Best Nibbling Poems
Holding onto a rail.
I lean over to see my reflection
mirrored in the water
and small fish swimming
in the camouflage of me.
I muse whether they are feeding
on my thoughts, nibbling
on the strands that loosely
float my day, making
their easy way towards
a dark clumped deep
in my shadow.
I can almost feel
their small fins brush the inside
of my skull, following
the course of a fear,
threading passage
through a weedy tangle
of doubt.
Then, swimming deeper,
their excitement seems
to grow in what they find,
feeding on something
that is hidden from me,
beyond the reflection
of my own mind.
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
In the daylight hours, I spend my time
So high on a perch, in a lofty pine
Where I fluff and comb my pretty plumes
And wait for the rise of the silver moon
I bob and weave on the top of the tree
Watching my world, in dimensions of three
My golden eyes fixed, on the fallen leaves
As I wait for the night, so patiently
At the set of sun, and the rise of moon
In the Croatan forest, near Camp Le Jeune
With a piercing screech, I take to the sky
On the wind, with silent wings, I fly
Over forest and swamps, on a winter night
Dipping and swaying like a wind-blown kite
In search of a rabbit, a rat or a bat
Until I find one, there's no turning back
Over Emerald Isle, and wind-swept dunes
I fly, so freely, beneath a silver moon
For miles along the Atlantic shore
Engrossed in the din of the ocean's roar
I hear from a distance, the stir of a hare
And see her dining, on sea grasses there
Her nibbling nose, like a lure, to my eyes
As I, with the speed of lightning, fly
Then swooping straight down, without a sound
I wrap my talons, so tightly around
The slow, soft beat, of a dying heart
As bits of fur, fly away in the dark
A Great Horned Owl, I'm a bird of prey
With the wind at my back, I make my way
With the chill of winter, a melt on my breast
I return triumphantly to my nest.
~~~
For contest sponsored by Eve Roper
Owls Personification
Placed: 2nd
Written: February 12, 2016
Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
It's Christmas Eve and through the house
there creeps a curious little mouse.
He climbs into the big arm chair
and finds the cookies waiting there .
He only takes the smallest bite.
Santa will find his treat tonight.
He gazes with wonder at the tree
and the bright wrapped gifts left there to be
a mystery tale to tell his spouse,
when he gets home, this curious mouse.
What an adventure it has been,
he has drunk of some spilled gin
that had been left upon the table.
His wife will think it is a fable
he has concocted to amuse her.
She is homebound, we must excuse her.
He once came home all out of breath
to say he had been scared to death
by a huge rat with fluffy tail.
She noticed he was very pale.
"While I was nibbling off some cheese
to bring to you, my love, to please,
he almost had me in his paws.
I'm sure he wasn't Santa Claus".
But this night is so very quiet.
He spies some fruitcake, has to try it.
It reminds him of that sip of gin
and wonders if his head will spin.
He hears a noise, runs for his life,
carrying fruitcake for his wife.
Christmas morning, spread before their eyes
for the baby mice, a grand surprise.
Their mama had fixed a Christmas feast
from food their dad had saved from beast.
A bit of butter, a glob of jam
and a fairly good-sized piece of ham.
Bread crumbs saved from other forays.
They had enough to eat for days.
Those little mice would never waste it.
If they didn't like it, they'd still taste it.
This food their mama set before them,
their dad risked his life to get it for them.
