Best Lavishing Poems
I want to wander inside Grandpa's mind
drink in multi-hued core thoughts
intimately lounging there--
glide with wild violin notes as they
light evening's way;
listen to this troubadour who prances
through the flourishing roots of music,
sway with flashing sparks of desire
as they hover just above me--
And all my passions will reveal
themselves , lavishing secret dreams
on me which only I have the access to
his inner sanctum where my private
thoughts become rivers of rhythm ,
nourishing the hungry desire to be me
and partly him --tears and all --how we
held each other's arms as tunes from
breaths snuffed his charmed life.
Nayda Ivette Negron's Memories Contest
Welcome April as a roulette of wildflowers
enchants my breath like nightfall's ambrosia,
flaming the delicacy of charmed kisses
and wine...how springtime breeze pirouettes
to refresh a tingle of laughter, of lusty abandon ;
then to caress me with your adorned gown
as early dawn unfurls a bevy of laced trees :
Inimitable goddess of fertility you are;
whistling tunes from awakened bird-chimes
and to return with an exuberant hello;
youthful as a voice stirred by flake’s departure--
this parade lavishing my earthy bosom
rises along a decorated courtyard--
those hands spilling reds, tangerines, pinks
on varnished lattice...and the way you strut
into a waltz, a face draped by moon, sunshine...
April of Child-Spring, linger on way beyond hello.
Hello Contest: For Silent One
1/16/2019
It is a sin
for Gregory to be a miser
even to himself
accumulating infinite fortune
with a half-bedroom to show for it
It is a sin
for miss Zane to gain special gratitude
from her male mates.
Coming late every night
with a different driver,
parading her flashy dividends
as she becomes a model for fashion updates
It is a sin
for Sarah, not taking care of herself
with her body becoming rounder
but still feeds more than an entire Orphanage.
Initially, a very attractive young lady
but now looks like an Old sorcerer.
It is a sin
for Baker to be a clergy
and at the same time a gambler
lavishing in style and losing without remorse
Hell will let loose
if his sponsor is the Church's finance.
Regardless of his anointing,
he's still not beyond the people's wrath.
It is a sin
for Dawson to drive through many open legs
as he jumps from skirt to skirt
and acquainting himself with all forms of underwear,
playing the bad guy who never gets caught.
It is a sin
to stay idle and observe them wrongly
drawing conclusions from every action
without minding their motives or reasons
analyzing closely even while sitting from afar
giving no consideration to the human Nature
which exists in imperfection and faint stains.
It is a sin
castigating the weaknesses of others
while overlooking mine
thereby condemning the crimes I do not commit
which does not make me better either.
As much as they do not know where I faulter
Judging them makes me worst than a sinner.
Thrice I found you burnt to ashes
Withered and alone, I sewed on patches
Ideal soulmate, destiny had spoken
Nurturing your fragility, torn and broken
Fawning passion, your features ravishing
Lingering kisses, two bodies lavishing
Adjoined in desire, our fire illuminated
Memorizing every inch, enthralled and jaded
Exquisite devotion to my beloved James
Sacred vows between two twin flames
Date Written: March 1, 2016
In cool waters of her peaceful mind
are rare pools of depth unknown,
and wonder-pearls most rare to find,
lie great treasure there alone
Many reach them, yet none can
but often, in his lonely night ---
she smiles upon some weary man,
and all his heavy burden grows light
Should the wind whisper a thousand names,
from her lips giving soft-love to each,
a peck for hope in dire days;
though the world be doused in darkest heat
In coolness the waters doth breathe shiny-secrets,
where hope is found in hallowed halls,
no darkness, despair, nor regrets ----
lavishing in cool, speckled waterfalls
First two stanzas written by Robert Lindley
Last two stanzas written by Keith O.J. Hunt
We have to write a lot of essays
and I love it - the twisting of words,
the molding of nouns and verbs until
thoughts are clear and paragraphs
sit symmetrical and idealized.
I’ll write a paper, and scowling,
write another version and another
- lavishing them with attention
until every word is perfect.
