Best Demurely Poems
he enters the room
coyly she tugs her skirt
just a bit
enough to reveal her shapely legs
tossing back her golden tresses
she shakes her head
just a bit
hoping to attract his eyes
tiny shift of the derriere
she takes long, gentle strides
just a bit
has he seen her yet?
bending to reveal cleavage
she winks as she pours champagne
just a bit
a taste of ambrosia from a vixen
“Sometimes less is more,”
she says in a deep, sensual tone
“Just a bit,
I saved the best for you.”
in the mirror she sees his eyes
they follow her
just a bit
before he saunters to her side
he kisses her hand
warm and soft
just a bit
camouflaged emotions become clearer
other partygoers stay inside
he coaxes her with flashing green eyes
just a bit
as he leads her to the lakeside pavilion
a vision in the moon’s soft light
she moves closer
just a bit
and whispers demurely in his ear
“Your place or mine?”
they giggle
just a bit
"Should we call the babysitter?"
My garden lies between the trees
Where lilies dance in gentle breeze
And lilacs whisper pretty please
To a butterfly's caressing tease
Nearby glows the buttercup
Where honey bees come to sup
While hummingbirds on branches squint
To catch a glimpse of hyacinths
And daffodils in yellow coats
Sway to songbirds dulcet notes
Queen Anne's lace is also grown
With Forget-me-nots and anemones
But the rose in beauty stands alone
And smiles demurely from her throne
----
Joseph May
© 5/2/14
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
And velvet grass in golden green festoon
September wed us; one heart, made of two
Days of turquoise kisses, too much, too few
Cloud castles filled our eyes, too long, too soon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
As courting butterflies demurely flew
In circles, touching a sunset lagoon
September wed us; one heart, made of two
Oaks framed in ancient splendor crafted new
Leaves burst in layered passion of maroon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
Once summer romance burned off, what is true
Love's music swayed our souls, set to its tune
September wed us; one heart, made of two
I held one ivory rose, clinging dew
Made lovelier under her sapphire moon
Nourished by garland skies of scarlet blue
September wed us; one heart, made of two.
The moments of the eventide are tender
as the weary Sun kisses the horizon good night.
With dusk fading to a cobalt blue,
the passion of the Moon arises
tempting the Fairest Maiden of the Night
to join him in a celestial dance of love.
With stars twinkling like diamonds in her hair,
and a golden glow reflecting
off her breasts demurely in his light,
the Fairest Maiden of the Night surrenders
to the passions of the Moon.
Beneath the blanket of darkness
the Moon and Fairest Maiden of the Night come together
dancing a minuet of love throughout the night
to rhythmic melodies of the crickets’ summer song.
As the night grows long
and the darkness starts to wane,
the Fairest Maiden of the Night,
inseminated with the Moon’s celestial seed,
gives birth to a new dawn,
and the cycle of life begins anew.
August 6, 2020
These thoughts were composed the other night as I
watched the full moon dance slowly across the sky.
I do not want to die
Like each virgin you bed
When you have ravished her
It's off with pretty head
I do not want to die
But…Oh to be with you!
The supreme ruler, KING
So handsome, yet so cruel
You wanted your revenge
On woman who betrayed
The one who broke YOUR heart
So you must have them slayed
But what am I to do
When brought before the throne?
When you have had your fill
You’ll bow to oath you’ve sworn
And here I am tonight
The Vizier's flesh and blood
My beauty may not save
So knowledge I impart
A story sweet I weave
As in peace you recline
On cushions of damask
In scented room divine
You’re lost in what I say
Your interest...at its height
And there I stop the tale
To be spared on this night
You ask to lie with me
Demurely, I refuse
I promise you delights
When I'm no longer Muse
And so you let me leave
The richness of your bed
Wanting to know the end
My tale plays in your head
Each night I leave undone
The story on my lips
And wantonly you beg
While grasping shapely hips
One thousand nights have passed
I stand before you now
With no tale left to give
Will love suffice somehow?
You come and touch my cheek
I look up in your eyes
"I've come to love you now
You are my love, my prize."
And so my life is spared
You whisper, "Sweetest Dove!"
My stories all forgot
You've fallen for my love
You tell me through the night
Your own love story fine
And now I let you taste
My flowing luscious wine
No virgin girl…now Queen
My love has set you free
And now Arabian nights
Are filled with ecstasy!
