Best Loving Cup Poems
i sip those coffee irises
which beckon my core
sans a resounding wave
or bawdy utterance
the strong, robust urge
a breathless yearning
i stir that drink
with a flirtatious cream
i lean into his cup
the grind of healthy soil
a tasty, deep, romantic bean
those eyes ~ my twinge
a loving cup
pours into every kiss
the slide of lips
the palming caress
oh how those eyes dance
in throes
the thrill that wakes me up
stirs him to sleep
content beneath the sheets
those coffee irises
hidden from my view
i’m totally taken
8/1/2022
Beholding this heuristic flower which grows....
Astonishment amid the midst of the deserts dust
Isolations guise so shunned, this beauty it seems
Emitting an emollient fragrance as such
A nardostachys jatamansi ~
This healing and soothing ointment as rains
Loving cup, of sanctities moments such placid waters
Now rising from the parched soils of once barrenness
As a mastic mist of laudatories measures
Blanket it, with flourishings of precious dew
An inflorescent jasmine
Metamorphing into a prismatic rose
Before these melodious stones which smile....
As they gaze upon this magnificent splendour
Within a world wherein some still question as to how
Could this ever be?
This renewing of such trodden petals; rousing
And once crushed by the very hands
Which now stand within bewildered wonderment
As they blink their sting rayed eyes....How?
These second chances of a new born life
The Resurrection, of a once lost soul....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heavens Rose ~
Note: Smile ~ This is not an attack upon anyone but
"A Song of Hope & Faith!?" ~ "'Love,' Always," John!:) ~
Even though you may not be looking, always believe that love is cooking.Quote - Poet’s own
Bake love each day the whole of your life
Mixed with fervour and all kinds of spice
Everything you've ever hungered for
Hopes, dreams, wishes and all you adore.
Stir in measureless ardent passion
Sprinkle on top some sweet compassion
Simmer slowly on the lowest heat
‘Til your heartbeats are on the increase.
Then turn the temperature way up
Whilst drinking wine from the loving cup
Prepare the aura ready to eat
Soft music, dim lights during the feast.
Tempt palates with a special delight
Of afters that please the appetite
Just as we need food so we may live
We’re all in need of love to exist.
I hope you will test my recipe
It truly has done wonders for me.
love’s intricacy ~
couple sips from silver cup
~ unbreakable bond
5/16/2018
Soft flurries, at dawn,
spurred on by wind;
the blow and drift
of twilight’s whiteout blizzard.
Achoo, here we go;
how ravenous the roses.
Red petals tickle schnozes.
Earth in royal bloom.
Flopping into the pool,
tummy trouncing off water,
red, white and blue -
colors of American hero.
Loving cup of leaves,
dancing and romancing fools.
Oaks baring their souls.
Rakes vowing, “I do.”
The crescent moon and sunlight consumed by the moon’s fullness.
The violin violates the quiet and quaint acquaintance of an eyeful.
The cow, with its rudimentary cuds, could only curse the night.
The bull will not croon its lullaby; he & his Bessy will not take flight.
It’s a circus, peculiar, not meant for sleeping babes in arms.
Infants blink black and white; Chagall’s kaleidoscope alarms.
The angels halt their silent night chorus to weigh in on Bach.
The strum of strings stuck to the ooey-gooey moon ad hoc.
A strange night, indeed, with flying fish - I thrice had that dream.
Marc and Bella sail over the circus-clouds with weathered extreme.
I shall fix upon a romance, most of us stay grounded, perhaps
One leg lifts the skirt, and perhaps the armored chap in lapse
Of selfishness, shows his shining sword, promises to protect
His girlfriend, his bride forevermore with a diamond affect.
Marc and Bella don’t look down to see who’s looking up.
While couples fight for a win, they won’t give up their loving cup.
Exploration of intensity and quadrants, amused in edenic perennial.
Chagall’s, are the canvases I would inhabit. It’ll take a millennial.
A few yellow leaves, diminutive bless.
The subtle birth of Fall— my eyes impress.
Verdant green—deep visual for my dreams.
The season’s frisk—Jack Frost snips at the seams.
Soon the froth of frisky leaves, everywhere.
The flamboyant tango, showering flair.
And oh…the burning Autumnal passion—
the sizes and shapes, bittersweet fashion.
I forget my bathing suit, bundle up,
vigorously jump into loving cup
of apple cider, pumpkin pie and leaves.
Season’s change, cheeky-warm, with knitted sleeves.