11/22/14
I begin as a covet, dulcet demure
pure in play, unbound to a dogma or tablature, a luscious lure,
I find that nerve of passion's verve nestled 'neath narcissistic comfiture
a covey of tingles taunting the ambition you serve, swift and swill I swerve,
in you I introduce a tempo of truth trailing a kiss along your spine's curve
a persuasion of perversion purring patiently in almighty allure,
reaching your pinnacle pulse I assure,
Entwining myself around your libido with nibbling nurture
binding you to the alter of painstaking pleasure I relieve with analgesic swelter
hoodwinking your will with a delicate dominance I am the prima donna capture,
embellishing the envisage of eros, I burnish organs keen with aphrodisiac welter
you become a devout captive to me, the divine dominator,
I am the matador confronting your impulsive power
the target of your sexual tremor,
spear tipped with warm vigor
into you I pound a wonder,
vice and virtue surrender
to principle superior in passionate plunder, for you become the conquer's lover,
taking my spirit from specter to flesh victor,
I will make a woman the vessel of volcanic velvet,
revolutionize female thighs, simmering the sighs in eyes,
make the wrap of a man's arms a hearth of healing heat soul felt,
his tongue a torch pinging with paced pause within mouths magnetized,
A coup de tat taken to your Shangrila,
weaknesses my wayfaring, strengths the servants of my junta
my sweet magic of mayhem laid upon your lithesome lips, the coup de grace -
J.A.B.
French Bread
Your index finger
draws figure-eights
in the dusting of flour
on the counter top
where you lean
quite casually,
watching as I make
a loaf of French bread.
Then, laughing a bit,
you insert your powdery finger
into my right ear.
I’m startled...
I was so very focused
on assembling ingredients
that I wasn’t aware
of my surroundings,
at least not enough to see
your finger inching its way
toward me. I laugh too,
realizing the intimacy
of your floured finger.
Somehow,
I don’t believe
your interest is in my baking,
but I proceed on to
proofing the yeast
in warm water,
watching carefully
for the always-shocking
bloom’s suggestion
of the possible,
our palates fine-tuned
to the perfume
of earth and damp places.
Thus begins the slow tango
of dryness becoming wet,
a touch of salt-taste,
elements bound together
by the slippery
until there is inseparable oneness,
deep warmth in the joining,
the inevitable rising,
swelling seeking relief.
But not yet, oh no...
First there must be a pause,
a relaxation of the engorged,
consummation delayed,
then the pressure of my hands,
pressing-on,
pressing and shaping and pressing.
We sip our wine,
talk quietly, anticipating
the inevitable increase,
saying between us,
“We’re ready for the final phase:
the heat that binds,
coalesces the disparate ingredients,
yielding at last to the
inevitable delectable finish.”
Later, cooling as it always must,
we can’t resist
nibbling still-warm bits
dipped in melted butter,
feeding them to each other,
transcending words,
finding new ways of seeing
one another.
Written November 23, 2013
for Charlotte’s Scorchers.
Enchanting deep forest sparkling magical dew
Vision of beauty takes to clouds in silver lining
Star lighting vision dancing with the shadows
Rainbow skies set to light mist of cool rain
And the warmest thoughts of you my Dear Love!
You are so very beautiful and precious My Darling
Behind the mirror your soul sings soothingly so
Stirring hotly emotional feelings and passions afire
How the passion burns the flower of flowers so rare
Regal crowning desires petals touching so softly My Dear!
Silken lips purse blushing one rose holding bright
Sunshine beams inside warm fingers of light touch
Stroking hair gently halo radiating chords deeply dance
Looking into jewels of a treasure gem shines so exquisitely
Gifted I am to have met your beautiful soul and You Too!
Over and over my heart skips beats when we caress and kiss
Beams jumping over the moon silver whispers wonderful so
Silently making love to you in every single thought of mine
Hot sexy kissing and so sensual in every inch nibbling softly
Within the deepest love inside loving you forever My Love!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 25, 2014)
(Free Verse)
The bitter icicle wind pierces the words "I love you"
Before they reach your opal ears
In a dream we laugh! and tumble in long grasses;
Your hair, brushing my face, your scent
Flushing my heart
Pausing, we each gather honeysuckle blossoms
Playfully guiding the stems to each other's lips
Nibbling sweet nectar as our lips melt together
Gently
We awake entwined in each other's arms
Our Love
Forever Sweet
Act One: the stage and scenery are set
I was told the play, I'd not soon forget
But if truth were to be told
More like the game, whack-a-mole
I needed a hammer, not a lorgnette
Thespians were vying for the limelight
Popping up everywhere, ready to fight
Sarcastic words ill spoken
The golden rule was broken
A princess rudely slandered by a knight
Act Two: the actors wrote their own stage play
A long soliloquy to have their say
The audience booed and hissed
"Put that one on the blacklist!