Eileen Manassian
All dressed in green, the rose bush beams
like a child's blushing cheeks and pursed lips;
these debutants jilted by bees
forever wanting to be kissed.
A carpet of phlox giggles like a young lady
and drips over the wall like a Dali clock,
tickled by fingers of lilies and daisies
still waiting to dance, demurely frocked.
Impatiens wink at the pansy's goodbyes,
while hostas and petunias wave.
In the light of the late springtime sky
all in the garden would rave.
No need for people, they've nothing to prove
because flowers can party too!
~Through a wisteria laden arbor~
Ah, the robins are here rummaging in the grass
and they just left the blueberries over the hedge,
a glutinous embarrassment for sure, but as
deer prance so properly, I'd rather robins instead;
at least they don't consume the guests,
or should I say, permanent party participants.
Like a "who done it" dinner it's a safe bet
they'll win, if the catnip and snapdragons can't.
What's the purpose of being pretty;
ogled and cut by people and eaten by deer -
it's the talk of the party and nasty.
Gossip is (don't tell) that our favorite guests aren't here,
the honey and the bumbles do tickle and tease
and though perhaps used, we're left pleased.
Modern/Contemporary Sonnet (mixed meter-slant rhyme-uneven line length)
The seashore is a wondrous stage, for in the sun's delight,
I sit and watch a play unfold- it's there within my sight!
Those beauties, young with golden tans, demurely sashay by
In search of those admiring eyes that peep so deft and sly.
While young dudes with their virile forms and sun-bleached wavy hair,
Strut back and forth so confident with sort of haughty air.
Small children, filling up their pails, build castles made of sand,
While fathers take a break from rest to lend a helping hand.
And mothers being what they are- in their protective lots,
Are ever rubbing suntan cream on freckled, sunburned tots.
Those chunky mid-life guys and gals packed tight in swim attire
Add so much fullness to the scene, for those to see, admire!
And oldsters wrapped up tight and snug to shield from wind and sun,
With eyes shut under hats of straw, in dreamland have their fun!
At water's edge, the tame are found, waves rolling at their feet;
While further out, some brave the swells to make their fun complete.
And there, up high on pedestals, bronzed lifeguards oversee
With ever watchful, cautious eyes, the shore's activity.
And here I sit, a spectator, relaxed this summer day-
But, am I too a character to those who look my way?
April 20, 2015
Premiere Contest: My Favorite Vacation In Rhyme
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
The raccoon was brazen
Bold, devilishly handsome
I fell in love quickly
I know. Raccoons are no good for opossums
But the heart wants who the heart wants.
We met on a warm day
in the throes of summer
He was eating cat food when I arrived
to the consternation of a gray tabby
who was sitting on a prissy
large-flowered puffy porch chair.
“spoiled princess”, the gentleman said
with his large bandit eyes.
“brat probably” I replied, demurely, flicking my pink tail.
He stopped eating and looked at me for second.
Wandered off porch, giving me the rest of the food.
Lights began flickering on and off.
I thought it was lightning at first
Then a large WallyGeemer tromped out.
He was in his underwear.
I flipped to my side, pretending dead.
“EDNA!” the WallyGeemer screamed.
I had heard this voice before.
It is a voice of fear.
He went back inside and slammed the door.
I was halfway back to the marsh when the
generous Raccoon stepped into my path.
“Would you um like to um…”
“Of course,” I said.
And we did.
Sue doesn’t sit so demurely in her motorised wheelchair.
She’ll tell folks to stop gawking as it's very rude to stare!
Beneath her tenuous frame is quite a formidable young girl,
born with brittle bones but in her wheelchair she can twirl.
Sue’s parents sadly told her that her condition is immutable.
She is bereft of strong limbs, but her courage is irrefutable.
Despite a recent interlude in hospital, she's always cheerful.
Don’t treat her like she’s invisible or you may get an earful!
She loves to sketch caricatures in her artist’s drawing book
and in her specially adapted kitchen Sue is learning to cook.
Her physical disability will not prevent her from achieving
and her aphorism of life's always been, ‘Never stop believing
Sue loves to spend time wheeling around the garden paths,
watching chirping sparrows joyfully splashing in bird baths.
She paints canvases filled with butterflies and lovely flowers.
Sometimes she is quite content to sit there and read for hours.
