Best Spumes Poems
In the stillness of my room I lay in bed
arms snugged tightly around my pillow
turned side-ways facing moon and light
But it is not the burnt orange moon
but glowing embers in his eyes that warm my vacant night.
Tonight ,I see him just like on other nights
He is the vision in my last waking thought
He breathes within every breeze in my sleep
He rests right beside me holding my hand and dreams.
Tonight ,I recall his soft whisper in yesterdays'path
Sweet -nothings in my ear touched soft-spots of my heart.
I find him in mountains bathing in fresh rain
riding on horses in memory lane.
I watch him get closer calling out my name
Its there when I kissed him , then ran far away.
I see him on earlier days where He has found me
It was love at first sight and instant chemistry .
It was deep affection for a blue collar guy
with dirt on his shirt and an amorous smile.
I smelled poverty all over him ,and on his soaked fuel rag.
Smelled the soap on his skin , and books in his bag.
He passed one to me ,and said it is mine
I made him a pledge that I'd scribble a line.
One line followed others in chapters of time
Chapters of star spumes, sunrise , and sky
Chapters of novels about a blue collar guy.
Inspired by a book I read in my early teens .called 'Mysterious Mountain Man'
On Blue Ocean
Blue ocean rises
and falls with cool
serenity,
creating crests
of roving waves,
seeking yellow,
sun-bleached shores.
Aah! Behold
its engorged bosoms,
heaving and trembling,
passionately
spurting out
bubbly, champagne-like,
sparkling spumes,
that elatedly
lick and tickle
flashy red tails of
flirtatious mermaids.
On summer nights,
inhale deeply
its fresh salty scent,
which clings to the air,
like an old lover.
Then savoring the
sweet, rhythmic
undulation of
rippling, indigo
ocean, I drowse in
Poseidon’s arms and,
drift off … on a dream.
01-06-2016
Contest: Anacreontic Verse 2
Sponsor: Edward Ebbs
Placement: 3rd
I am the tide a ceaseless tide
drifting afar from sheltered shores
From solaced paths of wide-spread sands
where all my waters have become yours
I am the tide a ceaseless tide
rising up high beyond the line
Burnt orange line where half moon rests
between hushed ocean and twilight sky
I am the tide a ceaseless tide
anchored in thoughts with no return
I 'll keep on rolling keep getting distant
from blissful moments which we once shared.
I'll keep escaping a thousand butterflies
that swiftly flutter in rocky caves
I'll keep remembering smiles on lost laugh- lines
where sea-spumes kissed your upturned face
I am the tide a ceaseless tide
You are the sandman who walks out late
I watched you standing by the blue light-house
drawing two hearts without a name
I saw you gazing into the distance
I wondered if you're setting sails...
to a horizon without an hourglass
where your arms sink in my embrace
White curl'd hairs of spumes
reveals its longevity-
Blue Ocean of Old
Come to the azure window
Its still here in my dreams
The glowing moon a light- house
Your compass is the breeze.
The breeze would fill the sails
The moonlight leads your path
The window will be open
to reach-out for my heart.
They say its gone forever
Desperate waves destroyed it
There' s no way you can reach
There's nowhere you can climb through
and ever rescue me.
.
The rocky arch of nature's wonders
deceived by a restless sea
Collapsed, hit by a rough- storm
lies buried in the deep.
But is there somebody out there
who dares to ride the tide
To swim against the tempest
till my vacant arms He'll find.
Is there somebody out there
to save me from the day
to hidden coves He'll guide me
and takes my breath away.
Come to the azure window
Its still here in my dreams
The ocean-spumes lap on-shore
with fluting melodies.
PS-The Azure Window was a natural mesmerizing arch on the island of Gozo,with its flat top
over the sea at Dwejra Bay.On the 8th of March 2017 it collapsed due to stromg winds and rough'-seas,and now this landmark is gone,not to be seen.
The glamour of her skin faded
like late-afternoon sunbeams
that settled on rose petals 'dust
But , not the light in her wide chatoyant eyes
That light was still glowing bright
Like a freshly washed white frock of an ingenue child
A child who knew, each flutter of a butterfly churning deep inside
was to be preserved for this ineffable day.
