience of your world
Seduced by the charm of your swirl
You are prince in the kingdom of your sheets
We are lulled by the chant of your beats
Inspired by Richard Lamoureux, the person who always enlighten through the bonfire of his muse and giving warmth to the people surround :D
Ooey, gooey, give me choc-o-lot!
If I must, I'll take it liquid hot,
But "wicked" like they fix it in Madrid,
Thick as porridge, satin sunburnt sweet.
(Not like here: sugar,milk and cocoa, mix and heat).
Give me some hot chocolate I can eat!
Drip-drop-dripping from a spoon!
Give it - give it to me in a box.
Tantalize my lips with luscious bits,
Rum and amaretto morsels dipped.
Give me it in chips or chunks or blocks.
And please not those from K-mart or the grocer.
We connoisseurs much prefer it kosher!
Give it to me Swiss or straight from France.
Hurry while I loosen up my pants!
I'll make do with anything you have.
Drizzled over ice-cream nice and smoothy.
chocolate is the universal salve.
chilled or warm, but slathered on it soothes me.
Make my ice-cream chocolate flavored too-
peanut butter swirls with fudge will do.
Be my ever sweet-tooth choco-fairy.
Finger-feed me bonbons. I'm your baby.
Feed me plump and succulent black berry.
Give me, give me, give me what I crave,
and I shall be your love-starved-choco-slave.
10/5/13
When I wrote this, it just flowed to me, like chocolate water; usually I have to sit and think a bit and poetry often does not flow from me in this way!
Monet's Impression, Sunrise
First impressions leave memories
that can linger for a very long time
and give a sense of peace and understanding
that rewards the solitude of the mind
with satisfaction in contemplative reflection.
This may be deceiving and can mislead one to believe
that which is right may, in fact, be wrong.
Graciously accept the artist’s shared perception
that there is no ambiguity, only a warning
of the impending storm threatening prevalent reasoning.
The ascending sun, with its reflection on the water,
highlights a sense of direction as the rowers row
across the harbour at the break of morn.
Past cranes and derricks and ships at anchor
beneath a smoke-blurred fiery sky, accented
by pastel shades of blue to create the sombre mood
that expresses Monet’s "Impression, Sunrise" painting
and shares with the onlookers his representation
of nature from an Impressionist’s point of view
in the Industrial Age, heralding in the revolution.
That begs the question, “Where are they going,
and why blood orange?” (Oh, but I’ve seen that colour before.)
Day-to-day inquiries are asked of one another and strangers.
Monet incorporates an art form using oils on canvas,
forcing the audience to observe with curiosity,
thus presenting a sliver of time of life’s tranquillity at sea.
This provocation of thought chinks the consciousness
of seasoned connoisseurs who see change as frightening
and challenges their manipulation of artistic output
(to act like mechanical agents thwarting creativity).
“Will they reach their destination? Will it be as they hoped for?”
Hurry! Though calm, the waters will soon froth in labour.
***
Note:
“Monet’s Impression, Sunrise” is an ekphrastic poem referencing the painting “Impression, Sunrise” (1872) by Claude Monet (1840–1926).
All music is relational
Even if the instrument itself is unconscious:
Like tree leaves in a breeze
Telegraph their praise in God's presence,
Dot and dash an earthy hymn;
Like an earthquake whose rumblings
Remind you that in geological time
All that we think of as solid and whole
Shares water's properties;
Even mountains bend the knee;
What was tight winds down, relaxes,
Like a German music box,
Becomes a cosmic "OM" at last;
Only whales, those connoisseurs
Of deep and low, perhaps can hear.
Our human ears span such a narrow range,
Need scientific augmentation to hear
Last ringing reverberations of "Big Bang."
For sound is not just vibrating air,
Our eyes too have their limits
As invisible stars also play their role
And human senses discover new symphonies
In the music of the spheres.
For doesn't vision inflame the heart as well
As guitarist strums and fingers dance on ivory?
