Best Febrile Poems
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My LOVE bound to you
My Darling, I am entirely thine
As kindling in pure Formidable flame
My Beloved, My precious love
My better self,
If the moment of Immortality
Unveil to exist between us
I shalt whisper your Beloved name
As phantom of delight
Riveting as melodious
As mating birds
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Your elegance and beauty
As begotten rapturous vibrant
ebullient portrait of LOVE
As blissful birth of precious
glittering mother of pearl
Invigorating to purify
my tumultuous untamed heart
My Immortal Angel,
My Dearest LOVE
My Joyful Darling
My eyes, worships Your Eyes
In pure adoration
My eyes can NO longer
hide my addiction
My Immortal Beloved
The LOVE of sublimity,
Should I not let my eyes
become lit, before YOUR eyes
As my heart’s pupil of febrile eyes
Dives in your endless ocean
of LOVE to be drowned in ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My hunger has become a fain of fasting
My Darling,
Your Lips, a provocative budding beauty
which Loves to flaunts itself
shalt be my eternal
Adoring site of pilgrimage,
As my tender lips, as nourishing
As endless waves of ocean
can not resist rushing to wet
to rescue YOUR thirst of ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Faithfullest heart,
My Love bound to you, As we stem
As rose garden of Elysium
As sweet scent of LOVE
Emanating from the blossoms
As our tender hands entangled
with Majestic Red Robe Of LOVE
As Our eyes wed
For moment of eternal serenity
to cast our Hearts net in endless
ocean of sublime ecstasy
to capture our own image of ONENESS
My Immortal Beloved
Sanctuary of Love, My Darling,
I am entirely Thine,
I clasp the hand of Love
As I clasp my body
As fortitude of Love
Against YOUR body,
The Citadel of Heaven,
As my lips penetrates the silence
to whisper tenderly in Thy Beloved ears;
I LOVE THEE,
As My hearts infinite tender majesty
Shalt illuminate the Devine promise of bliss
As it echoes in eternity,
As my heart decorate the tent of LOVE
My Beloved, My fervent
My Solemn passion,
My Darling, My precious one,
My soul exclaimed in delight jubilation
My Beloved LOVE
As I am fain to see THEE
in the Bethel of LOVE,
For Eternity
Forever Thine
Forever Ours
Easy to judge by what it seems to be,
More effort to immerse in what we hear.
Take time to talk, there is much more to me,
Before you tune me out, lend me your ear.
Estranged to yours my life seems to appear
Yet I laugh, love and struggle as do you.
Same start, same final and same febrile fear -
To be misjudged for diverse points of view.
Bisected by a biased borderline,
It only seems we are two worlds apart -
For eyes to see, open your closed up mind
Lend me your ear, I’ll open up my heart.
March 18, 2021
I have nothing else to give
From the bottom of a febrile heart,
And ageless is this love
Growing younger by the passing day.
Pyramidal like champagne, cascades
In its purest concept,
Bubbling as the crystal stream
Cleaves the blackest rock.
To expose the fertile soil
And perpetrate impassioned rites;
Copulates my dusky soul with
Fever burned of fearful death.
I have nothing else to give
From the singing depths of sanctuary,
And ageless be this love
Breathed 'till the dying breath.
Untamed and overflowing snug jungles thick and fruitful burst rife pregnant and spouting lavish green expressions. The white broil of the day globe supreme in its blistering febrile; relief sought in the milky turquoise waters teeming smooth unbroken tide. Rain falls in delicate melody curling upon lazy afternoon buffalo. Torn coconuts nestle upon the waterfalls as locals, sweet dove like drifting valley flowers. Ants fuss upon the barks of the mango trees, white stalks and avocado lark free. Here lies an island of unbroken weight, primeval and rampant, supreme unearthly, an equatorial heaven, here on earth.
The sweet unfocused dream of love,
Wandering summers, fireside winters,
Autumns drifting deep in red-russet-gold,
To say nothing of spring, the lovers’ month.
Let pens drop and conversations falter,
Watch wistfully from windows,
Forget your waketime reasons and
Stand lost, for a moment, in
Sensation of feeling
Unencumbered with the day’s
febrile fugitive motives.
Look up lost at questions,
Lose the fork among the food,
Float in and out of rooms
With the lightness of ghosts.
