Best Pistil Poems
Come gently like a winding trellis
stroking my shape as you fondle
my vulnerability, and tease,
tease curves of my spine with whispers
to unleash what is half-awake in my eyes,
draping my flesh with the scent
of this moistened night…
And I am lost among fibrous roots
clinging to a warm pistil
like a raging dart,a moonlit flame.
Your bended arms warmly mount
my transparent skin,
only to hold back as the dizzy air
blows these ruffled tresses
smelling of earth and jasmine...
You gaze at the cleavage
of an open mouth, wandering
on a tight pulse between
the trellis of desire...how in this
hungry glow, I cannot explain why
your irises slay me bare;
that on a sweltering duskfall
so mysteriously anonymous,
I seem to ask you to come gently
and touch my waiting steam.
Contest of Lewis Raynes That Is Sexy
6/22/2016
A Matt Calliri Contest: Are You A Mouse or A Mountain
18 June 24
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Comes the morning fog
sprawling on my territory where northern glens dry from rotten stubble and mess of debris... damp damp.
Above, waterfalls tumble with litter,
splinters of broken glass flushing
ashed moisture 'round lakes: how truant seasons' passages rip this my velvety robe...
I recoil to whisper Am I growing older than I should?
Along my tired arms, maples which once stood guard now unbutton pistil and stamen of flowers, pillaged by unwanted ravens.
Sunray breaks... these dim eyes watch how moss of layered mist covers my earthen soil wasted along paths of disheveled rocks.
Under my keep,
wrestling with predators bear wounds, scars this
body tries to heal.
My voice trembles to speak, Men-holes, do you come from a heritage of thieves, of beasts?
No one answers : like so, I trace my own life-stretch , reflecting on the snuff of earth's glory.
Down my mottled chest, I fondle the awakening of infant grass --all plump and fertile --
A promise within the cavity of time...that an intercepted light of next interlude could rise,
where man and my nature- self greet,
not until not until...
Do raindrops know
when dandelions cry
flowing flaxen feelings
like honeysuckle hues
cuddling a marigold morning
Will weeping willows wake
parched parades of poppies
silted by searing seasons
stigmas of seedless seduction
shadowed by stormy sunsets
Can rainbows of renaissance
twist tulip tongues
so stamens of wilted whispers
oscillate osmotic overtures
of pistil pardon
Do thundering trumpets
mourn misty meadows
when dandelions cry
tides of tawny tears
widowed in floating fields of life
The pistil and the stamen
stood upright and waiting
for the bee.
Honey, can you pollinate me?
The wisteria pods burst
on the cicada's feet
as off it flew
to more vines so sweet.
Every day
within the play
of insect and plant,
sex provides the wonder
of evolution's dance.
Quote: Both the enchantress and the siren charmer
are part of the same one.
Fired red wings on the breath of a dawning
he lifts and soars towards life, a breath away
from sunrise, chittering before he takes swing
this cardinal of beauty knows how to sing
she a rose in a luscious garden of pure love
a blush of pink dotted with pistil and grace
a daylight sea of beauty sent from above
daybreak breaks and a flower opens her face
both the cardinal and the rose are essential
to our well being we need their reverence.
He a sign of longevity so reverential,
she a sign of love and courage in her essence
we find the echantress in all of our selves
in his, we find a siren charmer who delves.
Still Here
You think I’m gone, that I left without a goodbye.
You don’t see me in your mirror, but I’m here.
You don’t hear me in the wind, but it echoes my tone.
You don’t see my eyes in the blossoms, but they’re there.
You don’t see my smile in the sun, but it’s there.
Or maybe you do.
Maybe you see my face behind you in the glass.
Maybe you hear my laugh in the breeze.
Maybe you admire the blooms, seeing my iris in the pistil or petals.
Maybe you look up at the sun without glasses to remember the glow of my joy.
Maybe you’ve always seen me in these things.
Maybe it hurts to look.
Maybe you’d rather break the glass, destroy the reflection.
Maybe you stay inside so the gale can’t send you my voice.
Maybe you strip the flowers’ roots because the buds mock the color you loved so.
Maybe you cover up so the warmth sun can’t remind you of all the times I smiled your way.
