Best Pillowed 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
Come to me when love has robbed you blind
Come to me in search of someone kind
Come to me when tears run down your face
Come to me in search of saving grace
Come to me
Come to me when life cannot fulfill
Come to me in search of that sweet thrill
Come to me when tongues are filled with lies
Come to me in search of lover's prize
Come to me
Come to me when longing breaks your soul
Come to me in search of what makes whole
Come to me when night won't yield to dawn
Come to me in search of dreams now gone
Come to me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I will not ask you where your heart has been
I will not leave you out, but welcome in
I will not close my ears to troubled sigh
I will not ask what you have done or why
Come to me
I'll give to you a welcome in my bed
I'll give you pillowed breast for weary head
I'll give to you a drink of nectar sweet
I'll give you night of love the dawn to greet
Come to me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Come to me before night bleeds to day
Come to me before you lose the way
Come to me before this love grows old
Come to me before your heart goes cold
Come to me
Eileen Manassian
'Neath nocturnal bloom
the essence of self
dwindles in a pillowed horizon
twilight dies a whisper -
your voice in my ear…
the pale goddess rises
mothering angel’s tears
tending till dawn
a moon garden vigil
bearing witness to your visit
This Medusa had no power to turn us into stone
but when she ran aground over Poseidon's throne
his anger stirred, and into the sea the crew was flung.
On a raft urgently built of salvaged timbers we clung.
A hundred and more escaped before the frigate sunk
and after four days adrift, our number had shrunk.
With naught but salted sea to sate our massive thirst
I vowed not to give in. I swore I'd not be the first
to yield to temptation and drink myself to death
though feverish from the intensity of the sun's breath.
On the eighth day, hunger turned men into savages,
feasting on flesh in a moment of rapacious ravages.
Bloated bodies bobbled like apples off Africa's coast.
I contemplated my fate to become what I dreaded most-
being tossed off the raft, into a shark's clamping jaws.
To survive, no one had agreed to abide by man's laws.
I'll not forget the look of fear in the eyes of others,
sailors who once proudly called themselves 'brothers.'
Each of us clutched and clawed for an inch of the raft.
The feeble ones cackled as though they'd gone daft.
Arms and legs entangled among the living and dead,
as an alabaster corpse pillowed a sun-blistered head.
The demented swam away, flailing arms in roiling waves
until they perished in the depths of their turbid graves.
Alas the day, two weeks in, a ship sighted on the horizon.
Fifteen survivors with charred skin, lean and wizened
rescued from death's grip in a morbid human experience.
Men who'd given up on hoping for a timely deliverance,
their bodies emaciated, and their clothing, threadbare,
destined to relive the catastrophe in gruesome nightmare.
August 4th 2022
2022 Marathon mile 11 Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
NOTE: In June 1816, the French frigate Medusa, ran aground off the coast of Senegal. Because of a shortage of lifeboats, some 150 survivors embarked on a raft and were decimated by starvation during a 13-day ordeal, which descended into murder and cannibalism. Only a handful remained when they were rescued at sea.
~
“Pristine your pose, exposed artistic allure”
Canvas on easel waits patiently,
naked in formless thought
Inviting rapture’s brush strokes
“White on white destined pleadings”
Visions engulf watercolor yearnings
blending passion’s tints…
Seductive bristled breaths fall
“Soft curves fill unframed desires”
Orchid skin seeps semi-gloss wishes,
hues of fire fed glazing
Smooth along tender tan lines
“Valleys of bliss penetrate oiled needs”
Mahogany eyes captivate,
portals shimmering silently,
beckoning in secretive glances
“Seductive palettes draw on my sight”
Crimson lips in a whimpered pout,
satin pillowed arching designs
whisper me my dreams
“Their touch breaks my will”
As I paint you, I linger in lust
Overwhelmed by your beauty,
falling helplessly into this masterpiece
“And we become one via art”
Saturated in drop cloth drippings,
sighs of fevered temptations rise
releasing abstract movements
“Acrylic serenity, vibrant achings”
Melting in chromatic motion,
collapsing among over-sprayed delirium,
embracing flowing iridescent endings
“Lost forever in a portrait of love”
https://soundcloud.com/kentucky-gal/2015-01-22-13-25-41722a
~Your dreams so tenderly wrapped in satin pleasures 'neath pillowed head.
As loves velvet touch so warmly embrace under downy covers in your bed.
Deep kisses in the darkest of night you nuzzle jasmine scent in auburn hair.
Romantic thoughts caressing delicately milky sweet softness of skin so fair.
