Best Coursing Poems
In all her glory, dawn has burst forth,
With a slight glow of early morning brightness
I sit in the bower, listening to birds in concert
And admire wonderful, Rosebuds unfold,
Revealing a beautiful red rose
With a precision wisp of light prancing around them
Emitting a velvety feeling, so tempting to touch
Long green stems, prickles,
Full of scallop trim leaflets all in green,
With brown thin veins
Around the red velvet leaves,
Music playing on cool fresh air
Coursing through the whispering leaves
Sweet aroma of moist dew and rose perfumes
Floating gently on the breeze
Gives me an intense curiosity to embrace the rose
Just the sight of the red roses
Reminds me to breathe
"I want to see thirst In the syllables, touch fire In the sound; feel through the dark. For the scream." ~ Pablo Neruda
I
taste the
pulse of stars
coursing through rhymes,
stirring my moon-swept
soul, as I ache for your
soft blue sparks of poetry,
breathless and lost in the musky
heat of phrases etched beneath champagne
skies, wrapped in threads of chiffon-laced heartbeats.
And I think of you ~ the pearl warmth of dusk,
for in your arms, I felt a wistful
verse, glowing like fervent fireflies
but if love could color the
blush of secret sunsets,
would you be the gold
that binds me to
Romeo’s
silent
sighs?
My soul seems to be hidden today.
Where can it conceal itself?
I thought it was always with me,
Roaming the endless paths
That clatter the corridors of my mind,
coursing through my arteries and veins,
invading all essential organs
that keeps me alive all day.
Maybe it flew away
Like some mad eagle that lost its way!
I will not search for it.
It will return when it feels
There is a need for it.
My feet follow tracks unknown
Oblivious of time and space.
I meet old friends and strangers,
I pass on,
I do not recognise their mien.
I thread through paths lined
With rampant dark green ferns,
I slush through shallow muddy pools,
I rest below the copious hedgerows.
Down in the valley cows are milked,
Geese cackle and cocks crow,
Cats copulate in peace.
Fragrance of new-cut hay
Makes my nostrils flare.
Smoke billows from the chimney
Of an old cottage near the farm.
Should I invite myself,
Betake a country hearty meal?
I am welcome
Urged to taste the home-brewed beer
Or the new fermented cheese.
I feel a kind of peace.
Perhaps my soul is back
Or perhaps it's the beer or the cheese.
Who can say?
In this coursing, crimson river
of my blood, you float.
There is no end to this, our eternal
amorousness.
Nay, not even human death can
remove us from Eros's moat.
Nor our touching hands' total
peacefulness.
So let's on, to the minutes as
they, like arrows, swiftly pass.
Your mistress awaits you in cobalt,
lace blue, summer gown!
Upon the kiss of morning dew on
this orb's verdant grass!
Let us do partake of vintage wines,
glorious breads and cheese till
God's sundown.
Let us dream of the children we
will create!
And weep tears of joy and blessed
happiness.
We revel in each second, so
divinely, and magically intimate.
To share with all humanity our
immutable, loves' holiness!
July 13, 2019
Sonnet One
The arboretum looks as it did then
With silver maples dancing in the breeze
Wildflowers bloom within the narrow glen
Remember how we kissed beneath the trees?
One special oak displays the heart you carved
With our initials set within its wall
We were so young and yet our souls seemed starved
So passionate are teens when first they fall
Today I came to view the art we left
Surrounded by the blooms, the trees, the birds
And though my heart seeks you, I am bereft
Of promises defined by long lost words
I miss that passion coursing through our veins
Now you have left and loneliness remains
June 10, 2020
If laughter's the best medicine
I think I've had an overdose
It's coursing through my body
From my head down to my toes
I'm worried about my Ass
They say you can laugh it off
I'm building up pressure
Like a giant Molotov
I am taken to the funny farm
They think I've gone nuts
I started seeing animals
Walking around without butts
How is it possible
It seems like a bad joke
I'm laughing so hard
I start to cough and choke
I guess in the end
I really did overdose
It didn't quite kill me
But it really came close
So control your laughter
Maybe one chuckle's enough
That dang old funny
is powerful stuff
written by: Richard Lamoureux
Smile you're on Candid Camera Contest
She is the whispering of the bluest waters
Standing in the stillness she calls to me
Within the sounds of the coursing river
I feel the ease of her comfort washing over me
Consumed by her soft flowing siren song
Cascading down the mountains banks
Waltzing in the descending whitewater
Coming to rest in a cooled pool of her caress
Illumed depths tepid in the evening sun
Enhanced of her life and ardor
Swimming free
Drinking her intoxicating breath exhaling out
My love is the river of azure water
Ever carrying me onward she moves
Whispering…
You sit there in your castle all alone
Surrounded by the trinkets of the past
Sometimes a King is shackled to his throne
Sadly the days of glory did not last
You feel the heart of a warrior beat
Surrounded by the trinkets of the past
It seemed the world had been laid at your feet
Now it is your men that go to battle
You feel the heart of a warrior beat
You long once again to feel the saddle
The coursing of blood going through your veins
Now it is your men that go to battle
You are King so they say you hold the reins
You long for the adventure and the speed
The coursing of blood going through your veins
The sound of snorting from your mighty steed
You long for the adventure and the speed
You sit there in your castle all alone
Sometimes a King is shackled to his throne
The opal’s not like other stones,
her polish more satin than shine,
her colors mixed and muted tones
but look closer, within you’ll find--
there’s lightning coursing in her veins
and fire burning at her core.
