Best Full Bodied Poems
Clad in flowing purple
Like a full-bodied
Cabernet Sauvignon
She vanishes into the
Shadows of the night
While I stand alone,
Dreamily savouring
The lingering aftertaste
Of her aromatic kiss.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
© September, 2018
Inspired by RS
How can love blossom without flowers
full-bodied roses to gaze at for hours
When the vase is empty so is the heart ~
seeds of doubt sprout tearing lovers apart
There was once an elf who learnt how to brew
a full-bodied beer and cook Irish stew.
He mixed them both together
with whisky for good measure.
When BANG went the pot a tantrum he threw!
-- --- --- - -- --- - - - - --
Contest: Luck of the Irish
Sponsor: Kim Merryman
Placed 5th
© 15th March 2017
My coffee, my house,
cinnamon and hint of clove
in a full bodied french roast...
acrid, bitter, pungent deliciousness
wafts thought the air
before even the eyes are open
the buzz of conversation over
the tinkling of spoons stirring
the clanking of cup on saucer
the shooshing of steamy cream
into cappuccino
a lush, rich aroma,
with the feeling of rightness
around the edges
like a cozy blanket of comfort
wrapping around your shoulders
Sipping in silence,
watching the sunrise,
simple serenity to start the day.
©6/18/12
Knowledge gained liberates or mutilates.
Ramifications of reality’s realm reached
make your insides want to abandon the body ship.
Rocking back and forth as you hurl dry acidic pain
expelled by the force of shell shocked lucidity:
You’re not good enough to be loved.
Breathing in is treason.
Your heart demands release of life’s lease.
On the kitchen floor
crumpled dreams drag to prostrate form.
Alone…..
Every reason to stay is obliterated.
Ascorbic failures scream.
Heart blood transforms to salty rivulets.
Self-loathing usurps the throne of belief.
"Appeasement sacrifice,” it sagely suggests…
"Your life!"
Relevant Reasoning...
For someone for whom love is cell oxygen
grey matter food
supreme soul sustenance,
life without full bodied Love is death.
Might as well...
Cowardice cackles and goads….
The cut isn’t deep enough.
Red streaked line mockery of mental hell feels
abhorrence breathing between the sobs
that one hears …
No one hears
Troubled mind has drained desirability’s delight.
Not strong enough to live not strong enough to die,
you are spent…
negligence purged.
Silence begs to benumb,
yet a reminder remains.
The thorn of truth finds a home.
Embedded in my side,
it won’t be denied.
Removal immuned
it is unseen by naked eye-
exposed to the naked heart.
With every movement of love making
matrimonial mattress yet exudes
the faint scent of virginal dreams...
Pain permeates
It digs in deep.
Nothing will change.
YOU cannot change.
You are unlovable.
You're troubled and troubling brain
takes beauty down to notch of insane.
Give it all away.
Lavish and ravish.
Obsessively bid for love
while you auction respect away,
but herein is the cursed truth:
You are not good enough to be loved.
You never were.
You never will be.
For Charlotte's Heart and Soul Contest
September 2, 2014
full bodied women
tantalize senses like wine
delightful to taste
cushions of comfort
everywhere soft to the touch
more luxuriance
curvaceous can charm
sexy is as sexy does:
get size wise, people!
Eileen Manassian
Footnote:
This is a repost of a deleted poem. I am not justifying being unhealthy, that goes for the ultra thin and the ultra fat. I'm promoting acceptance. Perceptions of beauty change over time....I'm glad fuller women are getting more press coverage these days....women like Tess Holliday. I follow her on Instagram and am shocked by the amount of hurtful comments she gets. Let the woman be....
A confession
bursts from your full lips
Almost against your will:
“I’m hungry ….
I'm hungry for you.”
I speak in seductive smile soliloquy.
My cherry glossed lips pa rt,
gushing out this succulent response:
“Come, my hungry boy.
Come and eat.
From appetizer to desert
Gluttony’s Creed is freed in me
Take time to t~a~s~t~e
From chocolate tips to cherry smear,
your taste palette I’ll tease
with full bodied, full course meal
Thirsty in--be--tween--needs
~~~~I’ll drench quench~~~~
from my blessed abundant flow
take it nice and slow as you go
Come, come and indulge
another dish to relish
My love menu
creations just for you
Just the right spice
Of naughty and nice
Satiation Celebration awaits
But now...
Eat..... s, l, oOoOoOo w, l, y
Don’t waste in haste…
These moments so ^u*n^ chaste
There you go, baby boy
satisfaction exhalation
Now, come
Let me clean~~you~~up
Time to sleep
Here is my chest
plush pillow rest
I’m here
Sleep...sleep
Hunger will not haunt your dreams
Ah...
Contented sigh
Closed eyes
and here am I
Watching over you as you sleep
Insatiable the hunger for you
In my *eye*
Eileen Manassian
She bent softly over the smooth water
Her fingers gently caressing the blue
A peony clasped to her bosom
Its petals soft and pink and true...
The artist captured this brief moment
Brush strokes telling us their story
The maiden ripe for the time of love
The peony clothed in peaceful glory...
Ancient blossom so full bodied
Yet delicate in scent and grace
A flower captured in Asian legends
With bowing head and subtle face.
For the flower contest..
III
But, of course, I had no dizzying towers
To burn...only bridges; and they were torched
Years ago in the urgency of my direst hours;
Along with so many mighty battlements sacked,
Countless golden fields scorched...
