Best Fingers Poems
Last winter, I refilled my blackened quill with
a dose of your sensual sonnets,
allowing your soothing voice to be the maestro
of moaning moonlight,
reawakening a cathartic infatuation.
Drunk on symphonies that you’ve orchestrated,
a throbbing thirst instills
tantalizing tercets into my trembling veins.
I submissively let every ounce of my skin
be stroked by your titillating tongue,
tracing the milky quartz trails of
goosebumps you’ve ignited,
leaving me intoxicated in your
mellifluous world of poetic pulses,
where your honey-dipped fingers strum
the script of my love-struck soul.
Awakening fervent fireflies to flutter,
flickering luscious sparks,
while cocooned in electric feathers,
caressing the internal warmth
of wildfire whispers.
Yet, there is something about
the way the skies burst euphoric writings
on your untold rivers~
never revealed, forever lost
in the silence of sultry suppression~
luring me to follow the magnetic rhythm
of your restless roseate runes.
I will someday kiss you into written poetry,
when I take a breath
to climax as couplets intertwined,
screaming caffeinated stars in hypnotic cadence.
The seeds of your love
will illuminate pining petals,
pressed between velvety sheets
of lunar-glazed pillows,
and the cinnamon sun of a sage dawn,
awaiting drizzling diamonds
with sinful secrets etched from sweat and tears,
teasing the melted twilight
that flows behind periwinkle prose.
So place me on your empty canvas
of nocturnal stanzas.
Paint me with tender rhymes,
flowing like fluorescent ink,
bleeding from your aesthetic baton,
so effortlessly,
forever aligned as soulmates,
tied to the gossamer tunes of timeless harmony.
Callused fingers press vibrating strings,
drawing passion from a violin.
And with burnished wood snug to his cheek,
amplifies what he feels in his heart.
Subtle notes saturate my being
as crying strings elicit feelings.
And expounding on love and desire,
music stirs the imagination.
His bow hangs, like a lingering kiss
savoring the taste of ecstasy.
And with a tear trickling down his cheek,
he unleashes unbridled fervor.
Combining hope with pangs of rapture
sound slips the bounds of reality.
And each vibe resonates in my heart,
reigniting passion's dormant flame.
As callused fingers tug my heartstrings
I've never before felt so alive.
And in this state of exaltation,
I feel my pulse race, and my heart pound.
With finespun fingers of silky words
brushed with passionate warmth cashmere,
fill my pillow here with your lush and luscious thoughts
so my starry-eyes may wander hushed sighs, as mere
sleepy sweet nothings whisper flushed forget-me-nots.
Dress my dreams agleam your soft sterling tiffany,
upon moonbeams of cream chiffon fly your mused rapture
in glimmers; so shimmers swooned stream’s epiphany
of silky words cashmere - dream’s cocoon you capture.
Susan Ashley
November 24, 2017
~ Fifth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Early Feb. 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Poet’s note; In honor of my friendship with the wonderful and talented poet, Paul Callus, I would like to express my heartfelt appreciation. His lovely response to my comment on his beautiful poem 'Whispers of Love' lit the fuse to my muse, inspiring this poem...
Thank you, my dear friend Paul,
your artistry inspirits me.
When my fingers hurt
the pain binds and forms
at the base of my greatest fear
I never knew fear
Until it knocked on my door
So fierce that
What words were on the tip of my tongue
Are drying up into dust in my mouth
The taste that lingers a lifetime
a sickness summoned for the saints
to strafe the fear growing inside the soul
My heartbeat escalates to full speed
But my body is numb to the floor
And my mind is in a twirling tornado
Tears of fear rush down into streams
When my fingers hurt and I can not write
this fear beckons to my mind
as I use the verbs to clear the nerves
Can you hear the drops of my tears
Drumming to the beat of my fear
All your body's limbs
obey your brain's commands
But the closest thing to YOU you've got
are the fingers on your hands
You write with them
your thoughts so deep
Erase the ones
you do not keep
You sketch and draw with them
realia dead and alive
Interpreting the world you see
through the prism of your eyes
You play music with them
violin, clarinet
piano and the horn
to express what's deep inside you
your feelings as they're born
Of all the limbs you have, none but the fingers
reveal innermost thoughts and feelings, make them linger
I now type with only a finger
For neuropathy makes me lame
Muscle spasms in hands linger
My hands seem to ignore my brain
It’s as if I never was a typist
Who flew 65 words a minute
Now I’m limited my gripe is
Takes me longer to finish
You’d think I’d complain I’m not vain
My other deficiencies are worse
But who wants an artist who can’t paint
Or a poet too hurt to word verse
I know my lupus has no cure
My asthma is no fun to me
But give me fingers fast and pure
To delight in the writing with ease
When I try to play piano
Fudge fingers suck the air
Notes yell like silver Soprano
A melody ruined by despair
I have mixed feeling about it
We all have a cross to bare right
But with fingers like mine I doubt it
Could complain and moan all night
Dear poetess had hip surgery
And has persevered despite all
So I say what the nerve of me
To complain of finger pain small talk
Filled with fresh flowers
An understated beauty
Well-designed garden
Captures attention
Magic really takes place
It relieves my stress
Summer garden fair
Creative spirit revive
Beautiful touch
A-L Andresen 08.06.2015 :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
My ornamental garden is one of the rare ones
It requires of course "green fingers"
a lot of patience and love
With complementary colors
Allysum, Lion's mouth, Tagetes,
Petunia, Soffila, Bluegrass,
Sinnia, Verbena, Surfinga,
Diligent Lise, Asters, Cosmos,
Million Bells, Pegonia
and Fuksia is just a few
of the plants that can be found
in the many flower beds and pots
A paradise for bees and butterflies
they sip sweet nectar from my plants
Nature's compositions are complex
and nicely customized
A sense of Nirvana and deep meditation
Welcome to my garden
share the ability to enjoy the sunshine
and the flowers in simplicity and harmony
25/10/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Writing Challenge, October- Flower or Flowers
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
1st place in the contest
Heart & Soul
What a wonderful thing to behold!
