Best Curvatures Poems
I love to sketch with a pen and ink;
to feel the flow of the lines that I think;
as they pour their way down my arm to my hand
and softly on the parchment land.
I love to sketch the shadows deep,
as from hand to pen point they creep.
The joy of all the special nibs;
My pen will use; the page to fill.
Oh how Muse does love the ride,
as down my arm and pen she slides;
her words of wisdom, gushing forth,
like rain drops spatter on my porch.
The rhythm of the curvatures;
the notes that play, they will ensure,
A lovely drawing, revealed to me
I’ll dive into its reverie.
2-1-19
For: "Hobbies Poetry Contest"
sponsored by Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
Quiet moments of our deep love
trickling through the evening rivulet of moon
alight as softly as the dove
…as I dream
Your breath so close to my face
fervently seeking passion’s safe harbor
leading your lips and setting the pace
…as I dream
Your bold touch fulfilling its dearth
charting the curvatures of my being
docks as a ship finding her berth
…as I dream
I quicken and offer safe port
inviting your entry and sheltered mooring
as in true life, I am your willing consort
…as I dream
I cling to the tangibility of paper
its connection to earth,
the feel of the grain
on the skin.
Words do not exist
thanks to the mashing
of keys and buttons, but by providence
of the paper.
The forgotten paper
is still alive. Soft
and crumpled
yellowed with age.
Though forgotten
never erased. Never
extinguished.
I do not bleed red
cells but globules
of words, coagulated
phrases and lines.
The pen is a prosthesis,
supplementing blood
where soft flesh leaves prints-
other swirled lines an whirls.
The pencil
whispers
words,
lightly brushes her lips
against slate,
ever the timid lover.
Even when erased
the word is
forever imprinted, its curvatures
embedded in the soft
fiber of the page.
The screen
is an evil thing; coveting
its symbols and codes.
It hides
away your words,
entombs them
behind an electric moon.
When the screen dies
so do your musings.
post an atom.
we need one.
subversions
differentiations
of Chantal Akerman reading the Ladies Almanac.
grandpa was jewish,
maybe this summer i'll go to Israel
and visit the mother of all mothers.
The trapezoidal parallelogram
the exponential function with a base
which does not equal a.
Curvatures and theorems
calculating the dimensions
of delta and the centroid.
lables + schedules + links + locations +options=
to label a schedule provides a link to a location which has many options.
israeli prime minister of home land secularity.
the pope is new. the pope is old. the pope is apparently the pope.
the pope cares?
the pope does not care?
the pope is the puppet.
the pope is not a puppet.
the puppets laugh.
as the pope popes.
the poor muslim mans.
the poor muslims.
why create so many gods.
say, just for an instant,
that it is just an idea.
an pretty clever idea.
when was the last time you thought of an idea called 'god.'
what was your last idea?
could you map it on the visible spectrum?
so your bifocals could cerebrally focus?
and sync to the mystic monthy surprise called a menses.
the divine comedy.
it is a comedy.
wag the tail of a beloved.
rip the tail of the beloved.
fall into a pit.
come out of the pit.
eat a pit.
choke on a pit.
spit the pit.
the pit grows into more pits.
someone else picks the pit.
eats the pit.
chokes on the pit.
dies of the pit.
[enter hypothetical scene]
squirrel!
Your soft s i l h o u e t t e lingers into an artisan’s canvas,
the outline of your nape I seem to trace with such ease-
I use my charcoal to sketch the nudity of your beauty,
and with each stroke I draw…
I am comforted.
Your body shape is breathless,
your contour divine-
your curvatures…
I embrace.
Each line seems like a memory I never wish to release.
For you are a portrait of embellishments-
As I exaggerate your body shape
I am sent to an abyss of infatuation.
Tracing each crescent of your soul entices my taste,
and forever I am bound to your image.
Inhale-
each breath I breathe.
Exhale-
with me by your side.
I shall frame you in the morning with adoration,
and at nighttime, a tender kiss I shan’t forget-
for you shall always bring me a longing sensation,
lingering into my essence...
is your soft s i l h o u e t t e.
