Best Mature Poems
the indelible scent of ecstasy filled their auras
with the fragrance of lovemaking spent and
aroused passion anxious to be tasted then
devoured…skin forged on skin…a magical collaboration
of need satisfying need…moments when love
takes you far beyond reality…no limits…
no borders…nothing refused… your physical surrender
a mere formality as flesh seeks flesh…
frolicking taste-buds unlocking rivers of dreams whose
surge simply washes away the pain of loveless
droughts past …in a heartbeat forever forgotten
all resistance simply ripped away as
flame licks ice as if it were candy… mouths drawn to loins
scented by eucalyptus that once inhaled becomes
unforgettable and forevermore addictive as
the taste of warm summer honey cloaks the soul
the strength of passion is found in its gentleness
the luxury of being touched so deeply…so intimately
your soul is turned inside out…eager to respond
the relentless tongue victoriously plays hide and seek
as a master…once found you beg for the mercy of more
you are never the same again…ever…as if a thirsty
sea lay within your soul and its tide is forever restless
paradise found …over and over…emptiness abandoned
as if a decree by the gods of love…two scents becoming
one..the air you breathe forever shared…the promise of
forever scratched on your skin as if you were a trophy
Irish ST PADDY'S DAY 2010
Thrills of ardent aster in Fall bloom,
whispers and lips in butterfly tease -
stoking hearth’s heat in surrendered swoon
harvesting lust.. with vanilla ease.
Susan Ashley
October 9, 2020
~ Second Place ~
Original poem “Beauty Of Day’s Harvest” - September 28, 2019
Premiere Contest: Rithimus Divisa 9
Sponsor: Gregory R Barden
Submitted for contest on October 9, 2020
Easy comes beauty in youth’s natural spring,
But with age its mellow dimensions grow.
Like to a bud, a full bloom, age will bring.
With grace its beauty does ebb and glow,
Its liberty allows its new functions to show.
Mature beauty is and will be admired always,
Youth’s beauty and its esteem goes to and fro,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Mature beauty has a melody to sing,
And this it releases so that you will know,
The elegance and blessing of its echo’s ring.
The evidence of a mind is part of its show,
For it opens tastefully with a view to bestow.
Ageless beauty never lacks for praise.
The beauty of life’s spring may lose its glow,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
In poetry and melody its praises we bring,
For mature beauty’s many dimensions we know.
With fervid dignity I see it take to wing,
Giving the young buds an inspiring show.
May you long guide youth as they grow,
Leading them in elegance the celestial ways.
So youth will know how easy beauty may go,
But ageless deeper beauty has endless days.
Now young buds aspire to full blooms grow,
And become worthy of nature’s timeless praise.
Allow your charm in majesty and grace to glow,
And may your ageless beauty have endless days.
My dress unzipped, it falls with ease
and puddles at my feet,
Without a word I'm on my knees
I'm shivering, despite the heat
A magnetism will unfurl
Pulsing between our skin,
I know I've been a naughty girl
I await a fitting discipline
Your hand, it fists around my hair
My head pulled back to see,
that though your intent scares me,
it doesn't flaw your beauty
You bark commands to please you,
though the pleasure isn't mine
You can't deny the fire and ice
racing up my spine
The buckle of your belt, undone
Should be a warning sound
But everything you make me do
Keeps my knees to the ground
You tease because you're so sure
I can take it, but I cant
I beg and plead for you to stop
My pleasure, you won't grant
Your name plays on repeat between
my gasps and panting cries
I cannot bear the contrast
Your hot mouth on my cold thighs
And just as I sense heaven's near
You fill me, violently
But I wont fight and I wont scream
Your pleasure belongs to me.
The lazy river wasn’t so lazy
In fact, you might say, it drove us crazy
What’s with the waterfalls and toddlers screaming?
I looked at my partner; she wasn’t beaming
Thunder Rapids left us doomed in darkness
Why did we think this ride would be harmless?
Two eight-foot drops suspended us mid-air
As two mature ladies, we had quite the scare
The Serpentine Serpent was a near-drowning
As huge blasts of water our lungs were downing
Nearly toppling as on our sides we raced our tube
My friend Sandra lost her balance in this jiffy-lube
Finally we headed for the “kiddy-land” ride
Where upon a thin sponge we did slip and slide
Too fast on one corner, Sandra flew
For shoulder repair, she needed “super glue”
Who’d believe a water park could render such pain
They carried us out on an “old folks” crane
Never to return, we vowed that day
This is a park where only “kids” should play
*Co-written with a super, but non-Souper, friend on April 15, 2015, less than a week after the true experience as we recover in ICU ;D
Within the silence that's witching hour
And the sweet smile of....dawns crack
Two very giggly bunnies
Lacking inhibitions
Stole within the moon
And stars....To roll within a sack
Birthday suits
Within cahoots
Not a carrot to hide said pride
Beneath one itchy blanket
Creeping side by side
Both had fluffy heads
And very fuzzy tails
They giggled down the garden end
Avoiding, shovels, spades and snails
It was fun, they felt rebellious they hushed each other so
Fearful of the stealth night fox
(Spirits high)
Yet kept their hushes low
They then did as most bunnies do
As almost a profession
Silent smiling adoringly
A fantastic little session
After whiles and giggles they
Very
Silently
Rose.....
