Best Honey 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.
you don’t know what you’re doing to me
how i feel when you come near me
happens to me
you don’t know what happens to me
right next to me
when you're standing right next to me
take me
all of me
you on me
taste me
i'm always me
when your with me
your scent is me
your touch fills me
you live inside me
you are the best me
so please trust me
always be with me
i couldn't go back to the old me
i couldn't stand you not loving me!
Maurice Yvonne
11~28~2014
Old Mountain tales of love spin
'neath dawn's blush,
Elderberries, purple ink drop pearls
drawing me nigh.
Ah! Her laughter just like a honeybee’s dance
in the summer’s rush.
For you ignite my days with passion,
'tis morn, a tear I cry
The calm, twilight lingers as her words
soft and low
In the caress of wildflowers where life’s
tranquility forever grows.
O'! Upon thy lips such sweetness dwells
Must be God's design
Born where dandelions and wild bees
forever intertwine.
O', nectar kissed by sun untouched by
human hands
An arcadian panorama of ambrosia
upon my senses' land.
Thine gaze is my beacon in the
moonlit’s silvery velvet light.
You my guiding star ignites
for all my spirit’s journey
O' my soul’s delight
For as a life-alchemists seek nectar
deep in the mountain’s heart.
Thy love's an enchanting lore where peace
like nestling lark.
All the sages sighs, thymes' tempting lore
a beautiful pure chorus
Heather fills rolling landscapes
an untold story before us.
Yes, my love's confession takes flight
with wild abandon
In the sanctuary, a haven bathed
in golden dawn
Thy touch is a sacred psalm
a sonnet on the wind
Radiant grace, I scribe my song
on every blossom's stem
Sunlight filters through sylvan green leaves
just for you.
Thy smile, a warmth that sees my spirit
through and through.
Our love, eternal, untamed by
fleeting space or time.
A taste of heaven's dew
a love of purest and most divine.
Together, hand in hand
we'll stray through life's inviolate maze
Where wildflowers bloom
and hearts forever graze.
No jeweled crown
arrayed in silks and finery
Could display the love, my beloved
I found forever in thee.
For You are my sweet lady,
my songbird
my forever home
My wild mountain honey
where my spirit roams.
In thee, a love unbound
sweeter than sun-kissed dew
My Wild Mountain Honey
forever wild
forever true.
Wrapped In Honey Of Her Naked Pies
Are memories really just our souls leaving
in clouds of shimmering hot mists.
And what of love and all that hot heaving
or stored memories on lustful lists!
Can the mind create truth from mere dregs
women so beautiful your brain cries.
All curves, graceful long ,long sexy legs
wrapped in honey of her naked pies!
Alas! Say it tis not a treasure imagined
what of the deep sensations of bliss?
Or her choice of lingerie in latest fashion
epic thrill of that greatest ever kiss?
Slay me now, if my treasures are not real.
I want no world devoid of that hot night's thrill.
R.J. Lindley
June 6th, 1983
Sonnet, on my terms....
Note_ Too hot, was deleted, graphic
details of that first night and ******** *** ************
Today I danced around my rose garden
as I typically do
enjoying all the varieties of colors
all remaining true
But today something wonderful happened
as the birds, butterflies and bees
lead me to the corner of the garden
to see what I couldn’t believe
It was a single rose
in the color of pure honey
it was so beautiful and smelled so fresh
Everything about it was so sunny
It’s stem did not have any thorns
which was strange to me
It seemed to be welcoming me
and wanted me to see…
That beauty can be found in difference
as to be like others need not be
and true friendship can be held together
if one so much believes
They start thick—
not the polite kind you stir into tea
not the mild drizzle on breakfast toast
but the kind that runs hot
slow
dangerous
coating your tongue before you grasp
the price of its pleasure.
They start golden—
dripping off the comb
sun pressed into their marrow
too rich, too syrupy—
gumming up the gears of your schemes
too luminous for hands that flinch from light
too wild for walls meant to contain them.
You want squeeze-bottle love.
Clean.
No bees.
No stingers.
No buzz.
But they ferment in kitchens
where no one thanks them—
same way their grandmothers did
spooning fire into each serving
stinging their own tongues
just to stay sharp—
drizzling down your better judgment staining
Sunday shirts
unraveling wedding vows
spilling past boundaries
no one asked them to obey.
They get called—
too much.
too loud.
too open.
too shut—
like they were born to fit into your grip
instead of slipping right through it.
You try to jar them.
Slap on barcodes:
Best before.
Handle with care.
Discount if damaged
for quick sale.
But wild honey won’t kneel—
it contradicts logic
defies preservation
reason
perfumes the air
wrecks your thirst for tradition.