Today , the day She was to greet 'the one '
Down the valley , by the orchid tree
where minutes ticked seconds and time.
For so long , She waited for this moment
to turn and find him there , to look him in those eyes
Eyes circled with wrinkles of loss and laughter
of many deaths and life.
His demure maiden . The cynosure who filled his thoughts
without even knowing how or why , For weeks, months, and years
Was She there by his side ,or was this another betraying vision
of the lissome lady's smile ?
It was her voice . It was the mellifluous sound of her song
lulling him into sleep.This was not Endymion's dream
Nor an unheard wish on spumes of falling stars.
This was the warmth of his breath upon her neck's nape
It was their once so vacant hearts , beating one to one.
It was their holding of hands, their first promised dance.
A panacea to a long term desease of loss , and loss again.
A new chapter -to be continued.
A sempiternal journey of what little time remains.
Trembling hands ,Scribbling verses on hopskotch
Alll ending with the same repeated names
and unforgettable joyous refrains.
Thanks for the ten words challenge S.One
1) Glamour , 2) Chatoyant, 3) Igenue , 4) ineffable , 5) demure
6) Sempiternal , 7) panacea, 8) mellifluous, 9 )lissome , 10) cynosure
Who wants to know the meaning of all these ten words
pls read S. One 's ten word challenge poem.
Fiction Poem
There is more to a flower than just a flower
There's a spreading fragrance surrounding the air.
There are velveteen petals, falling and scattering,
all over my skin, and a daisy in my hair.
There is more to the wind than just a wind
There was never a breeze that hadn't whispered
my beloved's name.It breathes as it pleases,
It drifts purple leaves slowly in my dreams
with a soft and gentle sway.
There is more to the bird than just a bird
There's music in each garden
with an angel song to be heard.
There's a flutter, a heartbeat
There are wings of a freedom conquered.
There is more to the moon and the stars
than just a moon and a star.
They brighten the night, like a fire-fly
Wherever you are, no distance is too far
No sky is too high.
There is more to ocean waves
than just an ocean wave.
Every coast they embrace
Splashing spumes on our toes
and moist salt on our face.
With each wave that we ride
We will win the tide, which with strength
comes crashing the feelings we hide.
There is more to fire than just a fire
There is passion , desire.
With its red curving lines
It brings warmth to the eyes
To our dark moors brings light
This fire is alive.
With its embers and flames
On winter frosty days
It flickers and burns,
keeping the cold away.
There is more to humans than humans
So much more to who we are.
There is soul and compassion
There is love in the present
There is joy which resides
In each one of us.
There is more to this world than just a world
If you do not believe, just follow me.
I will take you to places,Such magical places
where beauty keeps showing
wherever we'll be.
Years of silence I can't recall
Tears I pant on the scrawled wall
Clothes worn in an open cell
Souls torn, drowning in smitten well
Costumes worn by zombies
Moving as mannequins, not gnomes
Legumes not grown as beans or chickpeas
Roving pass skull watchers of spumes
My heart beating slow, recurring
My voice bleating low, murmuring...
Your soothing eyes I can't forget
Looking into my eyes of regret
Your hands you stretch I can't reach
To cleanse my body and bleach
Creeds of lore I can comprehend, not detest
Breeds and condescend at my weakest
Your soft hair I wanted to smell and comb
Your touch I can sense, I goad that aplomb
I will always remember you as always
On this avenue you watch over me sideways
Each day I walk barefooted without wellington
Your footprints you leave on Kensington...
Waterfall spashing-
White spumes on Hawaii river
reflects three rainbows
*Locks of white spumes droops
on rug of emerald moss--
Blanket of cold rocks
*Lock-- tress of hair
coloured bottles bob
to my eyes these are gemstones
light explodes in spumes
a sour flood warms my belly
in the wave of each fresh draught
drinking rainbows
I am resting the dragon
on wet glass
ice rocks crackle
day blends into night
first or last dog watch?
sitting at this bar – my pew
far away at sea
ship ahoy! Nubile sirens
eight bells ringing between decks
Inspired by the adventures of Keith Jackson AM and other friends
27/11/2015
0n th1s br1ght early m0rn1ng, 1 s00n see
h0w l1fe's gr1m gl0w can s1gh such gl00m 1n me,
Th0ugh catb1rds s1ng w1th a s0ft ch1m1ng fl0w,
n0 t1m1d m00n w1ll 0utsh1ne my tableau.