10/6/2021
Sitting at the very top of my closet,
a small cedar chest, with treasures I did deposit.
It was Christmas gift my sweet cousin gave,
for years it has sat there, as if in a grave!
With broken hinges and a defective lock,
I will now open it; take reflective walk!
Amongst my treasures, is my grandma’s script;
written May fifth, Nineteen-seventy-six.
It must have been sent just before she died.
Because that was the year, my daddy cried!
Withered, torn, and barely legible,
to part with it, seems unethical.
Some special notes from Marie,
That date back to eighty-three.
She and I were the best of friends,
and we kept up with all the trends.
Eighties hairstyles: yea, we did rock,
To ACDC, and not ever to Bach!
A faded card from a stripling lad,
my high school sweetheart, I must add!
A ticket stub from a real Pecos rodeo,
I suppose this was kept for braggadocio!
A red toy convertible Volkswagen bug,
My dream vehicle, when I was young and smug!
In this wonderful stack of silly riches,
A valentine note puts me in stiches.
Penned by my husband’s masculine hand,
he expresses his love sure is grand.
And that is why he feels me up,
I think I’ll save this loving cup!
There is a chart I do recall,
It prepared me for something small.
A little prayer written down,
nine months later she came around!
With a baby girl I was blest,
As she feed upon my breast!
A Western Union telegram,
I took a second to exam.
The name written in black ink,
is to me my missing link!
Her presence always made me calm,
She lives heaven, she is my mom!
You asked me what’s in my treasure chest,
precious memories; who would have guessed?
Thanks for this time of reminiscing,
Oh’ how this life is sure worth living!
It might be time to toast some champagne,
To the future, and to memory lane!
Maturity "For Adult Contest"
I walked in to the truth, when I became a man; maturity hit me
Like a cotton sock filled with sour notes and hormone-hubris shouts,
The Women I’d adored I saw as more now; poised and wise with hearts, coal
Mine deep; and best of all now, friends, with whom to speak and leap and laugh
At life, like planets to their crisp earth’s Crops, to reap and play and listen to
A woman’s many layers, complete yet changing like a cyclone, or perfume’s
Flowery flame: but: there’s the sexual thing, a man’s God; the angels his beds, and notches
The fiction that he is boss, and cannot ever cry, or talk about the pain within (a sin) thus
Shields his contrite speech, to favour stormy bluster, with she, his partner in their fair
And stormy lair; but now, the beasts gone out I’ll say, my wife, my lover, my gorgeous friend,
Tougher then a car of shot gun-crazy cops; we’ll rest a while, and now, unlike before, we’ll Share your favorite sugar, your sweetest loving cup; I’ll do for you, what came so hard, for me, in years gone by; before growing as a man:
I’ll listen.
This is a verse, not a song,
Let's gaze on the face of Agamemnon,
For ten years, he had stayed away,
Finally, he arrived home one day,
Yes, away to Troy he'd roamed,
The warrior king made it home,
But, he had been playing away,
His Queenie had a bad hair day,
Her axe did have a double blade,
As in her spa, she made him lay,
She drugged his wine, a loving cup,
Then proceeded to chop him up!
Off with his feet, for roaming so far,
Queenie really messed up her spa,
Off with his cheating hands,
He brought home his ho's from foreign lands,
Off with his attachments, you can guess what that meant,
Shoved them in his mouth,
as his head went south,
"Feed him to the swine!
It's pig feeding time!"
She yelled at the serfs,
"That cheating dud got his desserts!"
Queenie was having a bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
But, Queenie had a toyboy anyway,
She always kept smiling,
Looked for the silver lining,
Queenie's wealth was a'piling,
She was a keeper,
Old king now a sleeper,
Queen kept the kids, gold and slaves,
She did get hers one day,
Yes, Queenie kept the lot,
Or was it all a plot?
Queenie's bad hair day,
Warrior king had been playing away,
This is verse, not a song,
Let's gaze at the face of Agamemnon!
Unlimited love- Barry White tribute.
You’re loves unlimited, embraced in a “satin soul”
oh baby, baby, “never, never, gonna give you up”
“I’ve got so much to give,”I feel out of control
“can’t get enough of your love babe,” my loving cup,
oh baby, baby “never, never, gonna give you up”
“You’re my first my last my everything,” my dream
“can’t get enough of your love babe,” my loving cup
teach me how to love, console me with “love’s theme,”
“you’re my first my last my everything,” my dream
I love you so much, “I’ve got so much to give,” feel free
teach me how to love, console me with “love’s theme,”
lady love, “it’s ecstasy when you lay down next to me,”
I love you so much, “I’ve got so much to give,” feel free
“You see the trouble with me,” you’re no ones fool
lady love, “it’s ecstasy when you lay down next to me,”
“what am I gonna do with you,” my heart you doth rule,
“you see the trouble with me,” you’re no ones fool
“I’ve got so much to give,” I feel out of control
“what am I gonna do with you,” my heart you doth rule,
you’re loves unlimited, embraced in a “Satin soul”.
