Best Lipping Poems
Slipping slipping sweet summer is slipping away,
Ebbing into the ocean of my memories.
Palpable is my changing mood when all too soon,
The Equinox arrives to l e n g t h e n shadows.
Enticed by cooler days and nights,
My birth month acquiesces, then brilliantly begins
Bursting forth in bright beguiling hues!
Elegies evoked in me by summer’s leaving still linger in my poetry.
Resolved to all of it - at last - I turn to the revelry of fall festivities.
Written 8/9/2015 Originally For the Birth Month Acrostic Poetry Contest
Now for Julia Ward's Your Favourite Poem From AUGUST 2015 Contest
Categories:
lipping, september,
Form:
Acrostic
Heaven has kissed the rolling hill
the ocean waves, and desert
an earthly token of goodwill
set sparrows to sing in concert.
A gentle touch awakes the morn
in shades of pomegranate
a fragile lipping, dawn is born
through the woods and cliffs of granite.
The globes caressed and embraced
as each denizen is delighted
for death is not a rendered grace
life is heaven, all are invited.
Categories:
lipping, faith,
Form:
Quatrain
Wrap around me
just so
string yourself through the needle of time
chase the froth of foam lipping the tide
let my nascent heart tap with the tip of your toe
samba, slow dance, make romance
Oh wrap yourself around me
just so
slide down the capo across the strings
through this opening in cosmic signs
birth the waiting wonder of my love mi corazon
limb to limb entranced, your head inclines
Wrap yourself around me
just so
just so
pluck me from the moving melody of rhyme
dip with me as the moonlight strides
let my petals curl with the click of heel I love you so
samba, slow dance, make romance
Wrap around me
just so
*Meant to be sung to Peter White's song “Life Story”.
Categories:
lipping, romance,
Form:
Lyric
shaven upstart girl
tongue moving around,quivers
lipping her essence
Categories:
lipping, passion,
Form:
Haiku
The key to feeling loved—attention
sharped or flatted drilled or bored,
love demands attention that’s the score—
marry the compound emotions of gist and jest,
sing the song of sorrow serene:
lay lie Ophelia on the waves of death
but grab the stage please.
Separated, longing, faceless, safety falsely felt
instruments of creation writhe in amour
lipping candied words across a span of white
following the cursor through the long night
a bouncing ball while music
plays, lovers seek delight.
Age, an unseen pain does not betray the seeking heart
wrinkled countenance denied by purloined words,
heat self-fingered brings release percussed by tapping
indexes, moans cascade to vibrato trills alone
Attention to the tale, the changing platform of the frame
love unknown, unfounded, forms within the detail of the page.
Contest: The Pain of Night
Categories:
lipping, loneliness, night,
Form:
Free verse
Ten words ten lines 2-Big Surf Competition
After a long ennui of big wave competitions
surfers take to Oahu's North Shore "to go for baroque."
For these bonafide big wave riders hanging ten
is party time, cake frosted with elan and deju vu.
Waves peaking it's face into the eyes of the brave,
with carte blanche of fifty footers, part of the sugar.
All eye candy are on the Hawaiians, lipping alley-opps on the curls,
showcasing avante-garde to the diletttante's and spectators.
As waves keep pounding the shore to the cacophony of applause,
to tats, tongs and tans, big wave riders take to this anomaly waving.
Anomaly
Avant-garde
Baroque
Bona fide
Cacophony
Carte blanche
Deja vu
Dilettante
Elan
Ennui
connie pachecho
1/20/18
Categories:
lipping, beach, beauty, culture, sun,
Form:
Free verse
Powerfully pandered not pondered and plotted
Ostensibly organic not overtly originally spotted
Liars lipping lethargic lies lavishly construed and truly
Ire inducing ignorance imputing irresponsible foolery
Terrorizing timid tepid taxpayers to respond fast
In an impatient ill illegal inconceivable idiotic mad blast
Callously cold and cantankerously conniving bastards
Assiduously aspiring and aggravating masses mastered
Low lying lingering and living Luddite like lumberjacks
Limping 'long labored roads ludicrously lacking facts
Yet yearning yearly for yuppy snacks
they wouldn't even know what to do with it, nor deserve it.
