Best Man Poems
I long to—
Walk one more time
To where the land ends, and the ocean begins
To listen expectantly for the sounds of infant waves
Grasping layers of golden sand
I long to—
Hear the fat gulls with white bellies
And ebony eyes
Floating on invisible wires
Calling for the savory morsels
Hidden inside the curled fingers of an old man
I long to—
Stand beneath the tangerine sky
Lazily descending into the cradle of the sea
Vacating heaven for the snowy celestial sphere
Hung upon Vincent’s starry canvas
Ten thousand lights scattered forever
I long to—
Be embraced by the tenebrous sea
Her loneliness engulfing me like lovers of yesterday
I long to—
Gaze beyond the past wrapped in sorrow
The years of trudging through cheerless mire
Searching for reasons without answers
Answers without questions
I long to—
Remember only moments worth remembering
A twirling montage of love and hope
And dreams
Of a time when two became one
Hearts pulsing in harmony
Minds ascending to tidal floods of ecstasy
I long to—
See your face
To walk hand in hand
To where the land ends and the ocean begins
I long to—
Do it all again
A straw man stood fixed upon timber firm,
gazing at Autumn's gilded, moonlit prize.
He, the king of Earth and the winding worm,
she, the pale darling of cold starry skies.
Left in fallow field of harvest' soiled gown,
with sun bleached woolen coat so neglected.
Besotted by her face in freckled frown,
though light falsely owned in Sun reflected.
Few seasons counted in scarecrow's race,
lonely journey, long eons moon must know.
She left locked ever more in Earth's embrace,
while he lay fallen soon in Winter's snow.
Jealous moon keeps watch o'er his button eyes,
from Venus, Mars, and star's envied night skies.
22 October 2019 - New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest -Sponsored by Emile Pinet
When a Man Loves a Woman
A man who loves a woman in the way
a woman wants him to will love her true.
He’ll hold her close, and never will he stray.
But there is so much more this man will do!
He’ll build her up because her self-esteem
should matter, and a woman valued can,
in turn, fulfill her husband’s fondest dream.
How fortunate, indeed, is such a man!
When generous with kind words and his time,
the man who loves his woman heart and soul
will find himself enjoying life sublime
because he will have taken on the role
of not just a provider! He will give
his heart, and like the king of hearts he’ll live!
When a Woman Loves a Man
The woman who adores her man will be
his greatest fan; she will not criticize
his faults, and she will pledge fidelity,
for life with him is something she will prize.
Her tender love will be her greatest gift
that she can give to him, and she will show
appreciation. Always she will lift
him up so that the man she loves will know
beyond a doubt she always will be there.
When times get tough, she won’t give up on him.
Who doesn’t want some tender loving care,
especially when things are looking grim?
The woman standing by her man this way
will be his queen, and happy they will stay.
Written Jan. 5, 2016
For Mark Massey's Two English Sonnets Poetry Contest
Old man
he lived over there
in a house of dreams
alone
every day
he fetched his mail
I woke
when he died
Now I stare at the window
where a little boy
watches me fetch my mail
alone
He sees no evil
only good
his right hand
does not know
what the left hand does
And in his dreams
his left leg
runs in a different
direction
and makes him crash
He chases illusions
through foggy fields
embraces half
the world
And in his crooked smile
his right eye shines bright
with mischief
and love
“The Queen-Sized Bed”.
© London F. Buss
A queen-size bed was coming slowly,
down the rough dirt track.
As it drew closer,
The wheels clumsily mounted on the base of each leg,
rattled like a hospital gurney on the stones.
The bed was being pushed slowly,
ever so, carefully.
By a weary old man in tattered clothes and worn-out shoes.
as he drew closer, and closer,
I saw that he was pushing his dying wife who was,
lying in a dressing gown under the covers,
in the Queen-Sized Bed.
He pushed carefully trying not to shake the bed,
excessively.
His wife's head was supported by four pillows,
she had wispy strings of silver white hair.
She was dying.
Several I.V. Bottles dangled off a hook,
And dripped painkillers into her arm.
She was awake but barely conscious,
I wondered where they were going,
but in my heart, I knew...
privacy for an hour,
I came back as the sun was setting.
I found them together sitting on the bed,
Looking over the ocean.
The old man was holding his dying wife,
in his arms… stroking her silver hair under the sparkling,
southern cross.
They were sharing her last sunset as,
the dying embers of a fiery sun faded into the ocean.
