Best Lissome Poems

The Ballerina


The curtain parted...there upon the stage,
'neath bright chatoyant spotlight's glaring glow
she stood, a cynosure in tunneled beam;
demure, yet with ineffable glamor.

With lovely bow, this...

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My favorite word. . . now what could that be?
To choose it, I have to think so carefully.
If I choose by its meaning, I simply...

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Kiss me,  I want to lift you skirt flying
Inside my heart like the wind
To dance on clouds of joy my kite
Embracing time, to hold...

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In the Throes of Dying Love

In the throes of dying love, you’re a 
fallen angel, with no celestial saving grace.
Rose-tinted glasses shattered, you’re no longer...

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *...

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My melancholy turns to gold dust
in your soft and tender hands
upon your fingers I scatter my life
my love remains clasped in your hands
now I am...

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A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks,...

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We walked home
Hand in hand
You were just a girl
me a boy 
pretending to be a man

We held tightly to our nothing
Wrapping it fully within the...

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Lost in universal wonders...
pondering celestial bodies,
souls I have known...

Lost in firmament vastness...
pondering heavenly ideals,
blessings I have been given...

Lost in the pinion of liberosis...
pondering the concept...

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The glamour of her skin faded
 like late-afternoon sunbeams 
that settled  on rose petals 'dust

But , not the light in her wide chatoyant eyes
That...

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Exquisite the ravel of his comforting quilt
a pondering notion of wisdom is felt 
I take a sip of his lovely red wine,  
Dr. Rams...

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Ravishing Predawn Vision, Return To Me

My panacea, vision shining forth, wee hours of morn
Her chatoyant hair, flowed in my all consuming dreams
Her demure gaze, always...

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Ancient Arabians, mother to all
Bloodlines, essence of exquisiteness

Clydesdales, symmetry of strength
Dignity of duty, power of purpose

Ebony elegance, midnight silk
Friesians, crusaders in
Galloping gallantry

Hardy hearts, tiny and...

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"Bliss like thine is brought by years;
Dark with torment and with tears."

Emily Bronte - Sleep Not (1846) st.1
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often, I am in the throes and agony...

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Where in silence heaves the evening breeze
A lissome heather ceaselessly droops low
Through graveyard fields, I collect my tears
Against the swagger of iridescent leaves,
And golden, ...

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