Categories:
lipping, philosophy, political,
Form:
Acrostic
The Trojan of our heroic struggle
The heroic struggle against chains
Which beckons with pains
That tends to make us insane
For we are already stained
As they offer us disdain
Nowhere but in the scorchy rain
From the cradle lipping with light . . . of wisdom
Grew to be part of the struggle against the kingdom
Clenching fisticuff against the host hoarding our freedom
For the student movement’s struggle against the fiefdom
Reigned like others that thinketh not of the days of doomdom
Whilst the 80’s have those that have seldom
Bothers not about their selfishly accrued freedom
And bear brunt and boredom:
The late Chris Abasi
The late Rotimi Ewebiyi(RE)
Lanre Arogundade,Emman Ezeazu
Olu Oguibe, Labaran Maku
Ogaga Ifowodo, Bamidele Aturu . . .
Who scrawl their sobriquet in the Ingrained
Annals of the Nigerian student struggle
Those whose names sends
Cold and shiver to the Military junta
Chima, a born Trojan
Had no laurels and medals to display
Except for broken ribs and
Bruised lips with a bloodied head
For a cause he believed in
Ubani, a masculine Amazon
It just occurred to me that your demise has left
A big lacuna in the revolutionary kingdom in Nigeria
You remain the unassuming link amidst
The ultra-leftist, the progressives
The right activists, the social critics
The liberals and other change seekers
All along, you raised the slogan of
System change and Regime change
Craving for a working class mass based
Political party to take over
So that we can move over
Whenever we see the sign of cross over
In order not to spill over
In our quest to possess our possession
You remain a Trojan in the gully
Having kept your head above murk
In the human right trenches
You have scribbled your name boldly in
Gold on the sand of history
The road claims another Trojan
Unable to lose us out of your life
We gain from the blood and pains
A living testament to earn us new hearts
And firm us on the more
Forever in the struggle till we wet out
The blood of our tormentors and oppressors.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
September 27th 2005
4.45pm
Categories:
lipping, inspirational, people, visionary, change,
Form:
Yaw ad! Yaw ad! Yaw ad! - Yaw Ad
— the felt shot of your toxic mind
as blowout around by finished wine —
in evolution lift lipping been voicing
overly anew tweed is addiction
At phases are of Valentine’s Day.
Yaw ad! Yaw ad! Yaw ad! - Yaw Ad
— your setting to offer one field
of trust precious present in any choice
in deeply refraction of liquor smell
and breezing-breathes mean it off talk —
two foul had owned your heart
edge at nearness around by
up bench stopped when we were sitting —
and ten fouls will you figure own
by an entire bench-day stop ...
We set plans to be sitting again!
Yaw ad! Yaw ad! Yaw ad! - Yaw Ad
— the pious reactor’s iris of redness eyes
in near highly away concept to me
upcoming of miscible to myself
the miss-rose by Valentine’s Day
And fail goals, the poses of smiles.
Categories:
lipping, confusion, funny, imagination,
Form:
Lyric
Cause you look into me
Through me
Past my sensitivity
And into my loyalty
I never left you
I still got you
Even though I don’t got you
You touched me somewhere deep inside
And I refuse to let it go
Yeah I had dic before
But I didn’t touch my soul
You got some issues
And I still miss you
Bad tempered
But I’ve tested you
Laid next to you
Felt so comfortable
Washed ya body a thousand time (in my mind)
From ya knee caps to ya neck bone and nappy roots
As you washed mine
Wanted you just to kiss me one more time so I could live again
Mad as hell that all I can be is ya friend
Way back then
Didn’t know what to do
Though I was sweet on you
I didn’t know you wanted to
Now I can’t even touch you without wanting to fuq you
Can’t even look at you without lipping I love you
You are my specialty
You are a delicacy
My favorite fantasy
Cold chills when I acknowledge how it feels to be without you
But I don’t doubt you
I know you gotta handle ya bizness but
Can we go back to the days when I was ya misses?
Held a set a keys to the back seat of the Intrepid
Now I know what to do and I want to show you
Come over early and make breakfast for two
Fall asleep under covers stuck together
Never trying to leave neva
back then I had ya heart around my pinky
you was my hopsickin
I was ya lady
callin’ me from far away lands
just to remind me you was still my man
Categories:
lipping, black african american, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Tripping, skipping, lipping Lee. I’ve got a wart hog, you’re on my knee!
Spiking, liking, biking me, I’m going to travel, far as you can see.
Hopping, bopping, cropping, key. Fits in a door knob, bigger than me.
Smacking, tracking, fracking, we. You are a he, I am a she.
Jumping, dumping, lumping, fee. Were you talking bad about me?
Laughing, cracking, graphing, gee. Did you understand how to flee?
Skinning, skipping, hopping, see. Where is that beautiful oak tree?
Leering, learning, licking, he. What kind of woman would I be?
