Best Exits Poems
She exits the shower
As I towel her down
Her long blond hair
Skin so brown
With her back to me
In masterly strokes
Every part I caress
Her wanting stokes
She takes my hands
To her breasts she cups
Our torso's close
In standing up
She bares her nape
Invites me to kiss
As my blood responds
To my manly bliss
This path of passion
We tenderly follow
Our bodies racing
As we lovingly wallow
We lie on the bed
Two adventurers roam
Exploring new worlds
To eventually find home
Sensual finds
As they make their way
A pillar of strength
Through a secret gate, plays
Curvaceous mounds
With pert like cairns
Forested grasses
Wonderment stare
Through the open gate
In this warm moist land
Signals in sync
As we read our commands
In movement so tender
With sighs and groans
Between the V
As he's welcomed home
In rhythmic rhyme
Their music plays
Notes are hit
In orchestral display
Kisses shared
Bodies slide
Hearts content
In sensual glide
Eruption emits
His lava flow
Tanned maiden
Golden glow
Orgasmic glands
Climax embrace
In their world of love
This two have graced
. UNSUPPORTED CODE
Bury my heart in trivia.
Keep my mind stuck in minutia.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Keep me from knowing what is right,
directed by detours to spite,
the dam internet's a scam
designed to drive man,
off the road into distraction.
Instant knowledge gains attention,
knowledge without wit or wisdom.
Human touch replaced by a mouse,
human feelings contained, in house.
conversation within glass fibers.
Real replaced by sad virtuals.
We keep the mass hunger sated.
We keep thinking minds muted.
Bread and circus work to perfection,
novelties make roadkill of traditions.
Real streets contain violence, racism, and malice,
while we genocidists, well protected
and free are now off on a spree
down cyber route six sixty-six.
Is this simply a lone luddite's lament,
or someone's conscious coherent comment?
I no longer know, reduced as I am,
to hitchhiking through mist on a mantra.
The dam internet's a sham,
designed to drive man
off the road into distraction.
In the beginning where buds lifts man’s hearts beyond those of the dismal dark, there is a light in the life of each being and plant that grows while the season extends beyond the grave of winter. Life evolves through time, crafting its own existence within the delight of the sun, the rays that lift us living things over the darkness, brings joy to the existence of our pluming start. The placement of such hearts fires up the eyes of tranquility and burns the futility of lovely bright enriching beauty. Life, such a novelty within the evolution, a great vastness of desire to produce a height of clearly immaculate formation of life beyond the cold hard grasps of winter. Now life has been warmed and graced with harmony and peace, with a love that tenderness brings worshipful charisma of living things.
the cold winter
leaves with the last snow…
spring buds glisten
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Debbie Guzzi's "Spring haibun" contest
2/9/2013
The mighty slugger saunted to the plate
The sun dipped in the sky, 'twas getting late
First he swung and he missed
But the next pitch he 'kissed'
Out of the park ~ onto the Interstate
'Check in' is not at three in the afternoon
Why, you can check in any time you like
She welcomes you, and pretending to be in love with you,
she's always glad to see you come
But in reality, she hates you and in short order you'll see, she has no intention of letting you go. Oh it's true, you can check out at eleven next morn or anytime you like, as many have learned before.
So make yourself at home and have all the fun to your delight, cause you are never going to leave. You shouldn't go there, but since you insist, you might as well know that you will surely be deceived. No reservations required; no need to call; there is always plenty of room at her great escape
A refuge to get away to, only to realize a fasade from which you cannot escape.
Everyone there is a prisoner of their own devices, and have no one but themselves to blame. All arrivals via self-destruction; it's too late to
'wise up'; there are no exits via 'bullet trains'.
07282017PSContest, Iconic Songs, Silent One; Song, Hotel California, The Eagles
Two exits up ahead.
One to the left could go west,
One to the right could go east,
I could drive straight past
Continuing down the predictable path.
