Best Nipping Poems
Teardrops, bagged eyes, a way of sin
The mirror reveals a lost eternal soul
A conniving move against tonight's phantom glow
Voices circle the insomniac moon
Like magic and beauty, "She's Gone With the Wind."
The idea of love,
broken like yesterday's wishbone.
She is leaving today, her arms, my shelter
Her wings are now immense.
Beauty --- she's gone forever!
Never will she suffer-
Never will she return-
All I have are lost memories,
tracing what is left.
One final deep breath
tequila vice to wash away the pain.....
At Last, Now I See!
Under the drunken stars
I had an epiphany
Stricken like a match
A sunken treasure
At Last, I Knew
You did not belong in there,
you were there for the taking
Frail and sick, no longer sane.
Memories lost, no longer - her
My Mother!
What has become of her?
You're a demon, who played us all
Made us cry, while she slowly withered away
The way you laid waste to her body
Nipping both legs, feeding her through tubes
She rapidly forgot our names' our faces'
I hate you, Alzheimer
I hate the way you took her the first time!
I hate you, Death
I hate the way you claimed her final days!
Sleepless nights and pillowed feathers,
Caress a precious moment around my tender skin
Pretending my mother tucked them in
Anything to help me get past my sleepless nights
Beneath a moonlit black velvet sky
Where scarlet leaves from the Maple fly
On November’s wind and breathless sighs
And a lone coyote’s distant cry
You and me where hints of winter lie
Frost nipping our toes as autumn dies
I am warmed by the love in your eyes
Winter descended upon the prairie plain
Pelting the ground with freezing rain
Nipping, biting this cold morning air
Thin layers of ice coated everywhere
You get out on the road but don't step on the brake
That would be your biggest mistake
For it would make you slide and spin
This would start your heart pump'in within
The accidents, fender benders take there toll
Some cars or even semi's can roll
The roads become a treacherous place
You crawl like a turtle at a snails pace
You dread having to go out that day
Driving is dangerous they say
you get behind the wheel and pray
No one will back end you along the way
dizzy, from my shameless lust
i paint your mouth with mine.
nipping, brushing faces,
breathing you like oxygen.
my fingers, my lips, my tongue
upon your naked back
draw a map to my destination
via the scenic route no doubt
starving
for your wet lips.
make a meal of this
Lost in the carnage of our intimacy.
I move with the fervor of a ravenous beast.
Your body undulates
to the movement of my mania.
Juices glow like the fountain of youth.
I move in and out
conduct a symphony of pleasure,
bury my face deep
in the sweet skin of creation.
waltz against a canvas dark
pin holes of silver dust.
weightless
in a friction free atmosphere
eternal pleasure,
a sweet honeysuckle taste
a foreplay crescendo.
I the ocean,
tide after tide
the ebb and flow
a sculptured reef.
The screams of seagulls in the air,
rushing waters eternal
breaking hard and fast
the sunken coral.
a multitude of tidal waves
simultaneous explosions
tight as one we hold
freeze in the heat of our moment.
It must be an hour now
you are lying at my side.
your head on my chest.
I play with your hair
stroke your flesh
our eyes meet,
we kiss
long, hard
passionately...
Ageless and amazingly, the nerves sing,
butterflies flutter within the begin
like the bowed tension of a cello’s string.
Let the trailing flow of sweet kisses sting.
Pain so close to passion, adrenaline,
ageless and amazingly, the nerves sing.
Nipping ear and throat so breathtaking,
as we fall and roll on the white bear skin
like the bowed tension of a cello’s string.
Peacock feathers trace the grace amazing,
flames dance high on the walls of the cabin
ageless and amazingly, the nerves sing.
Double backed, we ride through the heat lightning.
in the firelight her eyes are fetchin’
like the bowed tension of a cello’s string.
My wife, my life, my so happy ending,
who but thee could there be so bewitchin’?
Ageless and amazingly, the nerves sing,
like the bowed tension of a cello’s string.
Jack Frost adores nipping at our fingers, toes and nose.
Always dressed in white, he hides outside our homes
Creeping out in the dead of night
Keeping his icy wintery fingers busy
Frozen fronds of fern like ice white frost
Resplendently dress our windows and gardens.
Our surroundings are adorned by Mother Nature’s makeover.
Suddenly scintillating snow falls softly on the ground
Transforming our world into a winter wonderland
Contest: Jack Frost Acrostic
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
11~27~15
Shapely to coarse green stem,
sitting alone; wanting to grin.
Patiently waiting for the take,
wanting Halloween to begin.
A few more weeks left to grow,
inviting; nestled in straw.
Children soon make their choice,
with little eyes in awe.
Fields abundant in orange hue,
serenading a season of rest.
Large or small or fat or thin,
any grab will be the best.
Cold winds blow just enough
to take its nipping bite.
Scarves and hoods, snuggly warm,
fending autumn with wraps pulled tight.
Little arms try to carry
the most perfect pumpkin around.
The patch now shrinks very thin,
remnants of a once lush ground.
Copyright © 2009 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Second Place Winner ~ "Happy Halloween" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kelly Deschler
Nov. 04, 2015
The icy wind blows through
blushing our cheeks,
Eyes stinging and watering,
and mouths tinted purple.
Snow flurries whirl around us
nipping at our ears;
making our breath white and heavy.