Have you never seen a string's exertions,
Or felt invisible waves of tympani?
Yes, even bowels play a role!
And, oh, the stories told in sound alone
Can find their poetry in dance,
A music of another kind,
A kinetic vision of the soul itself.
Whatever touches heart is music,
Cannot be missed, only denied,
Oh, do not ask for whom God sings,
He always sings your song.
Long Tooth
April 21, 2016
Medical Marijuana
Magical Herb, given to this world
can cure so many things, you’d
never believe it would
from helping a cancer patient
from starving
the positive results from it
are alarming
it gives people
a chance
to alleviate the pain,
stomach aches
even a granny’s arthritis
why would anyone want to
fight this
this beautiful idea of
medical marijuana
limiting the lords
use for it, is intruding on
an individuals
freedom
Cannabis Connoisseurs
can help treat their
ADHD, sleep apnea
and tourette's syndrome
to be against
medical marijuana use
you would have
to be dumb
To claim
the legalization of such
wisdom weed
would lead
to it being
abused, turned into a gateway drug
is lying
it is all upon the decision
of the individual
the people they surround themselves
with, and what THEY are supplying
God says in Genesis 1:12
that he has given his people hemp
and to use it at our free will
and if you do a little bit of research
you too will know the
deal
Jah Bless Medical Marijuana
The beach gathers its dead. Thousands of horseshoe crabs
come home on the full moon’s tide. Their courting dances,
scrawled with claw and carapace in the wet sand, leave
with the ghost hands of nursing Autumn wave.
Their nests of jewel-colored eggs, covered and soothed
seasoned in salt sea, gestate beneath a slurry of debris.
Right side up each skin colored husk with its barbed tail
rocks in the bubbling broth of Cape Cod’s bay.
Belly up, they appear as an open invitation to the plovers
who flock overhead and arrow down en masse to dine.
Piping plovers, masked in black, hopscotch through the
detritus, connoisseurs of this turquois egg-like caviar.
Among the life and death of sea we walk, barefoot, and
cautious wary of the scramble, the jutting barbs, the bits
of un-soothed glass, the desecrated cairn which barricades
the dying life from the living sea.
Published First in Sounding Review 2015
FAT BITCHES DIVINE
What is so exciting about life is that we only live once, and that once is a lifetime.
Therefore, we must fulfill and enjoy our time here–on earth.
Dance for the hell of it…
Never condoning a flicker of insanity.
Let your hair down and wipe all of the frowns to a clown face.
Wouldn’t you rather become a ventriloquist instead?
Shout to the stars and tell them who you are.
Once is only a lifetime to enjoy.
Living the hell out of life.
Taking what is ours and not looking back.
Singing our hearts bound because we are here to inspire.
Warning ourselves that we must not deny life.
Eating what we want.
Watching our weight, of course.
Body is our focus.
We want meat on our bones.
We have only once in a lifetime to explore.
We are the Fat Bitches.
Body delicious and pleasing the women.
Brained as geniuses as life itself with meaningfulness.
Masterminds of sexuality and high preference to the quality of our togetherness.
We mate well.
Therefore, we love who we are with.
Heaven bound now.
Profound mavens standing their ground.
We can do that and never back down.
We love our women unsound.
This give us power in the world as connoisseurs.
Laugh if you wanna, but we are the ones that will not be destroyed.
Fat Bitches will move-on and all these skinny men and skinny women life will be bygone.
This is when skinny better Slim Jim as brothers and Virginia Slim as sisters.
Otherwise, divinity belongs to the Fat Bitches.
"The Vagaries"
You could go all Zen over Me,
I’d listen studiously, then, spit it out
like cherry seeds for integration
the flesh of it all,
"The Past", savoured;
"The Future",
for lame time-wasting
poetic rebels pretending
to be connoisseurs, parlaying -
"The Now", struts irreverently,
dealing its Bolchevistic
cards
and there sits You,
holding the mirror for Me,
expelling Your koans let loose
the sound of One hand clapping,
without the other, but still
you hear it, the sound
Love,
swimming
through the vagaries
Integrity,
Love is
holding Her tight
vagaries
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Has anyone ever heard of Edouard Manet?
