Best Slake Poems
Evergreen flavored mantras
did nothing to purge bitter bile from my lips
nor slake the smoldering thirst for a Rosary remedy.
Tick-tock petals unfurled one by one
as your poppy shed its last sepal
releasing a scarlet sigh across sunset skies
whilst I placed a tender kiss upon your twilight.
If but for your gossamer bloom in persimmon perfection,
I would not hunger for your ambrosial whispers
nor rue the earthly drought of undying nectar.
I stray, a waif lost with my armful of loss,
blind behind the tear-rusted folds
of a weeping veil’s eclipse.
My psyche a pauper
rich in the poverty of penniless promises,
empty as echoes in hollow holes
ringing with wringing reverberations.
In the grasp of atheist fingers I clasp Holy beads
tilling cries and whys.
Every tear a sorrow sown in brambles,
whose sloe fails to ripen sweet redemption
in the fertile sham and barren sand of my humanity;
crushed by the tusk of this damnable dusk.
Susan Ashley
April 13, 2020
~ First Place ~
February 5, 2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9
Sponsor: Mark Toney
~ Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Your Best Poem Ever
Sponsor: John Hamilton
~ Seventh Place ~
Premiere Contest: Crushed
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
~ First Place ~
Standard Contest: Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Categories:
slake, anger, grief, heartbreak, humanity,
Form:
Free verse
Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade
with the relish to ravish ravaging
every fiber
Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes: gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare
You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived, you leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me
And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame
~*~*~*~again~*~*~*~
Eileen Manassian
This is a repost that has over a thousand views. Just trying to remind myself of the glory days. I seem to be unable to write at the moment....and poets can be a strange lot. If you don't post...you're forgotten, at least by most. The feeding frenzy is for words..and if you're empty, you are neglected. I'm glad I have friends who visit my older works even when I'm not around. I need to cultivate this spirit in my life because I know what it's like not to be visited....
Categories:
slake, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade
with the relish to ravish ravaging
every fiber
Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes: gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare
You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me
And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame
Eileen
Categories:
slake, identity, image, passion,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
trijan refrain
The heart half full means something’s wrong -
the Spirit’s oil runs low.
When emptied, broken, we are strong
refilled, and ready so -
God’s strength can fix a heart gone dull
our selfish contents He can cull.
God’s strength restores
God’s strength restores
each day to keep our mark on full.
The heart half full means needs may go
unmet by God’s own grace.
We’re called to let our fellows know
that they can win this race.
God’s Word abounds with help each day,
it must be read to find the Way.
God’s Word abounds
God’s Word abounds
to fill the empty hearts who stray.
The heart half full calls us to prayer,
it’s time to take a break.
Engaged with work, no time to spare
another’s thirst to slake?
God’s love pours forth when we look up
and ask for wisdom in our cup.
God’s love pours forth
God’s love pours forth
enough to share, our neighbors sup.
posted September 19, 2014
**I realize this is a combination of iambic verse in tetrameter, trimeter, and dimeter but that is the requirement for a trijan refrain, a variable line length. If it does not meet the rules of your contest, I will understand.
Categories:
slake, repetition, spiritual, words,
Form:
Verse
she leans back and points bare toes at clouds
chains creak their rhythmic squeak, hypnotic loud
taken aback, her hair sails slipstream flung
downstream freedom for a moment hung
in mid-air - earth's force gives up its grip
hands sweat, hold tight, they cannot slip...
underneath, grave ground drops and falls away
above, a fraction weightless, she holds sway
swing's song suckle drugs her hungry mind
lids close, sun glows infrared behind
pushed ahead, prow barges coldest breeze -
heady heights drop back to life's sleeze- tease
whistle warns soft shots across neck's nape -
a tug towards untimely no escape
pendulum head, concave waver rocks it
self gives way to backbone's growing grit
back or forth, the dipper croons reprieves unbought
no more a cradle - ladle, once more sought
after - alter course - alter - falter, first
of all, go back, bold, and slake high spirit's thirst
looming dark dips her fears in far off stars'
molten matter - fired white hot globes unbar
eternal flames, external spin as atoms swim
in ether - her thoughts burn bright just for Him
now's the time, now's the place, blown up sky high -
now's the time to kiss the shattered sky.
5th March 2019
Aqua Marine.
"Righteousness and Peace - they have kissed each other. " ( the connection of the two will be as evident to all as is the close association of affectionate friends...) Figuratively, a kiss could represent a demonstration of respect and devotion, and often served as a token of affection.