Kick that charlatan out," they did convey.
Someone had to quickly close the curtain
'fore the crowd decided they'd be hurtin'
the actor they were jeering
with sidelong looks of leering
meaning, "Fit for a role by Tim Burton!"
Act Three: Then Queenie tried to take control
Each part played, she admitted that she stole
Just another know it all
Boring with each scribbled scrawl
Showing up everywhere like whack-a-mole
Bad actors can't write plays worth a ripe fig
But criticize others to make a dig.
Negative comments given
Are they jealousy driven?
Wantin' to make the rules like a bigwig
The play, though not very well attended
is being recast with those commended
who are never rude and crude
and have a kind attitude
Instead of those whose words have offended
The next play is about a new dog breed
I heard it's called a boghound with a need
to chew on a bone until
its nibbling has caused ill will
and seats are all empty; audience freed.
Passion,staring into lust,
Noses,sharing oxygen.
Our lips connect,
Lips start to stray,
Nibbling ears,kissing necks,
Closely drawn together,
Nipples piercing hairy chest,
Nails sink into back,
Head-board knocking the wall,
Knock knock,knock knock,
Deep moans,skin locked,
We counter attack,
Knock knock,knock knock,
Screams of pleasure,
Waking the whole block,
Knock knock,knock knock,
Nuclear explosion,
Volcano eruption,
AHHHH so hot,so hot,
The sweetest sensation,
I ever got......
The cliffs were the only place she could go to find the edge of love
the only boundry between up and down, of faith and fate,
a frontier where tears scratch slate with bursts of pearl pain
and blood speaks to the sky for signs of passion's flood,
sea below, blue as sapphire lonely glow
churns the tide of romantic violence
salting silence into a sizzle of desire's uproar,
prehistoric granite a partner in the thunder
of her wet tides and his solid lift of sheer ridges
where vertical and horizontal make love in sharp contrast,
horizon rich in ransom of freedom's sweet space hovers
split by a sad pulse within her tired and pretty body,
night moves into day like a prophecy
born in the indigo of her cool inferno
auguring only one thing, high speeds
of love from comet's entrails,
on the precipice of self diagnosis
a vigil begins, ceremony of naked consciousness,
gathering the raw material of her soul
she lights a fire that burns like liquid crystal
waving into the shy truth
of shadows that no longer stand still,
the cliff dance starts, influx of instinct
imparts an innocent intuition
foretelling with ferocious accuracy
the survival or burial of they're love,
pouring vinegar and wine on each breast
she howls to the heights of His affection
and crawls towards the flames
to feel the sweat of lust in her veins,
the animal in her rises to hunt
through the heat, into passion complete,
life and death move her feet,
the pull of gravity gripping torso
closer to the drop of dreams,
a star breeze lashes and lifts
her hair and limbs calling for ascendance,
in a moment of reckless roundabout
she hears His husky whisper
of love with no doubt
nibbling on inner ear,
her heart won't lay still
when His eyes see her as mystical,
there is only one law of love
that she lives by, kiss or die,
only she knows the next step...
J.A.B.
Invitation to a Valentine Bash
(Direction to the Venue)
I live on the Heartland Estate
across from the Elysian Fields,
At the corner of Lovers Lane
and Pure Passion Boulevard
in the town of Romeoville.
If you are taking a midnight train
Get down at the Juliet Junction;
Catch a bus to the Break-heart pass
and get off at the Harem Heights stop.
You'll reach my Pleasure Palace
before the break of day.
Flying of course is not advised
as it is impossible to dodge Cupid's arrows!
But if you are planning to drive,
Take the highway to Elysium.
You might have to stay
overnight at the Erotica Inn,
famous for sensual simulator kiosks.
