Best Craved Poems
She
Craved
For the beast.
Amidst his lair
In candle surround,
Ripped white linen clings
As their sweated bodies writhe.
In unification, his seed
Shall spawn the beginning of the dark.
Whilst his translucent shadows walk earths light.
.
All That He Ever Craved
As her lover he walked on a razor thin edge.
His thick rubber-bands in his pockets groaned,
yet his walk a dance of hottest thrills;
for her honey she spread on thick, in a glaze.
Time. What of it, should he ever deign to care?
No, his beating heart told him satisfaction awaits,
in her labyrinths of treasure filled dreams;
a testament to mind over matter and reality,
with its sad, sickening and indulging torments.
Each new morn he walked that thin red line,
a traveler on pleasure's secret paths,
complete with rubber-bands in his empty pockets.
The edge's cuts were all that he ever craved!
Wickedly deep cuts were all that he ever craved!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-14-2016
Note: A rare free verse from me today.
Do not blame me, my muse forced it out..
Arriving home from work
Hearing soft music play
Dimmed lights all around
Scented candle bouquet
Trails of rose petals
Pinks and reds
In sparodic lay
On our bed, spread
I hear humming
Amidst water splashing
I look and view
Tanned skin flashing
Blond hair in soak
As her body gleams
My mind in roam
With instant dreams
She beckons me over
By the bath I kneel
As we share a kiss
I internally feel
My hand she takes
Standing naked to bare
Whilst generous suds
Ignite my stare
Into my arms she falls
Towelled with warm
On the petals we await
Our pending storm
Adventurous we become
Caressing and kissing
United in love
Sharing inner wishing
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-12.php
I craved a dream and you were there
My life a blur you did not care
Forgot your pain, in my defense
Your reasoning did not make sense
At the ceiling I lay and stare.
Yes, many times life isn’t fair
For you, my love, showed much despair
You died from pains desired expense
I craved a dream
The fear you craved beyond repair
Nothing to your soul does compare
Now angel dust you do dispense
Love’s pain and sorrow does condense
Sister connection in the air
I craved a dream
Rondeau Rhyme Scheme: AABBA-AABC-AABBAC
Eight Syllables in each line except the 4th line in second stanza and the last line in the third stanza. They have four syllables and is the repeated refrain
Because She Craved the Very Best
by Michael R. Burch
Because she craved the very best,
he took her East, he took her West;
he took her where there were no wars
and brought her bright bouquets of stars,
the blush and fragrances of roses,
the hush an evening sky imposes,
moonbeams pale and garlands rare,
and golden combs to match her hair,
a nightingale to sing all night,
white wings, to let her soul take flight ...
She stabbed him with a poisoned sting
and as he lay there dying,
she screamed, "I wanted everything!"
and started crying.
Keywords/Tags: Rose, Roses, Flowers, Materialism, Possessions, Shallow, Shallowness, Greedy, Greediness, Desire, Lust, Craving, Cravings, Gift, Gifts, Gift-Giving, Ingratitude, Ungrateful, Ungratefulness, Pomp, Circumstance
What The Roses Don’t Say
by Michael R. Burch
Oblivious to love, the roses bloom
and never touch . . . They gather calm and still
to watch the busy insects swarm their leaves . . .
They sway, bemused . . . till rain falls with a chill
stark premonition: ice! . . . and then they twitch
in shock at every outrage . . . Soon they’ll blush
a paler scarlet, humbled in their beds,
for they’ll be naked; worse, their leaves will droop,
their petals quickly wither . . . Spindly thorns
are poor defense against the winter’s onslaught . . .
No, they are roses. Men should be afraid.
The Monarch’s Rose or The Hedgerow Rose
by Michael R. Burch
I lead you here to pluck this florid rose
still tethered to its post, a dreary mass
propped up to stiff attention, winsome-thorned
(what hand was ever daunted less to touch
such flame, in blatant disregard of all
but atavistic beauty)? Does this rose
not symbolize our love? But as I place
its emblem to your breast, how can this poem,
long centuries deflowered, not debase
all art, if merely genuine, but not
“original”? Love, how can reused words
though frailer than all petals, bent by air
to lovelier contortions, still persist,
defying even gravity? For here
beat Monarch’s wings: they rise on emptiness!