Bad bunnyette kissed his cheek
He pecked her on the nose
Back down the rabbit hole, two cheeky little grins
Joyous of their secret
Of where on earth.... they'de been! !
A young lad masquerading as an old geezer
Looking for a lady who owns a mature beaver
One with mucho bucks
Still able to cluck
And willing to take pity on a geezer still eager
This is one of my best poems I have written and has been acknowledged alot!! Hope you like it and please do comment :)
I DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTHS OF LIFE
I WANT TO THINK THAT THERE IS NOTHING KNOWN AS A FIGHT
I DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE FACTS OF LIFE
I WANT TO THINK THAT THERE IS NOTHING KNOWN AS UNBEARABLE SIGHTS
I DON’T WANT TO KNOW THE BRUTALITY OF LIFE
I WANT TO WASH OUT THE THOUGHT THAT UNFORGIVABLE KILLINGS OUR DONE WITH HANDS AND NOT KNIVES
I DON’T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT TROUBLE
I WANT TO THINK THAT THERE IS NOTHING KNOWN AS STRUGGLE
I WANT TO THINK THAT WE LIVE A WONDERFUL LIFE
AND THAT THERE IS NO TIME FOR CRYING
I WANT TO BE INNOCENT
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT GOD IS THERE TO PROTECT ME AS HE IS OMNIPRESENT
I WANT TO CLOSE MY EYES FROM THE REAL WORLD AND ENJOY
AND BELIEVE THAT EVERY SORROW CAN BE VAPORISED
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT EVERYTHING IS A PLAY
AND THE WHOLE WORLD IS A FAIRY TALE
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT NO ONE IS UNDERPRIVILEGED
AND THAT EVERYONE HAS ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY THEIR BREAD
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS NO TERROR
AND AS EVERY SECOND PASSES BUY THE WORLD GETS BETTER
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT THERE IS NO GRIEF
AND IN HAPPINESS ALWAYS THERE IS BELIEF
I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT THESE ALL THINGS ARE FOR SURE
I DON’T WANT TO BE MATURE
I walked knowingly into the trap
as a boat sails over Charybdis.
Afraid of showing tell-tale marks
up and down my arms.
I gave in to the lesser evil,
went astray, searching indiscriminately for an escape.
My search lead me to a certain type of website.
Taking refuge in my libido,
I removed my clothes, alone.
My body laid bare, for the asking.
My hands requesting to obediently serve,
on anonymous screens, no compensation required.
A grave and pendulous weight dragging between my legs.
The cucumbersome weight of my cathartic defilement.
A diseased organ between my ears.
Caught in that black hole,
my soul’s spaghettification.
Time wore on, the unseen eyes multiplying.
Demands getting out of hand,
stretching even the limits of my self-destruction.
“It’s 1:30 pm, gimme some lunch.”
“It’s 7:30 pm, I’ve got a sweet tooth.”
“It’s 11:30 pm, show me a story?”
“It’s 3:15 am, help me get some sleep?”
Even my pain drained away from me,
as my insides had, without count.
My soul, also ejecting away from me in fragments.
The catharsis transmuted into self-hate,
and so the coil twisted tighter,
I’d mistaken that numbness for catharsis.
Piece by piece becoming a useful, well used vessel.
A brush with death saved my life.
Seizing my mind and body
in every sense I could illustrate.
A convalescence began, seeding love.
My once desolate heart, fallowed, now fertile.
Love now sustains me. Though I’m a vessel still,
but now for healing, knowing shame intimately, without terror.
I bring it into the light, letting compassion overflow.
Cycling forward to completeness once more, finally whole again.
It had partially dried to the table, crimson, sticky, and coagulated, and not wanting to let go of the sloppily scrawled letter. It drooped in his hands:
I finished the f-----g dishes you were B----ing about you dirt bag
..don’t worry about the mess outside
LEAVE ME FOR THE ANIMALS,
give me a chance to be appreciated by SOMETHING!”
Jeremiah’s eyelids tightened around the words. She wasn’t serious, she couldn’t have been serious. Night after night of drunken fights and carnal apologies; She always awoke the same, hungover and satisfied by the endearment of his widowed anger and forgotten misgivings. The thrust of weathered flesh sated the storm they wrought with the rainfall of liquor. They made it through, it was a promise made. That night, 15 years ago, still kids, they bore an oath that couldn’t be broken. They tore a trail across one another’s palms, clasped them together and spoke the words:
“Together, Eternally, Married in this life, the next…Hell can’t stop us.”