You mistook raw for reckless
Reckless for ruin
Ruin for something to fear.
You laughed when they wept—
like grief was a spectacle
like tenderness was weak
like softness
was a defect to be filtered out.
But by the time you realize
she’s the rarest thing
you ever tasted—
she’s already sweetening
the hands that never swatted her
And now,
we sit here—
jars without lids,
spoons still sticky—
trying to remember
what it meant to taste something
that never begged to be caged.
Maybe—
the glass wasn’t meant to hold her.
Maybe—
it was meant to shatter—
to let something wild
and feral
flood in
and leave you
pleading
for ruin.
—it’s a reckoning,
unapologetic,
untamed,
final.
I feel so warm cozy at peace
Stirring honey in my tea
It grounds me as if a magnet pulls me
From the top of my head to the rear of my seat
Soul is relaxed and focused on Zen
Tranquility and calm I’m sipping in
My third eye has super sight
Happy I am inside and all is right
Whose got the money honey?
Raining debt is just not fun
Have you got the money honey?
Rebecca's farm no longer sunny.
Whose got the money honey?
Could it be the Easter bunny?
Whose got the money honey?
Riding on her daddy’s shoulder
In her little yellow gingham dress,
The little doll with honey hair,
Wiggled and wiggled and danced.
Daddy couldn’t hold her still,
He let her down by his side,
Her rhythmic motions continued,
As the parade went marching by.
One band after another
Stirred this happy chortling child,
Clapping spectators gathered,
As she entertained with smiles.
Finally, the last bugle softened,
And Gingham’s little legs were tired,
The marchers wondered why that crowd
Danced for a honey-haired child.
He
nourished
my soul with
his promises,
and like a rosebud,
I thirsted for the rain
of beautiful vows that fell
from luscious lips I loved to kiss.
His very presence lit up my world,
and for a while, I thrived in his garden.
Suddenly the sunshine sustaining me
became endless days of dreary gray.
I’m wilting here now, knowing that
nothing he’d told me was true.
A bee, he sweetly sees
new blooms as I die,
petals plucked. He
loves me; he
loves me
not.
"SWEET LITTLE HONEY"
My father had no respect for the world..
A big drug trafficker..
When I was just a little girl!
Living for the glory of money.
He smiled and looked down at me..
Sitting me on his lap he called me his, "Sweet little honey!"
And told me, " This job is going to bring him to his death."
Handing me a back pack.
My daddy send me to what I thought was a school in Texas.
Giving me a kiss and a pat on my back.
He held my hand while we crossed the, Rio Grand.
Carrying a 10 pound educational white brick book.
I walked with a smile beyond the border into another land.
Waving good-bye with his devilish look.
I thought of nothing and got on that bus.
5 years pass, I'm 15 living a life like a crook.
One day I asked my dad for some money.
He sat me down calling me his, "Sweet little honey."
And told me, "It's all his fault for leading me the wrong way!"
Denying me the needs for my addiction.
I got upset and aggravated by his reaction.
I pulled out a gun with out a word to say.
Pulling the trigger was my action.
With out feeling guilt, I looked back at that one day.
He called me his, "Sweet little honey."
Handing me a 10 pound educational white brick book.
Now I'm the one waving good-bye with the devilish look..
by;p.d.
** not my story**
Anytime I feel hungry instead of eating a full meal I eat Honey.
The best part is that Honey doesn't mind, she's a sweetheart.
Maurice Yvonne
20~11~2014
The Refrain
I bought a box of Animal Crackers.
On the box it said
"Do not eat if seal is broken"
So I opened the box.
I looked inside and sure enough...
The Encore
If a parsley farmer doesn't pay his bills
can they garnish his wages?
Closing Remarks
There is a new virus. It has no symptoms and no consequences.
I am terrified. It turns out I have been diagnosed with it.
I am not a hypochondriac. I really do have it. If you
don't believe me ask my Gynecologist!
Maurice Yvonne
11~20~2014
I was damaged with a heart like ice.
You entered my life and in a trice
had melted my frozen layers
one by one. I've become
hot as a furnace next
your skin, my soul
twin. Let's begin
to live as one,
my dearest
honey
bun.
Honey suckle candy kiss
Soaring towards heaven
State of bliss
Touching you
Heaven in palm of my hand
Falling like Alice in wonder land
Essence of you
Grips me tight
Tranquility light
Marshmallow comfort
In your hold
Our love is young
And also old
I dreamt of you
Since time began
Our souls entwined
Love birds sang
You are and always eternally
The life and breath
Engulfed in me
full moon
filling honey jars
at dusk