Categories:
slake, growth, introspection, life, motivation,
Form:
Rhyme
Balaclava'd minister in a lanky limousine
Condomised personality inside a broken mask
Skewered chopsticks serve pieces of Pancolin
Toilet paper dolphins to wipe his weary ****
Ave Maria.. Amanita Muscaria
Mycaphagists and mycaphobes
Trot the nuclear globe
Shroomy hallucigens
Amanita phalloiides
Droning overhead
I am become Death..
In 1938 Hitler kissed the Pope
In 2017 we kissed goodbye to hope
That thing with feathers of Ms Dickenson
Bards and wordsmith playing monopoly
With Wisdom and Courage
Lord , help me to accept the things.
I cannot chang...
She explained to me
The chemistry in the sea
Salt and water formula enacts a mystery
Brings increase of intelligence
Divine assistance to the brain
Blessed petrichor of rain
Make my poetry the most expensive hobby
And talk the cheapest currency
How explosion can explain to me -
The chemistry of the sun..?
Thus let dreamy slake awaken with a start
And disintegrate into matters of the heart
Categories:
slake, holocaust,
Form:
Free verse
Stiff, stifling, arid air: snakes, lizards, sand,
and cactus. Scorched red rocks and baking skin.
My canteen empty in a barren land -
my romance landscape till first love walked in.
One summer evening under moon's cool beam,
the desert's xeric heat no longer cursed.
Lazing with friends. A pool... in walked my dream.
First glance: a tall, cool drink to slake all thirst.
Then as her eyes met mine, my blood ran warm.
My hand touched hers; both temp and pulse were raised.
In time, slow dancing - two bodies conform,
and with that first kiss, fulgent flames soon blazed.
The desert heat from which I'd just emerged
blithely returned, as first love's swelter surged.
Categories:
slake, first love, love, summer,
Form:
Sonnet
PASTORAL
Yes I remember when this was all fields
Patchworked across the vale to chalky down
The cornfield and the pastures and the weald
That fed the hearts and bodies of the town
Yes I recall the footpath that we took
To reach the hamlet and the blessed lake
O’er styles and hedges and the little brook
Where we would stop to give our thirst some slake
Yes I can feel the wind upon my face
That cooled our sweat as we ascend the hill
And as we climbed our minds rose up apace
Then widened loosing bonds to our free will
Yes I now hold the memory in my heart
And see the images as I near sleep
Though they are gone they still remain a part
Of my own world, reside in spirit deep
Submitted: 15 August 2019
N/A in contest: Any Poem You Want to Write 180 words or less
By Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
slake, memory, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Would I be a desert flower
To beguile your wandering eye
Where you hesitate a moment
To peruse a flower such as I.
As you so lovingly marvel
At the fragrance of my bloom
And your gentle touch lays a shiver
To put a blush upon my plume.
Would I be a mighty oak tree
Stretching tall towards the sky
To fill your heart with wonder
As you're slowly passing by
And sit with me this summer day
to pass away the hours
While you slyly press against me so
To avoid a mid-day shower.
Would I be a double rainbow
To slake and take your breath away
With my colors drab and muted
Compared to the beauty you display.
But you see in me some worthiness
Causing your heart to skip a beat
As you leap and laugh through dappled grass
With a bounteous world beneath your feet.
Would I be the sun from high above
To warm you in your stead.
But I could never bear to leave you so
When twilight sends me to my bed.
I would then take hold of life's celestial keys
And send a baffled Nature to her room
So I could be the sun in the light of day
And at night I'd be the moon.
Could I be a rainbow, sun, tree or flower?
I will now answer brash and true.
I would be all these things and many more...
Just to love and honor you.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
Categories:
slake, appreciation, love, romance,
Form:
Rhyme
My verse has been chosen as Poem of the Month at Sherborne Abbey!