I miss handing in papers though
- paper is substantial, not virtual
and even if a paper wasn’t well received
at least you took a tree down with you.
.
.
“You have to write an essay every week, 2000 words” the professors say. The classes groan - but I smile.
It is a city with its lurid lights lavishing upon the night
Products hawked in gaudy neon
Street lamps form uniform circles upon the pavement
And traffic signals repeat themselves across the landscape
A man with flat eyes pulls a blanket about him
And clutches his dog, he puts his shoes beside him
As if remembering when he had a bed
Whores mingle by the fire plug and eye the traffic
Their dignity sold by the hour
And I walk there toward the same places
As every night
Jimmy told me that you came to the café
Even though you asked him to say nothing of your visit
He said you sat at our table and read a book
He took your order of a coffee and asked about me
And he said you looked very sad in that moment and shrugged
And so each night I walk past the café windows
Peering in like a street urchin and praying
To see your face or that you will look up to see mine
But you are not there
And the excitement of hope drains from me like wet ashes
I go to St. Joseph’s in the village
And sit in the dark corner below the choir loft
Hoping you will come as we did each Sunday
But you do not. You do not come
And I am happy to be in church
To pray for you, that blessings fill your days
And that I might be one of them
Then it is the garish flat where we knew love
To sit by the window and watch the night
Gather in the city like a troubled infant
And to dream of a soft knock at the door
And for our love to come home
SOMEWHAT MORE THAN A PHENOMENON - FAITH
FAITH IS A POWERFUL THING…
F alling to my knees in prayer,
A sking not but worshiping the Lord.
I am only a crusader for the cause of creation.
T herefore, I bow unto The!
H e will hoist my spirit and embrace my soul into contentment.
I mage forms via an informed acumen.
S trength augments my strife in life.
A mazing is the lucidity of the mind.
P lease, may I have this honor of speaking to you?
O rnate you with lavishing words.
W isdom and knowledge you award.
E verlasting faith bequeathed through imploration.
R ising above my trials and trepidation,
F or you are the keeper of my soul.
U shering relevance in the most significant way,
L ife guidance provided each day.
T empered to the intensity of my faithfulness,
H ow time is only the hourglass of eternity.
I nvenerate in the privacy of my home.
N othing is more invigorating than adulation of the Lord God.
G ist is faith being that it is the most powerful entity universal.
______________________________________________________________________|
Penned on January 07, 2015!
The site of every creature in skirt
gives him fever
and overworks his liver
with the thousands of feminine perfumes inhaled.
His magical touch
and mercurial mind,
intertwine their soft spots
like a weaver.
Every night,
he is blessed with a diva
and his sweet mouth
filled with honey
makes her his part-time lover.
To avoid biological consequences
he casts a spell on her ova
getting exact results
and retaining his trophies.
Even when his calculations fail,
he overlooks with a careless smile.
What then can stop his trade,
when he transacts in a market
of a never ending supply?
Impresses with his rover
lavishing promises of holidays in Geneva
and impacts the belief
that he'll give them all, forever.
But he'll start sniffing the next underwear
even before its over;
is the favorite game of chess
played by the Casanova.
Thoughts by a Horse Owner
A farmer milks a cow for all it’s worth …but
a horse milks a farmer for all he’s worth!
Horses are an expensive proposition to say the least.
Try lavishing your love on another beast.
When you look upon a star and make a wish,
much cheaper to buy a little goldfish.
then if you can’t afford it
when your dream comes true,
just flush it down the loo.
Or if you’re into recycling, eat the little guy…
And for crying out loud,
quit wishing towards the sky!
Answer to Doris Culverhouse’s invite for a silly poem.
There you go Doris! : ) ...(but I mean it!)
Summer is fleeting
Vacation is ending
Festivals are passing
Season is changing.
Warmth begins to wind down
As Autumn slowly creeps
Leaves slowly change colors
Lavishing in gold
As they part from branches.
Though summer is going
Something is staying
That will hold to heart
For years to come.