The late artist painted something controversial in his day.
Art connoisseurs can see it on display
if they visit a museum in Paris called the Musee D’Orsay.
Two men and a woman enjoy a picnic outside.
The woman certainly didn’t have anything to hide.
Three piece suits are worn by each male.
However, completely naked is the female.
That is one of the paintings any visitor will find.
I wonder what was going on in the artist’s mind?
Conniosseur of Life
The vintage of our time begins
To sip and taste the wine of Life
To seek the essence of my search
and find a flavor I enjoy
It’s limpid sensuality
And all the sultry tastes of Love
To blend into a sweet bouquet
Ignoring all the dregs of gloom
A sediment that’s left to waste
To move into a sweet perfume
and swirling colors of our dreams
Drink of it’s substance and feel well
For dreams are connoisseurs of Life
From many connoisseurs, it has drawn mighty cheers.
This has earned the title of “The King of Beers”.
Drinkers have enjoyed its tasted for many years.
In numerous places, this beer is number one.
The flavorful brew has been rated second to none.
Where quality is concerned, it has established the benchmark.
A team of Clydesdale horses remains its trademark.
The company’s history is long and glorious.
The corporate headquarters is located in St. Louis.
Even during the brief period of prohibition,
the firm had never relinquished its top position.
Its status as an American beer is now in doubt.
To a Belgian company, they sold themselves out.
Once a year, for one week straight,
A beer I will decline.
Instead, I will indulge in
Manischewitz kosher wine.
If you have never tried it,
Well, your life is not complete,
But you’d sure surprise your taste buds
‘Cause it’s sickeningly sweet.
Since it’s part of my tradition,
It’s a habit I can’t break
And from childhood sips to current times,
I’ve stuck with Concord Grape.
Though I’m not at all religious,
I’m nostalgic for the past
And at Seders* long ago,
The Manischewitz die was cast.
Certain connoisseurs of culture
Call me out and say, “Enough!
Now it’s time to climb the ladder
And reject that sweetened stuff.”
But a creature (me!) of habit
Thinks that Manischewitz wine,
Like the macaroons and matzoh,
Fits the holiday just fine.
*Passover meal
Dear Poetry Soup connoisseurs, and
courageous ones sharing and learning
There are those of you leaving me breathless
with your best, I must confess
Those vocabs astounds me to point
of fixation, research, memorization
Look at one poet's, "serendipitous" I now know
they're lover of words without obsession
Dear me, I arrived at Soup, hoping
my hobby would bud, but it blossomed
There are countless connoisseurs I wish
to thank; some have graced us with contest
Now and then I think of joining
them, but it's yet spring of my blossoming
My name is Iris, and there'll
be more thoughts on us soupers.
*
A wine connoisseur and Life
Trickling pearls of red and white
The sizzling hot, the fizzing out
Pinot noir, Reisling, Chardonnay
Teroldego, Norton , Carbanet
Deliverance from all the doubts
As he sees, swirls, sniffs, sips, savors
For once he chooses, its best of world
The embroidered sweet drops with finest taste
The embellished pearly drops with blissful tizz
Oenophile's stemware filled with recherche expertise
Like a bagpiper playing best among best of tunes!
Floats our life's canoe over varied wines of emotions
We the connoisseurs need to take the tasting flight
And drink from bottles of right emotions
And drink from glasses poured in blends of doses right
To row the canoe through smoothest wines,
exotic choices we ought to make...
And enjoy the tizz of happiness,
Savor the taste of contentment,
Relish the sparkling journey
of life to cherish a vintage life!
©Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015
( had to drop it for contest as this exceeded 13 lines...)