"SHE F------G PROMISED ME!" his tongue spattered the words across her own, his fear dripping lazily down the finality of her betrayal. Jeremiah’s grip slouched, rattled by the haste of grief, her letter fell upon unsteady feet as he stepped over the intoxicated goodbye of a love that could no longer stand to abide the throb of chaos. "WE WERE IN THIS TOGETHER, YOU B---H!" the crash of bone against hardwood quaked shards of brokenness on the floor; a sketchy trail, toward an open front door. The smell of bleach curdled amid stale cigarette butts strewn across a palate of remorse. He walked out, still not sure if it was a nightmare or if the pain he felt really was the echo of karma Victoria had always told him, would reach him someday.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved. -to be continued-
This is a rough, work in progress...
The life of mature minds
is aid to all silly clowns
adorn life and silently binds
and blooms each face and efface each frown.
The bluster of emotions, floods down
the mind and sheer delight glistens
on lips, and insipid nature drown
in delight, and to each incertitude silently listens
The drops of blushed desire with tinge
of fantasy and wild ecstasy drops
from minds abroad and bring
the sole being some consolation and passively props.
The restlessness of the soul
and uneasy hidden fears
and slow down incertitude rests all
and dim blur eyes literally tears.
The unreasoned thoughts perplexes and retards
and swarthy leaden eyes fails
the brimmed tear eye silently guards
but full emotioned, to visage dribblingly sails.
The mortal gazes at psyche as an urchin
with wild surmise and feel puzzled
to things unknown and admire with chin
up, full gape wide and blank eyes dazzled.
When I am searching for a healthy leader,
a wise teacher,
a mature mentor,
I look for someone who knows from experience
when a family member dies
a cherished part of her or himself
also is lifetime lost.
I look more for someone
who at least might feel,
even for a short moment,
that s/he would prefer
it had been her or himself.
Why does this matter?
Because without this maturity of extended family identity,
security,
love,
adolescent and even childish issues evoke ego-mania
rather than wiser and slower and steadier eco-passion
with other human natures
as with other EarthTribe cellular health natures.
Cells whose purpose becomes reduced to self-thrival
grow leaders of cancerous pathology.
Cells whose purpose remains to reproduce
their full contribution to organic families,
their extended forests of life,
their ecological eco-root systems,
are those mentors
my healthy wealth most needs
and craves
and would gladly step-aside from my personal agenda
to listen to
and learn
what remains of our synergetic purpose,
regenerative meaning.
I would be more drawn to a parent
who would say
My son broke the law
because I asked him to,
and he trusted me to not ask him to do
or not do
anything that would become a problem for him.
I would steer away from someone
who would say
My son did it on his own qualitative initiative
and never said a word to me about it,
but I respect him anyway.
And,
by the way,
those corporations that fell apart
while I was CEO,
well they did that all on their own
right after I drew my final paycheck
and quarterly return on my short-term investment.
I would not nominate such a person
for public office,
or even any private office,
for s/he does not know the wisdom of a healthy cell,
s/he has not felt the crippling loss of a wise mentor,
and is thereby her/himself exposed to monoculturing cannibalistic tendencies
of self and other exploitation,
eating our young;
not strong CEO maturity
because not a strong mentor of future compassionate CEOs.
My dress unzipped, it falls with ease
and puddles at my feet,
Without a word I'm on my knees
I'm shivering, despite the heat
A magnetism will unfurl
Pulsing between our skin,
I know I've been a naughty girl
I await a fitting discipline
Your hand, it fists around my hair
My head pulled back to see,
that though your intent scares me,
it doesn't flaw your beauty
You bark commands to please you,
though the pleasure isn't mine
You can't deny the fire and ice
racing up my spine
The buckle of your belt, undone
Should be a warning sound
But everything you make me do
Keeps my knees to the ground
You tease because you're so sure
I can take it, but I cant
I beg and plead for you to stop
My pleasure, you won't grant
Your name plays on repeat between
my gasps and panting cries
I cannot bear the contrast
Your hot mouth on my cold thighs
And just as I sense heaven's near
You fill me, violently
But I wont fight and I wont scream
Your pleasure belongs to me.
I have come to realize some women never mature,
They remain in this dormant clay like state,
Resting in not becoming the greatest possibility,
Bonding is next to impossible to achieve,
With any spirit that can not fly that high,
Maturity they do not wish to own,
They do not want any power,
Wisdom can not be given to all men.
Me? Mature??! Ha! I still laugh when
The ketchup bottle “farts”... into convulsions I descend
Immature you say
From reality I stray
Giggle when I see a lady's skirt tucked up in her rear end