Best Imagines Poems
In his bed she lies in wait.
For when he returns he will surely sate.
The time in the shower was just a tease.
No time to savor.....no time to please.
In his bed she envisions how he looked lathered in soap.
The smile he gave her when she went for a grope.
His mouth seeking hers for and amazing kiss.
The mounting pleasure..... turning quickly to bliss.
In his bed she tingles from head to toe.
From wanting him so bad, but he had to go.
An hour of yearning will seem like forever.
A blush reddens her cheeks as she imagines them together.
In his bed her fingers start to roam.
Finding her pleasure points, she lets out a groan.
For it's his lips and hands that she craves with desire.
Just the thought of his touch makes her perspire.
In his bed she anticipates his welcoming return.
Full of alluring charm that will certainly make her insides churn.
The smell and taste of him will awaken each and every sense.
Driving her to the brink of desire, each time getting more intense.
In his bed she hears him call out her name.
"Oh Darling........I'm going to drive you insane!"
The quivering begins for she knows he is right.
There will be no sleep 'in his bed' on this particular night.
........................................................................................
Categories:
imagines, lost love, passion, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's
dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts.
Waves of your jet-black hair, short-cropped like Caesar's,
my ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
A bare-chested Apollo cycles in low-slung shorts,
calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a true stallion.
My ardeur imagines eyes a molten sapphire blue.
surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes,
Legs with calves taunt, thigh muscles pumping, a stallion,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Surely, the night sky is less beautiful than your eyes.
Dripping tendrils on a chiseled brow, wisps beside each ear,
lovely man-child, whose dreams will you soon make true?
Gorgeous boy, your skin shines in the sun’s golden hour.
Categories:
imagines, beautiful, hair, introspection, life,
Form:
Pantoum
A strange blue rose - alone
midst an array of clustered flowers -
a few of them her friends -
the shy violets, lovely white lilies, and bold marigolds.
In the gracious garden spot the traveler singled her out -
his gaze resting admiringly upon her.
Each day as he passed that spot,
she was the one he sought. . .
And day by day the traveler came around,
speaking through the fence softly in sweet sounds
that wafted her way with the wind.
Persistent wasp, in guise of a honeybee,
he tried so hard to wear that flower down. . .
till unexpectedly, he strode right through the gate,
and blissfully ignorant of a rose's care,
plucked her up, swept her high up into the air,
and uprooted that blue rose from her safe soil.
But he did not a gardener make.
Knowing nothing of roses,
he knew very little of any flower he pursued.
Moreover, one mere blue rose cannot long compete
with the other bright fanciful flowers
which, along that traveler's path, he was sure to meet.
Those soft whispered words
that caressed her blossomed cheek
soon ceased.
And the water to her soul (if a rose has a soul,
he did not care to know), stopped its flow.
Scars he left -
new thorns on her stem that grew outward
from his cruel cut,
but she'd go on. . . .
Long time replanted now in solid refuge ground,
the strange blue rose
has gained self-understanding,
that one thing for himself (she imagines)
which the traveler she so briefly knew
has never found.
Categories:
imagines, allegoryday, blue, rose, flower,
Form:
Personification
A lonely figure twirls itself, concealed
by blades of wheat as clouds float through the sky.
The form, a boy, looks up from golden field
and sees the clouds as wedges of cream pie.
He hides despair as if it were that wart
beneath his sleeve. A no-fuss, lonesome lad,
he thinks of things most wonderful to thwart
forlornness. . . He rehearses being glad.
Skipping to the thicket, near a brier,
he spies some lovely flowers; standing there
he uses the demeanor of his sire,
pretends to hold a Bible, thumps the air. . .
and preaching to forget-me-nots, the boy
imagines what might be. . . imagines joy.
For Chris' Anything goes!
Categories:
imagines, sad,
Form:
Sonnet
Burger boy hangs out
at the A&W
Spare change for burgers
he sometimes has two
He chats up the girls
imagines he is cool
Making up tall tales
but girls ain't easy to fool
He asks the cute waitress
if she's from the Philippines
Tells her he was there yesterday
eating noodles and beans!
She asks where he traveled
he says he was everywhere
But the more he talks
she knows he wasn't there
She doesn't make him feel bad
she just gives a sweet smile
It's enough to make him happy
his grin widens a mile
Like so many others
he hates being all alone
So he sits dreams and fidgets
while he charges his phone
The place is kinda quiet
except cars driving through
If he had his own car
it would be a dream come true
What others take for granted
seems far beyond his reach
He's never had a holiday
or walked a sandy beach
So he finds something
that to others ain't much
A burger and a smile
He hopes fingers might touch
Categories:
imagines, childhood, devotion, loneliness, boy,
Form:
Quatrain
She is draped over a chair,
Artfully fashioned
Like a fine piece
Of silk.