Have you ever seen one quite so cute?
Never ever wanna let you go..
dressed in a brand new birthday suit.
How nicely you plucked heart strings..
that day you flew into life,
on two sun-kissed shining wings.
All your charms,
sent my heart straight to Mars,
the day you fell asleep..
right here in my arms..
Oh Heart & Soul..
Not yet even one day old,
left me feelin' ten feet tall..
so precious a tale be told..
pink bottom and all!
Went to shop for ribbons and bows,
said the angels.. we don't have any of those..
how 'bout ten fingers and toes?
The day you took my heart & soul,
was oh so nice, yes all sugar and spice,
so glad your mom brought you home..
would a kept you at twice the price.
Under lightning streaked flashing glow..
the night a duet sought to become a sweet trio.
Please tell your mom she's still the best,
no better nine month gift was I ever blessed.
WATER FINGERS CARESS
Crystal water fingers caress
stony marsh-grassy lands
its waves cajoles leaving fine pearls
of sea gifts: the bed sands
Above... still azure clouds look out,
running waves draw and probe
shoreless gleam of reeds or fields
ebbing on earthly globe...
___________________________________
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest Name: LET ME FEEL YOUR LINES!
...Shoreline...
O.E. Guillermo
10:44 pm, March 31, 2015
Never speak ill of others,
No matter what they do,
For I can guarantee my friend,
It'll come right back to you.
Don't repeat the things you hear,
If it could hurt another.
Things like that have ruined lives,
Set brother against brother.
The things you do, the things you say,
Always come back to taunt you.
The past can be a witch my friend,
When it returns to haunt you.
Whatever you cast to the wind,
Gets blown back in your face.
Remember that the next time you,
Put someone in their place.
Be big enough just to admit,
The faults that are your own.
Don't put the blame on someone else.
In time it will come home.
Mind your manners and your mouth.
Remember these words well;
And keep your eyes upon The Lord.
Most gossip's made in Hell.
Do unto others, says The Word,
As you'd have them do to you.
That way it don't hurt so much,
When pay back does ensue.
I miss the candles of your fingers holding mine ,
as we waltz on floors that bathe our dusk.
Seasons glimmer of moist orange,
hands tracing night passages with mirrors
inside our eyes capturing reveries and hymns
of epics written in ashes, on orchids,
and among seashells.
Yet, I have to part for now
through the sweet ghost of winters lost...
here are your hands ; I give them back to you
with mine for a while...
God, how I still miss the candles of your dusk
Posted 6/6/2016
My feet drowned water
My fingers ate dirt
My mouth failed filth
My heart beat yours
While trying to kick habits
You silenced my life
Suffocated spring rain
Melted snow white pleasure
Innocence excluded
My eyes burned charcoal
My toes grew deep roots
My waist encircled
Your hate with metal
Today your cold bed
Will wither and wilt away
The story I needed to tell you
I take with me without regret
Our story ends here.
Mine now begins.
***
April 8, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Beautiful one
its you I adore,
your angelic way,
the knowledge you store.
Grace resides
upon your skin,
sparking my heart
to beat again.
You have brought
emotions to the surface
changing my cauldron-like body
into a desire filled furnace,
making me crave
your healing touch
that which resides
in no other as much.
Its you
my beauteous beast
who drives my hunt
to look for a satisfying feast,
dodging trees
under the full moon
as I find ways
to deal with this Boone
Silk black sky
speckled with glitter
leaving me
to write about my critter,
swooping down
on gossamer wings
before landing
encircling me in rings.
And even though
its true
my body shakes
waiting to bite you,
forever
I’ll wander my land
Until next to you
I can stand.
Sitting by the window of a moving train..
Feeling alone
She ponders..
As to why it must be..
Pointing fingers..
How can one know another..
He explodes in a massive fury..
Insinuating negativity..
Demands..
Insults..
Behaving as the judge and jury..
Judgmental accusations..
Harsh poisonous words..
Pointing fingers..
She had become an open wound..
Hurting immensely..
She had become a target..
A bullseye caused by his delusions of her character..
She stares deeply out the window..
Train moving rapidly..
Beautiful scenic views of landscapes..
On a warm spring day..
took her breath away..
Splendid visions..
Pointing fingers..
She feels alone
Pain..
Misjudged by another..
A victim of his delusions..
All..
While embracing magnificent scenic views ..
A stunning picture perfect scenery..
She melts into the moment..
She delves into the magnificence..
Captivated..
Becoming..
Being..
Suddenly ..
Only that moment in time existed..
There was nothing else..
Pointing fingers had vanished..
Melted away..
No longer existed..
Now she sits by the window of a moving train..
A warm lovely smile..
Glowing beautifully..
Natural beauty does indeed dominate..