The exit on the right provides a return
route to beginnings — attempts at do overs.
The other tempts me. It is new unexplored
A place to forge forward despite mistakes or
I could just continue forward.
Going straight ahead keeping my momentum
Following the route laid out by me for me
Relentlessly marching one foot in front of the other
Accomplishing surviving plus ignoring regrets
Going forwards is best, at least that is they expect.
They are not driving today. It is my choice.
Left, Right or straight ahead. The explorer,
The part of me that thinks I am still young
Suggest left. It probably won’t kill me to take
A look. But can I glimpse and return.
The ramp on the right speaks to me
“Going to your past will not change it,
Following me to make amends is necessary
Unavoidable, if you do not take me now
I will show up again.” What is right is not always helpful.
Wondering about what could have been
I responsibly continue straight past each exit.
Hopeful the choice will come up again
So I can visit the past, heal some more
Or move on to the new and unexplored.
Jeremy P. McKay
A child is somewhere scribbling,
not quite knowing what to say,
a junkie with a habit of empty words.
The smart money’s on failure
and I can’t seem to sleep,
because the moon is leaking sliver fears.
The polar-bear cocktail,
paints a chalk barricade,
that incoherent scolding's cannot climb.
Hope went unnoticed,
until it was lost,
but sudden silence
- came to make me new.
The marks of quiet panic
- those flickering tattoos,
fade - like specters in the sun.
In the company of kindness,
peace glitters just like glass,
and the witch in the mirror slinks away.
You’ll find me at the exit,
heading for a steady sea,
my uninformed perspective’s in my bag.
I navigate like driftwood,
hoping for a return trip,
my plans are coherent in my dreams .
p.s. I write short stories too =]
She exits the shower
As i towel her down
Her long blond hair
Skin so brown
With her back to me
In masterly strokes
Every part i caress
Her wanting stokes
She takes my hands
To her breasts she cups
Our torso's close
In standing up
She bares her nape
Invites me to kiss
As my blood responds
To my manly bliss
This path of passion
We tenderly follow
Our bodies racing
As we lovingly wallow
We lie on the bed
Two adventurers in roam
Exploring new worlds
To eventually find home
Sensual finds
As they make their way
A pillar of strength
Through a secret gate plays
Curvaceous mounds
With pert like cairns
Forested grasses
Wonderment stare
Through the open gate
In this warm moist land
Signals in sync
As we read our commands
In movement so tender
With sighs and groans
Between the V
As he's welcomed home
In rhythmic rhyme
Their music plays
Notes are hit
In orchestral display
Kisses shared
Bodies slide
Hearts content
In sensual glide
Eruption emits
His lava flow
Tanned maiden
Golden glow
Orgasmic glands
Climax embrace
In their world of love
This two have graced
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love4.php
In 2018 there were four who exited life's door never to return. There was an additional one whom I feared might also depart, but he recovered from his sickness and now continues his mission. My acquaintance with each of them was for many years a God-send. Each of them entered this world and walked upon the stage of life.
We enter this world one by one and at once our stories begin to unfold and later to be told. There's much to be told between the dashes, but here I speak of exits only and how they contrast. In years past I paid meager attention to little things that in the grand scheme of life are not small. I see and observe more now, feel more deeply what surrounds me, especially when they take their exits. I apologize if it appears small to you, but to me it is huge.
It's the exits of four men in 2018 of which I speak. Men of my acquaintance and friendship who completed their mission. It is not their demise that arrests me, but I am somewhat captured by their contrasting exits. I was privileged to sit and talk with one and pray with him in his dying days. We spoke of some pleasantries we shared together, and I was pleased with being allowed to say goodbye. With another who did not linger, I rushed to his bedside some three days before his demise. He observed me with a stare, unable to respond as I stroked his hands and head. My third friend was a public figure and received a public celebration before his final exit. At the end of the service, I kissed the top of his head saying, "Goodbye, I love you."