He imagines that her softness
Would sweetly mould into
His hands
Like ripe fruit.
She stays still and silent,
Letting him consume her
With his hungry eyes.
He drinks her in,
The fullness of her breast,
The gentle curve of her hip
And the honeyed tones of her
Naked skin.
Her natural beauty
Has him mesmerised....
Lips apart,
Heart pounding,
Motionless.
He feels the heat of creation rise in him
And with power and purpose,
His eyes break contact as
He touches
His brush
To the canvas.
© 2012
Ruby Honeytip
Categories:
imagines, art, beautiful, beauty,
Form:
Free verse
An appeal of poetry
is its lack of rules...
though not to be loose
as a plucked goose –
without bare essentials
for flight
struts of logic,
living words
that excite with lift
long after the reading
and initial gliding
a pleasant aftertaste
not necessarily sweet
often profound such seasoning
(therefore, freedom unbound
can be a self-inflicted
noose – God yet dealing
with His man, on the intellectual
physical loose
Poetry~ a harbinger of potential wings
Poetry~ the elastic of sling-shot words
woven hemp of curiosity and
senseful affixation, tautening the
the literary-bow
for enabled focused release
Poetry, the loftier dialogue of both
war and peace
can be a voice of cold desertion
while also the arms of love's entreating
embrace...
with pestilence of hell
while equally possessing
the charm of saintly chants~
Poetry, the voice of victory
and defeat, co-joining of
calm with fear, for their
similarity of awe
Poetry, a writer's quest to make
sense of both soothing nature
and seasonal temperament
of our creator
His sunny risings then quakes
and deluges confounded–
poetry, somewhere within
our fanciful journeys
imagines a deeper truth
that witty penetration
will hopefully incant off the page
rising up and out into blissful new
unbound, forever enlightening living
reality
Poetry, a soaring liberty
and grounding addiction....
Categories:
imagines, addiction, blessing, freedom, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Once I was a little girl, caught up in dreams
Coloring my world in hues of crimson blood
Flowing through my veins of glittering gold
Whispering feelings of mesmerizing insights
Into the inspirations created from my spirit
Once I was filled with brilliant tones of purple
Sighing with vivid arrays of soothing blue hope
Enchanting the warmth living within my heart
Reflecting soothing sincerity alive with serenity
Capturing my vision and revealing pieces of me
Once I was encouraged by the honesty I could see
Dancing, swaying softly, with a sense of empathy
Filling up the gentle embrace of a familiar place
Where I could see the satisfaction I believed to be
A part of me, the piece that imagines true reveries
Once I was delighted to be alive and free to exist
With shades of peaceful, misty frost, touching upon
Emerald and sapphire ridges and peaks where I knew
The difference between wisdom and knowledge, a walk
Through the combination of faith mingled with courage
Once I was growing stronger in my heart and soul
Discerning the changes that came about with miracles
That graced me with their amazing purity and creativity
Assurance that everything I could hope to be or believe
Would be wrapped up in shadows of promising fantasies
Once I was a fiery yearning breathing out truth and passion
Inspired by sensitivity and melancholy, rich sincerities
Murmuring touches of comfort through my depths
Portraying the essence of dedication and loyalty within
Lulling my anxieties to slumber and finally leave me
Once I was a little girl who only knew the meaning of hope
Through small instincts that left her with a passionate wish
For the moments filled with sincerity, acceptance and faith
The discerning of the spirit that would bring peace and grace
Feelings of security filled with a sure belief in God’s love for me
If this was my last poetry contest poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
July 17, 2020
Categories:
imagines, appreciation, blessing, god, growth,
Form:
Free verse
It's complicated
The way she looks at him
Not the way it used to be
When he had held her gaze
She had expected to love him all of her days
Had walked around in that lover's daze
Not aware of his cheating ways
His hiding and deception
An unskilled master of self protection
She discovered the reason for the alienation of his affection
All the small clues that led to his detection
Making her doubt herself
Not wanting to believe his indescretion
It was easier imagining relational perfection
Without him she thinks she has no life
Her identity tied to being his wife
Yet now she wishes
imagines
Gutting him with a knife
much better being a widow
Than a cheaters wife
So she looks at him with piercing eyes
Imagines the other woman's thighs
And the part of him she use to make rise
In this moment she begins to realize
He's not much of a prize
Still deep down
she hopes the bastard dies!
Categories:
imagines, break up, conflict, crazy,
Form:
Rhyme
A kiss is suppose to make her warm and fuzzy inside.
Leaving her smiling and 110 % satisfied.
A kiss is sensual with tongue and lips.
It's more meaningful when you caress her face with your fingertips.
A kiss is *poof* like magic.
Exploring her mouth with your tongue like go-go-gadget,
She closes her eyes and imagines.
All the places to be kissed and the passion.
A kiss is gentle filled with hot sexual desire.
