Best Solicits Poems
Man of melancholy - memories ashen and shadow gray,
heart harrowed, solicits solace from her psychic energy.
An offering, his woebegone weeping wildflower bouquet,
teardrops titian, sorrow scintillant, reflects rueful reverie.
Heart harrowed solicits solace from her psychic energy,
free falling through forlorn filigree, he mourns at her gravestone.
Teardrops, titian sorrow scintillant reflects rueful reverie
of his Earth angel, soul-lifted too soon, spiritually sown.
Free falling, through forlorn filigree he mourns. At her gravestone
fragrance haunting, flowers flaring heartsick hallucinations
of his Earth angel soul-lifted too soon; spiritually sown
blue scented efflorescence of suffering lamentations!
Fragrance... haunting flowers flaring heartsick hallucinations
of inamorata, flame extinguished expectant with their child.
Blue scented efflorescence of suffering lamentations
bedevil his mind. Happiness, hope exiled, ego beguiled.
Of inamorata flame extinguished expectant with their child,
an offering; his woebegone weeping. Wildflower bouquet
bedevils his mind, happiness, hope. Exiled ego beguiled,
man of melancholy memories - ashen and shadow gray.
Susan Ashley
September 16, 2017
~Third Place ~
Premiere Contest: Favorite Pantoum Premiere
Sponsor: Laura Loo
~ First Place ~
Contest: Poems That Paint A Picture 2
Sponsor: Silent One
* based on a pencil drawing by Mike Theuer provided by Silent One on contest page *
I
love
your smile
all the more
when it's not practiced
but tugs the corners of your lips
as a spontaneous reaction to my presence
for it immediately solicits a genuine smile of my own in return.
An insatiable hunger
fuels her primal desires.
And in her skimpiest skirt,
she solicits cash for sex.
Prowling taverns late at night,
she peddles depravity.
And smelling of cheap perfume;
she signals **** with each breeze.
A succubus seductress,
she sells disappearing dreams.
And her suggestive whispers
promote promiscuity.
A sleek, stealthy predator;
she seduces with a smile.
And with her piercing blue eyes,
she stalks her prospective prey.
Provocatively perky;
she sways in erotic ways.
And like an addictive drug,
she leaves men begging for more.
Fairy Tales and as you wishes have warped my mind
Cause with you I have come to find
Like Icarus to the sun, and Annabel Lee to the sea
There's something about your smile that compels me
Like a moth to the flame
I long to whisper your name
So let the Sirens sing their song
And I will blithely hum along
But as I slip my little black dress on
I wonder could this be a lasting bond
Or like Eleonora in The Valley of the Many-Colored Grass
Am I destined to fall on my ass
Unfortunately, that last sentiment can not matter
Because as everyone knows, it's all about the happily ever after
For the contest
Edgar Allan Poe ref Annabel Lee and Eleonora in The Valley of the Many-Colored Grass
This is the greatest struggle that mocks me,
To be a distant sigh, caused by this queen;
A rose that has yet to compliment thee,
beyond the scope of eyes, already seen.
There is mystery in her soft appeal,
a humble frame that solicits my quest;
and while life leaves us with answers concealed,
I’m convinced this broad advance is perfect.
For while life is bitter, this is pleasure;
To gracefully shatter this mundane silence,
and dispel the devils space, indeed clever;
let’s rejoice in brief absence coined timeless.
With these tendencies forever burning,
may this one flesh never cease from yearning.
I'm on a learning curve and learned today
a straight line means exponential growth, and
the steeper the line, the faster the death toll.
You saw the number of death this morning?
The tiresome business is all over again.
The stock of coffins dwindling
dazed with grief, I leaf the morning paper, swallowed up
by virus's treachery, racing like a wildfire.
Will it die a natural death?
Its insatiable appetite for death solicits
more concessions from humans who no longer
have individual destinies, only collective destinies.
We either find a rift in its wall of fire
or succumb to our bereavement and anxiety.
I'm on holiday without pay
auto-isolating long before the decree, calculating the
mathematics of defeat, asking
how will it be in three or six months?
and how close to virus's guillotine?
Through aeons of cold thoughts
frost in sheer chasm
no sun moon or star
earth empty bizarre
hell's grim phantasm
dust into dust blown
where ghosts jug on the sidewalks
each one six feet apart, alone
in retreat like ghouls of
lonely cemeteries
wraiths of uneasy covenant
too afraid to surmise the
brave salutation of a
passerby.
Having fissioned the mind
To intercede the importunate
And petitioned wisdom inside
Idle and dissipated
As tremendous illusions
pervades the soul
The unsurpassed revolt of
capitulated distortions
A percussion of thoughts
That solicits affectations of such
Feels familiar
Lines of silver
Streaking
from on high.
great, the divide
a lover's sigh.