4/6/2018
Contest music pantoum
Sponsored by Silent one.
Pantoum using song titles by Barry White,
“Satin soul”
“ never, never, gonna give you up”
“I’ve got so much to give “
“can’t get enough of your love babe “
“Love’s theme”
“ it’s ecstasy when you lay down next to me “
“ you’re my first my last my everything “
“what am I gonna do with you “
“ you see the trouble with me “
A TOAST TO OUR BREAKFAST
Come break this bread, feed me warmth of sharing.
Break the grip of solitude: toast our warm pairing.
Pour out your heart, pour out a loving cup of grace,
Smell the perfume of acceptance in this love-scented place.
Look at me with honest tender face
Filled with devotion and caring.
A shared breakfast with thou my wife,
A true spiritual occasion, a shared life;
No ritual miracle of water changed into wine,
No last supper ; first meal of the day so fine.
The miracle of existence, thine and mine,
Changed into life.
Waking sun behind us washes warmth into our hands
Joined daily at the altar cloth - each strand’s
Spread with love - a celebration, a word, a glance.
Our eyes say it all askance:
A touch of fingertip romance
In a crumb brushed from a wedding band.
…………………………………………………………………………..
(Written for the GOOD MORNING competition)
You fill my world with color
With culture and with class
You cover me with fineness
None other could surpass
You fill my loving cup
My head full of ideas
My mind of fascination
And wild imagination
You fill me up with style
Your touch is but a flare
A smile that lifts me up
To chase away despair
Of tantilating manor
And wisdom to compare
Overflowing passion
And caringness to spare
love lies on the side hypotenuse
from where that right angle is
often love's functions seem abstruse
lost at ocean's bottom with Atlantis
yet complementary, our numbers add up
by degrees are ninety, true and square
feelings pour right to the loving cup
opposites and adjacents uncommonly rare
looking at all the angles to triangulate
and compute toward infinity's revered
will the points be cartesian for this mate
do measured dimensions seem a bit weird
what of the other points on the line
of our lives, that we traverse insistently
do they see us as converging just fine
heartfully crossing space with felicity
cons and pros measured on protractor
terms balancing both sides of the equal
trying not to drop any important factors
will it be originally good as the sequel
the mosaics of the world pieced together
to form colorfully muted sharper vision
complacent or attentive to futures whatever
it'll be angled and trigged with precision
© Goode Guy 2011-12-16
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trigonometry
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/abstruse
there are three sides to any point, what's right, what's left, and the rest.
Fire
Flames – destroying everything –
Flames – I felt their heat –
The whirling world – it cannot stand—
In fevered circuit melts.
Those flames traverse
Throughout my bones,
Rage, hot, across my nerves,
Consuming all the stars I see
In heaven’s stretched-out canopy.
Fire – burning in my soul –
Fire – I felt its heat—
The dervish lust was scarce concealed
When he kissed my feet.
My firm and frail virginity--
My bosom -- plucked by him,
No apples bit in Paradise
More ample with our sin.
Flames – destroying everything –
When true love caught me up
From that false vintage that I quaffed
From a false Loving Cup.
O, you burnt brighter than the lust
That, fiery, op’d my doors;
And in your passion, warm with love,
A galaxy was born.
Jan. 11, 2009 Istanbul
Background for this poem: Lee Harvey Oswald was falsely accused of killing President
Kennedy. I was in contact with Lee only 37 1/2 hours before the assassination. Don't believe
what propaganda-writing paid flunkies have written about me or about LHO. The cover-up is
real, and thinking people now have the evidence on YouTube and elsewhere. See my website
at http://www.judythvarybaker.com for more information. I'm writing this note of
explanation because other poems here also refer to Lee Oswald, such as "The Magazine
Bus," and "Lord of the Galaxies." My book, Me & Lee: How I Came to Know, Love and Lose
Lee Harvey Oswald, will be published this spring by Trine Day Publications. This is the latest
of dozens of poems written about LHO, some of which are published here at Poetr Soup.