Best Perspired Poems
It’s hard to keep on writing
when you know your words
never reach quite deep enough—
fail again to plumb prosaic depths
and render speechless those of
greater wit and skill.
But now and then I’ve managed,
when struck with spasms of lucidity,
to write of something tiresome
as if it were brand new, and perspired,
when each word would surrender,
finally, chiseled as if from stone.
All the chosen words, their meter,
form and rhyme in tight procession,
longing merely for convergent glow,
and not to come to rest upon a shelf, to
gather dust and fail to see the light again,
when you’ve written your last word.
Walking past the local used book store,
you might see a box outside marked
All These Books For Free. Reach inside and
take one home and there reflect upon
the author’s soul and listen for a distant voice,
now stilled—the voice just might be mine.
Categories:
perspired, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Surrounded by various profession
Business, medicine, soldiership and education
It's heaven-sent and planned for Him to labour
To work manually with strength and effort
True hardships; entails a great man of honor
He picked up woods and tools to craft
From small drawers and tables to houses that will last
An impression of humility and expression of equality
Though He is reverence; a Saviour from heaven
Joseph was the adoptive father
Where His skill of carpentry originated
He worked night and day; perspired with pain
He asked of no demand and with no complain
The name is Jesus born in Betlehem
The only begotten son of our Father in heaven
He could have worked in another occupation
But chose to make a living from down-below
Carpenters make
Carpenters create
They take the common and make it something to consider
Equipped with right materials they bind things altogether
The reason-being, for us to know He's a builder
Don't you know that we're under construction?
Whenever our hearts broken and the world is all we know
When we pray and call, Jesus is at work
To fix us and forgive; improving mind and soul
No work is greater if hardwork is shared
Truly, Jesus had proven that a carpenter's noble
To help us build our dreams and make the world stronger
"In Him, all things hold together"'.
Categories:
perspired, career, christian, creation, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
There aren’t too many jobs that kids can do
when they are in their pre-teen years, but we
knew of a place to work where berries grew.
To pick them was a job of misery.
In June, my siblings and I went each day;
into a field with hats and pails we’d go!
On hands and knees, through dirt we’d crawl our way
while picking berries up and down each row.
I still recall the rock ‘n roll we played -
our only pleasure as we all perspired
in Iowa’s damp heat, away from shade.
When we were through at last, we felt so tired.
No smaller pay have I since ever got.
But how I loved the treats that money bought!
Categories:
perspired, jobs,
Form:
Sonnet
Like morning light break forth of eastern skies
And astound with beauty the waking eyes
So did my heart before you rose to praise
A seraph in the nectar of flesh, May's
Brightest bloom in the garden of gladness
The purest form of earth's bare loveliness.
To you, O joy, O let me sing
Let me tell of love first coming.
Cho.
Awake the woodland choir for my song
Awake the primal hour of spring's soft throng
Awake the lark not yet on wing
Awake the world, an anthem bring
Of praise, of praise to beauty, praise
To the sweet rainbow of our days
Sweet fragments make the rainbow bloom aloft
Light splintered is yet in beauty so soft
And whole, the healing balm of my parched soul
Each little wonder a stair a bright stair
A garden of glory on heaven's scroll
I climb to suck the breast of worship here
I seek your worth and find God there
Uplifting me from mortal care
Inside the tabernacle of the soul
Wild and dusty, the dry harmattans roll
And every tender tree gasping for rain
Beheld sapphire arid sky and pray in vain
The pearly cumulus would sable turn
Where on the eye pivots the graceful tern
And then so suddenly you came
The phoenix of another name
Too deaf the deft pianist fingers toll
His litany your virtue to extol
You the image's bone transformed, transcend
All that desire loves and love declares right
Eden's broken wings yet make praise ascend
As prayers in the fluid light, a flight
Of rapture, leaving silent stars
And earth's tumult to jealous wars
Nothing but you, and you alone exist
O sacred symphony of heaven's bliss
And all earth shambles fore you fall again
To rise in your glory a better tale
The joy of beggining the end of pain
Lighthouse eternal, love that cannot fail
Sweet still the night aglow parades
Yet star like flowers morning fades
Morning melted into mist, grass perspired
In the cool, leaves transpired droplets of bliss
The rainbow my thoughts like heaven attired
Beauty its providence hasten to kiss
Time had divinity at its leafed door
And seas and rivers in long triumph roar
The rhythm of earth so to begin
To break the carnal rule of sin.
Categories:
perspired, happiness, hope, loveme, beauty,
Form:
Ode
Winter's Perfect Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin petals excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
Names loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Good night Soupers
Categories:
perspired, good night, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Winter’s Passion’d Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin skin excites at the touch, shivering
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Frost coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching delicate fingers, soothing touches
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sweet syrup yearnings
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
My name, loudly sung, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s passione’d heat”
Good night soupers.
Categories:
perspired, love, sensual, winter,
Form:
Free verse
The Soup kitchen's queue are in line .
The economy , banjaxed and dyin' .
When Lehmans went bust
The bankers just cussed
So now , " Buddy who can spare a dime " ?.