Placing feet in the water
Feeling the coolness sweep
Across our ankles so high
As we stare off at the sky.
The rainy days
Thundrous nights
Hail struck down
Golf balls from the sky.
Ferris wheel that I rode
As the fog swept through
Adding a mysterious atmosphere
As it shrouded the shoreline.
The fun we had at the meetup
Dressing up at Veteran's Park
Acting crazy and silly
Just being ourselves.
Birthdays celebrated
Friendships honored
Bonds strengthened
Trials beated
Though summer is ending
As the seasons are changing
Yet the memories created
Will never be shaded.
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs
Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus
I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all
I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
Magnificent stone
Surrounds me in mystique here
I am overwhelmed
Water has spilled here
Lavishing the brilliant stone
Smiling as I watch
Contemplative soul
Filled with natures gifts to me
I will not grow old
Written by R.M. Hunt a.k.a Robert Matthew Hunt for
"Your Thoughts" contest
Won 1st place:D
I created you
the angelic, and the impish
with my proud and selfless
love for you.
I enthusiastically ate for two
the sweet, the sour,
the salty, ravenous cravings.
I carried you
inside me, everywhere;
goodbye figure and posture
hello nausea and inexplicable dreams.
Laboring for hours
endless pain, draining my energy
to bring forth you
into this unforgiving
yet inhabitable world.
You had the audacity
with your very first breath
to make demands,
your wails echoing
to clothe, to nourish,
soothe and diaper.
Ensuing endless days
of changings, lingering guests,
photo ops, engorged breasts;
exhausting nights
with the sleep-deprived
DNA benefactor
who cannot truly believe
he has the privilege
to growl about any misery
he encounters.
He is able, when he awakes
to go about his day
without having to consider
anyone’s urgencies but his own.
“But I bring home the bacon”
he assuages.…blah blah blah.
Your physical abilities
I guided, while offering
spiritual awareness,
lavishing you with gifts;
all your needs addressed.
Later you believed
you were granted the right
to walk away from me
at any given time,
while enouncing the notion
that I did not “know” anything!
I gave, gave, and gave some more
enabling you
to take, take, and take it all
disabling me
of my parental right
to unconditionally love you;
my most ungrateful
successor to the throne
of unconventional parenting.
Despite the rebel proclivity,
you ultimately discerned
my essential longing
for your reverence and
long awaited mature interpretation
of my maternal matrix of
noble nurturing.
If I may be so brash
to foretell of your own
inevitable parental destiny,
may your own
proverbial crimson piece of produce
similarly hit-the-dirt in close proximity
to your woodsy perennial.
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
" come fluttering words, come drifting words to me . . ."
Once upon a time in a vicinity, year 1895
A maiden's dwelling in an old-fashioned antique edifice
Lavishing her every second in an everlasting woe
Cursed by her yesterday's ordeal
An appalling juncture - Striking ...
Mind still delineate the affliction
Coercing herself to bury the reminiscence
Yet every single thing she sees is a replica
Reflects the montage of the man
Living alone in the rocking chair
Sited in a chamber beside the glass window
Overlooking outside " his " small world
Isolated...quarantined - declining with his incorrigible ailment
That aged man...around 90's - grey haired
Crease are seen - brought by the yesteryears suffrage
Eyes almost close - going to surrender everything
No words come out - voiceless
Yet words come fluttering and drifting to him
Through " his " heart's voice of love...
Retrospection stocked in nowhere in space...
Little by little ALZHEIMER'S DISEASE masticating his very last breath. . . . . . .
Now, residing solely - she's so sick
In this vintage, life-vacated home
Together with the last flowers
Given before " his " death
The only reason why she's still breathing for life
Petals are falling like raindrops as her tears do so
Almost ceasing her life too with the malaise
As the flower abandoned by its only glory
Wishing to go where her father go.
~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~~
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*-* *-* jun-jun villanueva
*-* *-* " WHAT IS SHE THINKING " contest
*-* *-* July 15, 2011