Hunting, bunting, breathing, she. Bear hike cumberdash, knows Mr. Dee.
Shoving, loving, doving, bee. From unknown places, now here with thee.
Wondering, thundering, gee. Leave me now, go get some tea.
Jimmy, Whimmy, Limmy Lee. How much more fun can a rhyming poem be?
Revised: Jan 18, 2019 Contest: Rhyme Battle Xii
Sponsor: Juli-Michelle
Categories:
lipping, 1st grade, 2nd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
I slept through it and then i never met you, but it's okay because we've bought clocks
elsewhere. and How the birds chirp and the ticks tock; the fist hands that broken song,
into our blood already boiling. A calm washes over me and i'm each bead of your voice,
magnetized to some center. Gravity lies between; it's relative. Like the size of your
interest or the feeling diminished; relish it. Song after song until our strings turn to
nooses and our finger's slowly slip the knot. Step outside your box and cover the graves
in shadows so that flowers won't grow - Turn ur smile up, emanate warmth to the touch,
crushing bones to dust. Sever the bonds and strip the oak so that we're soaked in more
than polite. Politeness that'sa blind figure draped in your movements; where intent thus
far remains obscure. I swear it's magical-icious, this tragedy struck through broken
bridges and whispering listlessness. A thrifty spend but, dont mention it: I've already
written your will, forged your existence in fake chrome reflecting plastic toy-play guns.
Lipping twice the power of electricity on in a vacant mind, the dust swallows the air and
no longer can i breathe but we both remember promised another full fit never stop it just
keep it closer wear it in your sockets so your eyes can get some rest within your pockets
so your hands can stop the throbbing and your ache can fill the airway - you know,
without your body.
Categories:
lipping, devotion, love, passion, people,
Form:
Free verse
Looks so peaceful there upon thy grave
where once these flowers never bloomed
I think the concrete angel on your stone
is lipping me a truth I've never known
Up there in heaven where you are
I could not rest like you my love
These hands were made for toiling darlin'
AND this heart was made for loving you, alone
Looks so calm here yet a storm is brewing
shackling my thoughts and rendering me sad
I think its almost time for God to close the gate
but if I hurry, maybe I can snatch you back to life ;
Up there where doves cry and Angels sigh
where flowers bloom at will on Abba's yonder sill
There is a bench for two engraved by you,
some day we'll sit there just like we used to do.
Categories:
lipping, appreciation, life, longing, lost
Form:
Free verse
Naked is the truth, stored in memory
Old wine savoured for us to make merry
Slipping thus into trance sedentary
Time to time we do, rekindle the flame
Although in the now, things are not the same
Lightly we flit through dreams; life but a game
Going back also offers deep learning
In the here and now, wisdom imbibing
Ambedo musing, a divine blessing
01-December-2020
(syllabic acrostic rhyming tercet)
Categories:
lipping, nostalgia,
Form:
Acrostic
It don't hurt.
—Johnny Thunders, lead guitarist of The Dolls, last words
My ancestors are made of malt and barley,
barely a drop of water left—
Midas in jorts and Nikes,
overplaying hands, turning miracles
into Milwaukee's Best.
I call it Bacchanal; they call it survival—
hedonistic sounds more literary
than alcoholic.
A heritage of rootless feet, ten men’s teeth
between twenty, all rotted. They were proud
of the wrong things. My father says
he could take a punch. I know better—
the arc of his arm, the twist of his knuckles.
I know he can throw one. I know
how to mold frozen peas to a blue eye,
how to save his day with this phrase:
It don’t hurt.
The confidence it took
to laugh with Huber Heights police—
****-talking mouthy kids like me,
while I brokered backyard deals,
babysat for safety, blowjobs as currency—
a language the dads understood.
Only way to get them to call 9-1-1,
report another pillar of their community,
when they heard my screams.
My tongue burns
with things I haven’t even said—
about fathers and fists, the slow murder
of tenderness. Just a pinch of it
could’ve saved one of us, maybe both—
at least given me a shot at rewriting this,
revising my father’s memory,
sloshing in my gut,
heavy as the blood-soaked prostate
of that long-gone man.
You can’t protect yourself
from this kind of inheritance,
same booze, different brand.
But I’m a woman with the gift of language
bad-lipping the devil who brought me to this dance—
still here, gaining muscle in my tongue,
writing my way out of this silence,
spilling ink like piss on a grave,
acting it like it matters—
I’m finally the one laughing, hoping
this page outlasts that mother****er’s legacy.
Categories:
lipping, abuse, addiction, anger, growth,
Form:
Free verse