The sun, having received its commission, rises in the east and proceeds with its daily mission of providing light and energy. It then sets in the west often with the most awesome glow, beautifying the horizon. But sometimes, the sun exits or sets contrastingly with a rainbow or even cloud cover, like the exit of my fourth and final friend whose passing was sudden and more arresting than the others. Less than 60, much younger than the others, he departed without a word. However, several days before his departure, I was privileged to spend a few telling moments with him. Contrasting exits. Yours and mine; Only God knows how it will end. But because of Christ, it can be good.
01152019KTFBPoSoup
Secrets spooned over !
the dipping of toast
into the steamed cup captured espresso.
Un-asked answerless questions.
They return spinning in an orbit of not knowing.
Chairs scattered; cold empty seats
the previous occupiers never to return !
All doors are open! and locked mindfully:
Between them truth struggles to breathe
choked by lies, in long dark years.
Now all exits lead out away beyond teenage years;
and their failing to look and ask .
The walls know! its dissolved into their existence.
To many doors, and not enough exits,
and a lost code of answers
sleep in distant soils and ashes,
still you don't know !
And never will.
Despite its proverbial might, the Glass Ceiling
Couldn’t freeze the dream God wrote on the page
Where my misery and the sad feeling
That in its ribald rage
Strove hard my priceless dream to delete and defeat
Breathing hard on my neck
Snatching from my outstretched hands the succulent sweet
Destined from my life to break
The jinx
That hitherto kept frustrating my career progress
When its serpent sticks
Determined to undress
My future
Until God’s hands
By dint of their victorious culture
Smashed to smithereens the brands
Whose furnace fire grew cold
Restoring my dream
With a move so bold
Into my hands God landed my career’s ice cream
Commanding the Glass Ceiling to step aside
Convening and commencing the inauguration ceremony
In which my pride
Flew back and grew strong as though a scripture from Deuteronomy
Installed me on the throne
As a mighty queen
Without any further obstacle in my career zone
Enabling me to reign supreme in a kingdom clean and green.
As I sit on the bank beside this clear running stream
I look on in awe as if I am in a dream
My girl, my love swims in the translucent so pure
Her curvaceous shape in the ripples allure
Breaststroke to backstroke as she shares with me
As the undulations of the waves caress her so free
As she exits the stream my eyes are in capture
My heart, my thoughts it total rapture
Her ebony locks cascade down her back
Whilst her body gleams for she doesn't lack
Towards me she walks through the greenest of grasses
My love, my girl the most beautiful of lassies
We lie facing each other sharing sweet meadow kisses
Our minds in unison knowing our bodies have wishes
Beside the clear running stream we shared each other
Under a canopy of green two souls in discover
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-13.php
E-arly
L-ight
L-ets
A-nother
R-adiance
O-pen
S-ilently
E-rasing
L-ife's
L-onely
E-vening
M-ist
O-nce
R-ain
T-otally
E-xits
Topic: Birthday of Ella Roselle A. Morte (July 19)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
insecurity was a fight
complexes were a height
skinny or fat- a sin
society wins
calling **** a new game
calling stud a new maze
gaming of hearts
processing of beats
true love a blund sight
fake was a new area
but still she belives in love
i said y
she said
i have been waiting for a prince
who truly understands me
i said true love never exits
she said it is
i said how
she said it with a wow
life still exits
and life never resista
i see with my her eyes
thay her prince comes
and overdarkened ways were brighten up
then i understand true love exits
hope for love
belive in my eyes..
The Winter Mist
The winter mist
Which no can twist
I knew you exist
Although in a cyst
Never failing to appear
When all you could do was disappear
You stayed
When you frayed
And you waited
When things faded
And yet you left
When you could deft
I returned to my mess
Now covered in tress
To find you gone
As if I’d always been lone
I should have known
To avoid being blown
But I did not see
And now there’s nothing left to be seen..