You taste her spot and she's burning up on fire.
A kiss is exciting, lighting the flame in her sex.
So intense she feels the hunger in her solar plex!
Your kiss is all I think about
without a doubt I run, leap, and shout.
What can I say, when I'm away it's the one thing I miss.
Especially your Eskimo Kiss!
Categories:
imagines, lovekiss, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
In the office, he smiles so charmingly.
Saying and doing all the right things,
he puts all his female patients completely at ease.
Even the women hard to please return to him,
for he is famous for his bedside manner.
He surrounds himself with a staff of beautiful nurses
who rush eagerly to his aid when he needs them.
Each of them, whether single or not,
imagines herself with him and how it would be
to be alone with him, aboard his fancy yacht
submerged in the mesmerizing gaze
of his warm hazel eyes.
In the evening he goes home to his wife,
a lovely though docile woman, fragile like a flower.
Immediately on seeing her, he starts in
with his usual barrage of complaints,
belittling her and poking fun at her homemaking skills,
the dinners she has waiting for him, her style of dress,
and every minor physical flaw she might possess.
She accepts it all with her pretty blonde head bowed
like that of a wilted lily,
for she knows that to oppose him
will only result in a more tangible type of abuse,
and he is always careful when he hurts her.
Doctor that he is, he knows well to leave no marks.
She retires quietly to bed,
worried little about any sexual advances toward her.
Although she longs for the touch of a man,
she is grateful to be left alone by her spouse.
Meanwhile, with liquor in hand,
he’s gone into the den, shutting the door behind himself.
Logged on as Mr. Hyde at his favorite website,
he peruses the myriads of Adonises available,
peering salaciously at each nude explicit photo
with wide hungry hazel eyes taking in every little detail
as he plans his next big adventure out of town
and fantasizes trysts on his fancy private yacht
with the sexiest of the men that he can solicit.
posted 2/21/12
Submitted 9/23/22 For One From The Dark Side Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Categories:
imagines, mystery, people,
Form:
Narrative
There she sits, in such pure and innocent beauty
She thinks feeding the ducks is her newest duty
Her smile lights up the dark shadows on my heart
Sad that her hearing is much worse than we thought
Nothing is more fun to her than feeding those ducks
A frown when one steals it all, she says, "Aw Shucks"
She imagines she's their mom when they come near
Quacking for attention, sounds she can hardly hear
I saw one nip at her toes, thinking it was bread
She pointed, giggled, and this is what she said,
"Bad little duck! Don't bite your Mommy's toes."
She pretended to be angry and struck a silly pose
She's the perfect combination of angel and tomboy
In her favorite overalls, she plays with her girly toys
She loves those denims, would wear them every day
when she sits on the wharf, feeding ducks on the bay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May 5th, 2016
Eve's Feeding the Ducks Contest
Categories:
imagines, girl, mother daughter,
Form:
Rhyme
No sounds are made, her world is hushed
She dances in darkness to music not heard
Imagines things that to us would be absurd
Lives in tranquility, where nothing is rushed
Through Braille she lives with fingers as guide
She weaves through valleys, mountains high
She'll never have to witness a loved one die
No evil to see or hear, no lies she will hide
No sorrow do I feel for her lack of the gifts
we take for granted, ones we abuse; misuse
She's better off not seeing life's colorful hues
or the black and white of men who cause rifts
She builds her castles without moats of fear
Soars in the clouds upon gold and silver wings
In mumbled but beautiful voice, she sings
She makes me aware that angels are here
Categories:
imagines, innocence,
Form:
Rhyme
She worked at a boozy ballroom, dancing for 10 cents a dance
Barely enough to eat and pay her rent in a rundown seedy hotel
So young, so alone raised by no one but herself
Oh, she had parents, but they didn’t see her, didn’t know or love her
She married the first guy who came along just to get away from home
But he abused her - used her, then left her all alone
Twenty two years old-
Alone, with two small children to care for
She needed someone…
Someone who would hold her - touch her tenderly with his heart
Someone to love her- love her children
Her brown eyes wishing, hoping - looking for love in stranger’s faces
Dancing for 10 cents a dance under shimmering ballroom lights
Swaying to and fro through dreamed filled hopes
With her closed eyes, she pretended as she danced
Fantasizing that he might be the one to save her- love her
When the music started she was in another world
Wishing he’d sweep her off her feet, take her away
So she could live like a lady and die like a flowering rose when her last petals fell
In the arms of one she imagines will be hers once and for all
To whisper velvet words of comfort as their feet grazed the floor
Under the melodic grace of the violins she pretended…
Hoping to find her hero, someone who’ll give her a chance
Just...for 10 cents a dance
Categories:
imagines, bereavement, children, dance, dream,
Form:
Free verse
The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
Categories:
imagines, fantasy, ocean,
Form:
Rhyme