Best Hungrily Poems
Written by Tim Smith and Seren Roberts
Across the room I slowly walk
Hips swaying, smile in place
Sensually I use my body to talk
Holding out my hands to touch his face
Here she comes, walking my way
Beauty and grace, with a smile in place
Look at her swing, look at her sway
Oh how I want to kiss that sweet face
Gently I bring his face close to mine
Looked into his eyes, desire written there
Hungrily kiss his lips, they feel divine
I stroke his neck, ruffling his hair
She pulls me in, much to my surprise
Aromatic perfume, she's heaven sent
Glow to her face, twinkle in her eyes
Her touches so sweet, I must be a gent
Crooking my finger he follows at last
I wait til his body is close to mine
Slowly I turn, my heart beating fast
Look on his face is saying all is fine.
Following close when she calls to me
Feelings so strong, feelings so right
My heart beating fast, she sets me free
Our heat steaming up, on this brisk night
Just goes to prove with a smile and a sway
A gal can entice a guy in a seductive way
Categories:
hungrily, sensual,
Form:
Rhyme
Blending in so beautifully in the endless everglades
The heron waits patiently
The warm wind ripples the water
He waits regally
Standing still like a statue in silent blue waters
He waits hungrily
Catching his first fish of the day
No more waiting - he dines like a king
Inspired by Majestic Pose
3~11~15
Contest Florida Nature never judges
Submitted to Premiere Contest #13 sponsored by Skat
Categories:
hungrily, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
Rivulets of crimson blood
Ooze tantalisingly from the gaping wound on her neck
He drinks hungrily, savouring every salty drop
Dracula wraps his black cape around his shoulders
Fleeing in the moonlight to his crypt in the churchyard.
07~25~16
Crimson Contest Sponsored by Royal Ninja
Categories:
hungrily, dark,
Form:
Free verse
The sunset clouds are pinks and greys
in tattered strips, in rips and frays,
in feathered flight at end of days,
in summer skies that fill my gaze.
And in the pines beside the sea
a hundred birds talk endlessly
and shooshing waves lap hungrily
as we eat fish and chips for tea.
Before the day turned into night
the pinks were burned by dying light.
The birds were still, the moon was slight
when day had gone and it was night.
And then my eyes could hardly see
the scenery in front of me.
Categories:
hungrily, dark, light, night, sky,
Form:
Quatorzain
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
Walking hand in hand with mama
My long brown french pleats bouncing in the wind
My new red plastic boots ready to be shown.
Reaching high upon my tiptoes ...
I swung the large french brass knob back and forth
until my short chubby sweet nonna opened the door.
As soon as I saw her, my hazel eyes changed
into different shades of caramel swirl.
I am her first born niece, and her little girl.
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
Running up those marbled tiles , gazing through the hallway
at the two dark giant iron knights . How I wish I could have been
like them , just as brave and wise.
In the busy kitchen I hugged nonna over and over again
I loved how her apple and cinnamon pies wafted ,filling Saturdays 'air.
I loved the teaspoon sounds , as the sugar in the coffee cup was stirred
It was a symphony , blissful music to my ear.
Next to mama ,in the dining room , on a padded orange rexine chair I sat
Playing snakes and ladders whilst I heard them chat.
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
If I had not followed uncle Bob that afternoon
Along the long corridor we walked , to his room
At the far end, Inside, I was promised a delightful surprise.
The red velvet curtains He shut down. All turned dark !
The squeaky old door slammed . I could listen
to the fast rapid beating of his vacant heart.
I could feel him getting close , too close .
I could smell his stinking breath and feel his hand
It slipped hungrily , unbuttoning my innocence and collar shirt.
He pushed me down on my knees, head and face both pressed.
My lollipop lips too close to sour scents , I would never forget.
Everynight cold in my bed , I scream - Regret...
I do not want to remember, yet how can I forget
It could have been a beautiful memory to write down
But all I have is a blank page.
In that house of nonna where once I laughed and played
All there is are secrets , insecurity, my shadow and its shame.
Fiction poem inspired by Becca's contest against Child Abuse...
Not for the contest, but thanks for the inspiration.
Categories:
hungrily, abuse, child,
Form:
Free verse
Inside this Gothic womb, now but only a cold cavernous hollow
the votive flames steal away in puffs of smoke
as I kneel, atom-like, lost in loneliness.
Alabaster angels hungrily swallow empty space till they break -
bleeding prayers seeking life’s meaning
darkly staining the stained glass windows with nothingness.