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
The type that shivers, shimmers but shambles.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
I wonder why the light heart breaks apart
As if it has always sprained its ankle.
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
I wonder why the light heart must restart
From where oblivion makes its mouth mumble.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
This golden heart always seem to outsmart
The blind, dim and the wicked that grumbles
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
This raging heart would always top the chart
As it darts out and suddenly tumbles.
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
The glimmering heart is what I call art,
Therefore, it’s rays of light would not crumble.
I’ve always craved for the flickering heart
No blazing heart could have sustained that part
I saw you, you saw me,
and I fell deeply into the possibility
of ancient-old cliche's "maybe!"
With my eye on the prize,
I realized victory already won...
won, is the key to your heart
So in your stance you glared;
with eyes ardent and keen...
bonny visage, and smooth skin
I yearn to venture real deep;
within your soul, to feel;
your intensity mixed with my serenity
The first thing I teethed was failure,
Pain with no success.
Mistakes I've made have seen the light.
They shatter upon contact.
My wicked ways increase in number,
I cradle them with ease.
To my surprise and others too,
My behavior will never change.
I was born into existence,
This life of taunting games.
The faults I've made are plenty,
A hobby it is to me.
This talent that consumed me,
This gift was not in free will.
My body craved a bit of you,
So this is what I got.
A natural attraction to failure,
Mistakes and fault and sin.
My body craved a bit of you,
An instinct I regret.
A bond that can't be broken,
Fixed or cleaned or cured.
We share a solemn constant,
A constant to this day.
My body craved a bit of you,
And this is what I got.
A living form of disaster,
I'm a disaster just like you.
It doesn’t matter if I ruined myself from intoxication,
even for a moment, as long as I can get drunk from
the wine named arrogance.
Although arrogance is the robe so colorful
that it blinds ordinary man accustomed only to a quiet color
and it’s conspicuous vividness stunning onlookers and plumps down
to become a lame, doesn’t matter its consequence, I would like to wear the robe of arrogance because most people think not only that it’s proper to honor and admire arrogant one but even respect, awe and consider him holy.
Because the audience overly admires arrogant one,
speak highly of his every movement and daily activities,
moreover, audience welcomes the arrogant one with thunderous hand-clapping, jump up and down with cry in excitement and even tear impressed by his lordliness.
The audience praises arrogant one from the heart with great admiration, uttering, he is a broad-minded noble with a high-spirited appearance that only strong one can display, pure like clear dew reflecting early morning sun-ray, and more.
Nevertheless, you shouldn’t have hatred for the arrogant one because
he is a snob just like the emperor* who struts on the daylight way
surrounded by his dignified chamberlains, wearing priceless silken gown
trimmed and woven with gold threads and uniquely tailored for him.
I wonder why I have a keen desire for glorified moments
like an arrogant one, and behave in a lordly manner
intoxicated by wine of arrogance though I know
the cost of pomposity very well indeed.
*ref: Hans Christian Andersen’s the Emperor’s New Clothes
A tropical fruit is nutritious
Bananas are mighty delicious
A big one she craved
So she misbehaved
How many she had is auspicious
I am made of glass
See through to my soul
Through to the cold
Where life took it’s toll
They stood here before me
Casting their stones
Scratching my surface
Please, suffocate the moans
Silently screaming
I beg for your aid
But there you stood watching
All my abilities fade
I want to blame you forever
For my spirit unsaved
Your condition of love
Was all that I craved
She
Craved
For the beast.
Amidst his lair
In candle surround,
Ripped white linen clings
As their sweated bodies writhe.
In unification, his seed
Shall spawn the beginning of the dark.
Whilst his translucent shadows walk earths light.