Night fell and I walked home alone,
I had witnessed love real love,
something I had never experienced,
something I had never known.
If you’re near Cowell and you look hard enough,
You may just find the queen-size bed,
with a tattered mattress and exposed springs,
quietly rusting away outside a decrepit ruin of a barn.
Take a closer look at the legs and you will find four rusting,
gurney wheels.
and if you approach quietly on a moonlit night,
you will hear soft sobbing in the whistling wind,
as it dreams of that dying sunset,
under the southern cross...
and the milky way lights up the sky,
soaring into the heavens
as the angels sing.
I wrote this non fiction poem
For Debra Jean..
JAZZ MAN
Lips of sweat,
Igniting catalyst tune as they burn,
Crossed eyes, attention spreads
feeling the whiteness in the pure magic
Each memo confronts the other,
Soul cord of depth,
and for one short-lived moment.
Losing sight of reality in a stasis of oasis.
The passionate barb sticks note directly into the atmosphere
Each message is a flood of scheme,
singing the blues, this smooth criminal
angel of birth, in your hands
luring you to a road in heaven.
The lights are all you feel;
you can see the forgotten masterpiece.
Bathing in it, as the drums go on,
the mob gathers, to feel the whiteness of the trumpet.
He is rotating his saxophone,
making love to the crowd.
His horn comes with words that deepen the soul,
the crowd is mesmerized.
He extends his hands,
A standing ovation,
Slamming and whistling,
Louder than thunder,
Mr. Jazz man is done
With no condom at all……………………….
by;
Snow is falling and floods are flowing,
people dying and children keep crying,
but he's just an ordinary man,
sitting there watching TV.
Icebergs melting and penguins starving,
men in suits talking and big guns firing,
but he's just an ordinary man
playing on his smartphone.
Storms blowing and seas are raging,
children starving and refugees leaving,
but he's just an ordinary man
at home warm and free.
He seems confused,
Daffodils no longer bloom in Spring,
bumble bees have stopped buzzing,
butterflies have stopped floating,
confused birds have stopped flying and
factories have plumes of smoke burning,
but he's just an ordinary man
sitting in his garden all alone.
So who is he to fight?
He just follows the rules he is told.
Instead of trying to be something he is not.
Because he is just an ordinary man.
The Silent One
Simple musing
11 January 2018
You sat there crying with tears rolling down you face
Asked me why I didn’t show you any compassion
All I could say was that:
‘I’m just a man’
I should have wiped away your tears and held you tight
Told you I loved you and everything will be all right
Yet, I showed no emotion,
because ‘I’m just a man’
All the answers to your questions, I couldn’t find
I was impatient,
because ‘I’m just a man’
All those times you would scream and shout went unnoticed
I thought you would calm down after the silence
I never meant to hurt you,
but ‘I’m just a man’
I can still remember the day you said goodbye
I was so confident you would come running back
I wish I wasn’t so arrogant,
but ‘I’m just a man’
I saw you walking the other day with another guy
I can’t help but be jealous,
because ‘I’m just a man’
I saw you smile and you seemed so happy
Finally, you met someone who understood you
Who will show you compassion and hold you tight
You deserve a real man, not someone still a boy
But how could I understand,
when I don’t understand myself
I was an unloved child who lost his childhood
Nobody taught me how to become a man
Nobody told me the difference between right and wrong
Nobody taught me how to love and care for another
School didn’t teach me anything about life
Now here I am again all alone,
dealing with the ghost of the past
Even though you don’t think so,
I did love you deeply
Guess I didn’t say it enough,
because ‘I’m just a boy
I hope you have forgiven me
for the times I hurt you
Because
‘I’m not a man’,
‘I’m just a boy’
The Silent One
Simple Musing
Originally posted
9 September 2015
He
may
not have
the perfect
face and body,
but I can see into a soul
radiant like the omniscient sun in azure skies.