Linen wrappings
lace used for Christmas
trappings
tender touches
chilly ripples, barely
noticeable across
skin covered in icing.
Oral transactions
debits and credits
O' the anticipated additions
Thoughts glued
on how life
teeters on
volcanic rims,
black rain rising
Lips accessorized
for midnight diving
Conversation
skinny dips,
clothed in
what if's
you blouse
gently shifts
so that the friction
found in fabric
heightens senses
restricting inhibition
We drift towards
erotic implications
the way astronauts
float amongst satellites.
Thoughts of acme missions
Spiraling.
Zig-zagging how
arcs of lightning
illuminate the inner walls of a tempest.
I've found the eye of her storm
a place of paradox that
flirts on the outskirts
of paradise and thin lines
where virginity beckons
to be taken into
areas of no return
At our feet
lies a welcome mat
spelling heaven's introduction
Sounds of seduction
silently taunting.
desire drawn across
your frame the way a feather
solicits laughter.
Your body, 8 × 11 stationary
lie still, and be written...
At birth I saw the opening
And a speck of light
From the world that welcomed me –
The first visible light
To excite my pupils, I guess.
That light comes clearer now
As I pass by the road
Full of dried hit-and-run frogs,
With various scenes of life along.
The dots are exposed:
I see one from the night sky
Like a white paint drop
On a black board,
From a grain of sand by the sea,
From a tiny seed
That waits for the time to sprout,
From the eye of a beast
That secretly solicits love,
And from many others.
The dots lie on such an infinitely wide sheet
That I try to connect them
And cannot see the whole picture.
I think God watches me on the sheet
Under a microscope.
It's the unfair society:
from lenient judges
to corrupt attorneys
and with some bad cops
who claim that their motto is:
" To serve and protect "
Oh, no don't tell me that I am crazy: I don't trust the Law!
It's an insult to society or to the ones who wrote it!
Oh, don't tell me that murderous thoughts
don't double-cross me to want to toss those offenders
into the slammer where they really belong!
I should be on that bench and give sentences
without showing sympathy or forgiveness!
One guy who had a bag of weed
was released the next day...
because it was his first offense!
It's foolishness...there were
two minors in that car:
wasn't it the fault of a lenient judge?
Hookers, so-called Ladies of the Night
are more protected than the ordinary citizens,
some wacko sees them as worthless beings
and kills them dumping them in marshes...
I am saddened by such murders,
but they don't lead a clean life!
Oh, don't tell that God doesn't have murderous thoughts like me!
But when some of one of them tap on your window, as you wait
for the red light to turn green, solicits sex for money...wouldn't
anybody have a murderous thought and give them a nasty look?
Oh, don't tell me that sex doesn't sell everywhere!
It's so disgusting to see ads with semi-nude models
advertizing for the big companies: it's the buck, not the morality!
And worse than that some guys watch **** as they drive!
O society so filthy and shameless, you have become so immoral,
putting away the Commandments that Moses God carved with fire!
It's wrong to hate a brother or sister,
and seek revenge with either curses or bad deeds...
slandering is not humane and compassionate;
if he or she did something wrong...show love,
don't have murderous thoughts! The hatred
makes the gun go off quickly and the knife cut very deep!
So goes for your neighbors, love them
as you would love your own and by spreading kindness:
darkness will be replaced by light,
and hate, ignorance and avarice by love!
Written by Andrew Crisci
for Susan Burch's contest,
" Getting Away With Murder/Murderous Thoughts "
WALKING WITH RUMI
It’s a religious routine, his impious
use of scripture and prayer calling on god
for salvation and sustenance, purity of heart,
perhaps a way better job, or some actual proof
that his people still matter
His, is a god who uses archangels, heavily-armed
toughs, assassins and avengers, roaming the streets
of a gray paradise (neither heaven nor hell), their
big wings folded, their bow strings ready, their
quivers full of arrows, flaming swords sheathed,
their intelligent eyes marking dark, handsome faces
and awaiting the directives for savage air strikes
at far-away places, somehow weaving a route through
meridians and parallels, angling in low through the
hazy red dawn or coming in as silhouette against a
full silver moon to deliver against enemies
or just the people next door
Forever on his knees, he solicits relief
but I have other plans – I go walking with Rumi
a daredevil dervish who treats the concept of love as
a magnificent machine to be recklessly driven without
fear of collision or collateral damage
And he offers a dream about poems in Persian and songs
on the wind from a light without source
that illuminates all
High above Santiago, its six million souls and steep
mountain walls a dialectical drama about fertility and
faith, we negotiate a ledge, he walking on air, me hugging
the edge, still afraid of the tumble that could easily
shatter the glistening glass that I am
But there is something I know: My wife will come soon
with a full winter moon like a big tambourine over the
Andes at night, and they will play in the evening, they
will dance with the darkness and swallow the day
and then give it back, laughing, in the bold early
light of the red rising sun, and decorum aside,
I will dive off that ledge into all that she is,
into all that I’m not; let her make
me better and thank God that she can!