I called up my banker , by chance .
With an invite to the " Poor Peoples " dance .
He came dressed in rags
With two plastic bags
And the ass missing , from his old pants .
No Ferraris or Mercs to be seen .
For between us , we hadn't a bean .
The soup it was cold
And the bread , it had mould
And Seamus the Chef , was a " Queen " .
The dessert trolly started to shake .
Baked Alaskas were fried like a steak .
Amid all the wailin'
In strolled Sarah Palin
" Vote me in and I'll give you a break " .
I awoke in a lather of sweat
At the characters I had just met .
With a sad sorry weep
I went straight to sleep.
"Snore it off , Seán , that's as good as 'twill get .
Perspired by Carolyn's , Limerick contest ....
Categories:
perspired, funny
Form:
Limerick
Do you see your King?
perspired
breathing
musk in your arms
Come my Queen
stirred
Mocha
flower of desire
Come
cocooned in silk
morning star
your skin on my sheets
Enter my Queen
we are
the most
loving of lovers
Come
dressed in
red, gold
and green
Your body
only for
the hands
of your King
My Queen
skin dark
so beautiful
it gleams
My Queen
soul dancing
my goddess
my lotus
My love
my soul
come to me
from the Nile
The water
is as deep
as my
desire for you...
Categories:
perspired, black african american, desire,
Form:
Free verse
Do you see your King?
perspired
breathing
Musk in your arms..
Come my Queen
stirred
mocha
flower of desire..
Come
cocooned in silk
morning star
your skin on my sheets...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Categories:
perspired, desire, love, lust,
Form:
Free verse
Perhaps we have loved before
in the Lupanar of Pompei
goddess of Priapus
the overseer
of the fertile garden
commanded me.
We perspired upon pillows
stuffed with reeds
feathers and straw
most unwitting lady
whispered to me
"You will be Priapus!"
Content within you
likeness of dedicated fruit
made love into real fruit
worn lascivious acts
woman of well-borne grapes
dark skinned lady enraged with lust.
Stars may rise and set
but the light within us has set
night becomes one long dream
I now desire for 1000 more kisses
dark goddess of Priapus
from where Romulus and Remus
suckled the milk of the she-wolf...
Categories:
perspired, beauty, desire, love, muse,
Form:
Free verse
A TAXPAYER SPEAKS
Years ago when filing tax forms reared its proliferating death’s head
I cursed, perspired, and thought about moving to a foreign homestead
As a low-income taxpayer I felt too unimportant to hire an accountant
So I filed and filed for years, at all times a very incompetent combatant
Penalties-plus-interest plagued me and I could not raise a skilled defense
Prolonged tax failures destroyed my sense of self-confidence
It was past time to explore options to end to all this tax nonsense
Waking to a new day I jumped out of bed at the crack of dawn
And scoured the yellow pages for a tax advocate to call upon
After detailing my sad tax history they agreed to take my case head-on
My tax life was now covered by tax experts with knowledge and brawn
My “Tax-Saviors” wasted no time plunging into battle early-on
Past tax filings were messy, chaotic, confusing and jumbled
Yet they contended, defended, persevered and never crumbled.
I have learned that tax advocate giants who defend vulnerable taxpayers
Give Tax Dictators headaches for they are tougher and tenacious tax players .
A tribute is due these Tax Defenders who aid us so nobly
And recalling the moving inscription on our Statue of Liberty
(An Emma Lazarus 1883 poem composed in New York City)
My tribute follows and is submitted very humbly
(please forgive the “re-phrasing” substituted for clarity):
Give us your tired, your poor, your tax-ignorant masses,
Yearning to breathe free who have no one to file their taxes
Oh, send these huddled and tortured masses,
(Who feel so inept and like derisory asses)
To Tax Saviors who lay waste to all kinds of tax matters
Rescuing taxpayers dwelling in indecision and tax-law tatters
These Tax-Saviors welcome all with an open-door policy
And any taxpayer who makes the journey
Will at last enjoy fear-free tax filing yearly.”
(However, new tax laws are being drafted by devious Tax Dictators
Who derive joy from harassing captive taxpaying participators!)
Categories:
perspired, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Silhouettes ceased the day of pain.
They stooped over twisted remains
Of burnt bodies and of charred skin
Over Grounders, arrows, knives and kin.
And tears soaked the blackened soil
As Princess searched for abandoned Royal.
And a heart beat on pounded ribs.
Her own, perspired from the orders spit
Out to do what had to be done.
To murder three hundred, to save a clan.
To murder three hundred, to save a clan.
She shuffled out into the fragrant air,
Perfumed of blood, smoke, hibiscus tears.
And onto her knees she dropped and cried
The men were not hers, yet life she'd denied.
Timidly Thought echoed 'All was Fair'
For Death was a gift, raw and rare.
Yet Heart wept Regret and Regret
For what of their Children? And the pilfered pairs?
But as Spirits of men floated away,
Unseen by the Sky Princess, victor that day,
Chanted were prayers of sacrifice and strength.
Chanted were they in the villages and tents.