Date Written: September 14, 2017
Radio impulse
Stray songs invite;
Hip melancholy
~~~~~~~~~
Words and lyrics
Basket of moods;
Mental corridors
~~~~~~~~~
Espresso machine
Caffeine song;
Frothy brew
~~~~~~~~~~
Dancing darling
Plucks my heart strings;
Sense surround
~~~~~~~~~
Listen now
Birdsong metaphor;
Dawn brings magic
~~~~~~~~~
Profound moments
Rain wets window;
Windy sadness
~~~~~~~~~
Neighbour smiles
Meal takeaway chit-chat;
Weather and prices
~~~~~~~~~
Pineapple slices
Lunch time treats;
Sour-sweet yellow
~~~~~~~~~
Dress-up ladies
Dolls on stilettos;
Curvatures glow
~~~~~~~~~
Mascara eyes
Vivid charades fix;
Dreamy distance
~~~~~~~~~
News headlines blast
Earthquake tremors again;
Nepalese pain grips
~~~~~~~~~
Sighing old woman
Complains to herself;
Ghostly whispers
~~~~~~~~~
Wayside alcoholic
Smiles in somnolence;
Happy delusions
~~~~~~~~~~
Be beyond blur
Lively nonsense;
Sound escape plan
~~~~~~~~~
New food court here
Up market ambience;
Prices escalate
~~~~~~~~~
Two grownup kids meet
Playground romance;
Brief interlude
~~~~~~~~~
Wedding banquet
Happy couple cheers;
Sanguine guests feast
~~~~~~~~~
Yoda in green
True to life;
Star Wars philosophy
~~~~~~~~~
"Do or do not,
There is no try."
The Force runs away
~~~~~~~~~
Sing to the dawn
Be happy now;
Tomorrow can wait
~~~~~~~~~
My darling calls
Expresso ready;
Blurry steps slide
~~~~~~~~~
Glimpse here
New light flings;
Suspend objections
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
27 May 2015
Singapore
I’m down by the sea
With my baby
Rubbing suntan lotion
Along curvatures of her body
I feel my palms aching to hold her
And feel her energy
“put a little cream on shoulders, honey ”
She whispered tenderly
Her shape like waves on a ocean
Skin tempting to touch
She had the sweetest looking hump
My eyes never gets enough
I’m down by the sea
With my baby
Rubbing suntan lotion
Along curvatures of her body
When she laid on her back
Nearly had a heart attack
I almost explode
Hands were moving around in rhythm
Rubbing her down to soul
There were hills and valleys along the way
Suddenly I heard her say,
“Put some cream on my legs darling”
And naturally, I obeyed
I’m down by the sea
With my baby
Rubbing suntan lotion
Along curvatures of her body
Where does one start when through my eyes I see
I see curvatures of she, her soul glows
Naked to bare she lies living so free
Her undulated figure in froze pose
Whilst porcelain skins, excitedly grow
She to me she climbs, snake like we're entwined
Defined, enriched and absorbed, two in dine
Our skeletal skins dance, naked now we
Undressed we're elected to be, aligned
Where does one start when through my eyes I see
When my mind alit
(when the world was still)
upon curvatures
of breath and silence
and a glance's grace
When my mouth paused
(the world was dark)
on synonyms
for devotion
eyes rested,
trouble was
vanquished then
and one
sad soul
slept
Over ten worms then? In coats. Goggles? Flight then. Huge paper bees. Altitude 4 on curvatures rattling over the field,fauna and hedgerows. Boom boom boom beasts coming. Mooooving across the territory pulling dragging. When old then its chop chop chop. But if a falling blaster gets there first then death arrives earlier. After a squirt of mud. Nice. Lick lips then. Taste good? No? Yes? And now the ships are coming. Painting playing poker. Captain geranium. General ox. And a poxy fly-by of a boat with 8000 foot wings. But no oars. Quiet is it? For now. All are writing and writhing in formatted charts. To plan the circumference of a beach landing is to plant a cactus in a salt marsh. Humming. Sing a long a song. In either of the varied tongues located in the land masses. Bing bong in a mansion house. Centre of village. Plans are made. Fortress swept by whipping a floor. And a mop is pleasing to the eye. But only after a curfew. Can one really develop lead from that style of bread? Hurry up and bring it home. It is to be said that a fickle strawberry in a flowery dress can pick up many a uniformed prawn. And so it was. And in the a d and the b c and the ultimate balancing act between pillars. Then all fall down. Like tumbling masses of peas into a stench of brown. It is largely thought that the opinions of one are less kinder than another. To form a unison is not the plan between the iron kilted musings of rulers. Turning twisting taking touching tombs. Diving into the depths of the caverns. High viewpoints equal many pointed mountains. Justify not the wisdom stemming from an ionised tea towel. And place the trowel to rest gently. Then go play hop scotch with 15 eggs, 1 dew ball and a cake. With or without cream. Dare to jump off a mysterious marshy rock holding a leather book? 98b equals 64f in a cloud bracket. Xxxxx versatile valiant vanquis. Xxxxx pasteurization z
Up I looked into the pregnant sky,
and she delivered to me
existence.
It seeped into my scalp,
darkening the clustered follicles.
It danced down the deep curvatures of my neck,
discovering the virgin forests of my skin.
Through my pores, the dirt, the sweat,
it made a map out of me.
And yet,
and yet, I cannot read-
cannot follow evaporating squiggles-
Fate's writhing pen in the form of rain.