Susan Ashley
February 18, 2019
~ First Place ~
Contest: April 2019 Premier 11 (Max Eight Lines)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Tenth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Reflect That Emotion Premier
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Categories:
hungrily, dark, emotions, loneliness, pain,
Form:
Free verse
My eyes were sorely struck when once they perceived
verity in your insightful words. Oh, how they grieved
when you chose to kneel low enough to kiss the ring
of a cunning being, whose unmerited praises you sing
My ignorance would have been a cliched state of bliss
if I'd not stumbled into great depth of a poetic abyss
'Twas with bitter regret that I unveiled your charade
No longer do I doubt the crux of a contrived crusade
With prudence and humble nature, you oft' disclosed
but a false facade was revealed and hubris exposed
As a poet you declared compassion and a meek heart
but sold your feeble soul for the nod of a counterpart
Poet, I hungrily supped at the banquet of your lines
but a person's integrity is one that genuinely defines
human value. From reading you, I refrain and eschew
Aware of your pretexts, I know what motivates you
*You may think I only post something on PS when I have a gripe, and I have when I've felt it was warranted. It's your right to believe what you will. My recent posts prove otherwise, but after very recently reading something that touched my heart in a sadly profound way, I chose to write about it instead of trying to forget that I saw the words. Writing has always been a means of comfort, solace and closure. This write serves as a dissolution for me.
Categories:
hungrily, poets,
Form:
Rhyme
Awake in the darkness, curtains are not drawn,
sky a deep Prussian blue, with no sign of the dawn.
Daybreak six fifty-five, two more hours to go
'till sunrise at the speed of thawing winter snow.
Window slightly ajar, letting in the night's hush,
dawn chorus spasmodic, birds are not in a rush.
Seeking out signs of sunrise I take in the views
like a soldier's wife, patiently waiting for news.
Bedroom light left switched off, no comfort from its rays
giving scant consolation on short Autumn days.
On the Eastern horizon now a band of Azure,
I hungrily take it in, praying for more.
Greedy clouds cloak the sun as they muddy the sky
stretching out my torment as the minutes tick by.
As the gift of a new dawn is slowly unwrapped,
night time's bookends draw nearer, the shorter day trapped.
I shall revel in daylight, no minutes shall I waste
but savour the sights and the sounds and the taste,
for my mood feeds on sunlight at all times of year,
which is why, in the winter, I swap it for beer.
Categories:
hungrily, autumn, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Kittens In The Barn
He stops and removes his boots before opening the door. He enters the kitchen and smells the familiar aroma of morning coffee.
"Breakfast's ready, have a seat. How're the kittens" his wife asks.
"Damn cat" he says. "Should have run her off when she showed up last year". "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted". "Nothing but a nuisance is all she is". "Now got all those little ones running around". "I hate cats".
She gives him his plate and pours him a cup of coffee. He hungrily digs in, sopping up
his eggs with a warm biscuit. He tips his cup and pours some coffee in his saucer,
blowing on it to cool it off. "Damn cat" he mumbles.
When finished, he carries his dishes to the sink, rinsing them and setting them aside.
When her back is turned he quickly grabs the saucer and stuffs it in the pocket of his
bibs. "I'm going to milk the cows he says". "Take care" she calls, pretending not to
notice. In another moment he is gone.
He grabs his stool and bucket and sets to milking, the warm liquid quickly consuming the
container. He rises and walks into a distant stall. Bending down, he pulls out the
purloined saucer and fills it from the bucket in his hand. He places it beside the
squirming litter and watches as they stagger to its brim.
"Damn cat" he mutters. "Don't know why she stays where she ain't wanted".
Categories:
hungrily, animals, people
Form:
Narrative
Love bites took me to a new place
tiny teeth marks I can't erase;
Laid back you looked for my entrance,
passing third base, passing third base;
Hungrily you nipped at my soul,
ripped the lace of my camisole;
Whispered on my skin 'Keep control..
stay in your role, stay in your role.
Categories:
hungrily, emotions, feelings, lust,
Form:
Monorhyme
Today I present an old poem, written at least a decade before "Doubts". What this poem lacks in poetic format, and style, it reaps in sentiment.
Enjoy:
the Girl Who Ate the National Park
I was picking apples, from polystyrene
boxes, when she held aloft a spiky
green football and her excited voice
asked, “What do you call this?”
She named it durian. I didn’t know,
and pulled a lettuce from its packing.
Harvested multigrain rolls
from bakery bins, and hunted
sandwich ham from fridges.
I laid our picnic mat down
amongst market gardens, and planted myself
to grow in her company. Uncorked
a shiraz in a vineyard, and savoured
her smile. Pulled an apricot from the cooler,
in an orchard, and hungrily
consumed her words.
She took to the park's paths
like shopping aisles. Selecting ingredients
for a salad from green foliage shelves.
She chose a duck dish
as it flew above us, and decided on a fish,
as we watched it swim
beneath the waterfall.
Then as we left, she created a desert
from the trees.
Her touch stopped me. Rooted
me to the spot, where we ravenously
embraced. Our feelings blossoming
around us. Forming a canopy
which we took shelter under,
and bore fruit, that we ate together.
Our appetites sated.