Chanted were hymns of Heroes fallen.
Chanted were they in vengeance, swollen. Chanted were stories of warriors charged,
Chanted were they, with prides enlarged.
And a Heart beat on pounded ribs.
Her own, perspired from the orders spit
Out to do what had to be done.
To murder three hundred, to save a clan.
To murder three hundred, with a heart of sand.
Categories:
perspired, anxiety, conflict, courage, fire,
Form:
Narrative
Candle was center staged
A Candlelight Romance perspired
Flame lit up beautiful faces
Flame, ruthlessly pierced with rushing Nicotine
Lovers Love drowned in the Sea of Smoke
Passionate kiss became oblivious
The burnt lips cried in vain
Only Pungency of Ashes, choked fragrance of Love
So many cries, so much noise
Numb Eardrums, an agonizing mum
Estranged from Jazz, envious of Saxophone
A burning Spirit, a claustrophobic Heart, left tussling
No Mango for Tongue, it’s all bitter Booze
Trembling with Disgust and debris of abuse
No sense of direction, no sense of senses
Compassion dwindles in all Tenses
Those long Drives look real long
Like a rush in a Marathon
Windows are ruined by viscous dust
Praying Lords for a heavy Rain bust
Scent of a Woman is cringed
Manifestation of Romance winched
It’s high time to burst the bubble
Time for a Kiss beneath the blues of water
Let those wet curls smitten you
Let that touch giggle you
Drive down those tamed roads
Feel the rush inside
Stop snooping for the Rains
Take a dip into wet terrains.
Categories:
perspired, anxiety, beauty, girl, love,
Form:
Prose
Take it to heart when someone says,
" Hard work is honest living! "
My ma used to say it in a convincing voice,
when we gathered around the table
for many delicious meals;
and we couldn't start eating
before saying, " Grace "...
" My children, God gave this to us,
and must be always thankful
that He provides for us! "
" Hard work is honest living ",
I won't forget this proverb so rooted in truth...
as I go through life with each blessing;
if we forget to thank God, all our days,
we deliberately ignore the wonderful gift
given to us through His kindness!
Lift up your praying eyes, and see what's worth;
simply make that commitment!
And remember that everything we have received so far,
was the persistent prayers of a firm believer like ma!
Very few people believe in these words,
" Hard work is honest living! "
They like getting paid for something,
which was done by somebody
who had a different set of beliefs,
and that credit they didn't deserve,
because not even an ounce of sweat perspired
from their cool skin by not using their hands!
Be glad to perform your job with full honesty;
every dollar you'll earn, will make you proud!
Unfold your banner, you fearless laborer;
there's no shame in doing odd jobs:
your head must be held high and your righteous heart
must rejoice before God for your integrity!
Your children will pick up your yoke and carry on
that tradition, so that no farmer and carpenter would feel inferior;
and where would their food come from?
And how their house would be built without the strength of the builder?
Think quickly: laziness makes the idle mind depend on someone else;
look around yourself, which one prospers: the lazy one or the hard-working one?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Categories:
perspired, faith, family, inspirational, philosophy,
Form:
ABC
Georgie
His was a pudgy boyish countenance,
With rounded river eyes and an Alfalfa smile.
He wheezed like a sick tern with repeated asthma attacks,
Playing hard at the various outdoor games and chases,
Of our fleeting childhood years in the inhaling sun.
He perspired profusely in 1964 as he sat with beads of sweat which
Gathered like a water pox above his lips, all in a wheezing row.
Bespectacled Georgie was the curlicued, black-haired boy
who lived two houses up from ours; the one with the green hedge.
He wore converse sneakers, a white tee and blue denim, with
Thick black-framed glasses astride his chubby white face.
His was a temper not sought by anyone, including Elsie his mother.
Georgie was her little boy, but when angered, baseball bats went flying.
Curse words were screamed loudly with one’s birth name questioned intensely.
Stones and large rocks were heaved at innocent windows and nearby statuary.
Baseballs were hurled at the heads of other little boys, with misses near and far.
Toy darts were skipped across baking sidewalks to the bare feet of his playmates,
Producing more loud voices shrieking in pain when the darts impaled their feet.
Oranges and lemons were rabidly picked for the purpose of pummeling one’s nose;
But gentle mother Elsie loved her little Georgie, and his little blue inhaler.
Years and decades sailed by like lost boats in a starless harbor.
Little Georgie grew into a pudgy man with nothing changed except, the drugs.
Marijuana odors hovered like invisible swarms of masticating locusts,
Lurking above the silent brick houses of our street, with old Georgie lighting up.
With a pipe and a baggie in his pocket, my old friend gave up on his life.
He decided not to work, but to take aimless walks down deserted avenues;
Day after empty day he took his drifting strolls into a personal oblivion.
We subsequently lost contact in the ensuing decades, and I forgot about him.
Until recently… I found out…
Georgie’s funeral took place 25 years ago at Rose Hills Cemetery.
Rest in piece old friend, old tormentor, with your little blue inhaler.
Categories:
perspired, friendship,
Form:
Free verse