Best Petite Poems
Petite she may be, but her words say otherwise
Extremely intelligent, simply read through her writes
Themes of mix, appropriates my eyes
Inner thoughts of her peripheral, leaves me to sigh
Testament to her faith
Everlasting, it's in her eyes
Poetry plays a part, massively in her life
Outwardly there's that smile, wonderfully rife
Emitting, oozing warmth, infectious she be
Thermal is her heart, fusing you and me
Exceptional she, and she will become
She being the Petite Poetess
Simply, she's the one.
On a cobblestone path,
All the remnants of a love that was
Like outstretched arms
Trees dance in the wind
The branches needlessly trying to
Grasp the petite memories
Holding them tight, refusing to let go
As the last drops of wine slip from
Your glass into your mouth
Announcing the final beat of a love that was
I love your naked body
A canvas for my claws
In the midst of pain and pleasure
Your bound to do it all
From the ripping of the flesh, La petite mort
You feel the little death
Only one rose knows your name
But the thorns are why you came.
There once was a girl petite
Who wasn't all that sweet
But was the one
That everyone
Simply just HAD to meet
.
Modestly
the indulger of write
inch by inch
with charge
augments her veneer
"supple
taut
pink pixie
flesh
hern eyne
taunting me emerald
with long cinnamon wavy tresses"
Upon the table
his pen and slip
conditionally reposed
Upon the bed
her petite impression
his galvanizing
kiss
petite hands
molding my heart like clay
motherhood
I have a disability I’ve had my whole life long.
My memory disappears whenever things go wrong,
My first memory was wondering where and who on earth was I.
And who were all the people that I did espy,
When we moved to our first house, it struck me yet again.
Thank goodness my brother came along on his bike just then.
My mother came outside, and looked familiar so I followed her within.
I actually thought that I was normal, when I was very small.
They took my hand when I went out, so it mattered not at all.
Ingrained habits kept me in the yard, with my friends, and at their knee.
I was such a quiet thoughtful child, they were happy to let me be.
Who am I and where am I, became my quiet refrain.
But I didn’t worry because they always there to call my name.
My parents never caught on, no not once, never at all…
I actually acted like everyone else when I was very small.
I looked normal to others so alone I had to carry on.
Then I went to ballet class, I studied so very hard… for oh so long.
The day of the recital I lost it all in front all where I wanted to belong.
My mother thought it stage fright, and finally took me from the throng.
What good was it doing, she thought, if I did not want to learn the dance?
And then I realized to live my life I’d have to work hard for every chance.
And if I had an argument with a friend, it was over oh so fast.
For the stress made me forget and my life became recast.
So if they didn’t come around for a while I didn’t really care.
Because I would soon forget they had ever even been there.
Eventually they would come back and my memory would come back.
Then off we’d go to play again as I studied how to avoid another attack.
When asked what I wanted to play, I’d smile at them you see…
And they’d be happy as I said, “whatever you want is ok with me.”
But do not think to pity me for my stubbornness is truly limitless.
After 12 and ½ years in college… I became for 30 years, a true Chemist.
I raised a son and held my own in a world that couldn’t understand me.
But with all those bouts of confusion the world still became my cup of tea.
Quiet, stubborn, hiding my pain, and with lots of daily notes…
Lots of time spent studying ways around my problems, I would devote…
My family had no pity, just the charge to get out there with mankind.
And here I am successful at 58, now with poetry on my mind.
Unfettered she arose my consciousness
Desirable alluring petal
Lone rose from the dirt pile
Beautiful African luscious eve
Killing me with each sway
Swooning me with every pose.
I desired her.
The prize whom all men kill and war for.
My pricey win.
The animal in me yearned,
Hence, i went chasing and I got lucky
Fortunate Adonis in heat.
My presence rooted her to the spot,
I led her up the stairs with my eyes
we made contact and we kissed.
Deeply but briefly.
We soared into a rapture of bliss and heaven.
I was trapped in rigmarole of perpetual pleasures.
Then she pushed back but clung to me
Exhilarated, she gasped in torrents.
She was red, I was hot
Boomeranged Frisbee, she fell back
And I locked her in my embrace
Stroking and caressing while she moaned and groaned.
Her hips parted, and my quest started
She surrendered her fruit for the plucking,
She deemed me worthy
With each thrust, renewed trust.
I filled her with that which she knew not
I filled her with rich warmth from within me.
And she came alive.
And we both reveled for we were full.
My unfettered endowed petite
And she stared into my eyes, into my soul,
And we shared an understanding,
Contentment.
Flustered alike, we lay in a heap
And she whispered feebly,
‘thank you’.
For it could be seen
Someone else, other than me
I would choose a geisha girl
Walk on wooden shoe
In my small, petite like steps
Artist of the unseen world
Everence, most evenness scenes ever.
The cremated remains last.
Can I return it for a difference?
Zealous, jealous, and conscientious,
emanated outward, giggles and grins.
Can I re-petite ****?
Straight to the cares of sweetest pleasure,
souls flying from hence to dopamine treasure.
Honey fragrance silver sensation well,
weaken consciousness loss of mind to tell.
Post inferior nervous spasm fainting episode,
the cultural link between coitus and death.
Anger management at the intimate edge,
Champagne sipping la petite mort alleged.
Glorious salvation by Shakespeare intentions,
the laughing crowd entertained by symbolic intervention.
“For she plunges a phallic object into her sheath’’,
divine spending in euphoric wishing death.
The force like flow in quick gentle mercy know
all in love pleasing wilt ravish in great joy.
Involutionary tension to reactive kundalini,
chakras natural image correspondence Genie.
Come and sit,
ma petite kit
come, sip
Sip a small bit.
I'll sing you a song,
here's my love
come, purr..
let me curl
your fur,
as you sleep
soft like sheep,
I silently peep
as I promise to keep
dear,
you safe and sound here.
12-9-19
Yalto Poems Only Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
https://www.howmanysyllables.com
Petite Poetry
The haiku nature floating through it-
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 14, 2010
Poetic form: Monuku
Red and blue
In the sun;
On an island
Near the coast-
Strange and
Bizarre flower,
With blissful scent,
Feverishly spent!
Heart of the morning,
And the color-
Of the sunset,
On skies of blue.
My little flower,
So savagely wild!
We both got drunk,
in briefness of
wine of pleasure...
We die for an instant
in the succinct eternity
of Petite Mort.... !