So moist your honeyed lips like morning dew on the rosebud in bloom.
Whilst you dream of soft brown eyes beckoning to stay in your hearts room.
Heavenly dreams that take you to an angels loving arms tonight.
Where she takes you to her breasts so warm,so tenderly in plain sight.
In heavenly dreams know you are my every desire my sweet addiction my need.
Where two lovers embrace in satin pleasures and love plants it's seed. ~
**From the archives of my heart.Figured I would post something a lil' more happier...lol.
I want to skinny dip in pools of your eyes
And dry myself on lashes bordering there
I want to slide on lush plush of your lips
Then fall asleep on pillowed warmth of cheek
I want to reach the hollow of your chest
And camp above the rumbling of your heart
I want to flirt with fingers of your hand
Then cloistered be, wrapped safe inside your palm
I want to enter world of waiting mouth
Explore and ride the wet waves of your tongue
I want to dance along what makes you man
And tease and please and swirl around and round
I want to course through rapids of your veins
And then set fire to sanctum of your heart
I want to glide and dip in every breath
And sail the glorious sea of dreams and thoughts
I want all this and then I want much more,
For, darling, you're the one whom I adore
Eileen Manassian
Lift your eyes and gaze upon this flower
who worships you with her heart on display
A bud on trellis, twined in your tower
now opens her fragile bloom for you today
If you would pluck me from my vine tonight
it would bring blush to petals crimson red
What joy if my fragrance, in pale moonlight
gives cause for you to place me on your bed
Tis there I shall wither until my death
content to die pillowed so near to you
Lingering in desire of your next breath
more thirsty am I for love than for dew
Dream of the flower who for love has died
Life surrendered for a night at your side
Dawn's new light
bursts forth from pillowed dreams
in bubbling chatter of birds and bees
breezing by morning glories in praise of first sky.
As paling stars fall silent in sleep beyond a darkened moon,
I admire the miraculous birth of new day perfected by God's hands.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 12/17/14
for Nette Onclaud's Enchantment Through a Prism Contest,
Title #1
When soft colors of
the amethyst twilight,
dance amongst shadows~
swirling through forlorn forests,
I count sparkling syllables of
pirouetting peridots,
looking for metered refrains
from the emerald empyrean,
while wondering,
what am I but a
speck of astral dust;
garnet silhouette of
desert orchid dusk,
hanging on thin threads
of lilac-laced lines,
seeking sanguine
streaks between
black and white realms,
composed with rhythmic reasons,
that reveal pristine pathways
to still wander,
like a soulful sojourner,
sleepwalking through pilgrims
perfumed with peace,
to attain eternal nirvana,
there, I’ll no longer
be a wingless bird,
but will soar like a golden eagle,
feathered in fragranced faith,
and porcelain-tailed promises.
And as the pink pearl moon
unveils its hyacinth halo,
I twirl to the tamarind tenors
of twinkling topaz,
that fall upon healing hills
thriving with buttercup bliss,
below funeral fogs,
where melanin phases of faces
lurk in sweltering silence,
stimulating my quill to release
pastel pigments of contentment,
like glowing galaxies of gratitude.
Yet, I am an unfinished poem,
completely incomplete,
comfortably rhyme-less,
misplaced in a melancholic
meadow of magnolia metaphors,
too vague for the eye
that sees not beyond
my sun-kissed skin.
While from ethereal verses,
scattered across
seraphic spheres, I strive,
wishing that phrases I weave
across midnight skies,
would calm the soundless storms
beneath lunar-pillowed oceans,
as this glistening ink on
the ceremonial canvas
of life and beyond,
longs to be the epitaph
that immortalizes my voice
amidst ashes and stones,
skeletons and bones,
there I’ll slumber with
light still flowing
through poetic veins,
amidst the
piercing pandemonium
and turmeric tranquility;
yin and yang of existence,
I am both, earth and water;
aura of intuitive seas~
and cathartic currents
mirroring the crestfallen crescent,
soaked in infinite luminescence
from aesthetic lanterns.
I write on my pets, most often my cats.
I think I may even have written on rats.
I write on God’s gifts that in nature are found.
I write on things based on sight, smell, and sound.
I write on great landscapes, on seascapes and sky,
especially on sunsets that dazzle the eye.
I write on almost everything that I know of.
I think in particular, I write on love.
I write on romance, some made-up stuff too;
I write on things mostly that I think are true.
I write on emotions, on evil and hate.
I write on TV shows and food that I ate!
I write on opinions I’ve formed through my life,
my joys and my trials (like being a wife).