At twelve o’clock in the day Jobless.
Tired of the hustle, with no food pangs of hunger are eating her insides.
She lies down and closes her eyes.
Unusually sleep catches up with her.
She hopes to sleep and wake up the next day.
She wakes up at one in the day.
Unusually, she slept a whole day and a night and into the next day again.
But no, it’s no new day for there was NO morning.
It has now been a while, A WHILE is too mild a word
For this persistence she portrays in living a life of pain and hopelessness
The pain is insignificant for in absence of pity,
She gladly would accept as penance and retribution of the risks and mistakes she gravely made.
The hopelessness however has become unbearable digging deep in her soul.
The curvatures it has made has left a hollow place inside her heart.
That she sleeps away her entire day and consequently better part of her youth.
The only hope she now has is she will wake when darkness has hovered away.
Replaced by a new day, ‘a morning’.
That she has not seen a morning for ‘a while’ is insane but overly true.
She holds on hoping that tomorrow will be brighter, changed and a new
That the sun will outshine the darkness and she would see change just for ‘a while’
That the hopelessness would be replaced with new and real dreams.
Unusually, there’s is no newness, no future.
NO morning and definitely NEVER tomorrow
In the morning a lion rises from its sleep
Concerned by thousand images of restless dreams
It roars in search of his own image as it is seen in a puddle of muddy water
Tirelessly he roams until midday Sun grazes its gracefulness upon his face
He is lost in its beauty
Paralyzed by the chaos of things that burden a day
On a midday Sun a lazy elephant threads upon the Earth with a heavy footsteps
Non-important things become life threatening
He wrinkles his eyes as he has lost sight of wide landscapes
Where is he threading towards?
There is a monkey pulling on his tail, ever restless
In the hot charred earth one can see footsteps that leave no shadow
One big, one small, intertwined
If I does not see carefully
Footsteps seem to lose their differentiation in the infinite footsteps layed upon ground of the Earth
Differentiate! How hollow those footsteps seem
How brittle those shadows must be!
A great bird rises in the dusk and to great heights he flies
Now the footsteps are but paths, and paths are but a curvatures imprinted on landscape
Smiling, he feels the wind in his wings
And he speeds ever closer to the Sun
Free, between Sun and Earth
Everything lost its meaning
What is true in this world?
Milion crystal lights appear in the night sky
Serene, they shower those who are lost
The world is now theirs
Made up of the Sun and the Earth,
Of day and night and things usefull and those not so
A wanderer can find that all the paths are but one path
Repeated endlessly in a Great dance of eternal things
Day, night, night and day
Molecules speeding around a core
As much as light shines around a saint
Night, day, day and night
Space widens and time slows
Now is all-time
Endless in its dance
How far must wanderer wander
And how long must a seeker seek
Is light endless or does darkness devour it in the end?
When you hear no-sound
Hear then how light shines
Lion, elephant, monkey and falcon
They dance their own dance
Day, night, Sun and stars
In a dance of eternal things
Light blue sky bathed in sunlight
ultraviolet flirting the deep blue sea
strolling shorelines of lazy beaches
feeling the touch, women lying in bikini.
polka dots, some neon green and orange
criss-cross strings on bare almond skin
ripples of desire towering on high waves
waist poised perfect in bikini paper-thin
absorbing curvatures amidst little shells
on slender thighs, staring eyes freeze
convex sand dunes ignite fun in the sun
with scent of beer in pollen-filled breeze.
Bikini blossoms color the tanned silver beach
two pretty pieces reveal an alluring seduction
A tsunami of pleasure, the teeny weeny dress
In the Eden of apples, it's forbidden temptation.
Beyond the atmospheric dome blue sky
A red sun punctuates every moment gone
Past cosmic black in dark suspense
Hovers above the marbled cloud of Earth below
When stepping outside for the very first time
Looking up, the sky seems bigger than yesterday
As if it grew up over night by lightning strikes
Morning gathers clarity being viewed in colors
Five thousand balloons drift by in mellow style
Smaller than they were before their flight
To follow outlines of flying objects high
Of yellow helicopters holding patterns fast
Hung like Christmas ornaments
Seen from below they look toy-ish
Against the back drop of gigantic blue
Curvatures of a planet taken by its roundness
Dome rises solid from within the mission path
Inside the limits of imagination voyaging
Vivid to the naked eye surprised at being seen
Palm trees dangling in their greenery
Floating roots in grave danger of being cut
Helicopters know the distance to the nearest star
When close at hand to plants, rotating blades above
Almost afraid to touch
They understand
Long fronds on top, dress in brightness, stand on air
Follow their own gravity, merge with the open sky
Green palms, yellow helicopters, suspend activity
Sway in silence above the fragile calm