She hints of blue skies above the rain,
turquoise calm though the seas may roar,
of blazing sunrise and sunset.
She speaks of passion veiled in lace,
of secrets kept without regret
and fragile things you can’t replace.
Oh, may you keep her safe from harm
and ever wonder at her charms.
5/14/2019
Tribute to a Precious or Semi-Precious Gem Poetry Contest
Line Gauthier, Sponsor
First Place
Tho' I am but the sparrow's twining strains
The palette and the pen of whisp'ring souls
I'm sweeter, still, if dashed upon the shoals
Or bleeding from the hem of day's remains
Tho' I may weep from all a scoundrel feigns
For what each soldier's dying breath extols
It's grander, even, morning's meadow rolls
As spindrift, tossed upon the grassy plains
Oh, I am found the coursing thru all things
As warm within your veins, as sunset's sky
My constancy, to love and swoon and hate
To stir in hopes or see what passion brings
So guard me, close, or open me and cry ...
I'll bound and thrum and patiently ... await.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Open Me First" Poetry Contest, Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
Though they thought it didn't matter,
fate would soon decry its loss,
those who stroked the raven's wing,
cushioned by the verdant moss.
They who spun the silken fibers,
iridescent shades of blue,
molten silver coursing downward,
hissing through the morning dew.
He whose gray eyes knew their essence,
he who flew on velvet wings,
when the final toll was taken,
wrote the lyrics rivers sing.
The Fountain
Where have you been my love
Did the hours slip from the pools of your thoughts
To go wandering heights in vacant skies
Did they capture their images on high
As you floated through the siphoned mist of your dreams
I stood on the golden rim
Where comes this shimmer quiet in your eyes
Did the blessed heavens kiss away your sadness
Flushed you seem with a new coy brilliance
Coquette by your demeanour disregards my question
I drank from a sacred stream
This sleeping softness sensual pressed to warmth
Pervades the corners of your mouth; teasing brigands
Have those loose moments retaliated their freedom
And gathered the snippets of lust once again into ragged ball of passion
I lay naked in the dust
The tip of your finger is playing upon a pharyngeal string; my love
Purring cat you are stretched bare skinned on a Persian rug
Your playful whispers intone in those exquisite curves
Flexing white porcelain opening of slow swan wings
And I held the source spring of my heart
Impatient now edges the tangled slides of your auburn curls
This gesture turns your shoulder; from behind lowered lashes you look
A predator’s toy in scratching claws lays its throat willingly bare
Ready to be devoured by a single word; of love
I stepped from the golden rim
Your palms carry the visions you have seen entranced
Coursing through your touch with eclectic imagery
There is a moment of succumb, of slavery, in you, my love
Relinquishing all but dignity, proud, honest, capitulation and senses devastation
I drink from the eternal fountain
Reaching out to you, at speed of light
so you may find me on common ground,
among the trees
a gentleman, though strange to your ears.
Under a lamplit room, one full of sky
oh, though my eyes look down,
not worldly as you may think
uninjured, and uninjuring
just the same as you.
Yes, it's you, my words were bent to
past the zenith, straight to a future
beating heart, all yours.
Reach back to me with fingers
made to extend, a hero mine..
with soft lips.
Pollux begged for the life of a twin,
under the latin sign of Gemini
and the same now
I beg of Zeus.
Stand under a future blue moon,
w'luck, I'll be there too..
though the coursing in my veins
hides your name today,
I'll discover it soon.
I lived ... once
I loved and laughed and ached from my marrow
I spoke my soul, and spun my mind to my innervation and impulse
Swam up spirits to the source of their dreams and passions
I moved and breathed and thrived
Slept and soared and savored the tang of carnality
Counted my chaos, and measured my occupations with desire
I danced with angels, dazzled and dark and unearthly
And I sang to the heavens in their wildest weeping
With a voice of callow intonation ... and melodious temper
ALL with a child's heart, and a saint's assumption
Yes, I lived ... once
Full and bright and joyous as a midday meadow
Yet, in the midst of a moment's suffering
A soft, stinging moment of false hope and agony
I pressed, tender, the lips of a curse ...
One deep, warm, melting kiss of a temptress
That turned to a coursing ... of poison
"You will write with such feeling," she whispered, eyes smiling
As the glass between us fogged with her bitter breath
A painted fingertip, shaped and pressed
Tracing my doom in the opaque mist
Oh, vile brutality - to gift me this insight and creativity
Only to shake it ALL from my grasp ...
And turn me ... to dust.
~ 10th Place ~ in the "Opaque" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausin, Judge & Sponsor.
The zephyr breeze disturbs the leaves
through pristine forest trees,
and water gurgles over rocks,
while coursing to the seas,
disputing shrieks beyond all sight,
as if there is a riot,
yet with the gloom I left behind,
this does become my quiet.
Thunder bolts though distant now,
are carried on the cloud,
a rustle made in dying grass,
can be a nervous loud.
Sombre tones of crackling fire,
may well fill the night -
where natural balance poises,
this quiet I will not fight.