Afterall -- it was the age of Bronze!
I should have well known that in the flight
Of birds, in each cold dawns pale grey light,
I would eventually come to see the unalterable
Fates of Wilusha's last Imperial Scions:-
Tottering precariously - on the brink -
A world in crisis! Then the elopement...
Did you not once stop to carefully think
It through? Giddied no doubt by bestowment
Of that accursed title; just as if it were the
Same giddying rush
You have experienced from the heady
Potency of a full bodied, Oaked Chardonnay.
The coy performance at being required to strip --
An inner excitement at your self's shamed
Nakedness! The obvious insincerity on display
When receiving an invite to dine at the gaudy
Little bistro; your hot skin noticeably flushed
With the delirium of wine; frequently
Pressed to partake of yet another glass;
There was, he casually said, much to be
Desired in a pleasurable rape. Her audible gasp...
As if, from that roadside window, she was
Suddenly staring out over the idyllic plains
Of mythical Arcadia;
His eloquent assurances artfully calculated
To lend themselves to a distressful behaviour.
yellow rose on bier
full-bodied treatment
grand life disappears
ripe thorn’s, bereavement
dried flower repose
buried in suitcase
emerge briar rose
soul in boundless space
3/22/2022
farms await bony hands of want
land thirsty for full bodied Love
what strength is needed to grow the maize
whilst shadows roam streets in haze
leaves like notes blow across ferocious Falls
how long can darkness juggle its balls
¥
balls of the clown are tired of work
calm Falls continue their crystal splash cries
shadows between trees rustle like hungry
beggars
maize aromas ripe fill air for inhalation
yellow Earth bursts fiery gore
hands of farmworkers touch Lushness of Lore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote my poem last night for Brian Strand's competition a hymn of praise for Harvest and
just saw today that I got the date wrong and that it is already judged. Anyway now that I
have written it , here it goes:
Let us sing a sweet song, a song that's of praise
For our crops to be ripened and harvesting days
For the fruits of the soil, for barley and wheat
Maize, oats and corn, that our children will eat
For the evening sun on the newly mown hay
For the farmer still working in the dusk of the day
For the apples and pears still ripe on the trees
For the fill of the honey pot, the toil of the bees
Blackberry picking, will uplift our song
Tasting juices of autumn we'll all sing along
Let us sing at crescendo for the fruits of the vine
The lush of the grapes, the full bodied wine
When the harvest is done, our glasses we'll raise
And thank mother earth who deserves so much praise.
He stands atop the ancient towers, both grey and cold as skies
Which howl about and bow the trees, and blow his longish hair—
His countenance stern, he stares below to where his army lies;
Full bodied knights on chargers swift, with strength and skill to spare.
Across the moor, tempestuous skies recall the sounds of war;
Of legions lost, of fierce assaults, just as the wailing wind.
With stalwart pride and courage bold, a pilgrimage afar
Will leave behind the fortress, and the tears of Rosalind.
Although she weep and wilt away, he still must onward go,
Nor will turn back until he's sacked the distant Irish shore.
She, from her window watches him depart as bugles blow;
Face bathed in tears, she greatly fears she'll never see him more.
As warriors weave a path across the Connemara Isle,
Their fate may be of pain and loss, or death could be the cost:
And thus, resigned, was Rosalind— her courage must not fail.
The castle walls are cold as stone, but love is never lost.
Though love my fly, or love may flee, love's blind and cannot see
The growing gulf 'twixt man and maid, as mainsails catch the wind:
And salty spray sides down his face, out on the open sea,
As at her window, facing west, fall tears of Rosalind.
Each fragment of her hope resounds against the shadowed moon:
Two seasons pass, then springtime comes to cast the gloom away.
At last! Her warrior, crowned by sun, rides down a purple dune!
Her anguish lifts just as the mist. Within his arms she'll stay!
{Collaboration by Carrie Richards and Isaiah Zerbst
Written from August 10-25, 2015}
On the balcony of our room
We stood alone, just you and me
Watching the rising crescent moon
The twinkling undulating sea
Inhaled the salty fragrant air
You had your arm around my waist
Warm breath that flirted on my nape
The teasing lips ready to taste
Let out a sigh, there was no haste,
It was yet early in the night
Temptation waited by the side
It lingered, silent, out of sight
I’d longed for moments just like this
You smelt so good, tasted divine
Our lips were locked in urgent kiss
Full bodied gift like rich red wine
Your gentle hands removed my dress
Dilating eyes filled with delight
For I wore not my thermal vest
The heated passion filled the night
A cloud went by, obscured the moon
Now things were not how they should seem
I was alone, he was not there
This must have been a Maltese dream!
Collaboration: Paul Callus & Jan Allison
30th October 2014
[Written with Jeff’s ‘Ode’ contest in mind, but missed
that boat… should’ve had more caffeine!]
*
We met; I was smitten, my lips almost purred
I’m sure that encounter had left you quite stirred
And I knew right then it was you I adored
And my love for you was forever assured
For you are the reason I get out of bed
You are the first daily thought in my head
Life without you is a thought filled with dread
Your warmth clears my mind leaving me in good stead
Whenever I see you I just drink you in
For I worship you more than I worship gin
You're steamy, full bodied and frosty you're not
For you are my coffee and Baby, you’re hot!