I write on my feelings and sometimes on grief
and often I write on how life is too brief.
I write on my friendships, my children and kin.
I write on some topics again and again!
In conclusion, on paper I write while in bed
scribbling thoughts coming to my pillowed head.
I need your ultra desperation
your ultra conflagration of love making exhilaration,
I want your ultra shout and pout
give me your slap attack
the amber of your abuse, the saffron of your emotions,
I crave the playful plenitude of your ultra uppidy attitude,
you let me experience hyperventilation at your disappearance
then inflation of euphoria in my Heart's utopia by your reappearance,
I want to know your ultra sadness
that song you share with the twilight of despair,
your ultra madness, your vortex of female complex,
I desire your hot and haunted psychology
your genius of ultra ingenuity, the pulp of your passion,
sometimes you love me most when you hurt me
a pathology of love cut sympathy that I can handle best,
earning the ultra soft surface of your pillowed chest
where I can rest the weight of iron soul, and slumber at your behest,
I want the whip of your hips and the sip of your lips,
I want the pleasure plethora of your ultra vulva
to access the pagoda of your sexual yoga
to concoct in you the froth of organic soda,
I want your Gospels and Revelations
the Path and the Wrath, your cross of ultra conquest
the morning of your ultimate ascendance
the midnight of your ravishing bite
the bounty of your breast and the burn of your brimstone
give me the lyric of your ultra breath,
your ultra love keeps me alive!
J.A.B.
That was the summer...
Of watermelon fields, and hot, humid days
Of suntanned traces, and mosquito-bit faces
When the purpose of knees
Was to be skinned
Of running down a country road
Bare feet on hot asphalt
Criss-crossing across an open field
Helping ourselves
To thick pink crimson chunks
That melted cool on sun-parched tongues
Dribbling from chins
Leaving the best part
The black bullet seeds
To be spit out in rapid fire
Against the wind
Against the dusty ground
Against each other
And when the ammunition was spent
A pillowed head, among the vines
To dream on clouds that whispered by
In the blue afternoon sky
That watermelon summer
___________________________________________________________
For Skat's Contest: Summer
In the wasteland wilderness of disappointed love
I find you
Haggard and famished
Ravaged by the blazing sun
I find you
Spent and on the verge of death
I find you
I kneel beside your still form
I wet your parched lips with my tongue of truth
Your eyes flicker open
And I see the fight for life dawn
With my hand behind your neck
I gently lift your face to my breasts of nourishment
Weakly, you start to feed on my love’s sustenance
I speak softly to you, words of hope and courage
Slowly, some strength returns to your frame
Knowing the need for solid food to survive
I lay open to you the scrumptious feast of my body
A rich faire of succulent meat in abundance
More than enough to bring life back to your wasting limbs
I call you to eat...
In a frenzied need for survival you devour
Tearing into flesh, you satiate your starved body
You feed, you feed, you feed
Engorging yourself on my love
Insatiable, unstoppable, indefatigable
You feed the demon of your hunger
The memory of your near death fuels the frenzy
There is no pause in your love feast
I give, I give, I give
Still in the onslaught of your primal savagery
Knowing this ravaging repast
Will bring life to your bones
I give
Until you finally lick your fingers and lips
Satisfied
The cool of the night approaches
I languidly make you drink from my fountain
the frenzy replaced by fantasy
the fervor for survival by dessert of desire
Refreshment for the journey head
I let you regain your strength
As you then slumber on my pillowed breast
Your last night in the wilderness of disappointed love
Reaches an end with the dawn of a new day
As I hold your hand and lead you away
Out of the wilderness
and into verdant oasis
Of my love
Eileen Manassian
Lavish locks sprawl pillowed in peace this morn.
Gently whiskered cheeks hint of last night's lipstick
Tensions banished blue grassy fiddling lingers
Let's take it easy
I'll make the omelets
while you get a shower, dear.
Oh? You'd rather play some more?
Alright, eats postponed.
Pounding rhythms drumming heartbeats
Satiation lullaby.
In stillness your breath meanders its way
through the vast concert hall of my naked
vulnerability cooing minor
keyed assurances of something finer.
Rifts while integral to the theme render
our phrasing discordant at times yet
your hard earned skill in handling your fender
is spawning a wisdom I don't quite get
but it soothes and smooths, warms and relaxes
us both and though still stressed out by taxes
and injustice, fear and idiocy
frustrations from others unable to see
we remember our gift of harmony
and sing our twin souls free of enmity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three forms used to construct this poem are Sapphic Stanza, Sedoka, and Sonnet.