The curious offerings of sacristans
Are given in obscure humility
The symbol of the cupping of the hands
Enshrines the essence of this mystery
The dawn unlocked; the turning of a key
The mystic world behind the little door
The mourning weepers, watching, silently
The quiet foot upon uneven floor
The layered shadowed centuries; the pass
Of long dead worshippers before the throne
Slow shifts of coloured pools of stains of glass
Soft drift of latticed light on pillar stone
The empty candle, thirsting for new oil
Unscrewed and filled, screwed up again and lit
The hidden corners, carved by masons’ toil
In which a wary flickered flame may flit
The covering, uncovering; each fold
Of linen and of altar cloth an art
Within the starch of white, on marble cold
The space to hold His living, beating heart
Here, understated wafers wait in line
For blessing, as an unblessed congregation
Here silver, water, light, and red wine shine
Anticipating sacred consecration
Here eye, and hand, and mind, seek symmetry
In objects placed, in psychic ebbs and flows
Seek that perfection only God can see
In right angle and scented mystic rose
When all are done and gone, her hands will shake
The fragments of His flesh on holy ground
Shed drops upon the earth its thirst to slake
Pour water through the light without a sound
When all are gone, all blessed with wine and bread
There, in the East, where better men have trod
She kneels and presses to the step her head
And, lost in awe, she speaks these words to God
I am that ancient soul you always knew
A part of you, from when time first began
The I am that I am, the that in you
That serves thee, as I will, while still I can
I come to you as Christian, Muslim, Jew
Agnostic, Gnostic, Druid, Angel, Man
The cupping of my hands I give to you
The curious offering of a sacristan
© Gail Foster 2016
Categories:
slake, blessing, god, mystery, psychological,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
It stood a while, alone, the perfect phrase
Entire and beautiful upon the stage
As lovely as two words could ever be
‘Till came the muse, the ancient ***** of days
Demanding blood and ink upon the page
Insisting passion and complexity
And sacrifice, and violent hymns of praise
Her hunger and her ardour to assuage
In wild defiance of simplicity
The poet quaked in terror, and betrayed
His words to slake her raw and awesome rage
In her cold hands they cried for company
© Gail Foster 13th December 2016
Categories:
slake, inspiration, muse, mystery, mythology,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
How long will this dreary night go on
Seems years since the dawn of morn
Why does anxiety keep me awake
What is this burden I cannot shake
Heartbeats too fast within my breast
Too quickly to grant needed rest
There's no moon above to cast light
This crepuscule gives birth to fright
I smell the wax of candles burning
but something keeps me from turning
If this be a dream, I pray, let me wake
for I've a thirst and hunger to slake
My eyes are open, and yet I cannot see
the willow outside; my weeping tree
"Fear not," I warn myself in voice aloud
the moon must be cloaked by a cloud
I call out for Davinia, in angst and fear
but my dear wife is not sleeping near
I long to glimpse morning rays of sun
Harried for never-ending night to be done
Only sleep could bring a measure of peace
and from shadowed night to have release
but I seen to be shackled to the beast
who fights the dawn's rising in the East
Of going insane, I fast approach the brim
tortured by thoughts, dark, dank and grim
Whispers I hear, mawkish murmurs dim,
"What will become of Davinia without him"
Who speaks of me in grammar, past tense
Someone who's lost all sentience and sense
Fragrant air 'round me grows warm and dense
Could that redolent odor be flowered scents
A memory haunts my sleep deprived brain
It's of a brutal nature, and cold falling rain
An act of violence, like the angry sin of Cain
A man's life taken; from a dagger he was slain
Motionless in rest, but not on my feathered bed
This unnerving moment is one I most dread
In a sepulcher, on a satin pillow, rests my head
In eternal darkness am I to dwell, among the dead
Categories:
slake, dark, sleep,
Form:
Rhyme
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Categories:
slake, nature,
Form:
Pastoral
Love's last light throws ember shadows
sighing coals cast waning arrows
of sobbing flame on lukewarm ground;
twilight spits into the fire,
but cannot slake my starved desire,
bereaved heart cloaked in misery's gown.
How dare Cupid so fickle turn
exchanging smiles for face now stern
stealing my regal red rose crown.
©Faye Lanham Gibson, June 12, 2014
Categories:
slake, fire, lost love,
Form:
Rhyme
Seven pages, blank and white.
Not committing till judged as right,
Evolution measured in words and bound with cryptic yellow cords.
See the sun burn ashes first, to slake the serpent's endless thirst...
The Meaning of The One, Oh Yes, has aeons long been gone, suppressed;
and passed through time as glittered belt
studded with every hurt e'er felt.
So tears, they hang like diamonds down.
Disguised confusion marked as frown.
Oh save me from this endless night - Don't bond with WAX to give me flight.
Just let me go and set me free.
Abandon fear of being me.
Sweet somethings hidden in the dark, protected by ferocious bark of dogs made into lions.
Will the sunbeams dance together?
In this stitch that runs forever, will a way out e'er be found?
Ah, Lord. Why if I am free, does it feel like I am bound?
Cut the double stitch, let loose -
that I may fly on winds of truth.
Save me from myself.
And words, they move like dancers through this night of unknown choice.
Mouths sealed tight forever but soul-windows give them voice.
Only vestiges remain of what once was Universal...
And our hearts are black with sins for which there can be no reversal.
Categories:
slake, depression, introspection, life, me,
Form: