Best Recline Poems

Dream-worker 
delves deeply into my dream;

vibrations fondle anticipation
foreplay wakes wide-eyed 
swells of liquid libido quake the rendezvous edge -
a primordial being in his prime
a masculine...

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Around midnight, in the library I found myself drawn,
to these shelves haunted still by Poe, Stevenson and King,
as a rare, late October storm brews beyond...

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Saturated by solitude,
I breathe the scent of wild flowers.
Nearby a lake, I recline against a willow.
The lake mirrors wisps of twilight’s clouds above.
A lilac trail...

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I do not want to die
Like each virgin you bed
When you have ravished her
It's off with pretty head

I do not want to die
But…Oh to be...

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Sighing softly, a gentle breeze,
dances amid my clothes line.
Sweet the scent, refreshing tease,
as sheets, its hug entwines.
This night, on Spring, I shall recline.


2/8/12

For the contest:...

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Stood I there, that last day,
On an iron bridge...
An aqueduct by design,
Where, looking dreamily out over
The Ernes Lower Lough,
My compressed shadow 
Momentarily paused -
To contently...

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He told me to write a poem
About beauty, wind blowing
Hair tossing , dream making stunning
Gorgeousness of living
Beauty addicts and blind ambitions
Movie stars and historical happenings
Formal...

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Passions Heat

In summer time 
yes my sweet
When I’m with you 
You won’t be blue
cos when we meet
the spark will flow
tween toe and toe 
consuming heat
gently...

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You've visited me after a long time: Remember; once, I was brimming with might? Named babbling brook, revered as a singing deity, how blissful was...

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In winter’s white, as angels cry
for early spring to warm the wind,
to bring to life with gentle sigh,
in love, the bitter frost has thinned.

For early...

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I'm a park bench put here for people's well being.               ...

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Memories come alive of childhood days gone past
When at day’s end I’d lie in bed, at last
The house was quiet on those moonlit nights
We’d gaze...

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I withdraw into the dome of only me
Floating unaware through your reality.
Warm and cozy in my zombie state
To the one in the glass I won't...

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EXCHANGING DREAMS




two old men
with retirement’s eyes
exchange dreams
on a bench,
growing tendrils of old age…
as night becomes dim

they recline
like curled sleeves wrinkling,
memories
recycled
on phonograph's needling tunes
crossing young regions


poetic...

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Some say tomorrow promises not jubilation but annihilation.                 ...

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