If you are feeling sorry for Sue, don't give it another thought.
In her scarlet wheelchair, she's accepted what life has wrought.
Each day she finds something to appreciate that gives her a thrill.
In truth, she sees more beauty in life than most of us ever will.
Eight word Challenge 5 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Required words: demurely, sketch, tenuous, brittle, formidable, interlude, bereft, immutable
10-23-17
I been seeing my life through a cloudy veil.
Although it was my fault, my own sight I did curtail.
I believed in going with the flow, how could I fail?
Until my soul I taxed with a enormous bill of sale.
Hesitation became a crutch that I demurely hid behind.
Disillusionment concealed from my unconscious mind.
Instincts I ignored, to my ego, that was unjustly unkind.
Creating a hazy web of sorts internally, once all combined.
I lifted the veil and my vision is suddenly crystal clear.
Insight of self, promises an astronomical year.
Finally squelching the doubts whispering in my ear.
Thinking positively, I make a leap in my career.
Independence is now something I truly embrace.
Confidence is stronger, my fears I do solemnly face.
Life is now full of possibilities, no longer an enclosed space.
Lifting that veil, I can now contentedly say, I found my place!
Cecilia Macfarlane
The black-as-widow’s-weeds night of endless stars
was so cold...
cruel as temperature
plunged its frigid fingers feeling through my being
fondling my heart and soul without mercy
molesting me - taunting my will to live
and just when I thought
the ice water in my shivering veins would kill me
there she was
she came shyly at first
demurely spreading
her pinkening skirts over the horizon
while her blushing complexion
deftly gelded the darkness
I prayed-I pleaded-I made deals
(with who? you don’t want to know..)
that her warming smile would be my saving grace…
It began to slowly dawn on me
as she flexed her sinewy heat waves
flaunting her solar power
that I was caught
between false hope and no deliverance
for the desert sunrise-to-sunset
now faced-off and challenged me
with barren bone-dry intensity
sucking dry the new dew
and any life
containing moisture
weathered granular remains
of ancient feldspar and quartz
with eons of sifting and shifting boredom
took on a hell-raising life of their own
as the fire-breathing celestial sorceress casted spells
of smoke and mirror mirages
and magically made ridges of rippling blond sands
glisten like scales of a million skimming sidewinders
writhing in joy at my agony—
it’s amazing
how cold I feel when I have been so burned
again I face a desolate night
— deserted —
without a blanket
Susan Ashley
April 29, 2018
Widow’s Weeds: For women of 19th century England, a custom of mourning that involved wearing heavy, concealing, black clothing and the use of heavy veils of black crepe. The entire ensemble was colloquially known as ‘widow’s weeds’.
Mourning - Wikipedia
You told me
when I stepped into your bad dreams
that cloudy day,
you were on a midnight bullet flight
to Phoenix from L.A.
Smoking barrel infidelity blues
was the red-eye, insomnia jet lag that had
you on a pillow cry toss-n-turn night
You said all your tear ashes
had fallen out of a love be-tray
So you were moving into the desert
to get far, far ...
Cold feelings faraway
We spoke gaze intense, of so many stranger things
But the spark that lit your damp eyes
was my exotic flame, cactus-shaped heart burning
You got so sky-high curious, instantly ...
Demurely saying my half-finished, gypsy story
was so Prince Charming to ear read
As all of your scarlet-hair, corralled desires
broke loose bosom mustang untamed
Your aroused heart rubbed next to mine,
and passion sparks burst into flames
The fiery color of your cerebral glow filly mane
had me first date blinded
With starry eyes, we torch burn fell
head-over-heels at the scorched touch beginning
And you loved the Indie speed
of the desert fox chase nitro-turbo accelerating
Shifting bio-rhythm gears ... adjusting to the carotid flow change,
you let me slow pulse merge into your lip fast lane
Then at crescent moon nightfall,
when it’s the best twilight time to crash ...
To walk away from the wreckage of the past
We vowed to get buried together
with the same name ...
Thus, the smiling other half
of our bohemian love story dreamily unfolds
in a fiery rainbow:
Free of former accusations,
no shame ... no blame
My burning cactus heart
touched your unfulfilled, thirsting desire
And you stepped into the fire ...
casting aside your rightful, maiden claims
Now we lay always
in a bed of passion pyre
Having tears of joy pumping thru our vow veins,
our hearts keep blink bursting into liquid flames
Love fever cold sweat
of golden ecstasy skin rain
Lava kisses pleasure pouring
onto the desert oasis plain
With gaze smouldering yawns at every dawn,
we Phoenix love rise again,
and again
And twin again and again and again ...
from the sensuous
ember ashes of each nightly burning
In My Life’s Peaceful Interlude
Midlife for me was a peaceful interlude.
After my children left the nest,
there had been a climax of sorts.
Poetry had come; it flowed to me.
I’d spend long afternoons in sun’s warm glow,
happily attacking sheets of paper with my pen.
In my life’s interlude, I felt formidable -
as though I could live another fifty years. . .
and all would be well.
How I wish this feeling were immutable!
One evening visiting a nursing home,
I beheld an elderly lady sitting demurely at a table.
Her image was a graceful sketch in grey
which imprinted itself indelibly on my mind.
As she sat, so well-composed, although her hands trembled,
I noticed her frailty and how brittle her old bones had to be,
yet there she sat, this aged woman, lighting up the room
as she smiled at me!
I have always felt life to be tenuous,
but examples of that are coming faster now
as my old friends and acquaintances vanish from the earth.
Trials of my own have now assailed me,
and still I write and wonder. . .
Should I somehow manage to live a century
as that old woman surely had done,
and should I become bereft
from the inevitable losses the future is sure to bring me,
might I sit and manage as gracefully as she
a brightly lit-up smile for a passer-by?
Nov. 3, 2017 for John Hamilton's 'Eight word challenge -5' Poetry Contest
Words used in the poem: 1. Brittle 2. Immutable 3. Formidable 4. Tenuous 5. Interlude 6. Sketch 7. Bereft 8. Demurely
countless hearts and roses fall
for sake of heeding Cupid's call
and yet I fail for phrases, new
imparting, fresh, my "I love you"
(for poets, past, have said it all)
perchance I'll find the words inside
your hazel gaze, quite starry-eyed
the limpid peepers, fair and fierce
that pity, not, the hearts they pierce
(or pulses hurried, far-and-wide)
could be the words hide in your grin
and dance demurely with your chin
coaxed to shine as sound is swirled
much as your smile, to warm a world
(with just a dusted touch of sin)
perhaps the terms lie in your shape
the curves, sublime, to finely drape
that, placed with motion, quite defy
all other grace thus brought to eye
(and leaving countless jaws agape)
might be the phrase lies in your hair
fleece, tawny strands of tresses, fair
or with your skin - so silken, chaste
those unseen places meant to taste
(adorned with only moonlight, rare)
or maybe, found in ALL of these
the words to bring me to my knees
in reverence of the reasons, true
that consecrate the wonder, YOU
(and set my sifting heart at ease)
but, I think I'm more apt to find
the words to say how you’re refined
in things that senses can't impart -
the YOU that dwells within your heart
so caring, thoughtful, sure, and kind ...
bright sense-of-humor - artful mind
of dark and light and grey, combined
with heart and soul, thus intertwined
and ALL that I have e'er consigned -
yes, NOW my words ...
are Valentined.
Come on Jiggles, let’s go for our walk, and remember, walk with pride
That’s my girl, my beautiful standard poodle, with your sexy stride
Jiggles short tail pounded from side to side,
Her excitement she could never pretend to hide
And her longing to get out was surely not feigned
Jiggles was a flirt, her desire for a handsome dog had never waned!
I put the leash on Jiggles, within 5 minutes, she had spotted Plato
A bold young handsome powerful dog, a Labrador, I let her go
She lowered her eyes demurely, as Plato sidled her way, so slow
They sniffed each other and walked towards a bush, both had to know
They disappeared from sight, their love consummated, Jiggles wore a flush,
And Plato, this aristocratic dog, I could see a definite exited blush!
I looked at Plato’s owner and he at me, what were we to do,
These two would not be separated, this was truer than true,
So owners and dogs visited regularly, and the due date
Now close, mummy Jiggles came into labor, Hugh and I tended to Plato’s mate
Three beautiful Labradoodles, fluffy and cute, to meet Jiggles was Plato’s fate, Hugh and I fell i love, because of two dogs and an affair on their first date!
Entry Contest: List With A Twist
Sponsored By Charles Messina
28/02/2021