And in all of this unthereness
Know you are holding her close
Across the ocean of darkness,
Cruel distance bridged through
The soul’s own flight.
It seems not everyone adores
Witty phrasing or metaphors
But this time of year's so dark
I thought I'd fan a yuletide spark
See, it's winter and I'm listless
Still, I'll have a Merry Christmas
As my blues all change their hue
With that holiday treat called YOU
Thus, my spirits shall get a lift
Unwrapping you, my favorite gift
As your pretty bows and stackage
Make a tempting yuletide package
How you'll glow, (and I'll perspire)
While we're roasting 'side the fire
Santa just can't fill your stocking
As you do whene'er we're rocking
How my Christmas spirit grows
When your spicy wassail flows
And the mistletoe's well-traveled
As your wrappings get unraveled
My febrile fantasies are ticking
With that candy cane you're licking
Since you've sent my feelings south
I'll have to taste that sticky mouth
See, the way we paraphrase
Our form of Happy Holidays
Is sure to keep us ever-warming
Even if the winds are storming
And as we're slowing, growing old
We'll find our refuge from the cold
Reliving times that we replay ...
And making Christmas ... every day.
peppy porcelain puppy poops on the floor
wacky winged walrus whizzes on the door
enigmatic eonian elephant espies some bamboo
clever castrated cormorant shrieks yahoo
brassiere-busting bonobo barfs on the table
maniacal mystic monkey freaks on cable
sly sonambulent sloth bear slumbers in his cave
natty naughty nutty newt nests in a wave
dizzy ditzy doormouse dances with a broomstick
tawdry turgid tiger toys with his joystick
rugged recondite raccoon races up rut-marred roads
finicky febrile frog farts on frightened toads
this sonnet celebrates sassiness midst sundry incantations
~ surrenders to insanity and scoffs at punctuation
Delusion of Grandeur! I know not
Maybe i'm high,maybe not
But burnin' in me are now the flames
once drenched in mournful tears,
neath the timid soul in fear;
now ready to shine and surge.
I may not be a crowned head
commanding no army, no troops fed
and if i cry halt ! no war'll stop
Muffle my sounds,unhear my plea
till, at top of my voice
I scream ! I scream !
trembling the land,tearing skies
till,deaf asks what i'd to say
blind rises and lead the way
Delusion of Grandeur? I know not
and if i'm high so what!
Once the land of tolerance
now searing in febrile waves
terror, a disease so contagious
ailing me and innumerable other
And once the frozen veins
now boiling in anguish's flame
till,no racist termite hollows my pride
and no terrorists trample my rights
Contuse my body, soul untouched
drag me in dirt,esteem unhurt
'cause now i shine, i surge!
Even if countless candles to light
for all wronged graves
I'll fight ! I'll fight!
until, twisted minds putrefy
Delusion of Grandeur? No not
Am i high? Think not
Burning in me are now,
the wisdom's flame
once drenched in mournful tears
neath the timid soul in fear
But here i shine!
Here i surge!
sliver of vertical night
visible slit along the curtain centre-line
too lazy to pull them tight
surely nobody outside lurking, peering in
winds rise, branches creak and fight
rattling thud, something moves, somewhere not far away
cosy on the edge of fright
the rain does lash, thrash and thrum on the window-pane
so cuddle in, out of sight
turn toward the pillow, tilted still half-looking
focus drifting, downward flight
eye-lid motion mimics uneasy state of sleep
first birdsong disturbs the doze
veil back-lit as dawn dissolves dim glowing darkness
scan the length, the hanging sweep
beaks announce material folds, suggested deer
expectant, ready to leap
doughy face and furtive shape emerge re-pleating
reality skinny skin-deep
dreamscapes drape the new day with tall tapestry tales
so draw the future and reap
hopeful morning, rays bathing bountiful beauty
as little wings cheer and cheep
clouds pass the sun, grounded feathers in the shadows
don the mask, heave on the cloak
defend against the viral load, heavy breathing
watch out for febrile folk
wild games people play, clandestine intermingling
beware anointed keystroke
shaman, mullah, rabbi, priest, cleric, monk and nun
flames not far below the smoke
guardians of supernatural jealous gods
those who divide, those who stoke
whether hijab, masak or turban, coife or quimpe
jibe, jape or jeer, jest or joke
lives matter much more than statues masquerading
Money has functions four
Exchange, value, deffered costs and store
It adds to more power in life
For more wealth, luxury and pride
Gold and perfume are assured
And our family future is secured
Yet more is aimed with lotto tickets
Put debit and credit cards in pockets
As most gifts are given in cash
And shopping is never a rash
Friends multiply as riches are abounding
But some try wicked dealings
With no thinking, no self-esteem
They can’t do right it seems
Cluttered mind, few do illegal vices
And render life fully febrile
Some of them forget past struggles
As they venture in race for more money
Their family life bungles
Till bad eyesight and bones are creaky
For they feel “others are better than me”
What sin they are through
Why do they not choose virtue
Try to be fair with money and family
And keep themselves up lawfully
I awoke
in the febrile night again,
half dazed
from my conviction
of your certainty,
contorted
by the pounding of 4 am,
and still restless
with vestigial sleep.