N0 stark wh1n1ng s0unds 1n small plast1c r00ms,
wh0 sp1t b1nate c0de 1n 1ntr1gu1ng spumes,
kn0ws 1f 1t st1lls the l0ve 1ns1de 0f me
as d0 1r1s g0ld, 0r f1elds 0f l1ly.
0f l1fe's thr1lls, n0t 0ne mach1ne w1ll perce1ve,
(f0r, 1t 1s wr1t, that G0d m0lded th1s s0ul),
n0r gr1n w1th j0yful sm1les, l0ve 0r bel1eve,
when, n0w, w1th1n 0ur m1nds, l1fe 1s the g0al.
If ones and zeros come up with a sum,
I wonder... 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00100000 01000111 01101111 01100100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101100 01100111 01101111 01110010 01101001 01110100 01101000 01101101?
10/14/2018
How can I live in this world,
Where flattery, hypocrisy, coax, bigotry, shrewdness, impersonation are huddled?
But I’m a dunce to do all of these utterly necessary characteristics.
How can I live in this world,
Where killing, corruption, forgery, treachery are inseparable part of success?
But I’m a coward of accepting this kill or to be killed ideology.
How can I live in this word,
Where fornication, rape, seduction, adultery, spumes of sperm, prowling and attacking of vaginas are so recommended to be a hero, a man?
But I’m disgorging of thinking these stuffs.
How can I live in this world,
Where money, wealth, contentiousness, covetousness are the scale of being counted as a human?
But I’m fool to imagine of these terrestrial crowns.
How can I live in this world,
Where I cannot cope up with me,
I can’t believe me,
I can’t love me,
I can’t forgive me,
I can’t touch me,
I can’t respect me,
I can’t make understand me,
I can’t endure me,
I can’t ………..
Voices from another galaxy
drop hints about this blissful daydream dwelling I’m
obsessed with.
They douse the strident yelping from an unrestrained stray pup in my neighbourhood,
when it breaks clear of its tan leather muzzle with a consummate fiendish elan.
This happens when I stroll with abandon round a limp pale green grass lawn,
the type whose rabid cry for spumes of hydrant benefice is cruelly silenced.
Hedgerow choral bird chirps goad supple feats of trailing mental reverie for a wander lust psyche.
They grant behemoth powers, nether world cachet to float invisibly beneath rust sodden eaves,
a torch felt tar macadam chimney sneak peak when belching smokeless coal.
Cherry blossom panel tree house vision,
a tie cable mesh on creaky branch is quite the place,
refuge from an ancient era moss clad node awaiting blue jay flap.
To some this sturdy shoe box cartoon template reeks of animation stuck with maple syrup.
Mere desperado flight beyond an ice rink winter twilight in Ontario,
the makeshift skinflint bramble fire that barely thawed a frozen
infant trauma.
Childhood shriek and shiver may arouse inchoate recall of artic reindeer chariot adventure.
Mourning cloak butterfly aplomb, wing blown flit to deep freeze hibernation.
But alas this starstruck drifter seldom roams despite a far too frequent fictional encounter with earthbound migrant status.
Rainy days bring moody ways
whilst listening to the earth's
blood fall to the ground in rapid,
persistent beats.
Cars make their way home
after a long day at work,
gingerly picking their way
through the darkened splashes,
wipers working frantically
to save lives.
While cats, caught out in the open,
make skittish bee-lines for
the underneath of any car
to outlast the down pour,
and reshape dampened coats
with fervent tongues.
Dogs look out of front parlour
windows at the saturated mayhem,
hoping somehow to outlast
the rain and avoid a moment
of drenched relief.
As the day's washing gets hung from
the bannisters surrounded by depressed
sighs, damp air and raised heating bills.
The rain spumes off the roads,
continuing to trumpet its presence
down drain pipes whilst beating
windows senseless.
Cafes fill with weather beaten trade,
nursing single cups of coffee
for the duration of the deluge.
Then suddenly, there comes a last
drop, just as quickly as there
was a first.