In indigo nights, I press against his heart, longing to possess his perpetual light.
for Brian Strand's the 'COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (27)any form any theme' Poetry Contest
Your man
O' fallen leaf of barren branch
doth charge my heart, my aching heart
with missing you, needing you
On sun dried earth I lay,
grasping at my dreams, so desperate,
find that in this depth
felled by wind of colder days,
my life doth need your touch
so very much it calls to thee,
come to me, cover me
shower me with hope ~
so far you stand
~
I feel as if I am a tiny creature,
an ant on the pavement
with cracks and crevice deep
Foundling for the distance far,
searching of a path to reap
to thy heart, thy arms
O' breath of love I beg thee home,
to lie with you this eve,
this winters eve
of far off arches and grayish glare
~
My travels take me long away
Places I am lost to stay
find this man a’ crying
tears of love for thee, tears of despair
Crying, weeping, hoping, begging,
come to me,
come to me my love, my dream
into my open arms ~ waiting
~
The day might fill the emptiness
with broken branches barren so
dare I say I have the right
to honor love from you,
hold it so within my heart aching
My needs are many,
the truth has shown
for languished features painted hard,
hard against my weathered skin, rough, broken
I scream, my voice still faint of tone,
louder as is nothing less
sorted by the evening breeze
blowing strong against the fence
~
I desire thee to touch me,
kiss me, hold me, take me
The flames of passion brightly burn
igniting but this love I hold
So cherished is your heart
I feel it pounding, pulsing
within mine own chest
My quest is you and only you,
design me, I am yours,
make me as you would,
carve me, bend me, mould me,
sculpt me to be ~
your man
Good night Soupers
Ok, I got carried away a little. : )
When Dorothy and Tin Man were dating
She didn’t prepare for the mating
Til’ she heard a bang
And shouted out, “Dang,
Something inside there’s inflating”
Since Dorothy’s one chick he lusted
Poor Tin said he was disgusted
Coz there was no oil can
Nearby them at hand
To free up his zipper now rusted
As Tin was kissing Dorothy’s lips
He sadly knew he had to come to grips
‘Til she yelled, “My man
I’ll open your can
Coz in my purse I brought some tin snips!”
You can write about it
A red rose in summer skies
Of beautiful rainbows
Coloring her Spanish eyes
Of Lovely mountains
And winding rivers too
Kissing passionately
Under an exotic moon
Mr. Poetry Man
Write a poem for me
Make it of a dream
In a midnight fantasy
Mr. Poetry Man
Write a poem just for me
Be it sad or honey sweet
The way I like to read
She’s a rose
With thorns stuck
Deep in myside
Run hide
I can’t get away
hopelessly Intoxicated
‘till my dying day
Write of gorgeous petals
Her black eyes of pearl
Of breathless passion
When two hearts unfold
You can talk about it
In sultry whispering words
Of romantic moments
That one day gets cold
Nights of heartache
The restless aching souls
Bring out the sunshine
Make a wonderful world
Mister Poetry Man
Write a poem for me
Make it naturally
Whether truth or fantasy
Mister Poetry Man
Write a poem just for me
Give wings to set me free
Just the way I like to be
Identify an elephant
And I will shout, “Hooray!”
For you’re so smart you could be
Leader of the U.S.A.
Another test to prove your worth?
Repeat this after me –
Five words: they’re “Person, Woman, Man”
Then “Camera” and “T.V.”
It’s comforting to know we’re led
By one with an I.Q.
That helps him to distinguish
All the red states from the blue.
Well, I am just a Person,
Yes, a Woman, but, oh Man,
On Camera, for T.V., I’d say,
“I hope he gets the can!”
"Blind Man Turns"
Rest easy in my lull, Love
Love
is not the gentle goodnight, Love
in the beguiling
silence of Lost Lovers' Woods
It is the war we
all wager
reflections
in each other
We run from it
We run to it
The Labyrinth
we all are
striding fresh
through greener than green grass
roads we never thought
we’d journey
futures like bruises
bruises like roses blooming
bruises like sunsets fading
War torn
We All are
the softer, truth seeking and
the fallen, sharp metal shards
Love runs harder
than war
Love runs towards
you with its arrows
Bleeding slowly
Bleeding fast
Love
Heads or
Tails
Hearts
saved
Heads
rolling
Tongues
dry for a pass
wanting wet
trysts for duelling
tails short and long
tales to be read
to the dreams
that once in the past
were futures
formed like a sprouting bean in the belly
from
Love
Falling free and hard
short lived butterflies
wings transparent
veined in vanity
are
the Brave
waiting for
the burn
Love
bleeds hot
bleeds fast
Poets kissing soft warm bellies
whispering breath over sensual hearts
where the hot
holy see parts
singing
“this will last”
The Golden Grail
shining
waiting
for you
door
open
without
chain mail
holds a heart
bled and worn
An offering on your short
spare alter
never entirely yours
but always mine
blind man turns
his heart ripe like an apple
open and
star seeded
Light Burns
waiting to be tasted
a swallowed soul
without feathers
born again
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)