My sense for rain
laps the water
of vestibular illusion
and I am again in the Venetian
dusk of your warmth.
Somewhere,
between July
and this dense archipelago
I hear the whisper of November,
it is the chilled first day,
shared with menses
and candle shadow.
It is all seasons
and every brush stroke of memory,
it is the in-escapable,
visual artefact,
of you.
A fiery flaming flashing pen,
Feazes a blistering burning fire,
Sending brave whistling whispers,
Whilst inking brilliant brightness in the dark.
A pyre pen is magma mighty sword,
Spitting emotive solar soaking words,
Roasting roaring and sizzling words,
Igniting illuminations which incinerate the heart.
Febrile fire is never a gentle master,
So is the fiery flaming flashing pen,
Always boiling with bubbling ink,
Leaving charcoal black char footsteps behind.
A flame creeps to cremate the wood,
Just as the penning pen graces the paper,
The flame’s heat dance hypnotizes with red showers,
Just as the pen’s warm words sends waves of excitement.
>>>>>>>>>Have you ever seen the look in a little girls eyes
When she looks up at mommy and ask ,why?
What did i do wrong? why am i in so much pain?
Please help me mommy before it drives me insane.
The look of fearand anguish thats fills a mothers eyes
When there are no answers or a reason why.
Doctors try to sooth a frighten mothers mind
By saying she will be ok, she will be just fine.
High fever, the flu and the asthma takes its tole
On this poor little girl who isent that old.
Doctors told the mom, your baby girl had a febrile seizure
She needed to be monitored and to controll her high fever.
Prayers, medication and love would help along the way
To cure this little girl thats so sick here today.
After the fever had broken they said she can go home
Thank you doctor, now i dont feel so scared or alone.
After bundleing her up for the drive back to town
Her dad was told the news and now has a smile instead of a frown
When something like this happens, your whole world shatters
But when the good news comes in, thats all that matters.
My manic thoughts storm my mind
Dark Fantasies feed my febrile body language left broken and bereft, borderline psychopath.
Damage from adulthood infecting my Creative adolescent mind.
The inchoate storm is still too young and weak, but maturing quickly.
with an insatiable apatite always hungry selfishly feeding on my conscious, sucking out the nutrition it needs.
Claiming my conscious as home base, without my permission and rent free.
The Storm rages on deep in my conscious
Growing bigger and meaner, turning me unpredictable and out of control.
I missed all early signs and symptoms all the subtle changes in my 5 senses.
How did i miss the coulours becoming washed out faded and dull?
I cant even remember what fresh air smells like, the feeling of freedom in the summertime. Gone.
What happened to all the good sounds? Now techno s in my ears.
All these subgld changes no matter how small, collect to became the overwhelmed adult mind.
Taking all the colour and fun leaving a dark gray world.
I didnt watch the horizon, i didnt head my mothers words.
"stay young while you can." shed say. Now i feel creative-less and responsibility comes before fun.
I didnt watch the horizon, and now the inchoate storm
is fully formed.
And my Youth has grown old with age.
"Oel ngati kameie"
Oh, my
Sweetness
If only you'd see me
With eyes of this aching essence
What scrumptious trouble we could find ourselves
In the weeping glow of the sacred tree
Drops of the mad moon, trickling
From your lips ... to mine
Such febrile fun
Delicious and ...
Dark.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Mid December Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.