After some luscious nibbling
at the Casanova Cafe,
You'll arrive before lunch
at my enchanting Chateau.
Bring your lust luggage,
Loads of love potion
and lots of charm.
Running amuck is strictly prohibited.
There will be plenty of time
to cuddle and coo
at the Pleasure Point hill,
Loll in a pool of honey and wine
and soak in the sensual glow
of a bohemian moon.
RSVP: A week shy of Valentine's Day
Or, please call 666-PASSION.
~12/25/16
for Mystic Rose contest
Enchanting deep forest sparkling magical dew
Vision of beauty takes to clouds in silver lining
Star lighting vision dancing with the shadows
Rainbow skies set to light mist of cool rain
And the warmest thoughts of you my Dear Love!
You are so very beautiful and precious My Darling
Behind the mirror your soul sings soothingly so
Stirring hotly emotional feelings and passions afire
How the passion burns the flower of flowers so rare
Regal crowning desires petals touching so softly My Dear!
Silken lips purse blushing one rose holding bright
Sunshine beams inside warm fingers of light touch
Stroking hair gently halo radiating chords deeply dance
Looking into jewels of a treasure gem shines so exquisitely
Gifted I am to have met your beautiful soul and You Too!
Over and over my heart skips beats when we caress and kiss
Beams jumping over the moon silver whispers wonderful so
Silently making love to you in every single thought of mine
Hot sexy kissing and so sensual in every inch nibbling softly
Within the deepest love inside loving you forever My Love!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 25, 2014)
(Free Verse)
I remember
dancing for joy
Sitting on an open shelf
This beautiful maiden
Strolls into the shop
As my eyes whistled
She picked me up
Holding me in her hands
Smiling down at me
Excited
Oh I love
Words had trembling effect
with this cheese
Taking me home
You took a little bite
A little taste
Nibbling
Out of me
Lips softly grin
bursts in flavour
Almost cheesy
Licking delicious
Opening a door
You placed me
on top shelf
Felt like royalty
Lights out wow
The last face
I remembered
Ever so beautiful
Weeks pass
Feeling almost
out of date
Left in the dark
A smell started
Pungent in fungus hair
Taking over
almost septic
Crawling green
in mildew
Beautiful maiden
Awaiting you in dreams
You open the door
Squealing out
Monsters
frightened in the fridge
All I done
was shout cheese
Smile darling
I am
all yours
Sweet love
Thrown in a black plastic bag
Broken hearted suffocating
with the rubbish
Shouting walking away
That's me done
With cheese
It was so sad
The green hairy
old monster
Began crying
Now smile
for cheese
As you will not like
To see the ugly side
Of the green
hairy old
Cheese monster
Galloping within the nights of her innocence
he raced around the field fire chasing the heat of equine glee,
the horn of his head, a wizard's weapon and a witch's wish
with which a poison may be whimpered and youth enriched with longer laugh,
rose gold gilding on the supernatural spike ribboned with ribs of silver spells,
sensing the magic of her intuitive love the beast of God's bridge halts,
her eyes pretty in patient approach, his alert with admiring admonition,
they tresspass upon each other by exhalation of warm airy awe
whirling from their mouths, measuring the elation of frienship newly carved,
although invited to mount, the Maiden rubs her chin along his velvet nose,
fingers glide through the mane like breeze through willow branches, he huffs from joy,
in a gesture of supplication she kneels to the Unicorn's lead leg, one arm around
and a hand of healing pressed against his ripened chest, be restless and alone no more,
nibbling her ear in acceptence she giggles at the thought of adventure's anxiety,
leaping like an angel possessed with purpose for playful liaisons,
his back forming a saddle of supple security for her healthy frame, they join naturally,
she names him Azyerbel and he rears in rejoice at the grip of her knees,
riding into hinterlands of history unborn, they share courage known only to legends -
J.A.B. written in honor of, and for PD.'s Unicorn Birthday Contest 2012 -
Happy Birthday my Sphinx -