Categories:
hungrily, love,
Form:
Free verse
“Arms Full of Linnet Wings”
In the garden
that afternoon
she planted seeds
in their ripe minds
their eyes looking
up to hers their
irises dazzling
in the late afternoon
sunshine wide open
as if waiting hungrily
for more food
she dropped words into
their mouths which
they swollowed whole
jewels like memories
nebulous little darlings to grow
perhaps too young
but maybe one old enough
for the story to stitch
and in time graft
and re-sow
all her little goslings
in a row, eventually
swans, black or white
she could not tell
would never know
she held tight
to the moment
that Summer all a glimmer
and noon a purple glow
arms full of linnet's wings
she never ever wanted to let go
too soon
she would leave
the nest
long before them
she wondered
ceaselessly
about the three fates
and how they’d
grow
the seeds
she’d planted
in their minds
bloomed an entire
wild garden
undernourished
yet overgrown
(LadyLabyrinth)
for Lynette, with Love
“The linnet and the drush say
I love, I love” (PJ Harvey)
“To see a world in a grain of sand
and a Heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
and Eternity in an hour
A Robin Redbreast in a cage
puts all Heaven in a rage
A Dove house filled
with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thr’ all its regions”
(William Blake)
“I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
(William Butler Yeats)
Categories:
hungrily, love, mother daughter, muse,
Form:
Narrative
When your heart
corresponds
with your mind,
then, give it a shot,
you write
back to me
what expressions
you so badly
need
to bleed;
the characterisation
of letters
are alphabet soup
to me, child's play,
peeling tattoos
like bells ringing
over a tongue
not speaking,
I swallow words
hungrily
then I spit them out,
bullets that pierce
a page,
bulls eyes
staring back
through the black holes,
the other silent horns,
all silently complicit
small missions
of truth
cornucopias,
wearing through
the thin fabric
of ludicrous
fantasy
feathers that fall
from soft pillows
quaking against
levees breaking
the barriers hitting marks
the sands of time broken,
river banks splitting,
the bodies drowned
and sucked up
like works of art
in a hyped up
Hieronymus Bosch,
if you are in deep
you can make sense
of it all,
you know you're in it,
that picture, way, way
up to your eyeballs
brushing against
all the others, removed,
flotsam and jetsam
in the wash, sensing
the path they all took,
but the mystery
of never quite knowing,
like a smell, pervades
charcoal tears
melt all the ways
a heart can be kicked
down and gutted
witnessed through
gilt edged windows
full and jaded
to a gate opening,
the sound cracking
like a mouth
terraforming
dustied and green
the shaman soul
found underneath
it all, humourously
rustling sage over
the external,
a serious novice
for burning
small
exorcisms
smoking out
renegades, those
stubborn seeds planted
in long spent sentences,
those true romantics,
the forgotten ill-bred,
well-tilled, rebel poets
small
exorcisms
for burning
Candide Diderot. ‘24
violins.
Categories:
hungrily, metaphor, mirror, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Somebody suggested I write the tale using the correctly spelled words because my story (below here in the Homophone contest) is simply too distracting to understand with homophones. Hope you will take a peek!!
When Harry Met Terry
Once upon a time in a wood, a very nice prince named Harry
met in the mist, high on the bough of a tree, a fairy named Terry.
The fairy felt low, for he was weak, and he was in need of some meat.
He bawled, “Woe is me. I can’t even stand here on my own two feet!
My poor heart is breaking, and I’m in pain. The last time that I ate
was days ago. You see, I’m in a haze and do not feel so great.”
I perish and long for wine and ham. Even better would be lamb!
But I would settle for a piece of bread with some sweet berry jam.”
Prince Harry knew he had some mints, some Tic Tacs that were in the pair
of new red jeans he wore. He took them out and waved them in the air.
“Licorice too I have right here!” Prince Harry told the fairy.
“It’s not much, but please do eat. Later on, we’ll dine and make merry.”
Prince Harry placed the fairy Terry on his pale white horse.
Then away the royal with the fairy hastened on his homeward course.
All day long they rode and rode. When the fairy started to groan.
Suddenly, from the horse, both the man and fairy were thrown.
Hungrily, they paced beneath the setting sun and through the night.
They pressed on until morning. Harry’s residence came into sight.
Prince Harry’s wife had supper ready, and she’d made a pie.
From utter happiness, the fairy thought that he might die.
She heated up their food for them. They both had grown so pale!
She listened as the fairy Terry told his tragic tale. . .
of how he’d lost his way and, for food, had not one crumb
until her dear spouse rescued him. At last, his prince had come!
Categories:
hungrily, fantasy,
Form:
Couplet
Where the sun beats on dry cracking plains like an anvil. Where Winter’s frozen fingers strangle growth. Where sweaty shirts cling to mortal skin. Where humanity stands on a deserted beach, or waits in a crowded queue; that’s where we live.
Savour the moment
Hungrily consume essence
Let flavours explode
Biting Life’s experience
Expires quicker in sun
Categories:
hungrily, life,
Form:
Haibun