VIC’S PLACE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
When I come to I’ll start a new path
The one I’m on solicits her wrath
When the alarm went off I moved not an inch
If I opened my eyes a brawl was a cinch
I felt her rise and move to the edge of the bed
I kept my eyes shut as if I were dead
She dressed quite noisily but before slamming the door
Yelled out no drinking today I can’t take it anymore
She went to the kitchen and started to brew
The aroma of coffee nearly caused me to spew
She came back to the bedroom and said with a smirk
I know you heard what I said got to, I’m late for work
I knew not to move too quickly
My head was pounding my stomach sickly
When you’re hung over everything aches
I got up and stumbled uncontrollable shakes
My head was throbbing with alcohol woes
With great difficulty I put on my clothes
I went to the basin to wash and to brush
The face in the mirror a blurry eyed lush
I went to the kitchen and poured me a cup
One sip, I gagged and nearly threw up
Got to get to Vic’s its not very far
I’ll have to walk it a DUI cost me my car
I looked at the clock it was only ten
Two hours til Vic’s is open again
I went to the park and bided my time
Til the light burns bright on the open sign
I was so edgy I paced back and forth
Shaking and nervous no time for remorse
I’ll wait no matter how long it takes
I’ve got to dampen these terrible shakes
I feel like I’ve been waiting for an eon
Here we go, they turned on the neon
Vic’s place(2)
I raced across the street and mounted a stool
To wait this long is brutal and cruel
Pour me a shot and leave me the bottle
These storming DTs, I’ve got to throttle
After the first drink I felt like king
After the fourth one I started to sing
Soon I was joined by the usual crowd
We sang, yelled and really got loud
Some drank too much and wanted to fight
I don’t remember much more but later that night
I awoke it was quiet and dark
I was lying in the wet grass alone the park
It must have rained I was soaked to the skin
My shirt was torn had a cut on my chin
As I staggered home missing one shoe
I knew exactly what I will have to do
She’ll put me on the wagon I know what’s in store
I can handle it easily I’ve done it many times before
Simple sutle silence solicits the soul.
Another night in lyrical trance
I can't see the stars in east coast sky
Because ima burn to bright and keep the subjects
dence like a tablespoon of moon brought home
weighs 2 tons. complexity in theory truth in reason
That rides in simplicity with breeze.
I'm change my name and start a whole new game
Gona love the lovers and fight the rioters
And if you disrespect my dame
I'm apply Irish pride
Ima hit You 3 ways hard, fast, and continuiosly
Till My fist go numb or you black out.
And phone it in anonymously
On what was done we may disagree
And if I can be reasonable while
Dispersion of venomous aggression
Ill let you live if I can keep the demon
In digression but lately in me Is its impression.
So why not just walk away
Why test a man today when tomorrows are easily
ripped away.
Its your last ride in Cadillac
Rolling deep all your memories got your back
Useless pain pours out u mother's eyes
All because your manners slack
Now I know look at me what do o know
Soft and funny in the hat
I'm gangster like Johny dangerously
Judge book by cover And cover smug
You know We all was told not to do That
My cousin judged me once, once yea dog let some one
else wait by the door.
I'm kick it down and start stunning
Come through. The red clay, like field mob my boys get
you moving like you ain't control you, it the words we
say finding its way home to you.
Pause the clock, let the world stop
allowing our past to catch up
before going one more second
into the future.
Would not stop long, the past
dragged along generation after generation,
faster than the last, problems left behind
getting worse, ignorance, bigotry, hatred,
degenerate companions.
Passing the past one generation to the next
to resolve solicits undesired passion,
impossible, never happens, too busy
creating new problems which will be
ignored and added.
Plans drawn never finished, appease none,
stress factors exceed acceptable tolerance,
the past doomed to tumble under the weight,
of a neglected, troubled society.
Stop the world, let our past, pass into our future,
disregard prophetic, probably true, no future,
with an unresolved past.
I gawk across the court
A witness to her Murdered Love
She points towards the Guilty veins
That Blocked a Dead heart
He seduces her amid those firing eyes
And she flames in bloody fluids
Over her blemished cheeks
At which his Lip marks
Yet as the defence
Solicits, and again solicits
A wordless girl says “Guilty”
As the true guilt’s’ lips fastens her mouth
But I attained across
And clutched the handcuffs
That symbolizes what I restrain
The chains to my Life
Yet the Beautiful departs the beautiful
While I scrutinize this prisoner
Flees the Pumping cell,
And the Knock, Knock, Knock acts the End