But I’m still here.
"WHITE LILY"
When the first
snow-white lily
sprouted from drops of milk
spilled from Hera’s breast
and on her lap sweet Hurcules
rested, baby feather fingers touching
she smiled a surrogate mother’s
fantasy, to make time stop still
reached her hands to
touch the Heavens
creating something of her own
this not from her body torn
her very own Celestial Galaxy
the Milky Way was born
White Lily
lilium
leirion
lilium
leirion
golden ochre anther
Venus rose from
sea of foam
envious with eyes of green
marred it’s beauty
with male pistil
ardent jealousy
White Lily
I am the Rose of Sharon,
Lily of the Valley
Sings the Song of Solomon
Flowers of the Field
White Lily
Springtime Nazareth
blessed Time of Flowers
Our Lady and Our Lord’s
Holy Annunciation
Gabriel fresh from Heaven’s Gate
white petals at his feet
Shining Light Illuminates
Announcement Incarnate
White Lily
Black Night of the Soul
Garden of Gethsemane
not hiding from His enemies
He looks upon their
clean beauty as He prays,
speaking secrets to their stamens
He smiles at their response
3 petals each flower displays.
White Lily
Sacred blood spilt on soil
The water from His side
drink His tears filled with blood
His white robed
Apostles of Hope turn to HIS Light
now they're sanctified
blooming from His Spirit
death denied eternally
WHITE LILIES
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9JIDoEC2pUU
1 John 5 (NIV)
we came together in a passionate embrace
as the plasma flowed and blood raced
eyes locked like an eagle on its prey
another victim of love swooped and taken away
the instinctive beckoning of raw sexual pleasure
the involuntary natural reflex of which there is no measure
we lock lips like bulls lock horns
the product of sexual tension re-born
as i moved from her lips to her breast
the journey from her cheek to her neck i caressed
i can feel the throb of her heart
as her legs spread wider and wider apart
as i suckle on her nipple my hand slid under her knit
gently sliding my finger across the curvature of her clit
a heated sexual creature untamed
she purrs in my ear like lioness a flamed
the pheromone scent of sexual bliss like opium to the brain
the intoxicant of a sedative sexually seducing the sane
the longing for the tongue to flicker the flower and taste its sweetness
is the yearning to remove the chastity belt and reveal its weakness
as i draw my tongue near the center of her hips
she trembles with delight knowing the full journey of my lips
as i invoke her senses and apply my tongue to her slit
her eyes are glazed over no more but awakened to the orgasmic potential of her clit.
the joust of my tongue against the bloom of her pistil
she quivers and shakes as i blow raspberry like whistles
the momentary moans the holding of her breath
defines the orgasmic ejection, be forced out in jet
the sweet liquid of pleasure successive and wet
she closes her legs and turns to the side
still trembling with satisfaction inside
she lays on her pillow and closes her eyes
and that is the measure of sexual reprise
"Immaculate"
I’d like to write something
beautiful for once,
divinely dripping with honey
and milk that washes white
like stamen juice over the uncut,
the bees all come to drink
the heady dew,
stroking their black down
over dusky aubergine-eyed
blue forget-me-knots,
the nots touched by thorns
those slippery rosary beads
coddled warm between the hidden
breasts of petulant nuns
bending in their black habits
unfettered roses
pistils sticky with stigma
covertly kneeling before their
uncovered dreams
of nakedness blanketed
in the sun's light
warm and flaming
as a forbidden kiss
plucked passionately
immaculate
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
pistil.
stigma.
I have a thing for an alluring beauty,
Such a marvelous view to pursue,
I tend to worship in appreciation,
And today I will come beneath you,
In desire of your sincerity, I insist,
Tonight I will color your world beautifully blue.
Mention me in your prayers,
Say something unscripted,
For I have a mind lost in lust,
Will you mend my faith tonight?
Will you blossom upon my face?
Cause today I want to bring your beauty to light.
Let me kneel and prostrate to you,
Let I, not wonder what the naysayers say,
Tonight I will worship you-
And drink from your throne,
I will drop my face in it-
As I proceed to satisfy my need.
Let me bequeath my flavor upon you,
And taste your heavenly nectar,
As I stick my tongue in your petal,
Moistening your pink pistil -
Oh today I will reveal my weakness,
And lick your ovary like a southern salamander.
1
I say I'm a designer of systems, plans
Man's
Parts that stand together, set in place to serve
Trees and planets, too, which are unplanned by us
The observant, wise man
Tries to understand
Name the parts, pistil and stamen
Rocks, eskars
Elements.
Winter is shuddering to an end, mud roads
Cardinal pairs
Robin flocks return that will soon pair off
Buds
Soils swell
Will I live to smell it again, learn the lobelias
Understand and name the parts
It ought to be a great comfort to be so insignificant
Go among weeds, a wind
Thinking to myself
One's never alone
A dichotomous key is needed, a book of twigs and fruits
Accumulated over time and generations
Without it mine would be a blank mind
To be blank but knowledgeable
Without any machinery
In a perfect silence
That is the definition of death for which we have only to wait
But in my panic last night I thought death's inert
Grace requires consciousness
Hold on long to the senses
At least a century, maybe more
A boy hanging upside down from a fence at sunset, counting clouds
2
Now we go to our daily practice
And chosen disciplines
Sustained by the satisfactions of being good men among our fellow men
Women
Choosing to do this and not that
With the finite days allotted us that at first seemed like a lot
They're now few
But the chickadee's life to the chick and the cankerworm moth's to the
worm
Seem as long to them as ours to us
What question am I asking today
By now, past half a century, I should have chosen a discipline
And been satisfied
To be a war president one must have war
May you live in interesting times?wish or curse?
Squirrels, high in oaks,
Fiber, fat and protein in acorns
Strong runners, leapers, climbers
Should stay off the roads which some cannot avoid being where they're
born
Natural selection is occurring
Those that look for machinery in motion
Hesitate or don't as needed before crossing
Live in larger numbers than those whose modus operandi's
Guessing
The ravens eat the fur and guts of bad guesses off the roads
I impose my own small order
Having chosen mountains over plains or shore
Go to my daily discipline
And estimate the motions of the seas and stars
Measuring my satisfactions by my children's satisfactions
This is a funeral
Why don't you accept
This is a funeral
And this is the death
The candles are burning
The red curtains drawn
The oak casket glittering
Like a pistil of dawn
Nobody knew you
So why's there a wake?
Your work-life undid you
All rigid and fake
Here's how it pares down:
A brief eulogy
A shovel of gravel
And it's all done by three
Then your friends will forget you
By the light of a screen
Full of afternoon football
And unkillable dreams
Among the phantom of hillsides and trees,
She hovers quietly, fragrant as a ripened jasmine
Beneath the stark new moonlight peeping
Harsh to a disguised tryst, a forbidden desire
As her lover appears near the appointed cave--
His musky whisper gasping across the sky, hushed
To imbue love forbidden within those emerald eyes;
O perilous enough to claim her... owned by another.
Warm, warmer like one torrid August, they caress
On a night's full steam, knowing in the darkness
This rendezvous must be their last, final liaison--
For a thousand concealed ramblings spread
Around a small locale: But quivers of hunger
Render them untamed --fondling seeking waking
The openness of an ovule and bold pistil...
Till an old eagle owl shrieks while woman and man
Endure the rise of morning's call--- unbridled.
Free Verse Only- Pick a Theme Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo 6/8/2018
I want to hold the little wonder
I want to feel the little thunder
Of the strength in the pedicel
Of the union in the receptacle
Of the calm in the pistil
Of the adventure in the stamen
Of the smooth flow in the sepal
Of the endless beauty in the petal
I want to learn of the tubule wonder
I want to learn from the weak thunder
Your sons and daughters have gathered
Under the great odum tree
We have come to offer the fruits of our lips
Can you hear the rhythmic tunes of the xylophone?
Can you hear the vibrations from the flutes?
Can you hear the sounds of our melody?
Awake!
We are the children of your great heritage
We are the children of your great tribe
The tribe our ancestors gave us
The tribe that is not complete without
Its mortar and pistil
We are under the great odum tree
The tree that stands between our two tribes
The tree that gave our posterities life
Your kings are here
Your elders are here
Your children are here
Awake! And listen to our great melody.