So, we pretend to smoke.
But wide grins give away our game
With hearts purging laughter,
We look long at each other,
Eyes glinting sincerely happy sighs.
City sidewalks stretching out
Before concrete winterlands,
And you and me walking,
Holding and swinging our hands.
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
Did you even note;
an imposter is in our midst!
And our beloved Tube is the originator.
Faithless beast, merely nipping
at our consciousness for many years
and now the unsuspecting weather man
is the infected carrier, flipping forth
without a care--unconsciously,
the old ageworn and frazzled fellow
practiced through the decades, now
hallowed by the dapper dans as
respected common fare. I give you
the uncelebrated, very frequent and
Unconscious Obstinate Cliche.
No, this not a sexist accusation, boys.
The fetching weather bunnies
will not face indictment by my pen.
Though often glorified as chief
among the holders of degree
in meteorology, it is the men most prone
to say, "As we make our way into...."
the weekend, or such travels
that we helpless viewers take.
But politics, not weather news,
may have the honor of origination.
Sixty years ago I first became aware
when a network commentator told us
of a president, no less,
"making his way" down the aisle
to deliver his thoughts on
the state of the union.
"And us", you say?
Well, I for one may make my way
into oblivion
with just the right amount of
claim to fame. That I (ahem)
duly noted, dedicated, scribed and launched
a new cliche upon a very
celebrated list for all of humankind.
~
Adrift upon the ocean
bob a bunch of resting birds.
What is it that they call themselves?
A flock or school or herd?
Could it be this feathered colony
is a band or horde at best
No screeches, calls or gaggling,
they don’t brood or crowd or nest
Spread out like black freckles,
birds are shuffled by default.
Flavoring the ocean
dash of pepper to sea’s salt
Not gliding like mighty albatross
with wingspan strong and wide.
Or dancing with the currents
right by the dolphins side
Just floating in the middle
between the blue and green
Neither soaring in the heavens
or a coral dance routine
And there, what’s that beneath them,
beyond their paddling feet
Just some strange attraction?
Or friends they’re yet to greet.
A sudden splash of water!
Could it be a pod of whales?
Or the giggle of a baby seal,
nipping at their tails.
Will they look right through the jellyfish,
that flash and throb and group
to the gathering bunch of mackerel
congregating in the soup
But no, they’re not much bothered
by the party in full swing.
They just gossip amongst each other
While cleaning weathered wings
Waiting for the wind to change
On the ocean they sit tight
Regaining all that energy
needed to take flight
So what's its name, this party?
Of primp and craning necks.
In the skies they flock together
On the ocean, they’re a wreck!
Soon we were face to face
Putting our pasts behind us
Our tomorrows a different place
Growing tall like quercus
Blessed tomorrows became caressed
Like words we became a sentence
Voiced grammar so de-stressed
A new adventure soon to commence us
But isn't life a ***** nipping at our heels
You can't knock such hungered persistence
Irrespective of whomever feels
Now we're just faces in life's distance
POTD
How I wish I could have clutched
vignettes of remembrance
on this bench in a park;
the same wooden one
which cradled our afternoons,
feeding little birds
as slices of pang gripped my marrow--
The sharp sting of her farewell,
right on this spot
drowned time's kohl of fate---
that now, I hold the seat's arms limply,
if only to recall
how we kissed in the dark
exploring east, west of mouths--
my fingers messing her hair
nipping quick hours of rendezvous.
I forget not the windswept look
of her distant eyes... hours I have
delayed with my misgivings,
my absence wretchedly crossed ---
and upon my woman's leaving
I on this park every sordid night
kiss her only in my thoughts ---forgive.
Soft warm full lips sends
chills down my spine
Looking so luscious as
We sip succulent red wine
Warmth spreads like
lightning through my body
Touching and feeling oh
how I want to get naughty
Licking, kissing, biting
as I open up to you
Gliding, nipping, stroking
moaning escaped lips true
Fondling, needing, clutching
breath becomes so fast
Shuddering, gasping, pulsating
climax finally at last
("Honeybee on Apple Blossom", 2020, original pen and ink)
Nourishing Soul
Like a bee to the flower
Holding pollen and nectar
What is it we seek at play in the fields of the Lord
If not nourishment of the soul?
All the basics (food, water, sex and shelter)
Being just that,
The basis for what the soul actually incarnates for;
Knowledge, wisdom, truth, beauty, love and music!
And so the eternal Way
Continually arises as a forking path
Between true and false, good and evil, love and fear
Each step a test of our discernment and resolution.
The soul by nature is just and true
And yet, like a clear mountain spring
Subject to contamination as the influences of this life,
This world, leave a mark; in short the karmic debts we accrue.
And so comes the practical necessity of purifying,
Nipping the inevitable distortion and perversion in the bud,
The stains – pure and impure - that remain,
From each choice and challenge met.
The king of purifiers of course being forgiveness
Based in simple gratitude for the simple fact of simply being
Alive and able to learn, grow and forgive anew
Traveling the open path in confidence with an open mind.
Thus we gain the keys to the High-way, hidden in our pocket all along,
The kingdom, ever-present Here and Now,
To walk alert, head up, eyes and heart wide open - to it all,
Knowing with resolution and discernment we’ll be just fine.
(12/26/25)